was found for him. Fortunately, Wilt was still unconscious.
Chapter 21
Uncle Wally was not so lucky. He was fully conscious and wishing to hell he wasn’t. He had come out of Intensive Care, had refused to see Auntie Joanie and was having a most unpleasant conversation with Dr Cohen who was telling him a man of his age…well, a man of any age deserved an infarct if he did what he’d done to his wife or any other person for that matter. It was, he said, contra natura.
‘Contra what?’ Wally gasped. The only Contras he’d heard of had fought the Sandinistas in Nicaragua.
‘Against nature. The sphincter is designed to let excreta out not–’
‘Shit! What’s excrecha?’
‘What you just said. Shit,’ said Dr Cohen. ‘Now, like I was saying, the sphincter–’
‘I don’t even know what a sphincter is.’
‘Asshole,’ said Dr Cohen ambiguously.
Wally took umbrage. ‘You calling me an asshole?’ he yelled.
Dr Cohen hesitated. Wally Immelmann might be a first-rate business man but…The guy was sick. He didn’t want to kill the idiot.
‘I am merely trying to explain the physiological consequences of putting…putting things up someone’s anus instead of in the normal way.’
Wally gaped at him and turned a nasty colour. He couldn’t find words for his feelings.
Dr Cohen continued. ‘Not only could you give your dear wife Aids but–’
Wally Immelmann found words. ‘Aids?’ he yelled. ‘What’s all this about my having Aids? I haven’t got Aids. I’m not a faggot.’
‘I’m not saying you are. I don’t care. What you do is your own business. I am merely telling you that what you have been doing to your wife can be physically damaging to her. Not can be. Is. She could be wearing tampons the rest of her life.’
‘Who says I do what you’re saying I do to her?’ demanded Wally inadvisedly.
Dr Cohen sighed. He’d had just about all he could stomach from Wally Immelmann. ‘As a matter of fact you do,’ he snapped. ‘You can be heard miles away shouting at Mrs Immelmann about giving it to her up the ass. People are taking tours up near Lake Sassaquassee just to hear you.’
Wally’s eyes bulged in his suffused face. ‘You mean…oh my God, they haven’t cut the loudspeakers off? They’ve got to.’
‘You tell them how. The police can’t get near the place. They’ve had the National Guard and helicopters and…’
But Wally Immelmann was no longer listening. He’d had another infarct. As he was rushed back to Intensive Care, Dr Cohen left the hospital. He was a kindly man and gays could do what they liked but screwing wives anally when they didn’t like it disgusted him.
At the Starfighter Mansion things weren’t much better. Auntie Joan had taken to her bed and had locked the door, only unlocking it to go down to the kitchen to get her breakfast, lunch and dinner. She and Eva were hardly on speaking terms and the quads had taken over Uncle Wally’s computer and were sending email messages to all their friends and a number of obscene ones to all recipients on his business address list. Eva, who knew nothing about computers and was in any case too worried about her Henry, left them to their own and Uncle Wally’s devices. She spent her time on the phone to England calling up friends, even Mavis Mottram, to find out where he’d got to. Nobody knew.
‘But he can’t just have disappeared. That’s not possible.’
