“Know Marty Steel?” Diddle.
“Yes.”
“Can you score off him?” Diddle?Diddle?
“He’s skeptical.”
“But you can score.” Diddle diddle “You scored off him last week didn’t you?” Diddle???
“Yes.”
“Well you can score off him this week.” Diddle . . .
Diddle . . . Diddle . . . “You can score off him today.”
No diddle.
“No! No! Not that!!”
“Now look are you going to cooperate”—three vicious diddles—“or does th e . . . does the Man comhole you???”
He raises a fay eyebrow.
“And so Carl you will please oblige to tell me how many times and under what circumstances you have uh indulged in homosexual acts???” His voice drifts
away. “If you have never done so I shall be inclined to think of you as a somewhat atypical young man.” The doctor raises a coy admonishing finger. “In any case. . . ”
He tapped the file and flashed a hideous leer. Carl noticed that the file was six inches thick. In fact it seemed to have thickened enormously since he entered the room.
“Well, when I was doing my military service . . . These queers used to proposition me and sometimes . . . when I was blank . . . ”
“Yes, of course, Carl,” the doctor brayed heartily. “In your position I would have done the same I don’t mind telling you heh heh heh. . . . Well, I guess we can uh
dismiss as irrelevent these uh understandable means of