Hi There, talking to me?
Hi There, talking to me?
Cooper Mon May 26, 2008 7:51 am
"Hi, baby, this is Kitty"
"Hello Kitty, my name is Nick'"
"Oooh, your voice is so sexy! I'm getting a little excited"
"Nah, my voice isn't sexy"
"Oh, you're just being modest!"
"No, Kitty, I'm not modest..."
"You know, I feel very close to you. I feel ike I'm curled in up in your lap, I'm looking up at you with my eyes. I have large blue eyes. You're leaning close, like you're about to kiss me"
"That's crap, Kitty. I'm sitting here all alone sucking on a scotch and listening to the rain"
"Listen, Nick, you have to use your imagination just a little. Let go and you'll be surprised what we can do together. Don't you like my voice? Don't you find it a little . . . ah,sexy?"'
"Yeah, a little but not too much. You sound like you got a cold. You got a cold?"
"Nick, Nick, my dear boy, I'm too hot have a cold"
"What?"
"I said, I'm too hot to have a cold!"
"Well, you sound like you've got a cold! Maybe you smoke too many cigarettes"
"I only smoke one thing, Nick!"
"What's that, Kitty?"
"Can't you guess?"'
"Nah . . ."
"Look down at yourself, Nick"
"Ok"
"What do you see?"
"Drink. Telephone . . ."
"What else, Nicky?"
"My shoes . . ."
"Nick, what's that big thing sticking out there as you talk to me?"
"Oh, that! That's my gut!"
"Keep talking tome Nick. Keep listening to my voice, think of me there inyour lap, my dress slipped up a bit, my knees and thighs are showing. I have long blond hair. It showers down over me. Think of all that, Nick, think of it . . ."
"All right . . ."
"Ok, now what do you see?"
"Same things: telephone, my shoes, my drink, my gut . . ."
"Nick, you're bad! I've got a good mind to come over there and spank you! Or maybe I'll let your spank me!"
"What?"
"Spanky, Spanky, Nick!"
"Kitty . . ."
"Yes?"
"Will you pardon me for a minute? I have to go to the bathroom"
"Oh Nick, I know what you're going to do. But you don't have to go the bathroom to do it, you can do it right over the phone while you're talking to me!"
"No, I can't, Kitty. I gotta take a piss"
copyright: Charles Bukowski (Pulp 1994)
"Hello Kitty, my name is Nick'"
"Oooh, your voice is so sexy! I'm getting a little excited"
"Nah, my voice isn't sexy"
"Oh, you're just being modest!"
"No, Kitty, I'm not modest..."
"You know, I feel very close to you. I feel ike I'm curled in up in your lap, I'm looking up at you with my eyes. I have large blue eyes. You're leaning close, like you're about to kiss me"
"That's crap, Kitty. I'm sitting here all alone sucking on a scotch and listening to the rain"
"Listen, Nick, you have to use your imagination just a little. Let go and you'll be surprised what we can do together. Don't you like my voice? Don't you find it a little . . . ah,sexy?"'
"Yeah, a little but not too much. You sound like you got a cold. You got a cold?"
"Nick, Nick, my dear boy, I'm too hot have a cold"
"What?"
"I said, I'm too hot to have a cold!"
"Well, you sound like you've got a cold! Maybe you smoke too many cigarettes"
"I only smoke one thing, Nick!"
"What's that, Kitty?"
"Can't you guess?"'
"Nah . . ."
"Look down at yourself, Nick"
"Ok"
"What do you see?"
"Drink. Telephone . . ."
"What else, Nicky?"
"My shoes . . ."
"Nick, what's that big thing sticking out there as you talk to me?"
"Oh, that! That's my gut!"
"Keep talking tome Nick. Keep listening to my voice, think of me there inyour lap, my dress slipped up a bit, my knees and thighs are showing. I have long blond hair. It showers down over me. Think of all that, Nick, think of it . . ."
"All right . . ."
"Ok, now what do you see?"
"Same things: telephone, my shoes, my drink, my gut . . ."
"Nick, you're bad! I've got a good mind to come over there and spank you! Or maybe I'll let your spank me!"
"What?"
"Spanky, Spanky, Nick!"
"Kitty . . ."
"Yes?"
"Will you pardon me for a minute? I have to go to the bathroom"
"Oh Nick, I know what you're going to do. But you don't have to go the bathroom to do it, you can do it right over the phone while you're talking to me!"
"No, I can't, Kitty. I gotta take a piss"
copyright: Charles Bukowski (Pulp 1994)
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