ling around on the control room floor looking for his plate and shouting unitelligible orders: “Thess thupper thonic!! Thut ur oth thu thair!”The Diplomat (wiping sweat from his brow): “To any creature of any type or description . . .”“And the home of the brave.”The diplomat’s face is grey. He staggers, trips in the scroll, sags against the rail, blood pouring from’ eyes, nose and mouth, dying of cerebral hemorrhage.The Diplomat (barely audible): “The Department denies . . . un-American . . . It’s been destroyed . . .I mean it never was . . . Categor . . .” Dies.In the Control Room instrument panels are blowing out. . . great streamers of electricity crackle through the room. . . . The Technician, naked, his body burned black, staggers about like a figure in Gotterdammerung, screaming: “Thubber thonic!! Oth thu thair!!!” A final blast reduces the Technician to a cinder.
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there. . . .
Habit Notes. Shooting Eukodol every two hours. I have a place where I can slip my needle right into a vein, it stays open like a red, festering mouth, swollen and obscene, gathers a slow drop of blood and pus after the shot—–Eukodol is a chemical variation of codeine—dihydro- oxy-codeine.This stuff comes on more like C than M. . . . When you shoot Coke in the mainline there is a rush of pure