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I choose to stand." Their silence. Wait. Wait. The shuffling of Open Pussies. Then Mr. Washington: "Mr. Bukowski?" "Yeh?" Are you going to write any more columns about the Post Office?" I had written one about them which I thought was more humorous than demeaning --- but then, maybe my mind was twisted. I let them wait this time. Then I answered. Not unless you make it necessary for me to do so." Then they waited. It was kind of an interrogation chess game where you hoped the other man would make the wrong move: blurt out his pawns, knights, bishops, king, his queen, his guts. And meanwhile, as you read this, here goes my goddamned job. Groovy, baby. Send dollars for beer and wreaths to The Charles Bukowski Rehabilitation Fund at-) Mr. Washington stood up. Mr. Los Angeles stood up. Mr. Washington said: "I think that the interview is over." Mr.
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