whyncha? You want the switchboard again? Or the pail?”
Subject—Cured Criminal Psychopath— “No! . . . No! . . . What’s this bovine?”
Technician: “Look like a cow.”
Subject—with cow’s head— “Moooo Moooo.”
Technician (starting back): “Too much!! No! Just look square, you dig, like a nice popcorn John. . . .”
Subject: “A mark?”
Technician: “Well, not exactly a mark. Not enough larceny in this citizen. He is after light concussion. . . .
You know the type. Telepathic sender and receiver excised. The Service Man Look . . . Action, camera.”
Subject: “Yes, we like apple pie.” His stomach rumbles loud and long. Streamers of saliva hang off his chin. . . .
Dr. Berger looks up from some notes. He look like Jewish owl with black glasses, the light hurt his eyes:
“I think he is an unsuitable subject. . . . See he reports to Disposal.”
T echnician: “Well, we could cut that rumble out of the sound track, stick a drain in his mouth and . . .”
Dr. Berger: “No . . . He’s unsuitable” He looks a the subject with distaste as if he commit some terrible faux-pas like look for crabs in Mrs. Worldly’s drawing room.
Technician ( resigned and exasperated): “Bring in the cured swish.”
The cured homosexual is brought in. . . . He walks through invisible contours of hot metal. He sits in front of the camera and starts arranging his body in a countrified sprawl. Muscles move into place like autonomous
-If that’s not writing, that’s typing –
