Charles Bukowski

Nice Guy

Broke his bank, totaled his car, and slept with his wife. Of course, everybody was sleeping with his wife, but a nicer guy you never met. T.K. Kemper played a couple of years with the Green Bay Packers, Then a bad knee got him. He went into automotive repair, did very good work. He was a lousy card player though; we'd get him drunk and take it all from him, His wife lurking in the background, her tits hanging out. T.K. Kemper. Big, big guy. Hands like hams. Honest blue eyes. Give you the shirt off his back. Give you his back if he could. One night after work, he saw two punks snatch a purse from an old lady. He ran after them when one of the punks turned, had a gun, fired 5 shots. He was a big, big guy. He caught all 5 shots, hit the pavement hard, didn't move. There was a good crowd at the funeral. His wife cried. My friend Eddie consoled her, then took her home and fucked her. T.K. Kemper. Bad knee. Good heart. He was not meant for this indifferent world. Only with supreme luck did he last 29 years.

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