Spitting off tall buildings - By Dan Fante Page 0,26

they can get away with using. See Dante, as of a month ago, cocksucker number two, that other mick fuckin’ cocksucker that employs that fat cocksucker Murphy, don’t have to pay traveling time no more to the employees because, all of a sudden, both cocksuckers have decided together that they can put all of us on fuckin’ independent contractor status, see. So now, everybody loses four hours off their check. Four hours, ya know! Sixteen hours a month!’

He pushed me the bottle and I took my turn. A long pull.

Flash went on. Nothing could have stopped him. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘but here’s the juicy fucking part, ya know; they still take fuckin’ deductions out. Cute, huh? They’ve just changed the name of what they call the fuckin’ deductions. See? So now, because we’re IC status, independent contractors, they can bill us for supplies and shit where before they had to give it to us automatically as part of the job. Now they can fuck us twice instead of once. Ya know, its like a fuckin’ art form. Ya know? I mean, you gotta admire real professional loophole cocksuckers…Cleaning supplies, ya know. Even rags. Believe that! The cocksuckers now charge us for rags! It’s right there on my check stub in the Deductions Column. “Rags,” three dollars. No bullshit. “Rags.” Grand, ain’t it? Ya know…The two mick cocksuckers! They’re like a couple of fuckin’ Northern Ireland hit men. That fuckin’ fat Murphy fuckin’ cocksucker and the owner, that fuckin’ Benjamin Moriarty, mister fuckin’ Red Ball cocksucker himself! Benny Moriarty. I hate ‘em! They’re both cocksuckers, ya know? Know what I mean?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘I know what you mean.’

Flash took half a dozen long pulls at the bottle then passed it back. ‘Take a drink, Dante. Hit it! Take a good one!’ he said.

I did. Then pushed it back.

‘So now, because I opened my mouth and complained about their chickenshit tactics with the paychecks, Murphy’s new thing - the dicksuckin’ fuckin’ scumbag cocksucker - Murphy’s new thing is to stick me with every new guy who signs on. No offense, Dante. But, ya know, it’s like my fuckin’ penance for standin’ up for myself. My punishment. I’m on the fat prick’s shit list. See?’

I did. I saw.

‘Hit it again, Dante.’

I did. I took long pulls. Boom! Boom! Boom!

‘Every day around this time I take my break, ya know. I take a full half-hour. Sometimes the full hour. Fuck ‘em, ya know? They ain’t payin’ me for my breaks any more. So I say, fuck ‘em! Ya know?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Sure. Fuck ‘em.’

We smoked cigarettes and passed the jug back and forth until it was gone. Flash talked and talked. For him, at least a week’s worth of words. Maybe two weeks’. I was content to drink and listen.

‘Well?’ he said when the jug was played.

‘Well,’ I said.

‘Okay?…Ya know?’

‘Yeah.’ I said. ‘Okay.’

‘You gonna shitcan this deal or stay workin’ with me?’

I thought about it. The Mad Dog had re-adjusted my perspective. ‘I’ll stay workin’ with you,’ I said.

Chapter Thirteen

THAT FRIDAY AFTERNOON started a long weekend holiday. President’s Day. The changes, the new job, sleeping no more than an hour or two at night had made the voices in my mind too loud for too long. I lied, told Flash I was sick, then borrowed fifty bucks and went home early to get drunk.

The run lasted three days. Wine only.

Late that afternoon, high on Mad Dog 20-20, I stopped in at the luncheonette on Eighth Avenue around the corner from my rooming house.

LaVonne was behind the counter. Her shift was the afternoon and dinner shift. She was young, nineteen, supporting a two-year-old kid with the waitress job. Pure black dancing Afro/Puerto Rican eyes and shiny hair down to her ass when she let it down.

We’d talked quite a bit. About human nature and jobs and this kind of boss versus that kind. She loved movies too and was a big fan of every film Harrison Ford ever made.

I had come in a little drunk many times because I was frequently a little drunk. But this time when I came in it was different. I was very drunk.

The luncheonette was empty except for two neighborhood women at the corner table by the window, and Mister Dave, the owner, in the kitchen frying liver and onions.

I was on the end stool which is where I always sat. I’d been wanting to ask LaVonne on a date for over a month. Out for a walk or for