Ask the Dust Page #5

- Stop it!

- Think I can't? Think I can't?

Camilla would never forgive me.

She was better off with Sammy.

I really didn't have the right

to touch her again.

You look wonderful.

Oh, say, that's quite a sight.

Enjoy the view.

Sit.

Here. Something nice and cool.

It's not buttermilk?

Good.

Oh, darling, you're tired.

- A little.

- You're working late, as usual?

I wasn't working last night.

- Bad boy.

- I need to tell you something.

Let me guess. Out with your best girl?

She's not my best girl.

Then you don't love her, anymore?

Oh, dear.

She doesn't love me,

unlikely as that seems.

- She doesn't love you?

- She hates my guts.

She couldn't do that.

How could she possibly...

Possibly because I insult

and humiliate her every chance I get.

You wouldn't.

You couldn't do such things.

Oh, yeah?

I called her spic and greaser

and every name in the book.

And that's when I was in a good mood.

She's Mexican, by the way.

Oh.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

- Oh, my God. God in heaven.

- What's going on?

- What happened? Vera?

- God is punishing me.

- Right now?

- What do you do to Jewish girls?

Jewish girls?

- All right, don't hit me.

- Are you nuts?

- Okay, call me names, but don't hit me!

- I'm not going to hurt you.

I'm not going to hurt you.

Look, if I wanted to hurt you, I didn't

have to come all the way to Long Beach.

I could've done it in my room.

Oh, for Pete's sake.

Why would I hurt you?

Why would I bother?

I don't even love you.

Well, why did you come here?

I wanted to make someone happy.

Oh, look, I'm sorry.

If I could just get my coat.

Is that why you insult her?

Is that why you insult her,

because you can't make her happy?

All I know is she usually starts it.

How? what does she say?

- It's not so much what she says.

- what does she do?

Sometimes she'll walk across the room.

That's pretty insulting.

Serve me a cup of coffee

wearing a brand new uniform.

That's about as insulting

as anything gets.

She's perfect, like the weather.

Air and fog, eucalyptus,

dusty sunlight.

The perfect place to live.

Then we come along.

Dig for gold, drill for oil,

get into the movies,

build these crappy hotels

and dirty streets.

We don't even come here to live.

we just dig it up, mess it up

and grab whatever we can get.

This is her home.

If God had any sense or decency,

He'd blow us all to hell

and leave her home the way it was,

pure and perfect, like her.

- And you tell her these things?

- I don't tell her this.

It would sound like an insult.

No matter what I say to Camilla,

it sounds like an insult.

- Then tell it to me.

- What for?

Pretend I'm her. I'll believe you.

Look, I'd like to, but...

I am

Princess Camilla.

And all this beautiful land

belongs to me.

There are no Americans here.

No Los Angeles.

Just me and the desert

and the mountains and the sea.

And...

And then...

Then I come.

And then you come.

And you are?

I'm myself, Arturo Bandini.

The writer,

the genius of the Rarth

has come here for me.

But I am proud,

and I resist and resist and resist!

Until finally,

you're irresistible.

Your powers are legion.

You overwhelm me.

You conquer me.

You are like a great conquistador.

- You are like Corts.

- Only I'm Italian.

Only you're Italian.

You're very kind.

As he passes the endless rows

of canvas concessions

and customers eagerly wallowing

at their troughs of 10-cent pleasures.

Men in sailor suits

and girls in bathing suits,

the old, the young, the aged and infirm,

Bandini pitied them

their petty aspirations,

yet admired their boundless courage.

He was after all,

a lover of man and beast alike,

and he knew in his heart

what they knew in their hearts,

that their place in the sun was really

no more than a handful of dust.

That their place in the sun was really

no more than a handful of dust.

After all,

we're here only for a little while.

And then we're somewhere else.

Gone, like some forgotten dream.

Even you, Mencken.

Apartment 201, Martene Wellesley?

Over here.

202, Vera Rivkin?

Vera Rivkin?

Forget it, Jack. She's over here.

She's gone.

208...

Thank you for tuning in to KFO X 1250.

The time is 4:
35 p.m.

Most of the damage

in yesterday's 6.4- Magnitude quake

was sustained in the Long Beach,

Compton and Huntington Park areas,

where early reports indicate

over 100 deaths and many more injured.

while 25 miles away,

the heart of Los Angeles

seems to be relatively unaffected.

For those without food

and shelter tonight...

I decided to give Vera more life

than she had had a chance to live.

"The name on the mailbox

was Doris Slotkin.

"She lived down

on the Long Beach Pike,

"across the street from the Ferris wheel

and the roller coaster.

"She had pale skin and dark eyes,

brilliant from too much bourbon,

"at once insolent and desperate.

"I was soon to learn

the source of her desperation."

Yeah, what is it?

Writing another hot one, huh?

I'm writing.

Just thought you'd wanna know

you got a registered letter

at the post office.

I'll just set it down on the dresser, okay?

Don't forget.

Thanks.

- How's it going?

- It's going.

Well, keep going, okay?

Otherwise, you'll end up dying

in Los Angeles like the rest of us.

"Dear Mr. Bandini,

"I would rather not publish

this latest effort of yours just now.

"For one thing, I believe it's a yarn

that is part of a bigger ball than you,

"in your present financial straits,

are able comfortably to contemplate.

"Therefore, please use

the enclosed $250

"to follow out the string.

"I suspect you'll find

it reaches novel length.

"Very truly yours, H.L. Mencken."

I'd never written

more than a 10-page story,

and here Mencken was telling me

to write an entire novel.

How was I gonna do it?

- who is it?

- It's me.

I came through the window.

I hope you don't mind.

Not at all. Sounds like fun.

I'd like to come through the door.

How do you feel about that?

Make yourself at home.

What's the big idea?

I came to see you.

Hard to believe, huh? Don't turn...

Don't do that.

- Who hit you?

- No one.

It was an automobile accident.

Was Sammy driving the other car?

Turn off the light, please.

I don't know where to go.

You don't have to go anywhere.

I'm tired.

I'm tired. I'm so tired.

Why did he do it?

He said I asked for it.

Did you?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Whenever they wanna hurt you,

that's what they say.

Arturo?

- Where you going?

- Where are you going?

Laguna.

Loan me a couple of bucks, could you?

I'll mail it when I get my job back.

I thought maybe

you'd like to come along.

Oh, yeah?

Well, what for?

You look like you could use a rest.

Maybe even a walk on the beach.

- That's it?

- Isn't that enough?

It's your funeral.

I'll get the house keys.

That Mexican sh*t will get you deported.

Jesus Christ!

Don't sneak up on people like that.

I'm not a hophead.

Rvery once in a while when I'm tired.

That's all.

Throw it away.

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