peter, hust afeelin’ around like a blind worm. . . So old Doc Scranton sees my peter and he stops like a pointin’ dog and he says to me,’Luke I can take your pulse from here.’ ”
Browbeck and Young Seward fight with hog castrators through barns and cages and yiping kennels. . . whinnying horses bare great yellow teeth, cows bellow, dogs howl, copulating cats scream like babies, a pen of huge hogs, spines bristling, give a great Bronx cheer. Browbeck the Unsteady has fallen to the sword of Young Seward, clutches at blue intestines surting from an eight-inch gash. Young Seward cuts off Browbeck’s cock and holds it pulsing in the smoky rose sunrise. . .
Browbeck screams. . . subway brakes spit ozone. . .
“Stand back, folks. . .Stand back.”
” They say somebody pushed him. ”
“He was weaving around unsteady like he couldn’t see good.”
” Too much smoke in the eyes, I guess.”
Mary the Lesbian Governess has slipped to the oub floor on a bloody kotex. . .A three-hundred-pund fag tramples her to death with pathic whinnies. . .
He sings in hideous falsetto:

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored,

He has loosed the fatal lightning his terrible swift sword.

He pulls a gilded wooden sword and chops the air.His corset flies off whistles into the dart board.