A Day At The Shooting Range With Charles Bukowski

 

It was a beautiful sunny day. Gun shots rang out through the mountain tops and there he stood my hero. He took a sip from a warm beer can as the overspill dripped down his beard and onto his sweaty shirt that rose above his sun burnt belly. His hair slicked back and his eyes squinted through the sunlight. It was truly amazing what a beautiful creature god could create after obviously throwing together whatever leftovers he had available.

“Great day isn’t it Chuck?”

“It’s a s****y day. I’ve never understood what people find in this nature jazz. It’s so boring and the air. Jesus! It’s too damn fresh! I miss L.A. Give me the smog baby.” He replied loading a handful of fresh shells.

“Pull!” The skeet shot into the air as he pulled the shotgun to his shoulder and took aim.

“This is for the damn post office!” The skeet exploded and the dust filled the air.

“This is for the damn four horse! That f*****g four horse and all my money!” The second skeet exploded and he continued. “For Frances! And Linda, that cheating w***e!”

A small group had begun gathering as he settled down to take another drink. Finishing off the can he threw it to the ground reached in the ice chest and retrieved a fresh one. He looked like a hostile creature, a caged animal eyeing the crowd. He pulled the gun into the air while taking a drink.

“One of you fuckers wanna go?” The crowd quickly dispersed.

“Jesus man, take it easy. Don’t make such a scene.” I sat down on the bench beside him and grabbed a beer from the chest.

“That’s your problem kid. You got no spine. I’ve read your writing, nothing but junkies and retards chasing the sun with nets. You’ve never lost anything have you? That’s what makes a good writer, loss. You need the pain, the heartbreak.”

“You can write about love without the heartbreak.” I took a drink and wiped my mouth on my shirt.

“Yeah, but it’s boring. Nobody wants to hear that. People want to hear how s****y life is, the real deal. Let me tell you something about love kid. Love is like a good beer s**t. You spend all this time working on it. You have your ups and downs, pain and pleasure. Then when you’re done you step back and admire it. You’ve put all this time into creating something beautiful and you almost feel guilty flushing it but it’s inevitable.”

He continued rambling on about beer s***s and how cheap smokes were on the drive through the mountains while my eyes wandered across the hilltops. Sweat ran from my head down my neck past my collar and collected beneath my polo as I sat now focused back on my enlightening companion.

“You got a hero kid?”

“Kurt Vonnegut.”

“Kurt Vonnegut was a schmuck. Who did he think he was with that hair? Did he think he was the f*****g Einstein of the literary world? And did you see those paintings? I bought a painting off Kurt one time just to hang in my bathroom so I could piss on it before every s**t. Everybody thinks they’re an artist.”

“Well who is a hero Chuck?”

“That’s the problem kid. They’re all dead. There isn’t any Jesse James left. They’ve all been replaced by Paris Hilton. Society would rather worship people who do absolutely nothing. Hell I don’t know why people like me. All I do is drink and cuss over a type writer.”

I sat pondering for a moment over Chuck’s logic. All heroes are dead. You can’t be a true writer without loss or heartache. Love is like a good beer s**t. Still thinking I lifted the shotgun to my lap while he stood to grab another beer from the ice chest. As he turned I got up from the bench and brought the gun to my shoulder aiming it at his back. He opened the fresh beer and turned to look at me. Gun now aimed at his gut, he took a deep gulp whipped his mouth with his hand and grinned before I unloaded the cartridge in his stomach. I lowered the gun and sat back down. As I sat there sipping my beer I couldn’t help but think, all my heroes were all now finally dead and I’ve had my loss. I’m going to be one of the greats. Bukowski would be proud.

Reviews

[Crowley]

Really cool scenario "love is a good beer s**t" is so something I could hear Dennis Hopper saying in the mini movie for this. Good writing, and good dialogue. May have liked it more if it were a bit longer so that I could get to know CB a little more as someone who doen't know much about him. Thanks, good read.

[Christen Rose]

Bravo!
I really admire your talent.
The ending was brilliant.

[Invisible_kid]

i loved this nathan, your an absolutely fantastic short story writer! this has to be yoru best so far and the ending was absolutely perfect! Fantasic job, truely!

[Starting Over]

This was great!!! Loved this

[DavidRyan]

This is extremely brilliant. I actually felt like Bukowski could have read this -- or at least his lines in the story. The imagery is great. You caught his spirit perfectly. I love the ending. Talking about how all the "heroes" are dead and then you shoot him in the gut. Greatest line of the whole thing : "As I sat there sipping my beer I couldn't help but think, all my heroes were all now finally dead and I've had my loss." Extremely well done. I'm a huge Bukowski fan and I'm a huge fan of this. Thank you for sending this my way.

[deeps]

"That's the problem kid. They're all dead. There isn't any Jesse James left. They've all been replaced by Paris Hilton. Society would rather worship people who do absolutely nothing. Hell I don't know why people like me. All I do is drink and cuss over a type writer."

Love it i got a laugh out of these lines here. Kind of sad but true really.
Enjoable read i like it muchly