Post Office by Charles Bukowski

Author:Charles Bukowski
Format: epub, azw3, pdf, mobi

FOUR

1

Then I developed a new system at the racetrack. I pulled in $3, in a month and a half while only going to the track two or three times a week. I began to dream. I saw a little house down by the sea. I saw myself in fine clothing, calm, getting up mornings, getting into my imported car, making the slow easy drive to the track. I saw leisurely steak dinners, preceded and followed by good chilled drinks in colored glasses. The big tip. The cigar. And women as you wanted them. It’s easy to fall into this kind of thinking when men hand you large bills at the cashier’s window. When in one six-furlong race, say in a minute and nine seconds, you make a month’s pay. So I stood in the tour superintendent’s office. There he was behind his desk. I had a cigar in my mouth and whiskey on my breath. I felt like money. I looked like money.

“Mr. Winters,” I said, “the post office has treated me well. But I have outside business interests that simply must be taken care of. If you can’t give me a leave of absence, I must resign.” “Didn’t I give you a leave of absence earlier in the year, Chinaski?” “No, Mr. Winters, you turned down my request for a leave of absence. This time there can’t be any turndown. Or I will resign.”

“All right, fill out the form and I’ll sign it. But I can only give you

90 working days off.”

“I’ll take ’em,” I said, exhaling a long trail of blue smoke from my expensive cigar.

2

The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the apartment, check the mail, maybe sleep overnight, then drive back down. It was a good life, and I started winning. After the last race each night I would have one or two easy drinks at the bar, tipping the bartender well. It looked like a new life. I could do no wrong. One night I didn’t even watch the last race. I went to the bar. Fifty dollars to win was my standard bet. After you bet 50 win awhile it feels like betting five or 10 win. “Scotch and water,” I told the barkeep. “Think I’ll listen to this one over the speaker.”

“Who you got?”

“Blue Stocking,” I told him “50 win.”

“Too much weight.”

“Are you kidding? A good horse can pack 122 pounds in a six thousand dollar claimer. That means, according to the conditions, that the horse has done something that no other horse in that race has done.”

Of course, that wasn’t the reason I had bet Blue Stocking. I was always giving out misinformation. I didn’t want anybody else on board.

At the time, they didn’t have closed circuit t.v. You

just listened to the calls. I was $380 ahead. A loss on the last race

would give me a $330 profit.

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