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You could hear him all the way to Santa Monica. I'm going to splatter his brains out against the wall --- I'm going to kill the son of a bitch!" "What guy, kid? Why do you want to kill this guy, kid?" He kept staring straight ahead. Groovy, baby. Why ya wanna kill this sunabitch,huh?" "He's fucking my wife, that's why!" "Oh." He stared some more. It was like a movie. It wasn't even as good as a movie. It's a beautiful weapon," said Joe. You put in this little clip. It fires ten shots. Rapid-fire. There'll be nothing left of the bastard!" Joe Hyans. That wonderful man with the big red beard. Groovy, baby. Anyhow I asked him, "How about all these anti-war articles you've printed? How about the love bit? What happened?" "Oh come on now Bukowski, you've never believed in all that pacifism shit?" "Well, I don't know-Well, I guess not exactly." "I've warned this guy that I am going to kill him if he doesn't stay away, and I walk in and there he is sitting on the couch in my own house. Now what would you do?" "You're making this a personal property thing, don't you understand? Just fuck it. Forget it. Walk away. Leave them there together." "Is that what you've done?" "After the age of thirty - always.
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