The Most Beautiful Woman in Town Read Online Free PDF

seem to blink. When she went to the restroom I walked over to Harry the truck-driver.
    â€œListen, Harry,” I asked, “how come none of the boys make a play for Sarah?”
    â€œShe’s a witch, man, a real witch. Stay away.”
    â€œThere’s no such thing as witches, Harry. All that has been disproven. All those women they burned at the stake in the old days, it was a cruel and a horrible mistake. There’s no such thing as a witch.”
    â€œWell, maybe they did burn a lot of women wrongly, I can’t say. But this bitch is a witch, take it from me.”
    â€œAll she needs, Harry, is understanding.”
    â€œAll she needs,” said Harry, “is a victim.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œFacts,” said Harry. “Two guys here. Manny, a salesman. And Lincoln, a clerk.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œThey just kind of disappeared in front of our eyes, only so slowly — you could see them going, vanishing …”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it. You’d think I was crazy.”
    Harry walked off. Then Sarah came out of the lady’s room. She looked beautiful.
    â€œWhat did Harry tell you about me?” she asked.
    â€œHow did you know I was talking to Harry?”
    â€œI know,” she said.
    â€œHe didn’t say much.”
    â€œWhatever he said, forget it. It’s bullshit. I won’t let him have any and he’s jealous. He likes to badmouth people.”
    â€œI’m not concerned with Harry’s opinions,” I told her.
    â€œYou and I are going to make it, Henry,” she said.
    She went to my apartment with me after the party and I’m telling you I’ve never been laid like that. She was the woman of all women. It was a month or so later that we were married. She quit her job right off, but I didn’t say anything because I was so glad to have her. Sarah made her own clothes, did her own hair. She was a remarkable woman. Very remarkable.
    But as I said, it was after about 3 months that she began making these remarks about my weight. At first they were just genial little remarks, then she began to get scornful about it. I came home one night and she said, “Take off your damned clothes!”
    â€œWhat, my darling?”
    â€œYou heard me, bastard! Strip!”
    Sarah was a little different then than I had ever seen her. I took off my clothes and underwear and threw them on the couch. She stared at me.
    â€œAwful,” she said, “what a lot of shit!”
    â€œWhat, dear?”
    â€œI said you look just like a big tub of shit!”
    â€œListen, honey, what’s wrong? You got the rag on tonight?”
    â€œShut up! Look at that stuff hanging at your sides!”
    She was right. There seemed to be a little pouch of fat on each side, hanging just above the hips. Then she doubled up her fists and hit me hard several times on each of the pouches.
    â€œWe’ve got to punch that shit! Break up the fat tissues, the cells…”
    She punched me again, several times.
    â€œOw! Baby, that hurts!!”
    â€œGood! Now, hit yourself!”
    â€œHit myself?”
    â€œGo ahead, damn you!”
    I hit myself several times, quite hard. When I was finished the things were still there, though now they looked quite red.
    â€œWe’re going to get that shit off of you,” she told me.
    I figured that it was love and decided to cooperate …
    Sarah began counting my calories. She took away my fried foods, bread and potatoes, salad dressing, but I kept my beer. I had to show her who was wearing the pants in our family.
    â€œNo, damn it,” I said, “I won’t give up my beer. I love you very much but the beer stays!”
    â€œAll right,” said Sarah, “we’ll make it work anyway.”
    â€œMake what work?”
    â€œI mean, get that shit off of you, get you down to a desirable