Douglas Copeland Went to Town

Douglas Copeland Went to Town

By Dougy Dirk (divorced and remarried)

you so smart and clever

me so slow and dumb

your exquisite derriere

my old flabby bum

Dougy, you might call me if you want to get your teeth rammed down your throat. My mother calls me Dougy and gets away with it, but that’s about it. You asked me what I do. I write. That’s my job. I make money writing. Yeah, I’ll have another beer if you’re buying. Sure is slow around here. I mean the service. Six tables at least for her. Hi, sweety. Yeah, you. They should call you sweaty. Anyway, bring us another couple each. And, stick the ham between your legs. Okay, okay. I was just testing the old buns. Sooorry. Oops! Sooorry, did it again. I’ll try to control myself. Yeah, as I was saying. My mother calls me whatever and I don’t mind. Oh, maybe six years. The last time I saw him he was wavin’ me goodbye, hurry homedrops on his cheeks. Ditz, that’s what he is. And not just because he left us in the lurch. No, he is really a ditz, whether I’m pissed at him or not. He drinks beer for lunch and has just cold potatoes that he snacks on. Jeeezz! Gaaad! How do you know him, anyway? I have no respect for that man. No one would. He takes young girls up to his room and sleeps with them and pays them to let him take their pictures. I think he makes money selling them to Videarn. Yeah, I saw the pictures. He doesn’t even bother to put them away when someone's over. Now, that’s vulgar. That’s what I mean by ditz. He couldn’t tie his own tie I almost sometimes think. Still off the farm in the forties, way back in the hills, no T.V. nor church nor nothing to rear him right, a Pontiac with big fins and rusted bumpers, an old calendar, if you know what I mean. Say, have you got the time? I have to get going. Ginny’s meeting me at the Sal’s. At four. Quarter to? Okay. Nah, she’s at the Bay now. They didn’t need so many clerks. Perfumes. Gaad, she stinks sometimes. I don’t know why they put so much on. Do they think they smell like sweat? Do they think other people will smell their periods? Huh? Jeeezz, already. I mean, I can’t ride elevators at Eatons anymore because all those girls wearing it in there. It smells like a perfume outhouse, if you get my drift. Nice shit. Anyway, she knows I don’t like it and showers before she comes to bed. Yeah, she puts it on after she leaves the house. I don’t know. I don’t know, maybe Channel, or one of those. Oh, shut up. Why do you want to know? You want to buy her some? Just stay away from her. I’ll drive your teeth right down to your ass if I ever see you near my place when I’m not there. My next one? Chapters. Tuesday, seven. Along with Moss and Webster. They spelled it Copland, the pricks!. Jeeeezz, already! Can’t they get one thing right? At least they sell good coffee. That I’ll give them. In there, even the books lament their own stasis and long for libraries where promises of love await them each time a girl pulls them to her lap. Hey, Love! Another two. For each of us, yeah. Pilsner, please. May I? No? Why? I thought you liked it. I won’t pinch hard. Just a little, like this. Sooorrry! Okay, okay. I won’t after this last time. Oww. A beer bottle? Right, I’ll watch my hands, already. Melissa? Nice. What are you doing when you get off? Suck one yourself, you little . . . . Jeeezz! Yeah, I’m off to L.A. in a few weeks. No. No. No. I don’t think she’s going to come. She’s got this new job at the Bay, like I said and she can’t just get off any time. Plus, the two retrievers. They’d go nuts in a kennel. No, she’s going to be staying home. Why do you ask? You little prick. I know what you’re thinking, you piece of shit. If I find out that you so much as called my place when I was gone I’ll drive your teeth so far back in your throat they’ll have to do a rectal exam before they start the dental surgery. Stay away, and I mean it. Don’t. No. No. Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it. Just fuck off already, you little prick. You dirty little weasling rat humper. You slimy measly piece of goat shit. You called her? When? Why, you . . . . She never told me. I don’t believe you. We don’t even know you. You’re lying, you sniveling hunk of donkey shit. Pink? With little red love hearts? Yeah, so? You been looking in her window, that’s what! You been looking in her window, you gaaddamned . . . . You snuck in the house and looked in her drawers! Oh, jeeeezz! She told you she was? What? You asked her? You right out and asked? Take that you fucking wife-stealer. And that. I hope you bleed to death. There, try to phone her on the cell yet now, you sneaky bastard! Gaaaadd! Jeeezz!