she's pretty young; not a hell of a lot older than I was, I guess. And she keeps giving me the eye and putting her hand on my shoulder when she shows me how todo something. And I figure, well, you know. So one day when she keeps me after class-it's the last class of the day and we're all alone-one day when she's leaning over me and kind of rubbing up against me, why I give her a feel. I thought she wanted it, you know, so I did it. But dear reader it was a trap.
Well, I suppose it was an invaluable lesson, and one that profited me greatly in the future. That little bitch taught me something I never forgot, viz: the prettier and the sweeter they act toward you, the less you can trust 'em. They're just leading you on, see, to get you in trouble. And maybe you don't see it right at the time, but, brother, you will.
But it was sure a lesson purchased at great cost. I get the chilly drizzles right now when I think about it.
She yells and slaps my face, and some of the men teachers come running in, and I try to explain how it was, what I thought, and that just makes it worse. They call the principal, and they all start knocking me at once. It's their fault, see, that I'm not any further along. But they claim it's me. They give out with a lot of craperoo about how I won't study, I haven't really got my mind on school, and I'm uncooperative and antagonistic toward the other kids. And they make it sound like I'm public enemy number one or something; and it all started because this babe gave me a play, and I foolishly picked her up on it.
Well, to make a long story short, I got expelled and thus through no fault of my own, my formal education was terminated at a tender age. But to hell with 'em all, I say. People that act as dirty as that, they're not worth soiling my mind thinking about, and I don't.
You are aware by now that I am one hard working bastard with plenty of experience in many fields. But incredible as it seems, my earnest efforts and ability were never appreciated. The rookings I got right from the time! left home and took to the road are something to challenge the imagination. You'd have to see it to believe it, by God!
There was the manager of this circulation crew I first went out with. A crook from way back, and, man, what a crap artist. He gives me the old bull about traveling to California and back in new cars and making seventy-five bucks a week. And me, I'm just an innocent kid, unwise in the ways of the world, so I swallow it like candy. I sign on with the crew, there's about eight of us in this ten-year-old Dodge, and it seems like our first stop on our way to California is Newark, NJ. and- You ever do the door-to-door in Newark? Well, don't do it. They get all the crews coming out of New York, see. These circulation outfits and so on, they shake the crews down in jersey, and it's not reaily a fair test because the goddamned place is worked to death, but that's the way it is.
They shook out two of the guys in Newark, and another one before we're out of the state. Then, the rest of us go on westward, the crew manager and us four men. Well, I really knocked myself out. I made the doors and I made the sales. But it don't do me no good. It's like it's always been with me: working hard and being honest, and getting nothing for it. The crew manager, this bull artist, would do the cali-backs on my orders, and on about two-thirds of 'em he'd give me a can't-confirm. He'd look me right in the eye and say the lady had changed her mind or her husband wouldn't let her go through with the buy. And then he'd write the orders up as his own and take the commission.
Well, we got into Illinois, and I'm practically dead of doughnut poisoning by that time. I've been working my can off, and all the time I have to eat in dumps, taking a lot of guff from the hired help just because I'm a kid and I can't tip or anything. Sojust about then I began to get wise. I made a few call-backs myself, and then I jumped this crap artist. I
Well, I suppose it was an invaluable lesson, and one that profited me greatly in the future. That little bitch taught me something I never forgot, viz: the prettier and the sweeter they act toward you, the less you can trust 'em. They're just leading you on, see, to get you in trouble. And maybe you don't see it right at the time, but, brother, you will.
But it was sure a lesson purchased at great cost. I get the chilly drizzles right now when I think about it.
She yells and slaps my face, and some of the men teachers come running in, and I try to explain how it was, what I thought, and that just makes it worse. They call the principal, and they all start knocking me at once. It's their fault, see, that I'm not any further along. But they claim it's me. They give out with a lot of craperoo about how I won't study, I haven't really got my mind on school, and I'm uncooperative and antagonistic toward the other kids. And they make it sound like I'm public enemy number one or something; and it all started because this babe gave me a play, and I foolishly picked her up on it.
Well, to make a long story short, I got expelled and thus through no fault of my own, my formal education was terminated at a tender age. But to hell with 'em all, I say. People that act as dirty as that, they're not worth soiling my mind thinking about, and I don't.
You are aware by now that I am one hard working bastard with plenty of experience in many fields. But incredible as it seems, my earnest efforts and ability were never appreciated. The rookings I got right from the time! left home and took to the road are something to challenge the imagination. You'd have to see it to believe it, by God!
There was the manager of this circulation crew I first went out with. A crook from way back, and, man, what a crap artist. He gives me the old bull about traveling to California and back in new cars and making seventy-five bucks a week. And me, I'm just an innocent kid, unwise in the ways of the world, so I swallow it like candy. I sign on with the crew, there's about eight of us in this ten-year-old Dodge, and it seems like our first stop on our way to California is Newark, NJ. and- You ever do the door-to-door in Newark? Well, don't do it. They get all the crews coming out of New York, see. These circulation outfits and so on, they shake the crews down in jersey, and it's not reaily a fair test because the goddamned place is worked to death, but that's the way it is.
They shook out two of the guys in Newark, and another one before we're out of the state. Then, the rest of us go on westward, the crew manager and us four men. Well, I really knocked myself out. I made the doors and I made the sales. But it don't do me no good. It's like it's always been with me: working hard and being honest, and getting nothing for it. The crew manager, this bull artist, would do the cali-backs on my orders, and on about two-thirds of 'em he'd give me a can't-confirm. He'd look me right in the eye and say the lady had changed her mind or her husband wouldn't let her go through with the buy. And then he'd write the orders up as his own and take the commission.
Well, we got into Illinois, and I'm practically dead of doughnut poisoning by that time. I've been working my can off, and all the time I have to eat in dumps, taking a lot of guff from the hired help just because I'm a kid and I can't tip or anything. Sojust about then I began to get wise. I made a few call-backs myself, and then I jumped this crap artist. I
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