The Mugwump pulls the boy back onto his cock. The boy squirms, impaled like a speared fish. The Mugwump swings on the boy’s back,his body contracting in fluid waves. Blood flows down the boy’s chin from his mouth, half-open,sweet,and sulky in death. The Mugwump falls with a fluid,sated plop.

Windowless cubicle with blue walls. Dirty pink curtain cover the door. Red bugs crawl on the wall,clusters in the corners.Naked boy in the middle of the room twang a two-string , ouad, trace an arabesque on the floor . Another boy lean back on the bed smoking keif and blow smoke over his erect cock. They play game with tarot cards on the bed to see who fuck who. Cheat.Fight.Roll on the floor snarling and spitting like young animals. The losers sit on the floor chin on knees, licks a broken tooth. The winner curls up on the bed pretending to sleep.Whenever the other boy come near kick at him. Alì seize him by one ankle , tuck the ankle under his arm pit , lock his arm around the calf .The boy kick desperately at Alì’s face. Other ankle pinioned. Alì tilt the boy back on his shoulders. The boy’s cock extends along his stomach, float free pulsing. Alì put his hands over his head. Spit on his cock. The other sighs deeply as Alì slides his cock in. The mouths grind toghether smearing blood. Sharp musty odor of penetraded rectum .Ninum drive in like a wedge, force jism out the other cock in long hot spurts. ( The author has observed that Arab cocks tend to be wide and wedge shaped.) Satyr and Naked Greek lad in aqualungs trace a

meaningless to avoid short-arm inspection of prurient
ballistic experts. He waits the slow striptease of erosion
with fossil loins.
The Mugwump slips the noose over the boy’s head
and tightens the knot caressingly behind the left ear.
The boy’s penis is retracted, his balls tight. He looks
straight ahead breathing deeply. The Mugwump sidles
around the boy goosing him and caressing his genitals
in hieroglyphs of mockery. He moves in behind the
boy with a series of bumps and shoves his cock up the
boy’s ass. He stands there moving in circular gyrations.
The guests shush each other, nudge and giggle.
Suddenly the Mugwump pushes the boy forward into
space, free of his cock. He steadies the boy with hands
on the hip bones, reaches up with his stylized hieroglyph hands and snaps the boy’s neck. A shudder passes
through the boy’s body. His penis rises in three great
surges pulling his pelvis up, ejaculates immediately.
Green sparks explode behind his eyes. A sweet toothache pain shoots through his neck down the spine to
the groin, contracting the body in spasms of delight.
His whole body squeezes out through his cock. A
final spasm throws a great spurt of sperm across the
red screen like a shooting star.
The boy falls with soft gutty suction through a maze
of penny arcades and dirty pictures.
A sharp turd shoots clean out his ass. Farts shake
his slender body. Skyrockets burst in green clusters
across a great river. He hears the faint put-put of a
motor boat in jungle twilight. . . . Under silent wings
of the anopheles mosquito.

cock, drying him with a soft blue towel. A warm wind
plays over the boys body and the hairs float free. The
Mugwump puts a hand under the boy’s chest and
pulls him to his feet. Holding him by both pinioned
elbows, propels him up the steps and under the noose.
He stands in front of the boy holding the noose in
both hands.
The boy looks into Mugwump eyes blank as obsidian
mirrors, pools of black blood, glory holes in a toilet
wall closing on the Last Erection.
An old garbage collector, face fine and yellow as
Chinese ivory, blows The Blast on his dented brass
horn, wakes the Spanish pimp with a hard-on. Whore
staggers out through dust and shit and litter of dead
kittens, carrying bales of aborted foetuses, broken condoms, bloody Kotex, shit wrapped in bright color
comics.
A vast still harbor of iridescent water. Deserted gas
well flares on the smoky horizon. Stink of oil and
sewage. Sick sharks swim through the black water,
belch sulphur from rotting livers, ignore a bloody,
broken Icarus. Naked Mr. America, burning frantic
with self bone love, screams out: “My asshole confounds the Louvre! I fart ambrosia and shit pure gold turds! My cock spurts soft diamonds in the morning sunlight!” He plummets from the eyeless lighthouse,
kissing and jacking off in face of the black mirror,
glides oblique down with cryptic condoms and mosaic
of a thousand newspapers through a drowned city of
red brick to settle in black mud with tin cans and beer
bottles, gangsters in concrete, pistols pounded flat and

HASSAN’S RUMPUS ROOM 

Gilt and red plush. Rococo bar backed by pink shell. The air is cloyed with a sweet evil substance like decayed honey. Men and women in evening dress sip pousse-cafès through alabaster tubes. A Near East Mugwump sits naked on a bar stool covered in pink silk. He licks warm honey from a crystal goblet with a long black tongue. His genitals are perfectly formend- circumcised cock-, black shiny pubic hairs. His lips are thin and purple-blue like the lips of a penis, his eyes blank with insect calm.The Mugwump has no liver, maintaining himself exclusive on sweets.  Mugwump push a slender blond youth to a couch and strip him expertly. “Stand up and turn around.”he orders in telepathic pictographs. He ties the boy’s hands behind him with a red silk cord.

“Tonight we make it all the way.”

“No,no” screams the boy.

“Yes. Yes.”

Cocks ejaculate in silent “yes”. Mugwump part silk curtains, reveal a teak wood gallows against  lighted screen of red flint. Gallows is on a dais of Atzec mosaics. The boy crumples to his knees with a long “OOOOOOOH” shitting and pissing in terror. He feels the shit warm between his thights. A great wave of hot blood swells his lips and throat . His body contracts into a foetal position and sperm spurts hot into his face.The Mugwump dips hot perfumed water from alabaster bowl, pensively washes the boy’s ass and

out of Lee’s right eye and wrote on the wall in iridescent ooze :” The Sailor is the City buying up TIME.” I am waiting in front of drugstore for it to open at nine o’ clock. Two Arab boys rolls cans of garbage up to a high wood door in a whitewasted wall.Dust in front of the door streaked with urine.One of the boys bent over,rolling the heavy cans, pants tightover his lean young ass. He looks at me with the neutral, calm glance of an animal. I wake with a shock like the boy is real and I have missed a meet I have with him his afternoon. “We expect additional equalizations,” says the Inspector in an interview with Your Reporter.”Otherwise will occur,” the inspector lifts one leg in a typical Nordic gesture,”the bends is it not? But perhaps we can provide the suitable chamber of decompression.”The inspector opens his fly and begins looking for crabs,applying ointment from a little clay pot. Clearly the interview is at an end. “You’re not going?” he exclaims.”Well ,as one judge said to the other ,’Be just and if you can’t be just be arbitrary’.Regret cannot observe customary obscenities.” He holds up in his right hand covered with a foul-smelling yellow ointment.One’s Reporter rushes forward and clasps the soiled hand in both of his.”It’s been a pleasure,Inspector, an unspeakable pleasure ,”He says peeing off his gloves,rolling them into a ball and tossing them into the wastebasket.”Expense account,” He smiles.

kille them. Sometimes they cling to the penis in a state of shrieking hysteria calling on the others for help lest the penis escape and pierce of the body. Erections,such as normally occur in the sleep, are considered especially dangerous and liable to bring a fatal attack. . . One man devised a Rube Goldberg contraption to prevet erection during the sleep.But he died of a Bang-Utot. Careful autopsies of Bang-Utot victims are revealed no organic reason for death. There are oftne signs of strangulation (caused by what? ); sometimes slight hemorrages of pancreas and lungs not-sufficent to cause death and also and unkown origin. It has occured to the author that the cause of death is a misplacement of sexual energy resulting in a lung erection with consequent strangulation. . . (See article by Nils Larsen M.D., The Men with the Deadly Dream in the Saturday Evening Post, December 3, 1955. Also article by Erie Stanley Gardner for True Magazine.)

NG lived in constant fear of erection so his habit jumped and jumped (Note: It is a well known tiresome fact, it is a notoriously dull and long winded fact, that anyone who gets hooked because of any disability whatever, will be presented, during the periods of
shortage or deprivation [such a thing as too much fun you know] with an outrageously padded, geometrically progressing, proliferating account.) An electrode attached to one testicle glowed briefly and NG woke up in the smell of burning flesh and reached for a loaded syringe. He rolled into a foetal position and slid the needle into his spine. He pulled the needle out with a little sigh of pleasure, and realized that Lee was in the room. A long slug undulated

took one look and slammed steel shutters of survival.
He ordered the burning bed and its occupant immediatelv evicted from the hospital premises.
“Guess he can make his own penicillin!” snarled the
doctor.
But the infection burned the mold out. . . . Lee lived
now in varying degrees of transparency. . . . While not
exactlv invisible he was at least difficult to see. His
presence attracted no special notice. . . . People covered
him with a project or dismissed him as a reflection,
shadow: “Some kinda light trick or neon advertisement.”
Now Lee felt the first seismic tremors of Old Faithful the Cold Bum. He pushed Miguel’s spirit into the
hall with a kind, firm tendril.
“Jesus!” said Miguel. “I gotta go!” He rushed out.
Pink fires of histamine spurted from Lee’s glowing
core and covered his raw periphery. (The room was
fireproof, the walls of iron blistered and spotted with
moon craters.) He took a large fix and falsified his
schedule.
He decided to visit a colleague, NG Joe, who got
hooked during a Bang-utot attack in Honolulu.
(Note: Bang-utot, literally, “attempting to get up
and groaning . . .” Death occurring in the course of a
nightmare . . . The condition occurs in males of S.E.
Asiatic extraction. . . . In Manila about twelve cases of
death by Bang-utot are recorded each year.
One man who recovered said that “a little man”
was sitting on his chest and strangling him.
Victims often know that they are going to die, express the fear that their penis will enter the body and

took one look and slammed steel shutters of survival.
He ordered the burning bed and its occupant immediatelv evicted from the hospital premises.
“Guess he can make his own penicillin!” snarled the
doctor.
But the infection burned the mold out. . . . Lee lived
now in varying degrees of transparency. . . . While not
exactlv invisible he was at least difficult to see. His
presence attracted no special notice. . . . People covered
him with a project or dismissed him as a reflection,
shadow: “Some kinda light trick or neon advertisement.”
Now Lee felt the first seismic tremors of Old Faithful the Cold Bum. He pushed Miguel’s spirit into the
hall with a kind, firm tendril.
“Jesus!” said Miguel. “I gotta go!” He rushed out.
Pink fires of histamine spurted from Lee’s glowing
core and covered his raw periphery. (The room was
fireproof, the walls of iron blistered and spotted with
moon craters.) He took a large fix and falsified his
schedule.
He decided to visit a colleague, NG Joe, who got
hooked during a Bang-utot attack in Honolulu.
(Note: Bang-utot, literally, “attempting to get up
and groaning . . .” Death occurring in the course of a
nightmare . . . The condition occurs in males of S.E.
Asiatic extraction. . . . In Manila about twelve cases of
death by Bang-utot are recorded each year.
One man who recovered said that “a little man”
was sitting on his chest and strangling him.
Victims often know that they are going to die, express the fear that their penis will enter the body and

out the window. . .His body moved in little, galvanized jerks as junk channels lit up. . . Lee sat there waiting.” One snort never put anybody back on, kid.”                                  “I know what I’m doing.”                                                                                                      “They always know.” Miguel took the nail file. Lee closed his eyes : ” It’s too tiresome.”     ” Uh, thanks , it was great .” Miguel pant’s fell to his ankles. He stood there in a misshapen overcoat of flesh that turned from brown to green and then colorless in the morning light,fell off in globs onto the floor. Lee’s eyes moved in the substance of his face. . . a little cold,grey flick. . . “Clean it up,” He said.”Enough dirt in here now.”            “Oh, oh , sure,” Miguel fumbled with a dustpan. Lee put the pack of Heroin away. Lee lived in a permanent third-day kick,with of course, certain uh essential intermissions to refuel the fires that burned through his yellow-pink-brown gelatinous substance and kept off the hovering flesh.In the beginning his flesh was simply soft,so soft that he was cut to the bone by dust particles, air currents and brushing overcoats while direct contact with doors and chairs seemed to occasion no discomfort. No wound healed his soft, tentative flesh. . . Long white tendrils of fungus curled round the naked bones. Mold odors of atrophied testicles quilted his body in a fuzzy grey fog .. . .
During his first severe infection the boiling thermometer flashed a quicksilver bullet into the nurse’s brain and she fell dead with a mangled scream. The doctor

standing there in his rooms at 10 a.m. was back from two months skin diving in Corsica and off  the junk. . .

“Here to show off his new body.” Lee decided with a shudder of morning junk sickness. He knew that he was seeing-ah yes Miguel thank you- three months back sitting in the Metropole nodded out over a stale yellow eclair that would poison a cat two hours later,decided that the  effort involved in seeing Miguel at all 10 A.M. was enough without a intolerable chore of correcting an error (“what is this a fucking farm?”) which would also entail current picture of Miguel in much used areas like some great, inconvenient beast of an object on top in the suitcase.”You look marvelous”Lee said ,wiping away the more obvious signs of distate with a sloppy, casual napkin, seeing the grey ooze of junk in Miguel’s face,
studying patterns of shabbiness as if man and clothes
had moved for years through back alleys of time with
never a space station to tidy up. . . .
“Besides by the time I could correct the error . . .
Lazarus go home. . . . Pay The Man and go home. . . .
What I want to see your old borrow ed.meat for ”
“Well it’s great to see you off. . . .Do yourself a favor.” Miguel was swimming around the room spearing fish with his hand:
“When you’re down there you never think about horse.”
“You’re better off like this,” said Lee, dreamily caressing a needle scar on the back of Miguel’s hand, following the whorls and patterns of smooth purple flesh in
a slow twisting movement. . . .
Miguel scratched the back of his hand. . . . He looked