The Big Bamboo Read Online Free PDF Page A

monolith.” A crumpled ball of paper falls slow-motion into a crater.

Coleman clutches the tube in his mouth again: “What about a different time frame?”

SCENE ONE
A Hundred and Nineteen Years Earlier

Horses’ hooves thunder across the Wild West. A large posse seals off all escape.

Two outlaws squirm along the edge of a cliff.

Serge: “Who are those guys?”

Coleman peeks over the cliff at the water hundreds of feet below: “I can’t swim.”

Serge: “I have to go to the bathroom.” He steps off the cliff
     
    Coleman sat down at the foot of a bed. “Why are we staying at this crappy place, anyway?”
    “Inspiration,” Serge yelled from around the corner. A toilet flushed. He came back out. “I thought some stuff might happen that would give me ideas…” He wandered to the window and stared outside at Nebraska Avenue. A car crashed. Gunshots echoed from an alley. A streetwalker in a cheerleading uniform pulled a switchblade on a pimp. Serge went back to his typewriter and sat down in front of an empty page. “Why can’t I think of anything?”
    A knock at the door. Coleman answered. A man with strands of aluminum foil in a long beard stood next to a shopping cart. He wanted to know if they had any phone books. Coleman gave him two thick ones from the nightstand.
    Serge started typing again. “Who was that?”
    Coleman closed the door. “I don’t know.”
    “What did he want?”
    “Our phone books.”
    “Another sign of The End Times.”
    Coleman sat down again and picked at his toes. “So when did movies become your latest obsession?”
    “What do you mean
latest
? I’ve always been into movies.”
    “You know what I’m talking about. Every couple months you get on some kick, and we have to drive all over the place and completely change the way we live. Then something new comes along and you forget all about the last thing.”
    “Like when?”
    “Are you kidding?” Coleman switched the foot he was scratching. “There was the space program, then politics, railroads, the Keys, the history of some Florida shit, then the space program Part Two—remember that? When the shuttle crashed? You cried for like two weeks.”
    Serge pointed at Coleman. “You didn’t tell anyone!”
    “Of course not. I’m just saying I didn’t realize you’d switched again. I thought you were still writing your book. Whatever happened to that?”
    “I finished it,” said Serge. “But all the rejection letters claimed there wasn’t a market, like they know everything.”
    “What was the title?”
    “Chicken Soup for the Fucked-up Chicken-Soup Book Buyer.”
    Coleman scratched his toes harder.
    Serge crumpled the latest sheet into a tight ball. “If only I could find the opening hook…”
    A loud banging sound.
    Serge looked around. “What was that?”
    Coleman pointed across the room. “That guy in the closet you tied up and gagged. I think he’s come to.”
    Bang, bang, bang.
    “Interruptions!” Serge got up and grabbed a pistol by the barrel. He headed across the room.
    Bang, bang, bang.
    Serge opened the closet door and cracked the man in the skull with the butt of the gun. He closed the door.
    Coleman looked up at Serge as he came back across the room. “Is he okay?”
    “He’s resting.” Serge sat down and stared at the typewriter. “Nothing interesting ever happens.”
    Coleman pointed at the closet again. “Serge, what about the guy—”
    “Shhhh!”
    “But that’s a really fascinating—”
    “I’m trying to concentrate!”
    Coleman shrugged. Minutes passed. Serge finally stood and shook his head. “I don’t know what the problem is. I can’t get the hook.”
    “What about sex?” said Coleman. “That always works.”
    “Too gratuitous.”
    Another knock at the front door.
    “What now!” Serge walked over and turned the knob.
    Standing outside was a stunning brunette in a conservative business suit. High cheekbones, full lips, almost six feet tall. A high-priced trial