Factotum Page #3

Suppose you're right.

I can hardly believe you're my son.

You don't have any ambition.

How the hell are you

going to make it in this world?

Still think you're a writer?

I am still writing.

If you stay here I'll charge you

room and board plus laundry.

When you get a job, what's yours we take

out of your wages till you're paid up.

You're drunk!

- Yes.

- Where do you get the money to drink?

- I'll get a job.

- How?

- You act as if I had murdered somebody.

- It's just as bad!

Are you finished?

Thanks for the food, mom.

- You're not hungry?

- No. I'm good, thank you.

Robert, how about you and I

go out and have a few cocktails?

Drinking in the middle of the week

without a job?

That's when you need a drink the most.

I am warning you!

- I also need a piece of ass.

- What's he saying?

I said,

I also need a piece of ass.

We have

three different types of cartons.

This is for our Super Durable Brake

Shoe. This for our Super Brake Shoe.

And this is for our Standard Brake Shoe.

And here are the brake shoes.

- How do I tell them apart?

- You don't.

Just divide them into thirds.

When you've finished

we'll find something else.

- When do I start?

- Now.

And absolutely no smoking up here.

If you have to smoke, come downstairs.

A poem is a city

filled with streets and sewers.

Filled with saints, heroes,

beggars, madmen.

Filled with banality and booze.

Filled with rain and thunder

and periods of drought.

A poem is a city at war.

It's a barbershop

filled with cynical drunks.

A poem is a city.

A poem is a nation.

A poem is the world.

I decided to look for Jan.

I toured the bars in our old

neighborhood looking for her.

The bartender at the Pink Mule -

- told me that she was working as

a chambermaid in a downtown hotel.

Hank!

Jan.

I thought I'd never see you again!

Well, here I am.

Let me look at you.

You're thin. You've lost weight.

You're looking good.

- Are you alone?

- Yes.

- There's no one else?

- Nobody.

You know I can't stand people.

Well, good to see you working.

Come on.

- I'm embarrassed.

- I love you, you idiot.

We've f***ed 800 times, so relax.

- Still like my legs?

- Hell yes.

Have you finished with your work?

All but Mr. Clark's room.

He doesn't care. He leaves me tips.

I'm not doing anything.

He just leaves me tips.

Jan?

I love you, baby.

Bastard.

When I came home one night,

she had moved in with me.

I decided to clean up the apartment.

I thought

I must be turning into a fag.

Where is she?

Where is the b*tch

who cleaned the place?

If I find her,

I'm going to kill her. I swear.

You're going to pay for this, Chinaski.

She was continually using our

arguments to justify herself.

It was just a cover for her own guilt.

She'd go off

with anyone she met in a bar.

And the lower and the dirtier he was

the better she liked it.

She left and I got drunk

for three days and three nights.

When I sobered up

I knew my job was gone.

Hello? I was told

you might be looking for reporters.

Please fill this out.

Bastard!

Apply this ointment to the invaded parts

an wash off after 20-30 minutes.

Under no circumstances leave it on

longer than 30 minutes.

Thank you.

Hell! 30 minutes?

I'll leave it on all night

and kill every one of these f***ers.

Sh*t!

Hank?

- You f***ing whore!

- What?

- Look what you've done to me!

- What is it?

Don't you know?

I haven't f***ed anybody else! I got it

from you. You're a diseased ridden slut!

Crabs, baby! You gave me crabs.

No. Geraldine must have them.

I was sitting on her toilet.

You got it off a toilet seat?

Give me a goddamn drink.

What do you want?

Yes?

Yes?

As a reporter?

Not as a reporter?

Today?

Okay. Thanks.

Who was that?

- I got a job.

- I'll fix you up.

I can't wear pants.

- I'll rap you up in gauze.

- Will that work?

Easy does it.

- Put it right around...

- Easy.

- Anybody tell you how funny you are?

- No.

That's understandable.

Now, for a little tape.

- Put the other leg up, lover.

- Never mind the romance.

Around your big fat thighs.

- Not as big as your big fat ass.

- No, no, be nice now.

Now the balls. Your little red balls.

Just in time for Christmas.

- What will you do with my balls?

- Rap them.

It might affect my tap-dancing.

- Wrap that around like that and tie.

- They'll slip out.

In a cocoon. Real nice.

That's better. A little bit of tape.

- Don't tape my balls to my a**hole.

- That's the best place for them, baby.

You're as good as new.

Get up and walk around.

This is all right!

I feel like a eunuch, -

- but this is all right.

- Want some soft boiled eggs?

- Sure, baby.

Call for help if you

need to move the lift.

We're very proud of this guy.

It's called 'Vision of Peace'.

Why was I chosen to do this?

Why couldn't I

be inside writing editorials -

- about municipal corruption?

Give the readers

my vision of peace.

Questions like these

demanded deeper consideration.

Superintendent Barnes.

Can I buy you a beer?

You are fired, Mr. Chinaski. Return

your uniform and clean out your locker.

Yes, sir.

- Is that you, Hank?

- Yeah, baby.

I got canned.

Caught me drinking on the job.

What about your check?

Funny, they didn't mention it.

You worked almost a full day.

They owe you wages.

Yes, they do.

We go get it,

as soon as the office opens.

Okay.

Let's hit the marked for some stewed

meat and vegetables and French wine.

- They old me the check wasn't ready.

- What? It's the law.

They said it would be ready tomorrow.

Christ, I've walked

all this way in high heels!

You look great, baby.

It pays to be a tough son of a b*tch.

The world belongs to people with balls.

Just get the check, daddy.

I'm Henry Chinaski.

- Yes?

- I was here yesterday.

Yes?

You told me

my check would be ready today.

- Oh.

- That's right.

I'm sorry.

Your check isn't here yet.

But you said it would be.

I'm sorry.

Sometimes it takes a little longer.

I want my check!

I'm sorry, sir.

You're not sorry.

You don't know what sorrow is. I do.

I want to talk to

your boss's boss. Now!

Mr. Handler?

A Mr. Chinaski would like to see you

about a termination payroll check.

Right.

Room 309.

Thank you.

Me and my old lady walked

down here now, two days running -

- just to be told

that you don't have my check.

Now, you and I know that's pure crap.

All I want to do

is get my check and get drunk.

That may not sound noble.

But it's my choice.

You got a smoke?

Thank you.

Miss Simms?

There's a check due

to Mr. Henry Chinaski.

Yes. Henry Chinaski.

I want it down in five minutes.

Thank you.

Listen, John, I've got two years

of journalism at L. A. City College.

- You couldn't use a reporter?

- Sorry, we're overstaffed now.

I see.

Your check will be downstairs.

Thank you.

You might as well not have any ears.

You never listen to me anymore.

That's because

you keep repeating yourself.

Let's have a drink and talk about it.

You've had your ass up in the air

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