Ask the Dust Page #2

can you?

You want the nickel?

Then mop it up.

Hey, you!

Sand from the Mojave

was blowing across the city.

It was everywhere.

It was even between the sheets,

but I didn't care.

All I could think about

were those huaraches.

"To a Mayan princess

from a worthless gringo."

What's the name of the girl

who works here?

You mean Camilla?

The one who was here yesterday.

The Mexican.

Camilla Lopez.

Will you give this to her?

Take good care of it. It's valuable.

See that Miss Lopez gets it personally.

The truth was, I couldn't afford

to go back and see her that night.

I didn't have a nickel for a cup of coffee.

What do you want?

I'm an honest man, kid.

There, see if he wants a beer

on the house.

Sorry about the coffee.

Rverybody orders beer around here.

We don't get that many calls for coffee.

I can see why.

I'd drink beer, too, if I could afford it.

Anyway, I hope this is better.

You want cream, right?

Not bad. Certainly an improvement

over last night.

Did you read "The Little Dog Laughed"?

"The Little Dog Laughed,"

by me, Arturo Bandini.

Arturo?

Bandini. It's Italian.

Did you read the story?

- Sure.

- So?

It's very good.

Hey, listen. You want a beer?

I can get you some.

You don't have to pay.

What did you like about it?

- Camilla.

- I have to go.

You still haven't told me

what you thought.

I told you. I liked it. I like dog stories.

- You like dog stories.

- I like dogs a lot...

- There's no dog in the story.

- There's no dog...

There's no dog in the story!

Okay. I heard you.

Then why did you call it

"The Little Dog Laughter"?

Why did you lie to me? Why did you

just say you read it when you didn't?

Listen, kid. Please, drink your beer.

It's tough enough just to have

a good time, okay?

Sir! Sir!

Forgot your hat.

- Something else you wanted to say?

- Camilla can't read.

Not Rnglish, anyway.

And another thing, Mr. Mencken,

I have no understanding of women.

How can I write about

what I don't understand?

How can I write about experiences

I haven't had?

When I first came here,

I was so sure of myself.

So sure I wasn't like the others.

The others came to the land of sunshine

with just enough money to live

until the sun killed them.

Take Hellfrick, across the hall,

from Minnesota.

Gassed in the Great war

and gassed ever since.

Most of the time,

he has no idea where he is.

So, I guess here is as good

as anywhere else.

Heilman's a bank teller

from South Bend.

But his health is bad and he was told

he had to stay here or die.

He hates the sun and the fog

and the SC Trojans.

My landlady's from Back East.

She tries to make the hotel lobby

look like Bridgeport, Connecticut.

No Mexicans and lots of doilies.

- Will there be anything else, ma'am?

- No, thank you.

Then there's the Filipino houseboy

from Hawaii

and the redhead from St. Louis.

- Hello.

- Hello.

- How are you?

- Better now.

She's come to feel he's terribly brave

in the face of so much prejudice.

The other day when I was going

to San Pedro,

looking for work at the canneries,

I saw them.

Even with high leather heels,

he was a foot shorter than she was.

I don't know where the girl

in the red fox fur is from,

but you can find her in Bernstein's Fish

Grotto with a fresh one every week.

On the other hand,

there's the Japanese man

who grows his vegetables

down on Jefferson, near the sloughs.

Bullet-faced and always smiling,

he keeps me alive for a nickel.

You like plums? Good. Good for you.

Of course there are others too poor

and too unlucky

to be allowed to call

any place their own.

Even for a while.

All right, amigos.

In the end, we're all strangers here.

Maybe the only thing that makes you

a Californian is a pair of sunglasses

and a four-bit polo shirt.

Suddenly, you belong.

Mr. Bandini. You have mail.

"Dear Mr. Bandini,

with your permission,

"I shall remove the salutation

and ending of your very long letter

"and print it as a short story

for my magazine.

"It seems you've done a fine job here.

"I think 'The Land of Somewhere Else'

would serve as an excellent title.

"Check enclosed.

Sincerely yours, H.L. Mencken.

"P.S. As to your anxieties

about your limited experiences

"with life in general

and women in particular,

"it is, alas, a truism that authors

generally have less experience

"than other men.

"This owing to the incontestable fact

"that you simply can't be

in two places at once, Mr. Bandini.

"Either you're in front

of the typewriter, writing,

"or you're out in the world

having experiences.

"Therefore, since you need to write

and you need to have experiences

"to write about,

you have to learn to do more with less.

"And doing more with less is,

in a word, Mr. Bandini,

"what writing is all about."

Still mad at me?

Not that I know of.

Well, would you like

to order something?

A cigar. Something from Havana.

They're a quarter.

Keep the change.

- I said keep the change.

- Not from you.

You're poor.

Don't I look different?

I thought you'd like my shoes.

They're very nice.

How about something to drink?

Scotch highball.

Saint James.

Sammy, get me a highball.

Saint James.

You've changed.

Before you were just mean.

Now that you've got a couple of bucks,

you're mean and stuck-up.

Forty cents.

Well, you haven't changed.

You're just the same little

Mexican princess,

- charming and innocent.

- I'm not charming and I'm not innocent.

To me you'll always be a sweet

little peon, a flower girl from old Mexico.

You dago son of a b*tch!

I'm just as American as you are.

Or at least I will be

as soon as I pass my test.

Sure you will,

just as soon as you learn how to read.

Take off those shoes.

My legs are not good enough for them?

They're not good enough for your legs.

Sorry what I called you.

I didn't mean what I said.

I didn't either.

- You got a car?

- No.

I do. It's in the parking lot.

It's a '27 convertible.

The stuffing, it's a little bit

out of the upholstery, but it runs.

I'm off at 11:
00.

Camilla Lombard?

Arturo.

- This is Sammy.

- Hi.

Are you coming?

Have a good night.

Be right back.

Who is he?

Sammy? Just a friend.

What kind of a friend?

A good one.

He got me my job.

- They let the bartender hire you?

- Sammy's not just the bartender.

Oh, yeah?

What else is he, a concert pianist?

Listen, Arturo,

you're not the only writer in town.

- Sammy's a writer?

- You'd be surprised.

I'd be surprised

if he could write his name.

Do you like my car?

How come it's registered to

Camilla Lombard? Your name's Lopez.

- You married?

- No.

- So what's the Lombard for?

- For fun.

- Sometimes I use it professionally.

- As a waitress?

Do you like your name?

Don't you wish it was Johnson

or williams or something?

- No.

- Come on.

Do you honestly like

being called Bandini?

- I'm satisfied with my name.

- No, you're not.

- I am.

- You're not.

- I am.

- You're not.

- I am.

- You're not.

What's Sammy's last name,

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