Benny-K

I asked my neighbor Benny-K if I could use his phonebook to look up Joe Galosh. Sure, he said.

Benny's a skinny old guy who seems to wear the same loose black stuff all the time--black sweater, black pants, black socks, black shoes, black Casio watch, black scarf. He must dye his hair black every day; it's the most unhealthy, unreflective shade of black you've ever seen. No human shade, this. It's like looking at the the inside of a coalshed on a moonless night, only it's spread over this old guy's head (and eyebrows). (When I met Benny-K for the first time I asked him (respectfully) who he was mourning and he said, "a pretty girl in the background of a movie I saw when I was eleven." He didn't elaborate. "I don't elaborate," he says. "Nobody understands.")

So Benny goes into his little black apartment and brings out his phonebook, which is in bits. It's a well-used phonebook. A mature phonebook, with the front cover hanging off, and the corners all dog-eared. I was impressed by this: most people these days don't use phonebooks; they use the internet. It's more convenient and it doesn't take up as much room. If you want to look up a specific thing, you use the internet. Like a lot of old guys, Joe Galosh doesn't show up on the internet (just on this blog) so the phonebook is the only option. Benny's phonebook is all worn out. He's drawn little faces beside all the women's names right up to the letter R. Sad faces, mainly, with the occasional smiley devil face.

He says the smiley devil face means that if you call that woman up, she might be willing to talk dirty.