Страница:
Eral Hospital?"
"oh no, shit, I'm just HOT! HOT! I'M SO HOT!"
"what?"
"I said, I'm burning up hot! FUCK ME!"
"Linda-"
"what? what?"
"I'm so tired. no sleep for two nights. that long walk to the
Labor Market and back, 32 blocks in the hot sun-useless. no job.
fucking-ass tired."
"I'll HELP you!"
"whatcha mean?"
she crawled halfway down the couch and began licking at my
penis. I groaned in wearinesss. "honey, 32 blocks in the hot sun-
I'm burned out."
she kept working. she had a sandpaper tongue and knew what
to do with it.
"honey," I told her, "I'm a social zero! I don't deserve you!
please relent!"
like I say, she was good. some can, some can't. most just know
the old-time headbob. Linda began with the penis, lift off, went to
the balls, then off the balls, back to the penis again, barberpole, a
wonderful amount of energy. ALWAYS LEAVING THE HEAD OF
THE COCK, ITSELF, UNTOUCHED. finally, she had me moaning
to the ceiling telling her all various sorts of lies about what I would
do for her when I finally got my ass straightened out and stopped
being a bum.
then she came and took the head, put her mouth about a third
of the way down, gave this little nip-suck of tooth pressure on, the
wolf-nip and I came AGAIN - which made four times that night and
I was completely done. some women know more than medical sci-
ence.
when I awakened they were all up and dressed - looking good
- Linda, Jeanie and Eve. they poked at me under the covers, laugh-
ing. "hey, Hank, we're going down to look for a live one! and we
need an eye opener! we'll be down at Tommi-Hi's!"
"o.k., o.k., goodbye!"
they all left, wiggling out the door.
all Mankind was doomed forever.
I was just about asleep when the extension phone rang.
"yeah?"
Mr. Bukowski?"
"yeah?"
"I saw those women! they came from your room!"
"how do you know? you have 8 floors and about ten or twelve
rooms to a floor."
"I know all my roomers, Mr. Bukowski! we have all respec-
table working people here!"
"yeah?"
"yes, Mr. Bukowski. I've been running this place for twenty
years and never, never have I seen such goings on as at your place!
we've always had respectable people here, Mr. Bukowski."
"yes, they're so respectable that every two weeks some son of
a bitch climbs up onto the roof and takes a header straight into your
cement entranceway between those phony potted plants."
"you've got until noon to get out, Mr. Bukowski!"
"what time is it now?"
"8 a.m."
"thank you."
I hung up. found an alka-seltzer, drank it out of a dirty glass.
then found a touch of wine. I opened the curtains and looked out at
the sun. it was a hard world, no news there, but I hated skidrow. I
like little rooms, little places to make some kind of fight from. a
woman, a drink, but no day by day job. I couldn't put it together. I
was not clever enough. I thought of jumping out the window but
couldn't do it. I got dressed and went down to Tommi-Hi's. the girls
were laughing down at the end of the bar with two guys. Marty the
bartender knew me. I waved him off. no money. I sat there.
a scotch and water arrived in front of me. a note.
"meet me at the Roach Hotel, room 12, at midnight. I'll have
the room for us.
love, Linda."
I drank the drink, got out of the way, tried the Roach Hotel at
Midnight. the desk clerk said, "nothing doing. no room 12 reserved
for a Bukowski." I came at one a.m. I'd been in the park all day, all
night, sitting. same thing. "no room 12 reserved for you, sir."
"any room reserved for m under that name or under the
name of Linda Bryan?"
"nothing sir."
"do you mind if I look into room 12?"
"there's nobody there, sir. I told you, sir."
"I'm in love, man. I'm sorry. please let me have a look!"
he gave me one of those looks reserved for 4th class idiots,
tossed me the doorkey.
"be back within 5 minutes or you're in trouble."
I opened the door, switched on the lights - "Linda!" - the
roaches, seeing the light, all ran back under the wallpaper. there were
thousands of them. when I put out the light you could hear them all
crawling back out. the wallpaper, itself, seemed to be just a large
roachskin.
I took the elevator back down to the desk clerk.
"thanks," I said, "you were right. nobody in room 12."
for the first time his voice seemed to take on some kind of
kindness.
"I'm sorry, man."
"thanks," I said.
when I got outside the hotel I turned left, which was east, which
was skidrow, and as my feet moved me slowly toward there I won-
dered, why do people lie? now I no longer wonder but I still remem-
ber, and now when they lie I almost know about it while they are
doing it, but I'm stil lnot as wise as that desk clerk in the roach
hotel
who knew that the lie was everywhere, or the people who dove past
my window while I was drinking port on warm afternoons in Los
Angeles across from McArthur park, where they still catch, kill, eat
the ducks, and, the people.
the hotel is still there and the room we stayed in and if you
care to come by some day I will show it to you. but there's hardly
sense in that, is there? let's just say that one night I fucked or got
fucked by 3 women. and let that be story enough.
===
The Gut Wringing Machine
Danforth hung the bodies up one by one after they had been
wrung through the wringer. Bagley sat by the phones. "how many
we got?"
"19, looks like a good day."
"shit, yeah, yeah. that sounds like a good day. how many did
we place yesterday?"
"14."
"fair, fair. we-ll make it good if the way keeps up. I keep
worrying they might quit the thing in Viet," said Bagley of the
phones.
"don-t be foolish - too many people profit depend on
that war."
"but the Paris Peace Conference-"
"you just ain-t yourself today, Bag. you know they just sit
around and laugh all day, draw their pay and then make the Paree
nightclubs each night. those boys are living good. they don-t want
the Peace Conference to end anymore than we want the war to end.
we-re all getting fat, and not a scratch. It-s sweet. and if they
settle
the thing somehow by accident, there-ll be others. they keep hot
points glowing all over the globe."
"yeah, I guess I worry too much." one of the three phones on
the desk rang. Bagley picked it up. "SATISFACTORY HELP
AGENCY. Bagley speaking."
he listened. "yeh, yeh. we got a good cost accountant. salary?
$300 the first two weeks, I mean a week. we get the first two
weeks- pay. then cut him to 50 a week or fire him. If you fire him
after the first two weeks, we give YOU one hundred dollars. why?
well, hell, don-t you see, the whole idea is to keep things moving. It-
s
all psychological, like Santa Claus. when? yeah, we-ll send him right
over. what-s the address? fine, fine, he-ll be there pronto, remember
all the terms. we send him with a contract. bye."
Bagley hung up. hummed to himself, underlined the address.
"get one down, Danforth, a tired, thin one, no use shipping out the
best on the first shot."
Danforth walked over to the wire clothesline and took the
clamps off the fingers of a tired, thin one.
"walk him over here. what-s his name?"
"Herman. Herman Telleman."
"shit, he don-t look so good. looks like he still got a little
blood in him, and I can see some color in his eye-I think. listen,
Danforthm you got these wringers running good and tight? I want all
the guts squeezed out, no resistance at all, you understand? you do
your job and I-ll do mine."
"some of these guys came in pretty tough, some men have
more guts than others, you know that. you can-t always tell by
looking."
"all right, let-s try him. Herman. hey, sonny!"
"what-s up pops?"
"how-d you like a nice little job?"
"ah, hell no!"
"what? you don-t want a nice little job?"
"what the fuck for? my old man, he was from Jersey, he
worked all his damn life and after that we buried him with his own
money, ya know what he had left?"
"what?"
"15 cents and the end of a drab dull life."
"but don-t you want a wife, a family, a home, respectability" a
new car every 3 years?"
"I don-t want no grind, daddy-o, don-t put me in no flip-out
cage. I just want to laze around. what the shit."
"Danforth, run this bastard through the wringer and make
those screws tight!"
Danforth grabbed the subject but not before Telleman yelled
"up your old mother-s bunghole-"
"and squeeze ALL THE GUTS OUT OF HIM, ALL OF THE
GUTS! do you hear me?"
"aw right, aw right!" answered Danforth. "shit, sometimes I
think you got the easy end of the stick!"
"forget sticks! squeeze the guts out of him. Nixon might end
the war-"
"there you go talking that nonsense again! I don-t think you
been sleeping good, Bagley. something wrong with you."
"yeah, yeah, you-re right! insomnia. I keep thinking we should
be making soldiers! I toss all night! what a business that would be!"
"Bag, we do the best with what we can, that-s all."
"aw right, aw right, you run him through the wringer yet?"
Danforth brought Herman Telleman back. he did look a bit
different. all the color was gone from his eyes and he had on this
utterly false smile. it was beautiful.
"Herman?" asked Bagley.
"yes, sir?"
"what do you feel? or how do you feel?"
"I don-t feel anything, sir."
"you like cops?"
"not cops, sir - policemen. they are the victims of our vicious-
ness even though they at times protect us by shooting us, jailing us,
beating us and fining us. There is no such thing as a bad cop. Police-
man, pardon me. do you realize that if there were no policemen,
we-d have to take the law into our own hands?"
"and then what would happen?"
"I never thought of that, sir."
"excellent, do you believe in God?"
"oh, yes sir, in God and Family and State and Country and
honest labor."
"jesus christ!"
"what, sir?"
"sorry, now, here, do you like overtime on a job?"
"oh, yes sir! I would like to work 7 days a week if possible,
and 2 jobs if possible."
"why?"
"money, sir, money for color tv, new autos, down payment on
a home, silk pajamas, 2 dogs, an electric shave, life insurance, medi-
cal insurance, oh all kinds of insurance and college educations for
my children if I have children and automatic doors on the garage and
fine clothes and 45 dollar shoes, and cameras, wrist watches, rings,
washers, refrigerators, new chairs, new beds, wall-to-wall carpeting,
donations to the church, thermostat heating and-"
"all right. stop. when are you going to use all this stuff?"
"I don-t understand, sir."
"I mean, when you are working night and day and overtime,
when are you going to enjoy these luxuries?"
"oh, there-ll be a day, there-ll be a day, sir!"
"and you don-t think your kids will grow up some day and
just think of you as an asshole?"
"after I-ve worked my fingers to the bone for them, sir! of
course not!"
"excellent. now just a few more questions."
"yes, sir."
"don-t you think that all this constant drudgery is harmful to
the health and the spirit, the soul, if you will-?"
"oh hell, if I weren-t working all the time I-d just be sitting
around drinking or making oil paintings or fucking or going to the
circus or sitting in the park watching the ducks. things like that."
"don-t you think sitting around in the park watching the
ducks is nice?"
"I can-t make any money that way, sir."
"o.k., fuck-off."
"sir?"
"I mean, I-m through talking to you."
"o.k., this one-s ready. Dan. fine job. give him the contract,
make him sign it, he won-t read the fine print. he thinks we-re nice.
trot him down to the address. they-ll take him. I ain-t sent out a
better cost accountant in months."
"Danforth had Herman sign the contract, checked his eyes again
to make sure that they were dead, put the contract and the address
in his hand, led him to the door and gave him a gentle push down
the stairway.
Bagley just leaned back with an easy smile of success and
watched Danforth run the other 18 through the wringer. where the
guts went it was hard to see but almost every man lost his guts
somewhere along the line. the ones labeled: "married with family" or
"over 40" lost their guts easiest. Bagley leaned back as Danforth ran
them through the wringer, he heard them talking:
"it-s hard for a man as old as I am to get a job, oh, it-s so
hard!"
"another one said::
"oh, baby, it-s cold outside."
another:
"I get tired of booking and pimping, getting busted, busted,
busted. I need something secure, secure, secure, secure, secure-"
another:
"all right, I-ve had my fun, now-"
another:
"I don-t have a trade. every man should have a trade. I don-t
have a trade. what am I going to do?"
another:
"I-ve been all over the world - in the army - I know things."
another:
"if I had it to do all over again, I-d be a dentist or a barber."
another:
"all my novels and short stories and poems keep coming back.
Shit, I can-t go to New York and shake the hands of the publishers! I
have more talent than anybody but you-ve got to have the inside! I-ll
take any kind of job but I am better than any kind of job that I take
because I am a genius."
another:
"see how pretty I am? look at my nose? look at my ears? look
at my hair? my skin? the way I act! see how pretty I am? see how
pretty I am? see how pretty I am? why doesn-t anybody like me?
because I-m so pretty. they-re jealous, jealous, jealous-"
the phone rang again.
"SATISFACTORY HELP AGENCY. Bagley speaking. you
what? you need a deep-sea diver? motherfucker! what? oh, pardon.
sure, sure, we got dozens of unemployed deep-sea divers. his first 2
weeks- pay is ours. 500 a week, dangerous, you know, really danger-
ous - barnacles, crabs, all that- seaweed, maidens on rocks. octu-
pi, bends. head-colds. fuck, yes. first 2 weeks- pay is ours. if you
fire
him after 2 weeks we give you $200. why? why? if a robin laid an
egg of gold in your front room chair would you ask WHY? would
you? we-ll send you a deep-sea diver in 45 minutes! the address?
fine, fine, ah, yes, fine, that-s near the Richfield Building. yes, I
know. 45 minutes. thank you. goodbye."
Bagley hung up. he was tried already and the day was just
beginning.
"Dan?"
"yeah, mother?"
"bring me a deep-sea diver type. bit fat around the belly. blue
eyes, medium hair on chest, balding before his time, slightly stoical,
cancer of the throat. that-s a deep-sea diver. anybody knows what a
deep-sea diver is. now bring one, mother."
"o.k., shithead."
Bagley yawned. Danforth unclamped one. brought him forth,
stood him before the desk.. his tag said, "Barney Anderson."
"hello, Barney," said Bag.
"where am I?" asked Barney.
"SATISFACTORY HELP AGENCY."
"boy, if you two ain-t a couple of greasy-looking mother-
fuckers, I ain-t never ever seen none!"
"what the fuck, Dan!"
"I ran him through 4 times."
"I told you to tighten those screws!"
"and I told you some men have more guts than others!"
"it-s all a myth, you damn fool!"
"who-s a damn fool?"
"you-re both damn fools," said Barney Anderson.
"I want you to run his ass through the wringer three times,"
said Bagley.
"o.k., o.k., but first let-s you and me get straight."
"aw right, for instance-ast this Barney guy who his heroes
are."
"Barney, hoose yr herows?"
"well, lemme see - Cleaver, Dillinger, Che, Malcolm X,
Gandhi, Jersey Joe Walcott, Grandma Barker, Castro, Van Gogh,
Villon, Hemingway."
"ya see, he i-dentifies with all LOSERS. that makes him feel
good. he-s getting ready to lose. we-re going to help him. he-s been
conned on this soul-shit and that-s how we get their asses, there ain-t
no soul. it-s all con. there ain-t no heroes. it-s all con. there ain-t
no
winners - it-s all con and horseshit. there ain-t no saints, there ain-
t
no genius - that-s all con and fairytale, it makes the game go. each
man jut tries to hang on and be lucky - if he can. all else is
bullshit."
"aw right, aw right, I dig your losers! but what about Castro?
he looked pretty fat, last photo I saw of him."
"he subsists because the U.S. and Russia have decided to leave
him in the middle. but suppose they really put the pack on the
deck? what can he draw to? man, he don-t hold enough chips to get
into a decaying Egyptian whorehouse."
"fuck you two guys! I like who I like!" said Barney Anderson.
"Barney, when a man gets old enough, trapped enough, hun-
gry enough, weary enough - he-ll suck dick, tit, eat shit to stay
alive; either that or suicide. the human race ain-t got it, man. it-s a
bad crowd."
"so we-re gonna change it, man. that-s the trick. if we can
make it to the moon we can clean the shit out of the shitbowl, we
just been concentrating on the wrong things."
"you-re sick, kid, and a little fat around the belly. and balding.
Dan, shape him up."
Danforth took Barney Anderson and rang and wrung and
screamed him through the wringer three times, then brought him
back.
"Barney?" asked Bagley.
"yes sir!"
"Who are your heroes?"
"George Washington, Bob Hope, Mae West. Richard Nixon,
the bones of Clark Gable and all the nice people I-ve seen at Disney-
land. Joe Louis, Dinah Shore, Frank Sinatra, Babe Ruth, the Green
Berets, hell the whole United States Army and Navy and especially
the Marine Corps, and even the Treasury Dept., the CIA, the FBI,
United Fruit, the highway Patrol, the whole god damned L.A. Police
Dept., and the County Cops too. and I don-t mean -cops,- I mean
-policemen.- then there-s Marlene Dietrich, with this slit up the side
of her dress, she must be near 70 now? - dancing up at Vegas, my
dick got big, what a wonderful woman. the good American life and
the good American money can keep us young forever, don-t you
see?"
"Dan?"
"yeah, Bag?"
"this one-s really ready! I ain-t got much feeling left, but he
even makes me sick. make him sign his little contract and send him
out. they-ll love him. god, what a man-s gotta do to just stay alive.
sometimes I even hate my own job. that-s bad, ain-t it, Dan?"
******* "sure, Bag, and as soon as I send this asshole on his way, I
got just
the little thing for you - a touch of the good ol- tonic."
"ah, fine, fine-what is it?"
"just a little quarter-turn through the wringer."
"WHAT?"
"oh, it-s fine for the blues or for extemporaneous thinking
stuff like that."
"will it work?"
"it beats aspirin."
"o.k., get rid of the asshole."
Barney Anderson was sent down the stairway. Bagley got up
and walked toward the nearest wringer. "these old gals - West and
Dietrich, still flashing tits and legs, hell t don-t make sense, they
were doing that when I was 6 years old."
"nuttin-. stretchers, girdles, powder, lights, false flesh cover-
ings, padding, pudding, straw, horseshit, they could make your
grandmother look like a 16 year old."
"my grandmother-s dead."
"they could still do it."
"yeah, yeah, I guess you-re right." Bagley walked toward the
wringer.
"just a quarter turn now. can I trust you?"
"you-re my partner, ain-t you, Bag?"
"sure, Dan."
"how long we been in business together?"
"25 years."
"so, o.k., when I say a QUARTER-TURN, I mean a QUAR-
TER-TURN."
"whatta I do?"
"just slip your hands in the rollers, it-s like a washing ma-
chine."
"in there?"
"yeah, here we go! whoopee!"
"hey, man, remember, just a quarter of a turn."
"sure, Bag, don-t you trust me?"
"I gotta now."
"you know, I been fucking your wife on the sly."
"you rotten son of a bitch! I-ll kill you!"
Danforth left the machine running, sat down behind Bagley-s
desk, lit a cigarette. he hummed a little tune, "lucky lucky me, I can
live in luxury, because I-ve got a pocket full of dreams-I-ve got a
pocketful of
dreams-"
he got up and walked over to the machine and Bagley.
"you said a quarter-turn," said Bagley. "it-s been a turn and a
half."
"don-t you trust me?"
"more than ever, somehow."
"still, I been fucking your wife on the sly."
"well, I guess it-s all right. I get tired of fucking her. every man
gets tired of fucking his own wife."
"but I want you to want me to fuck your wife."
"well, I don-t care but I don-t know if I exactly want you to."
"I-ll be back in about 5 minutes."
Danforth went back, sat in Bagley-s swivel chair, put his feet
up on the desk and waited. he liked to sing. he sang songs: "I got
plenty of nuthin- and nuthin-s plenty for me. I got the stars, I got
the sun, I got the shining sea-"
Danforth smoked two cigarettes and went back to the machine.
"Bag, I been fucking your wife on the sly."
"oh, I want you to, man! I want you to! and ya know what?"
"what?"
I-d kinda like to watch."
"sure, that-d be o.k."
Danforth went to the phone, dialed a number.
"Minnie? yeah, Dan. I-m comin- over ta fuck ya again. Bag?
oh, he-s comin- too. he wants ta watch. no, we-re not drunk. I just
decided to close shop for the day. we-ve made it already. with the
Israel-Arab thing and all the African wars, there-s nothing to worry
about. Biafra is a beautiful word. anyhow, we-re coming over. I want
to bunghole you. you got those big cheeks, jesus. I might even
bunghole Bag. I think his cheeks are bigger than yours. keep tight,
sweetie, we-re on our way!"
Dan hung up. another phone rang. he picked it up. "jam it you
rotten motherfucker, even the points of your tits smell like wet
dogturds in a Westerly wind." he hung up and smiled. walked over
and took Bagley out of the machine. they locked the office door and
walked down the steps together. when they walked outside the sun
was up and looking good. you could see through the thin skirts of
the women. you could almost see their bones. death and rot was
everywhere. it was Los Angeles, near 7th and Broadway, the inter-
section where the dead snubbed the dead and didn-t even know why
it was a taught game like jumprope or dissecting frogs or pissing in
the mailbox or jacking-off your pet dog.
"we got plenty a nuthin-," they sang, "and nuthin-s plenty for
we-"
arm and arm they made the underground garage, found Bag-s
69 Caddy, got in, each lit a dollar cigar, Dan driving, got it out of
there, almost hit a bum coming out of Pershing Square, turned West
toward the freeway, toward freedom, Vietnam, the army, fucking
large areas of grass and nude statues and French wine, Beverly
Hills-
Bagley leaned over and ran down Danforth-s zipper as he
drove.
I hope he leaves some for his wife, Danforth thought.
it was a warm Los Angeles morning, or maybe it was after-
noon, he checked the dashboard clock - it read 11:37 a.m. just as
he came. he ran the Caddy up to 80. the asphalt slipped underneath
like the graves of the dead. he turned on the dash t.v., then reached
for the telephone, then remembered to zip up. "Minnie, I love you."
"I love you too, Dan," she answered. "is that slob with you?"
"right beside me. he just caught a mouthful."
"oh, Dan, don-t waste it!"
he laughed and hung up. they almost hit a nigger in a pickup
truck. he wasn-t black at all, he was a nigger, that-s all he was.
there
wasn-t a nicer city in the world when you had it made, and only one
worse when you didn-t have it made - the Big A. Danforth hit it up
to 85. a motorcycle smiled at him as he drove by. maybe he-d call Bob
later that night. Bob was always so funny. his 12 writers always gave
him those good lines. and Bob was just as natural as horseshit. it was
wonderful!
he threw out the dollar cigar, lit another, ran the Caddy up to 90,
straight at the sun like an arrow, business was good and life, and the
tires whirled over the dead and the dying and the dying-to-be.
ZYAAAAAUUUUM!
===
it was a hot night in Tony's. you didn't even think of fucking.
just drink cool beer. Tony coasted a couple down to me and Indian
Mike, and Mike had the money out. I let him buy the first round.
Tony rang it up, bored, looked around - 5 or six others staring into
their beers, dolts, so Tony walked down to us.
"what's new, Tony?" I asked.
"ah, shit," said Tony.
"at ain't new."
"shit," said Tony.
"ah, shit," said Indian Mike.
we drank at our beers.
"what do you think of the moon?" I asked Tony.
"shit," said Tony.
"yeah," said Indian Mike, "guy's an asshole on earth he's an
asshole on the moon, makes no difference."
"they say there's probably no life on Mars," I said.
"so what?" asked Tony.
"oh shit," I said, "2 more beers."
Tony coasted them down, then walked down for his money.
rang it up. walked back. "shit it's hot. I wish I were deader than
yesterday's Kotex."
"where do men go when they die, Tony?"
"shit, who cares?"
"don't you believe in the Human Spirit?"
"a bagga bullshit!"
"how about Che? Joan of Arc? Billy the Kid? all those?"
"a bagga bullshit!"
we drank our beers, thinking about it.
"look," I said, "I gotta take a piss."
I walked back to the urinal and there, as usual, was Petey the
Owl.
I took it out and began to piss.
"you sure got a little dick," he told me.
"when I'm pissing or meditating, yeh, but I'm what you call
the super-stretch type. when I'm ready to go, each inch I got now
equals six."
"that's good then, if you ain't lying, cause I see two inches
showing."
" I just show the head."
"I'll give you a dollar to suck your cock."
"that ain't much."
"you're showing more than head. you're showing every bit of
string you got."
"fuck you, Pete."
"you'll be back when you run out of beer money."
I walked back on out.
"2 more beers," I ordered.
Tony went through his routine, came back.
"it's so hot, I think I'm going crazy," he said.
"the heat just makes you realize your true self," I told Tony.
"wait a minute! you calling me a nut?"
"most of us are. but it's kept a secret."
? "all right, saying your bullshit is straight, how many sane men
are there on earth? are there any?"
"a few."
"how many?"
" out of the billions?"
"yeh, yeh."
"well, I'd say 5 or 6."
"5 or 6?" said Indian Mike. "well, suck my cock!"
"look," said Tony. "how do you know I'm nuts? how do we
get away with it?"
"well, since we are all insane there are only a few to control
us, far too few, so they just let us run around insane. that's all they
can do at this moment. for a while I thought they might find some
place to live in outer space while they destroyed us. but now I know
that the insane control space also."
" how do you know?"
"because they planted an American flag on the moon."
"suppose the Russians had planted a Russian flag on the
moon?"
"same thing," I said.
"then you're impartial?" Tony asked.
"I am impartial to all degrees of madness."
we became quiet. kept drinking. and Tony too, began pouring
himself scotch and waters. he could. he owned the place.
"jesus, it's hot," said Tony.
"shit, yeh," said Indian Mike.
then Tony began talking. "insanity," said Tony, "ya know,
there's something very insane going on at this very minute!"
"sure," I said.
"no, no, no-I mean right HERE at my place!"
"yeh?"
"yeh. It's so crazy, sometimes I get scared."
"tell me all about it, Tony," I said, always ready for somebody
else's bullshit.
Tony leaned real close. "I know a guy's got a fuck-machine. no
crazy sex magazine shit. like you see in the ads. hot water bottles
with replaceable cornbeef pussies, all that nonsense. this guy has
really put it together. a German scientist, we got to him, I mean out
govt. did before the Russians could grab him. now keep it quiet."
"sure, Tony, sure-"
"Von Brashlitz. our govt. tried to get him interested in
SPACE. no go. a brilliant old guy, but he just has this FUCK MA-
CHINE in mind. at the same time he thinks he's some kind of an
artist, calls himself Michelangelo at times-they pensioned him off
at $500.00 a month to kind of keep him alive enough to stay outa
the nuthouses. they watched him a while, then got a little bored or
forgot, but they kept the checks coming, and now and then an agent
would talk to him ten or twenty minutes a month, write a report
that he was crazy, then leave, so he just drifted around from
town to town, dragging this big red trunk behind him. finally one
night he come in here and begins drinking. tells me that he is just a
tired old man, needs a real quiet place to do his research. I kept
putting him off. lotta nuts come in here, ya know."
"yeh," I said.
"then, man, he kept getting drunker and drunker, and he laid
it down to me. he had designed a mechanical woman who could give
a man a better fuck than any woman created throughout the centu-
ries! plus no Kotex, no shit, no arguments!"
"I been looking," I said, "for a woman like that all my life."
Tony laughed. "every man has. I thought he was crazy, of
course, until one night after closing I went down to his rooming
house with him and he took the FUCK MACHINE out of the red
trunk."
"and?"
"it was like going to heaven before you died."
" let me guess the rest," I asked Tony.
"guess."
Von Brashlitz and his FUCK MACHINE are upstairs at your
place right now."
"uh huh," said Tony.
"how much?"
"twenty bucks a piece."
"20 bucks to fuck a machine?"
"he's outdone whatever Created us. you'll see."
"Petey the Owl will blow me for a buck."
"Petey the Owl is o.k. but he ain't no invention that beats the
gods."
I shoved over my 20.
"so help me, Tony, if this is some crazy kind of hot-weather
gag, you've lost your best customer!"
"like you said earlier, we're all crazy anyhow. It's up to you."
"right," I said.
"I only get 50 percent, ya gotta understand. the rest goes to
Von Brashlitz. 500 buck pension ain't much with inflation and
taxes, and Von B. drinks schnapps like crazy."
"let's make it," I said, "you've got 40 bucks. where's this
immortal FUCK MACHINE?"
Tony lifted a partition of the bar, said, "come through here.
take the stairway to the back rear, just go up there, knock, say,
'Tony sent us'."
"any door #?"
"door #69."
"oh, hell yes," I said, "what else?"
we found the stairway. walked up. "Tony will do anything for
a gag," I said.
we walked along, there it was: door #69.
I knocked: "Tony sent us."
"ah, do come in, gentleman!"
here was this old horny-looking freak, glass of schnapps in his
hand, double-lensed glasses. just like the old-timed movies. he ap-
peared to be having a visitor, a young thing, almost too young,
looking flimsy and strong at the same time.
she crossed her legs, flashing all the bit: nylon knees, nylon
thighs, and just that tiny part there where the long stockings ended
and just that touch of flesh began. she was all ass and breast, nylon
legs, clean blue laughing eyes-
"gentleman, ---my daughter, Tanya-"
"what?"
"ah, yes, I know, I am so-old- but like the myth of the
black man with the ever-huge cock, there is also the myth of dirty
old Germans who never stop fucking, you may believe what you
wish to. this is my daughter, Tanya, anyhow-"
"hello, boys," she laughed.
then we all looked toward the door which was labeled: FUCK
MACHINE STORAGE ROOM.
he finished off his schnapps.
"and so- you boys came over for the best FUCK ever, ya?"
"Daddy!" said Tanya, "must you always be so crude?"
Tanya recrossed her legs, higher this time, and I almost came.
then the professor finished another schnapps, then got up and
walked over to the door labeled FUCK MACHINE STORAGE
ROOM. he turned and smiled at us, then very slowly opened the
door. he walked on in and came out rolling this thing on what
looked like a hospital bed on wheels.
it was NAKED, a clod of metal.
the prof rolled the damn thing right out in front of us, then
began humming some rotten song, probably something from the
German.
a clod of metal with this hole in the center. the professor had
an oil can in his hand, poked it into the hole and began punching in
quite a quantity of this oil, meanwhile humming this insane German
song.
he kept punching the oil in, then looked back over his shoul-
der and said, "nice, ya?" then he went back to work, pumping in the
oil.
Indian Mike looked at me, tried to laugh, said, "god damn-
we've been taken again!"
"yeah." I said, "it seems like it's been 5 years since I been laid,
but I'll be damned if I'll stick my cock into that mound of hard
lead!"
Von Brashlitz laughed. walked over to his liquor cabinet,
found another 5th. of schnapps, poured a goody, sat down facing us.
"as we in Germany began knowing that the war was lost, and
the net began to tighten---down to the final battle of Berlin-we
knew that the war had taken on a new essence---the real war then
became who was to grab the most German scientists. If Russia got
well, I don't know how it really came out- numerically or in
terms of scientific brain-power. I only know that the Americans got
to me first, snapped me up, took me away in a car, gave me a drink,
put pistols to my head, made promises, talked madly. I signed every-
thing-"
"all right," I said, "so much for history. but I'm still not going
to stick my dick, my poor little dick into that hunk of sheetmetal or
whatever it is! Hitler must have really been a madman to nursemaid
you. I wish the Russians had gotten to your ass first! I want my 20
bucks back!"
Von Brashlitz laughed, "heeeheeeheeehe-it is just my little
joke, nien? heeeheeeheeeheee!"
he shoved that mound of lead back into the closet.slammed
the door. "oh, heheeehee!" had a bit more schnapps.
Von B. poureed another schnapps. he really put them down.
"gentlemen, I am an artist and an inventor! my FUCK MACHINE is
really my daughter, Tanya-"
"more little jokes, Von?" I asked.
"joke nothing! Tanya! go over and sit in the gentleman's lap."
Tanya laughed, got up, walked over and sat in my lap. a FUCK
MACHINE? I couldn't believe it! her skin was skin, or so it seemed,
and her tongue as it worked into my mouth as we kissed, it was not
mechanical - each movement was different, responding to my own.
I was busy at it, ripping her blouse from her breasts, working
tangled; we somehow got to standing - and I took her standing up,
my hands reaching down, spreading her asshole as I pumped, she came - I
could feel the throbbing, and I joined.
it was the best fuck I had ever had!
Tanya went to the bathroom, cleaned-up and showered,
dressed-up again for Indian Mike. I guess.
"man's greatest invention," Von Brashlitz said quite seriously.
he was quite right.
then Tanya came out and sat on MY lap.
"NO! NO! TANYA! IT'S THE OTHER MAN'S TURN! YOU
JUST FINISHED FUCKING THAT ONE!"
she didn't seem to hear. and it was strange, even for a FUCK
MACHINE, because, really, I had never been a very good lover.
"do you love me?" she asked.
"yes."
"I love you. and I am so happy. and- I'm not supposed to
be alive. you know that, don't you?"
"god damn it!" screamed the old man, "this FUCKING MA-
CHINE!" he walked over to this varnished box with the word
TANYA printed on the side. there were these little wires sprouting
out of it; there were dials, and needles that quivered, and many
colors, lights that blinked on and off, things that ticked-Von B.
was the craziest pimp I had ever met, he kept playing with the dials,
then he looked at Tanya:
"25 YEARS! damn near a lifetime to build you! I even had to
hide you from HITLER! and now- you try to turn into a mere
and ordinary bitch!"
"I'm not 25," said Tanya, "I'm 24." "you see? you see? just like a
common bitch!"
he went back to his dials.
"you've put on a different shade of lipstick," I said to Tanya.
"you like it?"
"oh, yes!"
she leaned over and kissed me.
Von B. kept playing with the dials. I felt that he would win.
Von Brashlitz turned to Indian Mike. "it's just a minor kink in
the machine. trust me. I'll get it straight in a minute, ya?"
"I hope so," said Indian Mike, "I've got 14 inches waiting and
am twenty bucks down.
"I love you," Tanya told me, "I will never fuck any other
man. If I can't have you, I won't have anybody."
"I'll forgive you, Tanya, for anything that you do."
the prof was getting pissed. he kept turning the dials but noth-
ing was happening. "TANYA! It is time for you to FUCK the
OTHER man! I am- getting tired-must have a bit of
schnapps-be off to sleep-Tanya-"
"ah," said Tanya, "you rotten old fuck! you and your
schnapps, and then nibbling at my tits all night, so I can't even sleep
while you can't even raise a decent hard! you're disgusting!"
"VAS?"
"I SAID, 'YOU CAN'T EVEN RAISE A DECENT HARD!'"
"you, Tanya, will pay for this! you are MY creation, I am not
yours!"
he kept turning his magic knobs, I mean, on the machine. he
was quite angry, and you could see that, somehow, the anger gave
him a vital brilliance beyond himself, "just wait, Mike. all I have to
do it to adjust the electronics! Wait! a short! I see it!"
then he leaped up. this guy they had saved from the Russians.
he looked at Indian Mike. "it's straight now! the machine is in
order! have fun!"
then he walked over to his schnapps bottle, poured another
goody, sat down to watch.
Tanya got off of my lap and walked over to Indian Mike. I
watched Tanya and Indian Mike embrace.
Tanya worked Indian Mike's zipper down, got his cock out,
and man he had plenty of cock! he'd said 14 inches but it looked
more like 20.
then Tanya put both her hands around Mike's cock.
he moaned in glory.
then she ripped the whole cock right out of and off of his
body. threw it to the side.
I saw the thing roll along the rug like an insane sausage, drib-
bling little sad trailets of blood. It rolled up against a wall. then
stayed there like something with a head but no legs and no place to
go-which was true enough.
next, here came the BALLS flying through the air. a heavy,
looping sight. they simply landed upon the center of the rug and
didn't know what to do but bleed.
so, they bled.
Von Brashlitz, the hero of the America-Russ invasion took a
hard look at what was left of Indian Mike, my old beer-drinking
buddy, very red on the floor, flowing from the center - Von B took
the highroad, down the stairway-
room 69 had done everything but that.
and then I asked her: "Tanya, the heat will be here very quick-
ly. shall we dedicate the room number to our love?"
"of course, my love!"
we made it, just in time, and the stupid heat ran in.
one of the learned then pronounced Indian Mike dead.
and since Von B. was a kind of U.S.Govt. product, there was a
hell of a lot of people around - various chickenshit officials -
firemen, reporters, the cops, the inventor, the C.I.A., the F.B.I., and
various other forms of human shit.
Tanya came over and sat in my lap. "they will kill me now.
please try not to be sad." I didn't answer.
then Von Brashlitz was screaming, pointing to Tanya - "I
TELL YOU, GENTLEMEN, SHE HAS NO FEELING! I SAVED
THE DAMN THING FROM HITLER! I tell you, it is nothing but a
MACHINE!"
they all just stood there, nobody believed Von B.
it was simply the most beautiful machine, and so-called wo-
man, they had ever seen.
"Oh shit! You idiots! Every woman is a fucking machine, can't
you see that? They play for the highest bidder! THERE IS NO SUCH
THING AS LOVE! THAT IS A FAIRY-TALE MIRAGE LIKE
CHRISTMAS!"
they still wouldn't believe.
"THIS is only a machine! have FEAR! WATCH!"
VonBrashlitz grabbed one of Tanya's arms.
ripped it completely off her body.
and inside - inside the hole of her shoulder - you could see it -
there was nothing but wire and tubes - coiled and running things -
plus some minor substance that faintly resembled blood.
I saw Tanya standing there with this coil of wire hanging from
her shoulder, where the arm used to be, she looked at me:
"please, for me to! I asked you to try not to be too sad."
I watched as they ganged her, and ripped and raped and tore.
I couldn't help it. I put my head down between my legs and
cried-
also, Indian Mike never got his 20 bucks worth.
some months went by. I never went back to the bar. There was
a trial but the govt. exonerated Von B. and his machine. I moved to
another town. far away. and one day sitting in a barbershop, I
picked up this sex mag. here was an ad: "Blow up your own little
dolly! $29.95. Resistant rubber material, very durable. Chains and
whips included in package. A bikini, bras, panties. 2 wigs, lipstick
and small jar of love-potion included. Von Brashlitz Co."
I sent him a money order. some box number in Mass. he had
moved too.
the package arrived in about 3 weeks. very embarrassing. I
didn't have a bicycle pump, and then I got the hots when I took the
thing out of the package. I had to go down to the corner gas station
and use their air hose.
it looked better as it blew up. big tits. big ass.
"whatcha got there, pal?" the gas station man asked me.
"look, man, I'm just borrowing a little air. don't I buy a lot of
gas here, huh?"
"o.k., that's o.k., you can have the air. I just damn well can't
help wondering whatcha got there-"
"just forget it!" I said.
"JESUS! look at those TITS!"
"I AM looking, asshole!"
I left him there with his tongue hanging out, then threw her
over my shoulder and made it back to my place. I carried her into
the bedroom.
the big question was yet to come?
I spread the legs and looked for some kind of opening.
Von B. hadn't completely slipped.
I climbed on top and began kissing that rubber mouth. now
and then I reached for one of the giant rubber tits and sucked upon
it. I had put a yellow wig on her and rubbed the love-potion all over
my cock. It didn't take much love-potion. maybe he'd sent a year's
worth.
I kissed her passionately behind the ears, stuck my finger up
her ass, kept pumping. then I leaped off, chained her arms behind
her back, there was this little lock and key and then I whipped her
ass good with the leather thongs.
god, I gotta be nuts! I thought.
then I flipped her over and put it back in. humped and
humped. frankly, it was rather boring. I imagined male dogs screwing
female cats; I imagined 2 people fucking through the air as they
jumped from the Empire State Building. I imagined a pussy as large
as an octopus, crawling toward me, wet and stinking and aching for
an orgasm. I remembered all the panties, knees, legs, tits, pussies I
had ever seen. the rubber was sweating; I was sweating.
"I love you, darling!" I whispered into one of her rubber ears.
I hate to admit it, but I forced myself to come into that lousy
hunk of rubber. It was hardly a Tanya at all.
I took a razor blade and cut the thing all to shit. dumped it
"oh no, shit, I'm just HOT! HOT! I'M SO HOT!"
"what?"
"I said, I'm burning up hot! FUCK ME!"
"Linda-"
"what? what?"
"I'm so tired. no sleep for two nights. that long walk to the
Labor Market and back, 32 blocks in the hot sun-useless. no job.
fucking-ass tired."
"I'll HELP you!"
"whatcha mean?"
she crawled halfway down the couch and began licking at my
penis. I groaned in wearinesss. "honey, 32 blocks in the hot sun-
I'm burned out."
she kept working. she had a sandpaper tongue and knew what
to do with it.
"honey," I told her, "I'm a social zero! I don't deserve you!
please relent!"
like I say, she was good. some can, some can't. most just know
the old-time headbob. Linda began with the penis, lift off, went to
the balls, then off the balls, back to the penis again, barberpole, a
wonderful amount of energy. ALWAYS LEAVING THE HEAD OF
THE COCK, ITSELF, UNTOUCHED. finally, she had me moaning
to the ceiling telling her all various sorts of lies about what I would
do for her when I finally got my ass straightened out and stopped
being a bum.
then she came and took the head, put her mouth about a third
of the way down, gave this little nip-suck of tooth pressure on, the
wolf-nip and I came AGAIN - which made four times that night and
I was completely done. some women know more than medical sci-
ence.
when I awakened they were all up and dressed - looking good
- Linda, Jeanie and Eve. they poked at me under the covers, laugh-
ing. "hey, Hank, we're going down to look for a live one! and we
need an eye opener! we'll be down at Tommi-Hi's!"
"o.k., o.k., goodbye!"
they all left, wiggling out the door.
all Mankind was doomed forever.
I was just about asleep when the extension phone rang.
"yeah?"
Mr. Bukowski?"
"yeah?"
"I saw those women! they came from your room!"
"how do you know? you have 8 floors and about ten or twelve
rooms to a floor."
"I know all my roomers, Mr. Bukowski! we have all respec-
table working people here!"
"yeah?"
"yes, Mr. Bukowski. I've been running this place for twenty
years and never, never have I seen such goings on as at your place!
we've always had respectable people here, Mr. Bukowski."
"yes, they're so respectable that every two weeks some son of
a bitch climbs up onto the roof and takes a header straight into your
cement entranceway between those phony potted plants."
"you've got until noon to get out, Mr. Bukowski!"
"what time is it now?"
"8 a.m."
"thank you."
I hung up. found an alka-seltzer, drank it out of a dirty glass.
then found a touch of wine. I opened the curtains and looked out at
the sun. it was a hard world, no news there, but I hated skidrow. I
like little rooms, little places to make some kind of fight from. a
woman, a drink, but no day by day job. I couldn't put it together. I
was not clever enough. I thought of jumping out the window but
couldn't do it. I got dressed and went down to Tommi-Hi's. the girls
were laughing down at the end of the bar with two guys. Marty the
bartender knew me. I waved him off. no money. I sat there.
a scotch and water arrived in front of me. a note.
"meet me at the Roach Hotel, room 12, at midnight. I'll have
the room for us.
love, Linda."
I drank the drink, got out of the way, tried the Roach Hotel at
Midnight. the desk clerk said, "nothing doing. no room 12 reserved
for a Bukowski." I came at one a.m. I'd been in the park all day, all
night, sitting. same thing. "no room 12 reserved for you, sir."
"any room reserved for m under that name or under the
name of Linda Bryan?"
"nothing sir."
"do you mind if I look into room 12?"
"there's nobody there, sir. I told you, sir."
"I'm in love, man. I'm sorry. please let me have a look!"
he gave me one of those looks reserved for 4th class idiots,
tossed me the doorkey.
"be back within 5 minutes or you're in trouble."
I opened the door, switched on the lights - "Linda!" - the
roaches, seeing the light, all ran back under the wallpaper. there were
thousands of them. when I put out the light you could hear them all
crawling back out. the wallpaper, itself, seemed to be just a large
roachskin.
I took the elevator back down to the desk clerk.
"thanks," I said, "you were right. nobody in room 12."
for the first time his voice seemed to take on some kind of
kindness.
"I'm sorry, man."
"thanks," I said.
when I got outside the hotel I turned left, which was east, which
was skidrow, and as my feet moved me slowly toward there I won-
dered, why do people lie? now I no longer wonder but I still remem-
ber, and now when they lie I almost know about it while they are
doing it, but I'm stil lnot as wise as that desk clerk in the roach
hotel
who knew that the lie was everywhere, or the people who dove past
my window while I was drinking port on warm afternoons in Los
Angeles across from McArthur park, where they still catch, kill, eat
the ducks, and, the people.
the hotel is still there and the room we stayed in and if you
care to come by some day I will show it to you. but there's hardly
sense in that, is there? let's just say that one night I fucked or got
fucked by 3 women. and let that be story enough.
===
The Gut Wringing Machine
Danforth hung the bodies up one by one after they had been
wrung through the wringer. Bagley sat by the phones. "how many
we got?"
"19, looks like a good day."
"shit, yeah, yeah. that sounds like a good day. how many did
we place yesterday?"
"14."
"fair, fair. we-ll make it good if the way keeps up. I keep
worrying they might quit the thing in Viet," said Bagley of the
phones.
"don-t be foolish - too many people profit depend on
that war."
"but the Paris Peace Conference-"
"you just ain-t yourself today, Bag. you know they just sit
around and laugh all day, draw their pay and then make the Paree
nightclubs each night. those boys are living good. they don-t want
the Peace Conference to end anymore than we want the war to end.
we-re all getting fat, and not a scratch. It-s sweet. and if they
settle
the thing somehow by accident, there-ll be others. they keep hot
points glowing all over the globe."
"yeah, I guess I worry too much." one of the three phones on
the desk rang. Bagley picked it up. "SATISFACTORY HELP
AGENCY. Bagley speaking."
he listened. "yeh, yeh. we got a good cost accountant. salary?
$300 the first two weeks, I mean a week. we get the first two
weeks- pay. then cut him to 50 a week or fire him. If you fire him
after the first two weeks, we give YOU one hundred dollars. why?
well, hell, don-t you see, the whole idea is to keep things moving. It-
s
all psychological, like Santa Claus. when? yeah, we-ll send him right
over. what-s the address? fine, fine, he-ll be there pronto, remember
all the terms. we send him with a contract. bye."
Bagley hung up. hummed to himself, underlined the address.
"get one down, Danforth, a tired, thin one, no use shipping out the
best on the first shot."
Danforth walked over to the wire clothesline and took the
clamps off the fingers of a tired, thin one.
"walk him over here. what-s his name?"
"Herman. Herman Telleman."
"shit, he don-t look so good. looks like he still got a little
blood in him, and I can see some color in his eye-I think. listen,
Danforthm you got these wringers running good and tight? I want all
the guts squeezed out, no resistance at all, you understand? you do
your job and I-ll do mine."
"some of these guys came in pretty tough, some men have
more guts than others, you know that. you can-t always tell by
looking."
"all right, let-s try him. Herman. hey, sonny!"
"what-s up pops?"
"how-d you like a nice little job?"
"ah, hell no!"
"what? you don-t want a nice little job?"
"what the fuck for? my old man, he was from Jersey, he
worked all his damn life and after that we buried him with his own
money, ya know what he had left?"
"what?"
"15 cents and the end of a drab dull life."
"but don-t you want a wife, a family, a home, respectability" a
new car every 3 years?"
"I don-t want no grind, daddy-o, don-t put me in no flip-out
cage. I just want to laze around. what the shit."
"Danforth, run this bastard through the wringer and make
those screws tight!"
Danforth grabbed the subject but not before Telleman yelled
"up your old mother-s bunghole-"
"and squeeze ALL THE GUTS OUT OF HIM, ALL OF THE
GUTS! do you hear me?"
"aw right, aw right!" answered Danforth. "shit, sometimes I
think you got the easy end of the stick!"
"forget sticks! squeeze the guts out of him. Nixon might end
the war-"
"there you go talking that nonsense again! I don-t think you
been sleeping good, Bagley. something wrong with you."
"yeah, yeah, you-re right! insomnia. I keep thinking we should
be making soldiers! I toss all night! what a business that would be!"
"Bag, we do the best with what we can, that-s all."
"aw right, aw right, you run him through the wringer yet?"
Danforth brought Herman Telleman back. he did look a bit
different. all the color was gone from his eyes and he had on this
utterly false smile. it was beautiful.
"Herman?" asked Bagley.
"yes, sir?"
"what do you feel? or how do you feel?"
"I don-t feel anything, sir."
"you like cops?"
"not cops, sir - policemen. they are the victims of our vicious-
ness even though they at times protect us by shooting us, jailing us,
beating us and fining us. There is no such thing as a bad cop. Police-
man, pardon me. do you realize that if there were no policemen,
we-d have to take the law into our own hands?"
"and then what would happen?"
"I never thought of that, sir."
"excellent, do you believe in God?"
"oh, yes sir, in God and Family and State and Country and
honest labor."
"jesus christ!"
"what, sir?"
"sorry, now, here, do you like overtime on a job?"
"oh, yes sir! I would like to work 7 days a week if possible,
and 2 jobs if possible."
"why?"
"money, sir, money for color tv, new autos, down payment on
a home, silk pajamas, 2 dogs, an electric shave, life insurance, medi-
cal insurance, oh all kinds of insurance and college educations for
my children if I have children and automatic doors on the garage and
fine clothes and 45 dollar shoes, and cameras, wrist watches, rings,
washers, refrigerators, new chairs, new beds, wall-to-wall carpeting,
donations to the church, thermostat heating and-"
"all right. stop. when are you going to use all this stuff?"
"I don-t understand, sir."
"I mean, when you are working night and day and overtime,
when are you going to enjoy these luxuries?"
"oh, there-ll be a day, there-ll be a day, sir!"
"and you don-t think your kids will grow up some day and
just think of you as an asshole?"
"after I-ve worked my fingers to the bone for them, sir! of
course not!"
"excellent. now just a few more questions."
"yes, sir."
"don-t you think that all this constant drudgery is harmful to
the health and the spirit, the soul, if you will-?"
"oh hell, if I weren-t working all the time I-d just be sitting
around drinking or making oil paintings or fucking or going to the
circus or sitting in the park watching the ducks. things like that."
"don-t you think sitting around in the park watching the
ducks is nice?"
"I can-t make any money that way, sir."
"o.k., fuck-off."
"sir?"
"I mean, I-m through talking to you."
"o.k., this one-s ready. Dan. fine job. give him the contract,
make him sign it, he won-t read the fine print. he thinks we-re nice.
trot him down to the address. they-ll take him. I ain-t sent out a
better cost accountant in months."
"Danforth had Herman sign the contract, checked his eyes again
to make sure that they were dead, put the contract and the address
in his hand, led him to the door and gave him a gentle push down
the stairway.
Bagley just leaned back with an easy smile of success and
watched Danforth run the other 18 through the wringer. where the
guts went it was hard to see but almost every man lost his guts
somewhere along the line. the ones labeled: "married with family" or
"over 40" lost their guts easiest. Bagley leaned back as Danforth ran
them through the wringer, he heard them talking:
"it-s hard for a man as old as I am to get a job, oh, it-s so
hard!"
"another one said::
"oh, baby, it-s cold outside."
another:
"I get tired of booking and pimping, getting busted, busted,
busted. I need something secure, secure, secure, secure, secure-"
another:
"all right, I-ve had my fun, now-"
another:
"I don-t have a trade. every man should have a trade. I don-t
have a trade. what am I going to do?"
another:
"I-ve been all over the world - in the army - I know things."
another:
"if I had it to do all over again, I-d be a dentist or a barber."
another:
"all my novels and short stories and poems keep coming back.
Shit, I can-t go to New York and shake the hands of the publishers! I
have more talent than anybody but you-ve got to have the inside! I-ll
take any kind of job but I am better than any kind of job that I take
because I am a genius."
another:
"see how pretty I am? look at my nose? look at my ears? look
at my hair? my skin? the way I act! see how pretty I am? see how
pretty I am? see how pretty I am? why doesn-t anybody like me?
because I-m so pretty. they-re jealous, jealous, jealous-"
the phone rang again.
"SATISFACTORY HELP AGENCY. Bagley speaking. you
what? you need a deep-sea diver? motherfucker! what? oh, pardon.
sure, sure, we got dozens of unemployed deep-sea divers. his first 2
weeks- pay is ours. 500 a week, dangerous, you know, really danger-
ous - barnacles, crabs, all that- seaweed, maidens on rocks. octu-
pi, bends. head-colds. fuck, yes. first 2 weeks- pay is ours. if you
fire
him after 2 weeks we give you $200. why? why? if a robin laid an
egg of gold in your front room chair would you ask WHY? would
you? we-ll send you a deep-sea diver in 45 minutes! the address?
fine, fine, ah, yes, fine, that-s near the Richfield Building. yes, I
know. 45 minutes. thank you. goodbye."
Bagley hung up. he was tried already and the day was just
beginning.
"Dan?"
"yeah, mother?"
"bring me a deep-sea diver type. bit fat around the belly. blue
eyes, medium hair on chest, balding before his time, slightly stoical,
cancer of the throat. that-s a deep-sea diver. anybody knows what a
deep-sea diver is. now bring one, mother."
"o.k., shithead."
Bagley yawned. Danforth unclamped one. brought him forth,
stood him before the desk.. his tag said, "Barney Anderson."
"hello, Barney," said Bag.
"where am I?" asked Barney.
"SATISFACTORY HELP AGENCY."
"boy, if you two ain-t a couple of greasy-looking mother-
fuckers, I ain-t never ever seen none!"
"what the fuck, Dan!"
"I ran him through 4 times."
"I told you to tighten those screws!"
"and I told you some men have more guts than others!"
"it-s all a myth, you damn fool!"
"who-s a damn fool?"
"you-re both damn fools," said Barney Anderson.
"I want you to run his ass through the wringer three times,"
said Bagley.
"o.k., o.k., but first let-s you and me get straight."
"aw right, for instance-ast this Barney guy who his heroes
are."
"Barney, hoose yr herows?"
"well, lemme see - Cleaver, Dillinger, Che, Malcolm X,
Gandhi, Jersey Joe Walcott, Grandma Barker, Castro, Van Gogh,
Villon, Hemingway."
"ya see, he i-dentifies with all LOSERS. that makes him feel
good. he-s getting ready to lose. we-re going to help him. he-s been
conned on this soul-shit and that-s how we get their asses, there ain-t
no soul. it-s all con. there ain-t no heroes. it-s all con. there ain-t
no
winners - it-s all con and horseshit. there ain-t no saints, there ain-
t
no genius - that-s all con and fairytale, it makes the game go. each
man jut tries to hang on and be lucky - if he can. all else is
bullshit."
"aw right, aw right, I dig your losers! but what about Castro?
he looked pretty fat, last photo I saw of him."
"he subsists because the U.S. and Russia have decided to leave
him in the middle. but suppose they really put the pack on the
deck? what can he draw to? man, he don-t hold enough chips to get
into a decaying Egyptian whorehouse."
"fuck you two guys! I like who I like!" said Barney Anderson.
"Barney, when a man gets old enough, trapped enough, hun-
gry enough, weary enough - he-ll suck dick, tit, eat shit to stay
alive; either that or suicide. the human race ain-t got it, man. it-s a
bad crowd."
"so we-re gonna change it, man. that-s the trick. if we can
make it to the moon we can clean the shit out of the shitbowl, we
just been concentrating on the wrong things."
"you-re sick, kid, and a little fat around the belly. and balding.
Dan, shape him up."
Danforth took Barney Anderson and rang and wrung and
screamed him through the wringer three times, then brought him
back.
"Barney?" asked Bagley.
"yes sir!"
"Who are your heroes?"
"George Washington, Bob Hope, Mae West. Richard Nixon,
the bones of Clark Gable and all the nice people I-ve seen at Disney-
land. Joe Louis, Dinah Shore, Frank Sinatra, Babe Ruth, the Green
Berets, hell the whole United States Army and Navy and especially
the Marine Corps, and even the Treasury Dept., the CIA, the FBI,
United Fruit, the highway Patrol, the whole god damned L.A. Police
Dept., and the County Cops too. and I don-t mean -cops,- I mean
-policemen.- then there-s Marlene Dietrich, with this slit up the side
of her dress, she must be near 70 now? - dancing up at Vegas, my
dick got big, what a wonderful woman. the good American life and
the good American money can keep us young forever, don-t you
see?"
"Dan?"
"yeah, Bag?"
"this one-s really ready! I ain-t got much feeling left, but he
even makes me sick. make him sign his little contract and send him
out. they-ll love him. god, what a man-s gotta do to just stay alive.
sometimes I even hate my own job. that-s bad, ain-t it, Dan?"
******* "sure, Bag, and as soon as I send this asshole on his way, I
got just
the little thing for you - a touch of the good ol- tonic."
"ah, fine, fine-what is it?"
"just a little quarter-turn through the wringer."
"WHAT?"
"oh, it-s fine for the blues or for extemporaneous thinking
stuff like that."
"will it work?"
"it beats aspirin."
"o.k., get rid of the asshole."
Barney Anderson was sent down the stairway. Bagley got up
and walked toward the nearest wringer. "these old gals - West and
Dietrich, still flashing tits and legs, hell t don-t make sense, they
were doing that when I was 6 years old."
"nuttin-. stretchers, girdles, powder, lights, false flesh cover-
ings, padding, pudding, straw, horseshit, they could make your
grandmother look like a 16 year old."
"my grandmother-s dead."
"they could still do it."
"yeah, yeah, I guess you-re right." Bagley walked toward the
wringer.
"just a quarter turn now. can I trust you?"
"you-re my partner, ain-t you, Bag?"
"sure, Dan."
"how long we been in business together?"
"25 years."
"so, o.k., when I say a QUARTER-TURN, I mean a QUAR-
TER-TURN."
"whatta I do?"
"just slip your hands in the rollers, it-s like a washing ma-
chine."
"in there?"
"yeah, here we go! whoopee!"
"hey, man, remember, just a quarter of a turn."
"sure, Bag, don-t you trust me?"
"I gotta now."
"you know, I been fucking your wife on the sly."
"you rotten son of a bitch! I-ll kill you!"
Danforth left the machine running, sat down behind Bagley-s
desk, lit a cigarette. he hummed a little tune, "lucky lucky me, I can
live in luxury, because I-ve got a pocket full of dreams-I-ve got a
pocketful of
dreams-"
he got up and walked over to the machine and Bagley.
"you said a quarter-turn," said Bagley. "it-s been a turn and a
half."
"don-t you trust me?"
"more than ever, somehow."
"still, I been fucking your wife on the sly."
"well, I guess it-s all right. I get tired of fucking her. every man
gets tired of fucking his own wife."
"but I want you to want me to fuck your wife."
"well, I don-t care but I don-t know if I exactly want you to."
"I-ll be back in about 5 minutes."
Danforth went back, sat in Bagley-s swivel chair, put his feet
up on the desk and waited. he liked to sing. he sang songs: "I got
plenty of nuthin- and nuthin-s plenty for me. I got the stars, I got
the sun, I got the shining sea-"
Danforth smoked two cigarettes and went back to the machine.
"Bag, I been fucking your wife on the sly."
"oh, I want you to, man! I want you to! and ya know what?"
"what?"
I-d kinda like to watch."
"sure, that-d be o.k."
Danforth went to the phone, dialed a number.
"Minnie? yeah, Dan. I-m comin- over ta fuck ya again. Bag?
oh, he-s comin- too. he wants ta watch. no, we-re not drunk. I just
decided to close shop for the day. we-ve made it already. with the
Israel-Arab thing and all the African wars, there-s nothing to worry
about. Biafra is a beautiful word. anyhow, we-re coming over. I want
to bunghole you. you got those big cheeks, jesus. I might even
bunghole Bag. I think his cheeks are bigger than yours. keep tight,
sweetie, we-re on our way!"
Dan hung up. another phone rang. he picked it up. "jam it you
rotten motherfucker, even the points of your tits smell like wet
dogturds in a Westerly wind." he hung up and smiled. walked over
and took Bagley out of the machine. they locked the office door and
walked down the steps together. when they walked outside the sun
was up and looking good. you could see through the thin skirts of
the women. you could almost see their bones. death and rot was
everywhere. it was Los Angeles, near 7th and Broadway, the inter-
section where the dead snubbed the dead and didn-t even know why
it was a taught game like jumprope or dissecting frogs or pissing in
the mailbox or jacking-off your pet dog.
"we got plenty a nuthin-," they sang, "and nuthin-s plenty for
we-"
arm and arm they made the underground garage, found Bag-s
69 Caddy, got in, each lit a dollar cigar, Dan driving, got it out of
there, almost hit a bum coming out of Pershing Square, turned West
toward the freeway, toward freedom, Vietnam, the army, fucking
large areas of grass and nude statues and French wine, Beverly
Hills-
Bagley leaned over and ran down Danforth-s zipper as he
drove.
I hope he leaves some for his wife, Danforth thought.
it was a warm Los Angeles morning, or maybe it was after-
noon, he checked the dashboard clock - it read 11:37 a.m. just as
he came. he ran the Caddy up to 80. the asphalt slipped underneath
like the graves of the dead. he turned on the dash t.v., then reached
for the telephone, then remembered to zip up. "Minnie, I love you."
"I love you too, Dan," she answered. "is that slob with you?"
"right beside me. he just caught a mouthful."
"oh, Dan, don-t waste it!"
he laughed and hung up. they almost hit a nigger in a pickup
truck. he wasn-t black at all, he was a nigger, that-s all he was.
there
wasn-t a nicer city in the world when you had it made, and only one
worse when you didn-t have it made - the Big A. Danforth hit it up
to 85. a motorcycle smiled at him as he drove by. maybe he-d call Bob
later that night. Bob was always so funny. his 12 writers always gave
him those good lines. and Bob was just as natural as horseshit. it was
wonderful!
he threw out the dollar cigar, lit another, ran the Caddy up to 90,
straight at the sun like an arrow, business was good and life, and the
tires whirled over the dead and the dying and the dying-to-be.
ZYAAAAAUUUUM!
===
it was a hot night in Tony's. you didn't even think of fucking.
just drink cool beer. Tony coasted a couple down to me and Indian
Mike, and Mike had the money out. I let him buy the first round.
Tony rang it up, bored, looked around - 5 or six others staring into
their beers, dolts, so Tony walked down to us.
"what's new, Tony?" I asked.
"ah, shit," said Tony.
"at ain't new."
"shit," said Tony.
"ah, shit," said Indian Mike.
we drank at our beers.
"what do you think of the moon?" I asked Tony.
"shit," said Tony.
"yeah," said Indian Mike, "guy's an asshole on earth he's an
asshole on the moon, makes no difference."
"they say there's probably no life on Mars," I said.
"so what?" asked Tony.
"oh shit," I said, "2 more beers."
Tony coasted them down, then walked down for his money.
rang it up. walked back. "shit it's hot. I wish I were deader than
yesterday's Kotex."
"where do men go when they die, Tony?"
"shit, who cares?"
"don't you believe in the Human Spirit?"
"a bagga bullshit!"
"how about Che? Joan of Arc? Billy the Kid? all those?"
"a bagga bullshit!"
we drank our beers, thinking about it.
"look," I said, "I gotta take a piss."
I walked back to the urinal and there, as usual, was Petey the
Owl.
I took it out and began to piss.
"you sure got a little dick," he told me.
"when I'm pissing or meditating, yeh, but I'm what you call
the super-stretch type. when I'm ready to go, each inch I got now
equals six."
"that's good then, if you ain't lying, cause I see two inches
showing."
" I just show the head."
"I'll give you a dollar to suck your cock."
"that ain't much."
"you're showing more than head. you're showing every bit of
string you got."
"fuck you, Pete."
"you'll be back when you run out of beer money."
I walked back on out.
"2 more beers," I ordered.
Tony went through his routine, came back.
"it's so hot, I think I'm going crazy," he said.
"the heat just makes you realize your true self," I told Tony.
"wait a minute! you calling me a nut?"
"most of us are. but it's kept a secret."
? "all right, saying your bullshit is straight, how many sane men
are there on earth? are there any?"
"a few."
"how many?"
" out of the billions?"
"yeh, yeh."
"well, I'd say 5 or 6."
"5 or 6?" said Indian Mike. "well, suck my cock!"
"look," said Tony. "how do you know I'm nuts? how do we
get away with it?"
"well, since we are all insane there are only a few to control
us, far too few, so they just let us run around insane. that's all they
can do at this moment. for a while I thought they might find some
place to live in outer space while they destroyed us. but now I know
that the insane control space also."
" how do you know?"
"because they planted an American flag on the moon."
"suppose the Russians had planted a Russian flag on the
moon?"
"same thing," I said.
"then you're impartial?" Tony asked.
"I am impartial to all degrees of madness."
we became quiet. kept drinking. and Tony too, began pouring
himself scotch and waters. he could. he owned the place.
"jesus, it's hot," said Tony.
"shit, yeh," said Indian Mike.
then Tony began talking. "insanity," said Tony, "ya know,
there's something very insane going on at this very minute!"
"sure," I said.
"no, no, no-I mean right HERE at my place!"
"yeh?"
"yeh. It's so crazy, sometimes I get scared."
"tell me all about it, Tony," I said, always ready for somebody
else's bullshit.
Tony leaned real close. "I know a guy's got a fuck-machine. no
crazy sex magazine shit. like you see in the ads. hot water bottles
with replaceable cornbeef pussies, all that nonsense. this guy has
really put it together. a German scientist, we got to him, I mean out
govt. did before the Russians could grab him. now keep it quiet."
"sure, Tony, sure-"
"Von Brashlitz. our govt. tried to get him interested in
SPACE. no go. a brilliant old guy, but he just has this FUCK MA-
CHINE in mind. at the same time he thinks he's some kind of an
artist, calls himself Michelangelo at times-they pensioned him off
at $500.00 a month to kind of keep him alive enough to stay outa
the nuthouses. they watched him a while, then got a little bored or
forgot, but they kept the checks coming, and now and then an agent
would talk to him ten or twenty minutes a month, write a report
that he was crazy, then leave, so he just drifted around from
town to town, dragging this big red trunk behind him. finally one
night he come in here and begins drinking. tells me that he is just a
tired old man, needs a real quiet place to do his research. I kept
putting him off. lotta nuts come in here, ya know."
"yeh," I said.
"then, man, he kept getting drunker and drunker, and he laid
it down to me. he had designed a mechanical woman who could give
a man a better fuck than any woman created throughout the centu-
ries! plus no Kotex, no shit, no arguments!"
"I been looking," I said, "for a woman like that all my life."
Tony laughed. "every man has. I thought he was crazy, of
course, until one night after closing I went down to his rooming
house with him and he took the FUCK MACHINE out of the red
trunk."
"and?"
"it was like going to heaven before you died."
" let me guess the rest," I asked Tony.
"guess."
Von Brashlitz and his FUCK MACHINE are upstairs at your
place right now."
"uh huh," said Tony.
"how much?"
"twenty bucks a piece."
"20 bucks to fuck a machine?"
"he's outdone whatever Created us. you'll see."
"Petey the Owl will blow me for a buck."
"Petey the Owl is o.k. but he ain't no invention that beats the
gods."
I shoved over my 20.
"so help me, Tony, if this is some crazy kind of hot-weather
gag, you've lost your best customer!"
"like you said earlier, we're all crazy anyhow. It's up to you."
"right," I said.
"I only get 50 percent, ya gotta understand. the rest goes to
Von Brashlitz. 500 buck pension ain't much with inflation and
taxes, and Von B. drinks schnapps like crazy."
"let's make it," I said, "you've got 40 bucks. where's this
immortal FUCK MACHINE?"
Tony lifted a partition of the bar, said, "come through here.
take the stairway to the back rear, just go up there, knock, say,
'Tony sent us'."
"any door #?"
"door #69."
"oh, hell yes," I said, "what else?"
we found the stairway. walked up. "Tony will do anything for
a gag," I said.
we walked along, there it was: door #69.
I knocked: "Tony sent us."
"ah, do come in, gentleman!"
here was this old horny-looking freak, glass of schnapps in his
hand, double-lensed glasses. just like the old-timed movies. he ap-
peared to be having a visitor, a young thing, almost too young,
looking flimsy and strong at the same time.
she crossed her legs, flashing all the bit: nylon knees, nylon
thighs, and just that tiny part there where the long stockings ended
and just that touch of flesh began. she was all ass and breast, nylon
legs, clean blue laughing eyes-
"gentleman, ---my daughter, Tanya-"
"what?"
"ah, yes, I know, I am so-old- but like the myth of the
black man with the ever-huge cock, there is also the myth of dirty
old Germans who never stop fucking, you may believe what you
wish to. this is my daughter, Tanya, anyhow-"
"hello, boys," she laughed.
then we all looked toward the door which was labeled: FUCK
MACHINE STORAGE ROOM.
he finished off his schnapps.
"and so- you boys came over for the best FUCK ever, ya?"
"Daddy!" said Tanya, "must you always be so crude?"
Tanya recrossed her legs, higher this time, and I almost came.
then the professor finished another schnapps, then got up and
walked over to the door labeled FUCK MACHINE STORAGE
ROOM. he turned and smiled at us, then very slowly opened the
door. he walked on in and came out rolling this thing on what
looked like a hospital bed on wheels.
it was NAKED, a clod of metal.
the prof rolled the damn thing right out in front of us, then
began humming some rotten song, probably something from the
German.
a clod of metal with this hole in the center. the professor had
an oil can in his hand, poked it into the hole and began punching in
quite a quantity of this oil, meanwhile humming this insane German
song.
he kept punching the oil in, then looked back over his shoul-
der and said, "nice, ya?" then he went back to work, pumping in the
oil.
Indian Mike looked at me, tried to laugh, said, "god damn-
we've been taken again!"
"yeah." I said, "it seems like it's been 5 years since I been laid,
but I'll be damned if I'll stick my cock into that mound of hard
lead!"
Von Brashlitz laughed. walked over to his liquor cabinet,
found another 5th. of schnapps, poured a goody, sat down facing us.
"as we in Germany began knowing that the war was lost, and
the net began to tighten---down to the final battle of Berlin-we
knew that the war had taken on a new essence---the real war then
became who was to grab the most German scientists. If Russia got
well, I don't know how it really came out- numerically or in
terms of scientific brain-power. I only know that the Americans got
to me first, snapped me up, took me away in a car, gave me a drink,
put pistols to my head, made promises, talked madly. I signed every-
thing-"
"all right," I said, "so much for history. but I'm still not going
to stick my dick, my poor little dick into that hunk of sheetmetal or
whatever it is! Hitler must have really been a madman to nursemaid
you. I wish the Russians had gotten to your ass first! I want my 20
bucks back!"
Von Brashlitz laughed, "heeeheeeheeehe-it is just my little
joke, nien? heeeheeeheeeheee!"
he shoved that mound of lead back into the closet.slammed
the door. "oh, heheeehee!" had a bit more schnapps.
Von B. poureed another schnapps. he really put them down.
"gentlemen, I am an artist and an inventor! my FUCK MACHINE is
really my daughter, Tanya-"
"more little jokes, Von?" I asked.
"joke nothing! Tanya! go over and sit in the gentleman's lap."
Tanya laughed, got up, walked over and sat in my lap. a FUCK
MACHINE? I couldn't believe it! her skin was skin, or so it seemed,
and her tongue as it worked into my mouth as we kissed, it was not
mechanical - each movement was different, responding to my own.
I was busy at it, ripping her blouse from her breasts, working
tangled; we somehow got to standing - and I took her standing up,
my hands reaching down, spreading her asshole as I pumped, she came - I
could feel the throbbing, and I joined.
it was the best fuck I had ever had!
Tanya went to the bathroom, cleaned-up and showered,
dressed-up again for Indian Mike. I guess.
"man's greatest invention," Von Brashlitz said quite seriously.
he was quite right.
then Tanya came out and sat on MY lap.
"NO! NO! TANYA! IT'S THE OTHER MAN'S TURN! YOU
JUST FINISHED FUCKING THAT ONE!"
she didn't seem to hear. and it was strange, even for a FUCK
MACHINE, because, really, I had never been a very good lover.
"do you love me?" she asked.
"yes."
"I love you. and I am so happy. and- I'm not supposed to
be alive. you know that, don't you?"
"god damn it!" screamed the old man, "this FUCKING MA-
CHINE!" he walked over to this varnished box with the word
TANYA printed on the side. there were these little wires sprouting
out of it; there were dials, and needles that quivered, and many
colors, lights that blinked on and off, things that ticked-Von B.
was the craziest pimp I had ever met, he kept playing with the dials,
then he looked at Tanya:
"25 YEARS! damn near a lifetime to build you! I even had to
hide you from HITLER! and now- you try to turn into a mere
and ordinary bitch!"
"I'm not 25," said Tanya, "I'm 24." "you see? you see? just like a
common bitch!"
he went back to his dials.
"you've put on a different shade of lipstick," I said to Tanya.
"you like it?"
"oh, yes!"
she leaned over and kissed me.
Von B. kept playing with the dials. I felt that he would win.
Von Brashlitz turned to Indian Mike. "it's just a minor kink in
the machine. trust me. I'll get it straight in a minute, ya?"
"I hope so," said Indian Mike, "I've got 14 inches waiting and
am twenty bucks down.
"I love you," Tanya told me, "I will never fuck any other
man. If I can't have you, I won't have anybody."
"I'll forgive you, Tanya, for anything that you do."
the prof was getting pissed. he kept turning the dials but noth-
ing was happening. "TANYA! It is time for you to FUCK the
OTHER man! I am- getting tired-must have a bit of
schnapps-be off to sleep-Tanya-"
"ah," said Tanya, "you rotten old fuck! you and your
schnapps, and then nibbling at my tits all night, so I can't even sleep
while you can't even raise a decent hard! you're disgusting!"
"VAS?"
"I SAID, 'YOU CAN'T EVEN RAISE A DECENT HARD!'"
"you, Tanya, will pay for this! you are MY creation, I am not
yours!"
he kept turning his magic knobs, I mean, on the machine. he
was quite angry, and you could see that, somehow, the anger gave
him a vital brilliance beyond himself, "just wait, Mike. all I have to
do it to adjust the electronics! Wait! a short! I see it!"
then he leaped up. this guy they had saved from the Russians.
he looked at Indian Mike. "it's straight now! the machine is in
order! have fun!"
then he walked over to his schnapps bottle, poured another
goody, sat down to watch.
Tanya got off of my lap and walked over to Indian Mike. I
watched Tanya and Indian Mike embrace.
Tanya worked Indian Mike's zipper down, got his cock out,
and man he had plenty of cock! he'd said 14 inches but it looked
more like 20.
then Tanya put both her hands around Mike's cock.
he moaned in glory.
then she ripped the whole cock right out of and off of his
body. threw it to the side.
I saw the thing roll along the rug like an insane sausage, drib-
bling little sad trailets of blood. It rolled up against a wall. then
stayed there like something with a head but no legs and no place to
go-which was true enough.
next, here came the BALLS flying through the air. a heavy,
looping sight. they simply landed upon the center of the rug and
didn't know what to do but bleed.
so, they bled.
Von Brashlitz, the hero of the America-Russ invasion took a
hard look at what was left of Indian Mike, my old beer-drinking
buddy, very red on the floor, flowing from the center - Von B took
the highroad, down the stairway-
room 69 had done everything but that.
and then I asked her: "Tanya, the heat will be here very quick-
ly. shall we dedicate the room number to our love?"
"of course, my love!"
we made it, just in time, and the stupid heat ran in.
one of the learned then pronounced Indian Mike dead.
and since Von B. was a kind of U.S.Govt. product, there was a
hell of a lot of people around - various chickenshit officials -
firemen, reporters, the cops, the inventor, the C.I.A., the F.B.I., and
various other forms of human shit.
Tanya came over and sat in my lap. "they will kill me now.
please try not to be sad." I didn't answer.
then Von Brashlitz was screaming, pointing to Tanya - "I
TELL YOU, GENTLEMEN, SHE HAS NO FEELING! I SAVED
THE DAMN THING FROM HITLER! I tell you, it is nothing but a
MACHINE!"
they all just stood there, nobody believed Von B.
it was simply the most beautiful machine, and so-called wo-
man, they had ever seen.
"Oh shit! You idiots! Every woman is a fucking machine, can't
you see that? They play for the highest bidder! THERE IS NO SUCH
THING AS LOVE! THAT IS A FAIRY-TALE MIRAGE LIKE
CHRISTMAS!"
they still wouldn't believe.
"THIS is only a machine! have FEAR! WATCH!"
VonBrashlitz grabbed one of Tanya's arms.
ripped it completely off her body.
and inside - inside the hole of her shoulder - you could see it -
there was nothing but wire and tubes - coiled and running things -
plus some minor substance that faintly resembled blood.
I saw Tanya standing there with this coil of wire hanging from
her shoulder, where the arm used to be, she looked at me:
"please, for me to! I asked you to try not to be too sad."
I watched as they ganged her, and ripped and raped and tore.
I couldn't help it. I put my head down between my legs and
cried-
also, Indian Mike never got his 20 bucks worth.
some months went by. I never went back to the bar. There was
a trial but the govt. exonerated Von B. and his machine. I moved to
another town. far away. and one day sitting in a barbershop, I
picked up this sex mag. here was an ad: "Blow up your own little
dolly! $29.95. Resistant rubber material, very durable. Chains and
whips included in package. A bikini, bras, panties. 2 wigs, lipstick
and small jar of love-potion included. Von Brashlitz Co."
I sent him a money order. some box number in Mass. he had
moved too.
the package arrived in about 3 weeks. very embarrassing. I
didn't have a bicycle pump, and then I got the hots when I took the
thing out of the package. I had to go down to the corner gas station
and use their air hose.
it looked better as it blew up. big tits. big ass.
"whatcha got there, pal?" the gas station man asked me.
"look, man, I'm just borrowing a little air. don't I buy a lot of
gas here, huh?"
"o.k., that's o.k., you can have the air. I just damn well can't
help wondering whatcha got there-"
"just forget it!" I said.
"JESUS! look at those TITS!"
"I AM looking, asshole!"
I left him there with his tongue hanging out, then threw her
over my shoulder and made it back to my place. I carried her into
the bedroom.
the big question was yet to come?
I spread the legs and looked for some kind of opening.
Von B. hadn't completely slipped.
I climbed on top and began kissing that rubber mouth. now
and then I reached for one of the giant rubber tits and sucked upon
it. I had put a yellow wig on her and rubbed the love-potion all over
my cock. It didn't take much love-potion. maybe he'd sent a year's
worth.
I kissed her passionately behind the ears, stuck my finger up
her ass, kept pumping. then I leaped off, chained her arms behind
her back, there was this little lock and key and then I whipped her
ass good with the leather thongs.
god, I gotta be nuts! I thought.
then I flipped her over and put it back in. humped and
humped. frankly, it was rather boring. I imagined male dogs screwing
female cats; I imagined 2 people fucking through the air as they
jumped from the Empire State Building. I imagined a pussy as large
as an octopus, crawling toward me, wet and stinking and aching for
an orgasm. I remembered all the panties, knees, legs, tits, pussies I
had ever seen. the rubber was sweating; I was sweating.
"I love you, darling!" I whispered into one of her rubber ears.
I hate to admit it, but I forced myself to come into that lousy
hunk of rubber. It was hardly a Tanya at all.
I took a razor blade and cut the thing all to shit. dumped it