und," 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 Hint. Gallows is on a dais of Aztec mosaics. The boy crumples to his knees with a long "OOOOOOOOH," shitting and pissing in terror. He feels the shit warm between his thighs. A great wave of hot blood swells his lips and throat. His body con- tracts 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 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 con- doms, 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 con- founds 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 Hat and 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 hiero- glyph 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 tooth- ache 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. 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 con- tracting 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, cluster in 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 loser 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. Ali seize him by one ankle, tuck the ankle under his arm pit, lock his arm around the calf. The boy kick desperately at Ali's face. Other ankle pinioned. Ali tilt the boy back on his shoulders. The boy's cock extends along his stomach, float free pulsing. Ali put his hands over his head. Spit on his cock. The other sighs deeply as Ali slides his cock in. The mouths grind together smearing blood. Sharp musty odor of penetrated rectum. Nimun 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 ballet of pursuit in a monster vase of transparent alabaster. The Satyr catches the boy from in front and whirls him around. They move in fish jerks. The boy releases a silver stream of bubbles from his mouth. White sperm ejaculates into the green water and floats lazily around the twisting bodies. Negro gently lifts exquisite Chinese boy into a ham- mock. He pushes the boy's legs up over his head and straddles the hammock. He slides his cock up the boy's slender tight ass. He rocks the hammock gently back and forth. The boy screams, a weird high wail of un- endurable delight. A Javanese dancer in ornate teak swivel chair, set in a socket of limestone buttocks, pulls an American boy -- red hair, bright green eyes -- down onto his cock with ritual motions. The boy sits impaled facing the dancer who propels himself in circular gyrations, lend- ing fluid substance to the chair. "Weeeeeeeeee!" scream the boy as his sperm spurt up over the dancer's lean brown chest. One gob hit the corner of the dancer's mouth. The boy push it in with his finger and laugh: "Man, that's what I call suction!" Two Arab women with bestial faces have pulled the shorts off a little blond French boy. They are screw- ing him with red rubber cocks. The boy snarls, bites, kicks, collapses in tears as his cock rises and ejaculates. Hassan's face swells, tumescent with blood. His lips turn purple. He strip off his suit of banknotes and throw it into an open vault that closes soundless. "Freedom Hall here, folks!" he screams in his phoney Texas accent. Ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots still on, he dances the Liquefactionist Jig, ending with a grotesque can-can to the tune of She Started a Heat Wave. "Let it be! And no holes barred!(" Couples attached to baroque harnesses with artificial wings copulate in the air, screaming like magpies. Aerialists ejaculate each other in space with one sure touch. Equilibrists suck each other off deftly, balanced on perilous poles and chairs tilted over the void. A warm wind brings the smell of rivers and jungle from misty depths. Boys by the hundred plummet through the roof, quivering and kicking at the end of ropes. The boys hang at different levels, some near the ceiling and oth- ers a few inches off the floor. Exquisite Balinese and Malays, Mexican Indians with fierce innocent faces and bright red gums. Negroes ( teeth, fingers, toe nails and pubic hair gilded), Japanese boys smooth and white as China, Titian-haired Venetian lads, Americans with blond or black curls falling across the forehead (the guests tenderly shove it back), sulky blond Pol- lacks with animal brown eyes, Arab and Spanish street boys, Austrian boys pink and delicate with a faint shadow of blond pubic hair, sneering German youths with bright blue eyes scream "Heil Hitler!" as the trap falls under them. Sollubis shit and whimper. Mr. Rich-and-Vulgar chews his Havana lewd and nasty, sprawled on a Florida beach surrounded by simpering blond catamites: "This citizen have a Latah he import from Indo- China. He figure to hang the Latah and send a Xmas TV short to his friends. So he fix up two ropes -- one gimmicked to stretch, the other the real McCoy. But that Latah get up in feud state and put on his Santa Claus suit and make with the switcheroo. Come the dawning. The citizen put one rope on and the Latah, going along the way Latahs will, put on the other. When the traps are down the citizen hang for real and the Latah stand with the carny-rubber stretch rope. Well, the Latah imitate every twitch and spasm. Come three times. "Smart young Latah keep his eye on the ball. I got him working in one of my plants as an expeditor." Aztec priests strip blue feather robe from the Naked Youth. They bend him back over a limestone altar, fit a crystal skull over his head, securing the two hemi- spheres back and front with crystal screws. A water- fall pour over the skull snapping the boy's neck. He ejaculate in a rainbow against the rising sun. Sharp protein odor of semen fills the air. The guests run hands over twitching boys, suck their cocks, hang on their backs like vampires. Naked lifeguards carry in iron-lungs full of paralyzed youths. Blind boys grope out of huge pies, deteriorated schizophrenics pop from a rubber cunt, boys with horrible skin diseases rise from a black pond (sluggish fish nibble yellow turds on the surface). A man with white tie and dress shirt, naked from the waist down except for black garters, talks to the Queen Bee in elegant tones. (Queen Bees are old women who surround themselves with fairies to form a "swarm." It is a sinister Mexican practice. ) "But where is the statuary?" He talks out of one side of his face, the other is twisted by the Torture of a Million Mirrors. He masturbates wildly. The Queen Bee continues the conversation, notices nothing. Couches, chairs, the whole floor begins to vibrate, shaking the guests to blurred grey ghosts shrieking in cock-bound agony. Two boys jacking off under railroad bridge. The train shakes through their bodies, ejaculate them, fades with distant whistle. Frogs croak. The boys wash semen off lean brown stomachs. Train compartment: two sick young junkies on their way to Lexington tear their pants down in convulsions of lust. One of them soaps his cock and works it up the other's ass with a corkscrew motion. "Jeeeeeeeeeeeeee- sus!" Both ejaculate at once standing up. They move away from each other and pull up their pants. "Old croaker in Marshall writes for tincture and sweet oil." "The piles of an aged mother shriek out raw and bleeding for the Black Shit.... Doc, suppose it was your mother, rimmed by resident leaches, squirming around so nasty.... De-active that pelvis, mom, you disgust me already" "Let's stop over and make him for an RX." The train tears on through the smoky, neon-lighted June night. Pictures of men and women, boys and girls, animals, fish, birds, the copulating rhythm of the universe Hows through the room, a great blue tide of life. Vibrating, soundless hum of deep forest -- sudden quiet of cities when the junky copes. A moment of stillness and won- der. Even the Commuter buzzes clogged lines of choles- terol for contact. Hassan shrieks out: "This is your doing, A.J.! You poopa my party!" A.J. looks at him, face remote as limestone: "Uppa your ass, you liquefying gook." A horde of lust-mad American women rush in. Dripping cunts, from farm and dude ranch, factory, brothel, country club, penthouse and suburb, motel and yacht and cocktail bar, strip off riding clothes, ski togs, evening dresses, levis, tea gowns, print dresses, slacks, bathing suits and kimonos. They scream and yipe and howl, leap on the guests like bitch dogs in heat with rabies. They claw at the hanged boys shriek- ing: "You fairy! You bastard! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" The guests flee screaming, dodge among the hanged boys, overturn iron lungs. A.J.: "Call out my Sweitzers, God damn it! Guard me from these she-foxest" Mr. Hyslop, A. J.'s secretary, looks up from his comic book: "The Sweitzers liquefy already." (Liquefaction involves protein cleavage and reduc- tion to liquid which is absorbed into someone else's protoplasmic being. Hassan, a notorious liquefactionist, is probably the beneficiary in this case.) A.J.: "Gold-bricking cocksuckers! Where's a man without his Sweitzers? Our backs are to the wall, gen- tlemen. Our very cocks at stake. Stand by to resist boarders, Mr. Hyslop, and issue short arms to the men." A.J. whips out a cutlass and begins decapitating the American Girls. He sings lustily: Fifteen men on the dead man's cheat Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum. Drink and the devil had done for the rest Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum. Mr. Hyslop, bored and resigned: "Oh Gawd! He's at it again." He waves the Jolly Roger listlessly. A.J., surrounded and fighting against overwhelming odds, throws back his head and makes with the hog- call. Immediately a thousand rutting Eskimos pour in grunting and squealing, faces tumescent, eyes hot and red, lips purple, fall on the American women. (Eskimos have a rutting season when the tribes meet in short Summer to disport themselves in orgies. Their faces swell and lips turn purple. ) A House Dick with cigar two feet long sticks his head in through the wall: "Have you got a menagerie in here?" Hassan wrings his hands: "A shambles! A filthy shambles! By Allah I never see anything so downright nasty!" He whirls on A.J. who is sitting on a sea chest, parrot on shoulder, patch over one eye, drinking rum from a tankard. He scans the horizon with a huge brass telescope. Hassan: "You cheap Factualist bitch! Go and never darken my rumpus room again!" CAMPUS OF INTERZONE UNIVERSITY Donkeys, camels, llamas, rickshaws, carts of merchan- dise pushed by straining boys, eyes protruding like strangled tongues -- throbbing red with animal hate. Herds of sheep and goats and long-horned cattle pass between the students and the lecture platform. The students sit around on rusty park benches, lime- stone blocks, outhouse seats, packing crates, oil drums, stumps, dusty leather hassacks, mouldy gym mats. They wear levis -- jellabas... hose and doublet -- drink corn from mason jars, coffee from tin cans, smoke gage (marijuana) in cigarettes made of wrapping paper and lottery tickets... shoot junk with a safety pin and dropper, study racing forms, comic books, Mayan co- dices.... The Professor arrives on a bicycle carrying a string of bull heads. He mounts the platform holding his back (crane swings a bellowing cow over his head). Prof: "Fucked by the Sultan's Army last night. I have dislocate the back in the service of my resident queen.... Can't evict that old gash. Need a licensed brain electrician disconnect her synapsis by synapsis and a surgical bailiff put her guts out on the sidewalk. When Ma move in on a boy bag and buggage he play Hell dispossess that Gold Star Boarder...." He looks at the bull heads humming tunes from the 1920s. "The nostalgia fit is on me boys and will out willy silly... boys walk down the carny Midway eating pink spun sugar... goose each other at the peep show... jack off in the Ferris Wheel throw sperm at the moon rising red and smoky over the foundries across the river. A Nigra hangs from a cotton wood in front of The Old Court House... whimpering women catch his sperm in vaginal teeth.... (Husband looks at the little changeling with narrow eyes the color of a faded grey flannel shirt.... 'Doc, I suspect it to be a Nigra.' The Doctor shrugs: 'It's the Old Army Game, son. Pea under the shell... Now you see it now you don't....') "And Doc Parker in the back room in his drugstore shooting horse heroin three grains a jolt -- 'Tonic,' he mutters. 'It's always Spring.' " 'Hands' Benson Town Pervert has took up a queren- cia in the school privy (Querencia is bullfight term.... The bull will find a spot in the ring he likes ".nd stay there and the bullfighter has to go in and meet the bull on his bull terms or coax him out -- one or the other). Sheriff A.Q. 'Flat' Larsen say 'Some way we gotta lure him outa that querencia.'...And Old Ma Lottie sleep ten years with a dead daughter and home cured too, wakes shivering in the East Texas dawn... vultures out over the black swamp water and cypress stumps.... "And now gentlemen -- I trust there are no transvest- ites present -- he he -- and you are all gentlemen by act of Congress it being only remain to establish you male humans, positively no Transitionals in either direction will be allowed in this decent hall. Gentlemen, present short arms. Now you have all been briefed on the im- portance of keeping your weapons well lubricated and ready for any action flank or rear guard." Students: "Hear! Hear!" They wearily unbutton their flies. One of them brandishes a huge erection. PROF: "And now, gentlemen, where was I? Oh yes, Ma Lottie... She wake shivering in the gentle pink dawn, pink as the candles on a little girl's birthday cake, pink as spun sugar, pink as a sea-shell, pink as a cock pulsing in a red fucking light.... Ma Lottie... hu- rumph... if this prolixity be not cut short will succumb to the infirmities of age and join her daughter in for- maldehyde. "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge the poet... I should like to call your attention to the symbolism of the Ancient Mariner himself." Students: "Himself the man says." "Thereby call attention to his own unappetizing person. "That wasn't a nice thing to do, Teach." A hundred juvenile delinquents... switch blades clicking like teeth move at him. Prof: "Oh Landsakes!" He tries desperately to dis- guise himself as an old woman with high black shoes and umbrella.... "If it wasn't for my lumbago can't rightly bend over I'd turn them offering my Sugar Bum the way baboons do it.... If a weaker baboon be at- tacked by a stronger baboon the weaker baboon will either (a) present his hrump fanny I believe is the word, gentlemen, heh heh for passive intercourse or (b) if he is a different type baboon more extrovert and well-adjusted, lead an attack on an even weaker baboon if he can find one." Dilapidated Disease in 1920 clothes like she sleep in them ever since undulates across dreary neonlighted Chicago street... dead weight of the Dear Dead Days hanging in the air like an earth-bound ghost. Disease: (canned heat tenor). "Find the weakest baboon." Frontier saloon: Fag Baboon dressed in little girl blue dress sings in resigned voice to tune of Alice Blue Gown: "I'm the weakest baboon of them all." A freight train separates the Prof. from the juveniles. ...When the train passes they have fat stomachs and responsible jobs.... STUDENTS: "We want Lottie!" Prof: "That was in another country, gentlemen.... As I was saying before I was so rudely irrupted by one of my multiple personalities... troublesome little beasts... consider the Ancient Mariner without curare, lasso, bul- bocapnine or straitjacket, albeit able to capture and hold a live audience.... What is his hurmp gimmick? He he he he... He does not, like so-called artists at this time, stop just anybody thereby inflicting unsent for boredom and working random hardship.... He stops those who cannot choose but hear owing to al- ready existing relation between The Mariner (however ancient) and the uh Wedding Guest.... "What the Mariner actually says is not important.... He may be rambling, irrelevant, even crude and ram- pant senile. But something happens to the Wedding Guest like happens in psychoanalysis when it happens if it happens. If I may be permitted a slight digression ...an analyst of my acquaintance does all the talking -- patients listen patiently or not.... He reminiscences ...tells dirty jokes (old ones) achieves counterpoints of idiocy undreamed of by The County Clerk. He is illustrating at some length that nothing can ever be accomplished on the verbal level.... He arrived at this method through observing that The Listener -- The Ana- lyst -- was not reading the mind of the patient.... The patient -- The Talker -- was reading his mind.... That is the patient has ESP awareness of the analyst's dreams and schemes whereas the analyst contacts the patient strictly from front brain.... Many agents use this ap- proach -- they are notoriously long-winded bores and bad listeners.... "Gentlemen I will slop a pearl: You can find out more about someone by talking than by listening." Pigs rush up and the Prof. pours buckets of pearls into a trough.... "I am not worthy to eat his feet," says the fattest hog of them all. "Clay anyhoo." A.J.'S ANNUAL PARTY A.J. turns to the guests. "Cunts, pricks, fence strad- dlers, tonight I give you -- that international-known im- pressario of blue movies and short-wave TV, the one, the only, The Great Slashtubitch!" He points to a red velvet curtain sixty feet high. Lightning rends the curtain from top to bottom. The Great Slashtubitch stands revealed. His face is immense, immobile like a Chimu funeral urn. He wears full eve- ning dress, blue cape and blue monocle. Huge grey eyes with tiny black pupils that seem to spit needles. (Only the Coordinate Factualist can meet his gaze. ) When he is angered the charge of it will blow his monocle across the room. Many an ill-starred actor has felt the icy blast of Slashtubitch's displeasure: "Get out of my studio, you cheap four-flushing ham! Did you think to pass a counterfeit orgasm on me! THE GREAT SLASHTU- BITCH! I could tell if you come by regard the beeg toe. Idiot! Mindless scum!! Insolent baggage!!! Go ped- dle thy ass and know that it takes sincerity and art, and devotion, to work for Slashtubitch. Not shoddy trickery, dubbed gasps, rubber turds and vials of milk concealed in the ear and shots of Yohimbine sneaked in the wings." ( Yohimbine, derived from the bark of a tree growing in Central Africa, is the safest and most effi- cient aphrodisiac. It operates by dilating the blood vessels on the surface of the skin, particularly in the genital area. ) Slashtubitch ejects his monocle. It sails out of sight, returns like a boomerang into his eye. He pirouettes and disappears in a blue mist, cold as liquid air... fadeout.... On Screen. Red-haired, green-eyed boy, white skin with a few freckles... kissing a thin brunette girl in slacks. Clothes and hair-do suggest existentialist bars of all the world cities. They are seated on low bed covered in white silk. The girl opens his pants with gentle fingers and pulls out his cock which is small and very hard. A drop of lubricant gleams at its tip like a pearl. She caresses the crown gently: "Strip, Johnny." He takes off his clothes with swift sure movements and stands naked before her, his cock pulsing. She makes a motion for him to turn around and he pirouettes across the floor parodying a model, hand on hip. She takes off her shirt. Her breasts are high and small with erect nipples. She slips off her underpants. Her pubic hairs are black and shiny. He sits down beside her and reaches for her breast. She stops his hands. "Darling, I want to rim you," she whispers. "No. Not now." "Please, I want to." "Well, all right. I'll go wash my ass." "No, I'll wash it." "Aw shucks now, it ain't dirty." "Yes it is. Come on now, Johnny boy." She leads him into the bathroom. "All right, get down." He gets down on his knees and leans forward, with his chin on the bath mat. "Allah," he says. He looks back and grins at her. She washes his ass with soap and hot water sticking her finger up it. "Does that hurt?" "Noooooooooo." "Come along, baby." She leads the way into the bed- room. He lies down on his back and throws his legs back over his head, clasping elbows behind his knees. She kneel down and caress the backs of his thighs, his balls, running her fingers down the perennial divide. She push his cheeks apart, lean down and begin licking the anus, moving her head in a slow circle. She push at the sides of the asshole, licking deeper and deeper. He close his eyes and squirm. She lick up the perennial divide. His small, tight balls.... A great pearl stands out on the tip of his circumcised cock. Her mouth closes over the crown. She sucks rhythmically up and down, pausing on the up stroke and moving her head around in a circle. Her hand plays gently with his balls, slide down and middle finger up his ass. As she suck down toward the root of his cock she tickle his prostate mock- ingly. He grin and fart. She is sucking his cock now in a frenzy. His body begins to contract, pulling up to- ward his chin. Each time the contraction is longer. "Wheeeeeeee!" the boy yell, every muscle tense, his whole body strain to empty through his cock. She drinks his jissom which fills her mouth in great hot spurts. He lets his feet Hop back onto the bed. He arches his back and yawns. Mary is strapping on a rubber penis: "Steely Dan III from Yokohama," she says, caressing the shaft. Milk spurts across the room. "Be sure that milk is pasteurized. Don't go giving me some kinda awful cow disease like anthrax or glanders or aftosa...." "When I was a transvestite Liz in Chi used to work as an exterminator. Make advances to pretty boys for the thrill of being beaten as a man. Later I catch this one kid, overpower him with supersonic judo I learned from an old Lesbian Zen monk. I tie him up, strip off his clothes with a razor and fuck him with Steely Dan I. He is so relieved I don't castrate him literal he come all over my bedbug spray." "What happen to Steely Dan II" "He was torn in two by a bull dike. Most terrific vaginal grip I ever experienced. She could cave in a lead pipe. It was one of her parlor tricks." "And Steely Dan II" "Chewed to bits by a famished candiru in the Upper Baboonsasshole. And don't say 'Wheeeeeeee!' this time." "Why not? It's real boyish." "Barefoot boy, check thy bullheads with the ma- dame." He looks at the ceiling, hands behind his head, cock pulsing. "So what shall I do? Can't shit with that dingus up me. I wonder is it possible to laugh and come at the same time? I recall, during the war, at the Jockey Club in Cairo, me and my asshole buddy, Lu, both gentlemen by act of Congress... nothing else could have done such a thing to either of us.... So we got laughing so hard we piss all over ourselves and the waiter say: 'You bloody hash-heads, get out of here!' I mean, if I can laugh the piss out of me I should be able to laugh out jissom. So tell me something real funny when I start coming. You can tell by certain premonitory quiverings of the prostate gland...." She puts on a record, metallic cocaine be-bop. She greases the dingus, shoves the boy's legs over his head and works it up his ass with a series of corkscrew move- ments of her fluid hips. She moves in a slow circle, re- volving on the axis of the shaft. She rubs her hard nipples across his chest. She kisses him on neck and chin and eyes. He runs his hands down her back to her buttocks, pulling her into his ass. She revolves faster, faster. His body jerks and writhes in convulsive spasms. "Hurry up, please," she says. "The milk is getting cold." He does not hear. She presses her mouth against his. Their faces run together. His sperm hits her breast with light, hot licks. Mark is standing in the doorway. He wears a turtle- neck black sweater. Cold, handsome, narcissistic face. Green eyes and black hair. He looks at Johnny with a slight sneer, his head on one side, hands on his jacket pockets, a graceful hoodlum ballet. He jerk his head and Johnny walk ahead of him into the bedroom. Mary follow. "All right, boys," she say, sitting down naked on a pink silk dais overlooking the bed. "Get with it!" Mark begin to undress with fluid movements, hip- rolls, squirm out of his turtle-neck sweater revealing his beautiful white torso in a mocking belly dance. Johnny deadpan, face frozen, breath quick, lips dry, remove his clothes and drop them on the floor. Mark lets his shorts fall on one foot. He kick like a chorus-girl, sending the shorts across the room. Now he stand naked, his cock stiff, straining up and out. He run slow eyes over Johnny's body. He smile and lick his lips, Mark drop on one knee, pulling Johnny across his back by one arm. He stand up and throw him six feet onto the bed. Johnny land on his back and bounce. Mark jump up and grab Johnny's ankles, throw his legs over his head. Mark's lips are drawn back in a tight snarl. "All right, Johnny boy." He contracts his body, slow and steady as an oiled machine, push his cock up Johnny's ass. Johnny give a great sigh, squirming in ecstasy. Mark hitches his hands behind Johnny's shoul- ders, pulling him down onto his cock which is buried to the hilt in Johnny's ass. Great whistles through his teeth. Johnny screams like a bird. Mark is rubbing his face against Johnny's, snarl gone, face innocent and boyish as his whole liquid being spurt into Johnny's quivering body. A train roar through him whistle blowing... boat whistle, foghorn, sky rocket burst over oily lagoons... penny arcade open into a maze of dirty pictures... ceremonial cannon boom in the harbor... a scream shoots down a white hospital corridor... out along a wide dusty street between palm trees, whistles out across the desert like a bullet (vulture wings husk in the dry air), a thousand boys come at once in out- houses, bleak public school toilets, attics, basements, treehouses, Ferris wheels, deserted houses, limestone caves, rowboats, garages, barns, rubbly windy city out- skirts behind mud walls (smell of dried excrement)... black dust blowing over lean copper bodies... ragged pants dropped to cracked bleeding bare feet... (place where vultures fight over fish heads)... by jungle la- goons, vicious fish snap at white sperm floating on black water, sand flies bite the copper ass, howler monkies like wind in the trees (a land of great brown rivers where whole trees float, bright colored snakes in the branches, pensive lemurs watch the shore with sad eyes), a red plane traces arabesques in blue substance of sky, a rattlesnake strike, a cobra rear, spread, spit white venom, pearl and opal chips fall in a slow silent rain through air clear as glycerine. Time jump like a broken typewriter, the boys are old men, young hips quivering and twitching in boy-spasms go slack and flabby, draped over an outhouse seat, a park bench, a stone wall in Spanish sunlight, a sagging furnished room bed (outside red brick slum in clear winter sun- light)... twitching and shivering in dirty underwear, probing for a vein in the junk-sick morning, in an Arab cafe muttering and slobbering -- the Arabs whisper "Medjoub" and edge away -- (a Medjoub is a special sort of religious Moslem lunatic... often epileptic among other disorders). "The Moslems must have blood and jissom.... See, see where Christ's blood streams in the spermament," howls the Medjoub.... He stand up screaming and black blood spurt solid from his last erection, a pale white statue standing there, as if he had stepped whole across the Great Fence, climbed it inno- cent and calm as a boy climb the fence to fish in the forbidden pond -- in a few seconds he catch a huge cat- fish -- The Old Man will rush out of a little black hut cursing, with a pitchfork and the boy run laughing across the Missouri field -- he find a beautiful pink arrow- head and snatch it up as he runs with a flowing swoop of young bone and muscle -- (his bones blend into the Beld, he lies dead by the wooden fence a shotgun by his side, blood on frozen red clap seeps into the winter stubble of Georgia).... The catfish billows out behind him.... He come to the fence and throw the catfish over into blood-streaked grass... the fish lies squirming and squawking -- vaults the fence. He snatch up the catfish and disappear up a flint-studded red clay road between oaks and persimmons dropping red-brown leaves in a windy fall sunset, green and dripping in Summer dawn, black against a clear winter day... the Old Man scream curses after him... his teeth fly from his mouth and whistle over the boy's head, he strain forward, his neck-cords tight as steel hoops, black blood spurt in one solid piece over the fence and he fall a fleshless mummy by the fever grass. Thorns grow through his ribs, the windows break in his hut, dusty glass-slivers in black putty -- rats run over the floor and boys jack off in the dark musty bedroom on summer afternoons and eat the berries that grow from his body and bones, mouths smeared with purple-red juices.... The old junky has found a vein... blood blossoms in the dropper like a Chinese flower... he push home the heroin and the boy who jacked off fifty years ago shine immaculate through the ravaged flesh, fill the outhouse with the sweet nutty smell of young male lust.... How many years threaded on a needle of blood? Hands slack on lap he sit looking out at the winter dawn with the cancelled eyes of junk. The old queer squirm on a limestone bench in Chapultepec Park as Indian adolescents walk by, arms around each other's necks and ribs, straining his dying flesh to occupy young buttocks and thighs, tight balls and spurting cocks. Mark and Johnny sit facing each other in a vibrating chair, Johnny impaled on Mark's cock. "All set, Johnny?" "Turn it on." Mark flips the switch and the chair vibrate.... Mark tilt his head looking up at Johnny, his face remote, eyes cool and mocking on Johnny's face.... Johnny scream and whimper.... His face disintegrates as if melted from within.... Johnny scream like a mandrake, black out as his sperm spurt, slump against Mark's body an angel on the nod. Mark pat Johnny's shoulder absently. ...Room like gymnasium.... The floor is foam rubber, covered in white silk.... One wall is glass.... The rising sun fills the room with pink light. Johnny is led in, hands tied, between Mary and Mark. Johnny sees the gallows and sags with a great "Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" his chin pulling down towards his cock, his legs bend- ing at the knees. Sperm spurts, arching almost vertical in front of his face. Mark and Mary are suddenly impa- tient and hot.... They push Johnny forward onto the gallows platform covered with moldy jockstraps and sweat shirts. Mark is adjusting the noose. "Well, here you go." Mark starts to push Johnny off the platform. Mary: "No, let me." She locks her hands behind Johnny's buttocks, puts her forehead against him, smil- ing into his eyes she moves back, pulling him off the platform into space.... His face swells with blood.... Mark reaches up with one lithe movement and snaps Johnny's neck... sound like a stick broken in wet towels. A shudder runs down Johnny's body... one foot flutters like a trapped bird.... Mark has draped himself over a swing and mimics Johnny's twitches, closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out.... Johnny's cock springs up and Mary guides it up her cunt, writhing against him in a fluid belly dance, groaning and shrieking with delight... sweat pours down her body, hair hangs over her face in wet strands. "Cut him down, Mark," she screams. Mark reaches over with a snap knife and cuts the rope, catching Johnny as he falls, easing him onto his back with Mary still impaled and writhing.... She bites away Johnny's lips and nose and sucks out his eyes with a pop.... She tears off great hunks of cheek.... Now she lunches on his prick.... Mark walks over to her and she looks up from Johnny's half-eaten genitals, her face covered with blood, eyes phosphorescent.... Mark puts his foot on her shoulder and kicks her over on her back.... He leaps on her, fucking her insanely ...they roll from one end of the room to the other, pinwheel end-over-end and leap high in the air like great hooked fish. "Let me hang you, Mark.... Let me hang you.... Please, Mark, let me hang you!" "Sure baby." He pulls her brutally to her feet and pins her hands behind her. "No, Mark!! No! No! No," she screams, shitting and pissing in terror as he drags her to the platform. He leaves her tied on the platform in a pile of old used condoms, while he adjusts the rope across the room... and comes back carrying the noose on a silver tray. He jerks her to her feet and tightens the noose. He sticks his cock up her and waltzes around the platform and off into ~pace swinging in a great arc.... "Wheeeeee!" he screams, turning into Johnny. Her neck snaps. A great fluid wave undulates through her body. Johnny drops to the floor and stands poised and alert like a young animal. He leaps about the room. With a scream of longing that shatters the glass wall he leaps out into space. Masturbating end-over-end, three thousand feet down, his sperm floating beside him, he screams all the way against the shattering blue of sky, the rising sun burn- ing over his body like gasoline, down past great oaks and persimmons, swamp cypress and mahogany, to shatter in liquid relief in a ruined square paved with limestone. Weeds and vines grow between the stones, and rusty iron bolts three feet thick penetrate the white stone, stain it shit-brown of rust. Johnny dowses Mary with gasoline from an obscene Chimu jar of white jade.... He anoints