Читать книгу Dreaming of Babylon - Richard Brautigan - Страница 14

Adolf Hitler

I left the Hall of Justice and walked up to North Beach to see if I could get some bullets out of the minor criminal I knew who lived on Telegraph Hill.

He lived in an apartment on Green Street.

Just my luck the minor crook wasn’t home. His mother answered the door. I had never met her before but I knew it was his mother because he had talked a lot about her. She took one look at me and said, “He’s gone straight. Go away. He’s a good boy now. Find somebody else to break into places with.”

“What?” I said.

“You know what,” she said. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with guys like you. He goes to church now. Six o’clock Mass.”

She was a little old Italian lady about sixty. She was wearing a white apron. I think she misunderstood what type of person I was.

“He’s gone down to join the Army,” she said. “He can, you know. He never got into any real trouble. Just little things. Guys like you made him do it. He’s going to fight Adolf Hitler. Show that son-of-a-bitch what’s what.”

Then she started to close the door.

“Get out of here!” she yelled. “Go join the Army! Make something of yourself! It’s not too late! The recruiting office is open right now! They’ll take you if you haven’t been in the pen!”

“I don’t think you know who I am. I’m a private—”

SLAM!

It was an obvious misunderstanding.

Amazing.

She thought I was a crook.

I’d just come there to borrow a few bullets.