Charlie Brown = Charles Bukowski

“You’re looking sort of beat there, baby,” Charlie said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” said Schroeder. “It’s these girls. They’ll kill me one of these days. They just won’t quit, Branaski! Every time I think I might get some sleep, here comes another one, pounding at my door. It’s enough to drive me mad.”

“I bet Beethoven never had these problems.”

“Beethoven probably had the clap,” said Schroeder.

They sat and drank their beers and talked about women.

“There’s Lucy and Violet. They’re some real pieces of work, Branaski. They don’t get jealous of each other and sometimes one will come over while I’ve still got the other one in the sack! It’s not like Frieda. I think that Frieda would kill me if she ever found another woman over. It’s nothing but trouble, all the time. More trouble than it’s worth, I can tell you that much.”

And Charlie said, “Maybe you should just give it up.”

Schroeder laughed and clapped Charlie on the back.

“I could never give up women for the same reason I could never give up the piano, Charlie Branaski: I’m just too damn good.”