Factotum

Mr. Chinaski! Hey!

Come on over here!

- You've got a drivers license, don't you? - Yeah.

I got a driver out sick today.

We've got some rush orders we need to get out right away.

I need you to make these deliveries.

Hi, Chi...!

Feeling bad?

I've felt better.

I've probably slept longer than you've lived.

Chinaski, you're fired.

Do you have a room?

- It's $150 a week. - All right.

- Are you employed? - Self employed.

- May I ask what you do? - I'm a writer.

Have you written books?

Well, I'm not ready for a novel... yet.

OK.

Now most guys think they know how to drive.

But the fact is, very few people know how to drive.

They just steer.

Every day I see 2-3 people simply run through red lights like they didn't exist.

The lives people live are driving them crazy,

and their insanity comes out in the way they drive.

I'm not here to tell you how to live. I'm here to teach you how to drive.

Now when is the only time a man can lose control of his cab

and he won't be able to help it?

When I get a hard on?

Mendoza, if you can't drive with a hard on we can't use you.

Some of our best men drive with hard ons all day long. All night too.

Now come on: when is the only time a man can one lose control of his cab

and he won't be able to help it?

Yes, Chinaski?

A man might lose control over his cab when he sneezed.

That is correct.

Alright. When you sneeze, what do you do?

- Are you Henry Chinaski? - Yes, sir.

Follow me.

Sit down.

We ran a check on you, Chinaski.

You have 18 drunk and disorderly arrests and one for drunk driving.

You lied to us.

Yeah, there were two for drunk driving.

You falsified your application. You're disqualified.

Could you call me a cab?

As we live we all get caught and torn by various traps.

Writing can trap you.

Some writers tend to write what has pleased their readers in the past.

They hear accolades and believe them.

There is only one final judge of writing and that is the writer.

When he is swayed by the critics, the editors, the publishers, the readers,

then he's finished.

And of course when he's swayed with his fame and his fortune,

you can float him down the river with the turds.

- A writer? - Yes.

- Are you sure? - No, I'm not.

Why do you want to work in a pickle factory?

- It reminds me of my grandmother. - It does?

She used to serve me pickles whenever I visited her.

- What do you write? - Mostly short stories.

- I'm half way through a novel. - What's it about?

Everything.

You mean for instance it's about cancer?

Yes.

How about my wife?

She's in there too.

I wrote 3 or 4 short stories a week. I kept things in the mail.

I imagined how the editors at The New Yorker must be reacting.

Hey, here's another one of those things from that nut!

I sent most of them to John Martin. His magazine, Black Sparrow, I admired.

Chinaski? You want to step in here for a minute?

Mr. Gentry is a writer too.

I told him that you were a writer and he wanted to meet you.

You don't mind, do you?

I don't mind.

Mr. Gentry is a friend of mine.

Do you mind if I leave?

OK.

That scene in the office stayed with me.

Those cigars, the fine clothes...

I thought of good steaks.

Long rides up winding driveways that led to beautiful homes.

Ease. Trips to Europe.

Fine women.

Chinaski, what are you doing? Get back, get back to work.

- Your shift's not over. - I'm going out to get a drink.

- No, no. You can't get a drink. - What?

Come on, get back to work. Over here.

All right, all right.

Get off me!

No!

- You OK? - I'm fine.

I don't need this!

And then I met Jan.

I bought her a drink and she gave me her phone number.

Three days later I moved into her apartment.

Jan had a 500-dollar car.

The big trick with that car was how to turn on the headlights.

Of course we had the advantage of broken springs.

Jan was an excellent fuck.

She had a tight pussy. And she took it like it was a knife that was killing her.

Hey, I want to know what time it is!

You said you'd fix the clock.

All right, let's see...

We set the clock by the TV at midnight last night.

We know that it gains 35 minutes every hour.

It says 7:30 p.m. right now.

But we know that's not right because it's not dark enough yet - okay.

That's 7 1/2 hours.

Seven times 35 minutes...

That's 245 minutes.

One half of 35 is...

17 1/2.

It gives us...

252 1/2 minutes.

OK, that's... four hours and 42 1/2 minutes we owe them.

So we set the clock back to 5:47. That's it.

It's 5:47.

It's dinner time and we don't have anything to eat.

Let's open another jug of wine. Should I make some pancakes?

I don't know if I can get another one of them down.

Oh, come on.

Okay, put the pancakes on.

We're still out of butter.

- Well, fry them dry again. - They'll be crisp. Real crisp.

It's okay, baby.

What was that?

What is that?

Is anyone in there?

Everybody out!

It's just the fire department.

I finally got hired at a Bicycle Supply Warehouse.

I had to demean myself to get that one.

I told them that I liked to think of my job as a second home.

You play the horses?

Yeah.

Mind if I look at your paper?

Sure.

- My Boy Bobby ought to take the eight. - I know. They don't even have him on top.

- All the better. - What do you think he'll pay?

About 9 to 2.

- What time does the last race go off? - 5:30.

- We get off at 5:00. - We'd never make it.

We can try. The racetrack's not too far.

- Want to come along? - Sure.

Keep your eye on the clock. We'll cut out at five to five.

See, I told you we'd make it!

$200 on My Boy Bobby to win.

My Boy Bobby's in the front. He's in the lead!

We've hooked ourselves a winner!

Unless some big-ass closer comes out of the back of the pack.

Come on! Come on, Bobby! Come on! Come on! Come on!

Yes! Yes!

We really should have bet another $200 on that horse.

- Oh, you're right. - Come on, let's go get a drink.

The next day at work some of the other employees asked us

if we would place bets for them.

Hank, we have to take their bets.

Manny, those guys don't have any money.

All they've got is the coffee and chewing gum money

that their wives give them.

We don't have time to waste at the 2-dollar windows.

We're not going to bet their money, we're going to keep their money.

- Suppose they win? - They won't win.

They always pick the wrong horse.

They have a way of always picking the wrong horse.

Suppose they bet our horse?

Then we know we've got the wrong horse.

I think she's going to do it. I think she's going to do it.

Come on Spitfire! Let's go! Go, Spitfire! Let's go!

Yes! Way to go!

- You married, Manny? - No way. No.

- Women? - Sometimes.

- It never lasts. - What's the problem?

A woman is like a full-time job. You have to chose your profession.

Yeah, I suppose there is an emotional drain.

Physical too. They want to fuck night and day.

Well. Get one you like to fuck.

Yeah, but if you drink or gamble they think it's a put down of their love.

Get one who likes to drink, gamble and fuck.

Who wants a woman like that?

I bought some expensive clothes and a good pair of shoes.

The owner of the bike supply warehouse didn't look so powerful anymore.

Manny and I took a little longer with our lunches

and came back smoking good cigars.

The new life didn't sit well with Jan.

She was used to her four fucks a day and also used to seeing me poor and humble.

Mr. Horseplayer!

Mr. Big Horseplayer!

You know when I first met you, I liked the way you walked across the room.

You didn't just walk across the room.

You walked like you were walking through walls.

Like you owned the place. Like nothing mattered.

Now you've got a few bucks in your pocket, you're not the same anymore.

You act like you're a dental student or a plumber.

Don't give me any shit about plumbers, Jan.

- You haven't made love to me in two weeks. - Love takes many forms.

- Mine has been more subtle. - You haven't fucked me in two weeks.

Have some patience. In six months we'll be vacationing in Rome, in Paris.

Look at you! Pouring yourself that good whiskey