'Think I'll have my stomach tucked.... I may be old, but I'm still desirable.' (The Stomach Tuck is surgical intervention to remove stomach fat at the same time making a tuck in the abdominal wall, thus creating a flesh corset, which is, however, subject to break and spurt your horrible old guts across the Boor.... The slim and shapely F.C. models are, of course, the most dangerous. In fact, some extreme models are known as O.N.S.--One Night Stands --in the industry.
Doctor 'Doodles' Rindfest states bluntly: 'Bed is the most dangerous place for an F.C. man.' The F.C. theme song is 'Believe Me If All These Endearing Young Charms.' An F.C. partner is indeed subject to 'fleet from your arms like fairy gifts fading away.') In a white museum room full of sunlight pink nudes sixty feet high. Vast adolescent muttering. Silver guard rail... chasm a thousand feet down into the glittering sunlight. Little: green plots of cabbage and lettuce. Brown youths with adzes spied by the old queen across a sewage canal.
'Oh dear, I wonder if they fertilize with human excrement.... Maybe they'll do it right now.' He flips out mother of pearl opera glasses --Aztec mosaic in the sun. Long line of Greek lads march up with alabaster bowls of shit, empty into the limestone marl hole.
Dusty poplars shake across the red brick Plaza de Toros in the afternoon wind. Wooden cubicles around a hot spring... rubble of ruined walls in a grove of cottonwoods... the benches worn smooth as metal by a million masturbating boys.
Greek lads white as marble fuck dog style on the portico of a great golden temple... naked Mugwump twangs a lute.
Walking down by the tracks in his red sweater met Sammy the Dock Keeper's son with two Mexicans.
'Hey, Skinny,' he said, 'want to get screwed?'
'Well... Yeah.'
On a ruined straw mattress the Mexican pulled him up on all fours --Negro boy dance around them beating out the strokes... sun through a knot hole pink spotlights his cock. A waste of raw pink shame to the pastel blue horizon where vast iron mesas crash into the shattered sky, 'It's all right.' The God screams through you three thousand year rusty load.... 60
Hail of crystal skulls shattered the greenhouse to slivers in the winter moon.... The American woman has left a whiff of poison behind in the dank St. Louis garden party. Pool covered with green slime in a ruined French garden. Huge pathic frog rises slowly from the water on a mud platform playing the clavichord.
A Sollubi rushes into the bar and starts polishing The Saint's shoes with the oil on his nose.... The Saint kicks him petulantly in the mouth. The Sollubi screams, whirls around and shits on the Saint's pants. Then he dashes into the street. A pimp looks after him speculatively.... The Saint calls the manager: 'Jesus, Al, what kinda creep joint you running here? My brand new fishskin Degagees...'
'I'm sorry, Saint. He slipped by me.'
(The Sollubi are an untouchable caste in Arabia noted for their abject vileness. De luxe cafes are equipped with Sollubi who rim the guests while they eat --holes in the seating benches being provided for this purpose. Citizens who want to be utterly humiliated and degraded --so many people do, nowadays, hoping to jump the gun --over themselves up for passive homosexual intercourse to an encampment of Sollubis.... Nothing like it, they tell me.... In fact, the Sollubi are subject to become wealthy and arrogant and lose their native vileness. What is origin of untouchable? Perhaps a fallen priest caste. In fact, untouchables perform a priestly function in taking on themselves all human vileness.)
A. J. strolls through the Market in black cape with a vulture perched on one shoulder. He stands by a table of agents.
'This you gotta hear. Boy in Los Angeles fifteen year old. Father decide it is time the boy have his first piece of ass. Boy is lying on the lawn reading comic books, father go out and say: 'Son, here's twenty dollars; I want you to go to a good whore and get a piece of ass off her.'
'So they drive to this plush jump joint, and the father say, 'All right, son. You're on your own. So ring the bell and when the woman come give her the twenty dollars and tell her you want a piece of ass.'
' 'Solid, pop.'
'So about fifteen minutes later the boy comes out: ' 'Well, son, did you get a piece of ass?'
' 'Yeah. This gash comes to the door, and I say I want a piece of ass and lay the double sawski on her. We go up to her trap, and she remove the dry goods. So I switch my blade and cut a big hunk off her ass, she raise a beef like I am reduce to pull off one shoe and beat her brains out. Then I hump her for kicks.'
Only the laughing bones remain, flesh over the hills and far away with the dawn wind and a train whistle. We are not unaware of the problem, and the needs of our constituents are never out of our mind being their place of residence and who can break a ninety-nine year synapses lease? Another installment in the adventures of Clem Snide the Private Ass Hole: 'So I walk in the joint, and this female hustler sit at the bar, and I think, 'Oh God you're poule de luxe already.' I mean it's like I see the gash before. So I don't pay her no mind at first, then I dig she is rubbing her legs together and working her feet up behind her head shoves it down to give herself a douche job with a gadget sticks out of her nose the way a body can't help but notice.' Iris --half Chinese and half Negro --addicted to dihydro-oxy-heroin --takes a shot every fifteen minutes to which end she leaves droppers and needles sticking out all over her. The needles rust in her dry flesh, which, here and there, has grown completely over a joint to form a
