strap in a game of strip poker. Motorcycles careening, jumping, overturning. Spitting, shrieking, shitting baboons fighting hand to hand with the Huntsmen. Riderless cycles scrabbling about in the dust like crippled insects, attacking baboon and Huntsman. . . .
The Party Leader rides in triumph through yiping crowds. A dignified old man shits at sight of him and tries to’ sacrifice himself under the wheels of the car. Party Leader: “Don’t sacrifice your old dried up person under the wheels of my brand new Buick Roadmaster Convertible with white-walled tires, hydraulic windows and all the trimmings. It’s a chip Arajb tricklook to thy accent, Ivan—save it for fertilizer. . . . We refer you to the conservation department to consummate your swell purpose.. . . ”
The washing boards are down, and the sheets are sent to the Laundromat lose those guilty stains—Emmanuel prophesies a Second Coming… .
There’s a boy across the river with an ass like a peach; alas I was no swimmer and lost my Clementine.
The junky sits with needle poised to the message of blood, and the con man palpates the mark with fingers of rotten ectoplasm.. . .
Dr. Berger’s Mental Health Hour. . . . Fadeout. Technician: “Now listen, I’ll say it again, and I’ll say it slow. “Yes.’ ” He nods. “And make with the smile.
. . . The sm ile” He shows his false teeth in hideous parody of a toothpaste ad. “ ‘We like apple pie, and we like each other. It’s just as simple as that,’—and make it sound sim ple, country simple. . . . Look bovine,