Part 5 Index Part 7

Subject:      CODY: MY STRUGGLE  Part 6 The Points of the Compass Rose
From: (Mithryl)
Date:         1996/11/01
Message-Id:   <55dcbg$>
Newsgroups:   rec.arts.prose,

                           MY STRUGGLE
                      By CODY ANN MICHAELS
                     c. All rights reserved.

                             PART 6


                           Chapter 17

                            El Sewer

	"As I read it, 'Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus'
(lit. 'the rose stands pristine in name, naked names we hold') means that
roses are real, but they die; the 'idea of a rose' does not die, but that
idea is just a name: there is no Platonic form of rosiness.  In the middle
ages, this view of the world was known as Nominalism.  Having said that,
the name of the rose is Sue." -- internet letter. 

	"Don't cry for me..."  -- song

Dear Brian,

	It is not disrespect that makes me wish to put off reading your
letter, but simply that I do not have the energy right now to use it, at
least in a meaningful way.  Of course, it would be easy to respond with
sarcastism and rudeness.  Like most male inte llectuals who try to explain
me, you leave yourself wide open.  But I have done that so many times
already.  One person, Bill, who I wrote to in an earlier chapter, has
endured two years of my vile shit being thrown in his face for bugging me
with his inc essant rational twaddle.  But he's really a dear, and
faithfully keeps slogging along.  The fact is, I need people.  I feed on
them.  And there's nothing that will draw people, especially men, quicker
than dirty sex or the hurting of an innocent child. 

	Okay.  Kelly's not so innocent.  But she's only 14.  At least that
was how old she was when she got busted.  They tried her as an adult, too. 
For selling drugs.  At the trial, I watched the people guarding her,
drooling at the thought of when her delici ous young body would be
irrevocably in their power.  Kelly was sweating bullets.  She begged me
with her eyes not to tell.  What could I do?  My charming gerbil.  Her
luck had run out.  I nailed her to a cross of lies until they had to drag
her shrieking out of the courtroom, swearing someday she would get me. 
She would make me pay.  I wanted to laugh in her face, but instead, I
pretended to be upset and burst into tears.  The judge said not to cry. 
He would make sure Kelly never hurt me.  I knew he'd protect me. 

	But I don't like to do the same things over; tell the same story
twice.  Maybe you guessed that.  Also, I don't much care whether you
believe I exist or not -- as long as you spell my name right.  We're all
more or less an invention anyway.  In the next section of my novel, if I
ever write it, I have an idea about where I meet Buffalo Bill face to
face.  I got the idea while I was watching Ken Burns "The West."  When
they showed film footage of Buffalo Bill's wild west show, I suddenly
started to cry.  I didn't know why, but then I realized I was looking into
my hole.  You remember earlier, where I said there are holes in history,
and the holes are connected by names?  Like Lyndon Johnson and Andrew
Johnson.  Milton Babbitt and Bruce Babbitt and Babbitt .  Jackson Hole and
Jackson, Miss.  Michaelangelo Antonioni & Michaelangelo the other one. 
Well, Buffalo Bill is my hole.  Although I never thought of that before. 
And nobody ever invented himself more than Bill Cody.  See what I mean? 
So if you want to figure I'm a fake, go ahead. 

	I don't know much about you, either.  Although judging from your
project, you seem to be pretty young.  I don't mean that in a mean way. 
It's just that an older man, say anyone over 45, (and any woman) would
know it's pointless.  It's like Borges, when he got old, said he didn't
want to write any more tales about labyrinths and mirrors; he wanted to
write realistically.  But since realism for Borges was labryinths and
mirrors, he could not escape them.  He was like a mollusk that is doomed
to always spi n the same design in its shell.  Borges and Eva Peron were
deadly enemies.  She even had his mother and sister locked up.  If I were
writing a play about Eva Peron, it would not be Evita.  No.  I would have
her square off with Borges; maybe she would come to the library where he
worked -- the branch in Palermo, out beyond the stockyards -- in search of
a book, and Borges would have to assist her.  It would be something
obscure, the thing she was looking for, perhaps having to do with her
ancestry.  And Bo rges, who considered her to be dirt on the road, a woman
without paternity, would have to help, with uncompromising courtesy, her
hunt for it.  It also might be an old newspaper clipping.  An article that
might connect her or imply connection to, say, Ros as, the dictator,
either through a follower or a person executed by him, at his order, or
the illegitimate offspring (son? daughter?) of Martin Fuerro who had died,
been killed, according to legend, in the backyard of a whore house.  A
name she could call her own.  In the course of their search, Eva's search
for legitimacy, the primitive library branch would become the infinite
library of Borges' fiction, the library of Babel, which is, of course, the
internet.  Above each of the doorways, there would be an inscription as if
meant to imply the existence of meaning, an intelligence or system,
grouping the volumes within, but since each room might have several
doorways, and each doorway, a different inscription, the result would be
ambiquity and confusion.  At first, the inscriptions would be Latin, but
gradually misconstructions and other corruptions of syntax and spelling
would begin to be noticed, vulgate contaminated in the outer regions by
vernacular and carelessness, the sins of locality:  blocks of s ymbols and
text that might have meaning in Swahili, Croat-Urdo.  Classical
Algon^Quin.  Black English.  Hyper Text Markup.  Of course, she would be

	That's another thing.  What makes you think I'm going to make it
another ten years?  Or that I have the time to put up with some asshole
counselor telling me who I am or ought to be?  One of the reasons I
identify with Eva is that like me, she was living on the edge.  She and
Borges would have driven each other crazy.  Of course, he was already
going blind.  I could imagine Eva leading Borges around the ecoing
labyrinth, dark and innuendous, looking for a copy of the November 2, 1922
Palermo Gazette.  Ho w old was she when she died?  33?  32?  1952?  1920. 
21.  A series of numbers having to do with a woman's life.  It's
uncertainty.  It's pain.  It's fucking identity.  The divine comedy. 
Naturally, there would be a mystery.  Which Borges could not solve , and
to which Eva would be indifferent.  By now she would be screaming at him. 
Blood choking her.  Each inscription would be like a line of hypertext,
leading to yet another website in which someone was trying to explain the
universe, or at least divide it up in bits and pieces.  She would look at
him.  He could not read.  Without her, the books meant nothing.  They were
only dry paper.  He needed her eyes.  And so they would go on. 

	Kelly came back today.

	To tell you the truth, she is going to take some getting used to. 
I mean, she works and all that.  But not quite the same as I remember. 

	Excuse me.  The phone just rang.  Someone keeps calling here and
hanging up. 

	I was stunned.  I know you said, about me and Kelly, whatever it
was, but I think you missed the point.  Kelly and me are like, well,
joined at the soul.  It has nothing to do with love.  Or even sex.  We are
like binary.  Everything I see in Kelly I kno w looks exactly like me. 
And right now, I was looking at a woman who was paralysingly beautiful.  I
mean, I was just rigid with lust.  Experiencing an intensity of feeling I
had not had, I don't think, since the day we met.  I wanted to fuck with
her rig ht there on the kitchen floor, she was so gorgeous.  I couldn't
wait for Lenny to leave. 

	Kelly was standing in front of me like a department store
mannequin.  Lenny had used a pliable epoxy spray to take most of the smell
off -- or seal it in.  Off in the corner of my mind, I vaguely heard him
saying, "I put in some artificial intelligence a nd a voice simulator as a
wedding present.  You shouldn't be able to tell much difference.  I mean,
from the way she was.  But you have to go easy on her." 

	"Why?  What do you mean?"

	"I mean, no rough stuff."

	"Why not?" I asked, trying to tear my eyes off Kelly's face.

	"Because you'll screw up the motors."

	"You mean I can't hit her?"

	"No way.  It's not like she's alive."

	"How about fucking?"

	"Very gently."

	He showed me how pins held the motors in.  "It's easy to bend one
of them." 

	"Then what?"

	"Then her legs won't work right.  You know, like when you hang a
door wrong, with the hinges crooked?" 

	"Oh shit!"

	"What's the matter?"

	"She's ruined.  I don't want to be with someone who can't perform
on our wedding night.  Couldn't you fix her right?" 

	"Hey, hey, she had a lot of damage.  Lots of internal bleeding.  I
had to use a lot of tubing to fix her the way she is.  Here, I'll show
you."  He opened a door on the side of her lower right ribcage.  Eva would
become Eve.  I loathe symbolism.  She wou ld tell him.  He would be
telling her about the moon and the stars.  Which he couldn't see.  She
would be looking at them and thinking, what's the big deal?  It was the
San Francisco Chronicle she was looking for.  Fuck Palermo.  Palermo was a
sink hole t o another world.  Of Palermo in Sicily, where her parents came
from.  She would be younger than Carmen Miranda, who was born in 1908 in
Portugal.  Another thing I learned on TV.  But would the two women meet,
perhaps when Carmen went to Buenos Aires, and the young Eva Duarte gazed
up at her in loving adoration, hoping some day to be as famous and loved
as this woman was by her people?  Maybe. 

	Right now, I knew I was lost.  I mean, where the fuck is this? 
Why are we here?  Are we over land or sea?  Why are my instruments dead? 
And we plunged into the sea.  Both flew in airplanes.  Please.  Help.  I'm
lost.  I need help.  You're right.  Will you help me?  Do I mean that? 
You're asking.  I was under the porch.  And I woke up.  And when I tried
to sit up, I got spiders all over my face, and I started to scream.  Don't
bury me here.  Not in Argentina.  Take me home to Palermo.  Where I grew
up .  I could hear my mother crying.  Stop it!  I'm not dead yet.  I won't
die.  I don't care anymore.  I don't care if I die.  Things were getting
terribly serious.  He had gone and gotten a gun.  Kelly ran.  Oh god, yes. 
Let me get out of here.  Kelly.  M y kitchen.  Lenny.  Oh yeah.  No.  I
won't hit her.  I looked at her.  She looked so adorable, with that pretty
childlike face and long kinky red hair, all the way down to her Barbie
butt.  And those giant knockers.  And that frozen smile.  I waited for her
to say something.  "You have to program her first." 

	I had to tell her what I wanted her to say, he said.  My head
spun.  How the hell did I know what she was supposed to say? 

	"What do you want her to say?"

	"I want her to say yes."

	"To what?"

	"How the hell should I know?"

	"You've got to know what you want her to say yes to, otherwise, you
could get some nasty surprises." 

	"Like what?"

	"Like you might get what you asked for."


	Kelly stood and looked at us.  I knew she was blind.

	Her eyes were the eyes of the dead.

	I knew she was rotting inside that epoxy envelope.  It extended
all the way through her like a second skin.  I mean, it left her mouth and
throat clear.  "Be careful not to tear it." 

	Oh jesus.  What next?

	"You will get a nasty smell if you do."

	"She won't rot will she?"

	"Only if you don't open her up."

	Well, at least not until the wedding.  Then I might open her in
church.  Really let them have a whiff of her.  Fucking perverts.  Gas the
whole church.  Kelly ought to be pretty ripe by then.  I began to think of
Eva again. 

	Please God, don't do this to me.  I'm only a little girl.  What's
in here? 


	In here.  She led him in and turned on the light.  Borges could
see shadows, like the forms behind a blind, illuminated in odd postitions
by the interior light.  Don't touch that dial.  We'll be right back. 
Where are you?  She was taking a pee in the ha llway.  What was the
inscription on the last door?  She couldn't read.  She knew the letters,
but she did not understand the words.  So she had to spell them out to
him.  And he read her words through her lips, taking them down into his
brain and arrangin g them around to make meaning.  Then he told her what
it meant.  And she looked at him.  Wait a moment. 

	I wanted to save that.

	I don't know half the time what I'm saying, but that sounded
pretty hot.  Again, I waited in terror, caught between two worlds.  Those
of my mother and father.  Which I had traded in for Kelly.  Except they
were separated, and each had a new partner.  A significant other.  Dad's
was Luanne.  And Mom's was Donna-Lou.  Oh, no no no.  I don't want to
think about that.  Help me.  Don't make me go back there.  Donna-Lou was
this incredible creamy curvy blonde.  Who was nothing but tits and long
legs.  One day my mother caught her with me.  I showered this mother
figure with affection. 

	Oh god, don't make me remember that.

	They strapped me down.

	And put the needle in my arm.

	I fought them.  I didn't fight at all.  I didn't care.  I was
finished.  I knew it.  I desperately lunged against the ropes.  Holding
me.  o mnp mp no no noo nno[

	I was kneeling before Kelly on the kitchen floor.  Cowering.  

	Don't make me go back.

	But I didn't know where back was.

	Not the library.  Not what?

	What had happened in the library?  Not then.  But before.  Ten or
fifteen years ago.  When she was twelve.  I screamed. 

	they'll never let me print that or any of the other stuff I was given.

it's nice to talk to you
was the mantram of the day
here in Peaceful Valley
where the Accasions group
touch me, princess of the golden realm
she reached through the hole and got into the saddle
I sat there looking out at the spectators
and asked them to dance
they danced

I touched legba and she moved away.  Not for your hands, mister.  He
reached after her.  And brought her back.  Now what would he do with her? 
She had to go home.  He took her there.  Get away from me.  The girl was
raped in the stacks by a librarian who fled.  
Got to get away.  Got to get away.

Running from the law.
Talking to people.
Getting acquainted.
It means a lot to meet old people. 

you should tri it some time.
now he rattled.
get away from me
Bill, where are you?  Call me now.
She left a telephone number.
The phone rang.
It was Bill.
At least, he said it was.
Bill Cody come to ride me home.
Into the center oif the ring
on his golden mare Betsy.
Who the fuck is Betsy?

Amanda, give in sin.
We wandered up through Scotland in search of the down mare.
She knelt in the center of the circle.
Now dear, protect the magic act.
That's code for, atttack at dawn.
He rode her into the fighting.
But she shied and threw him.  He broke his neck.

After that, it's all the horse.
Betsy gallopped around the ring.
The Cheyenne attacked.
It wasn't just pretend.
It was a real fight.

Bill Cody's circus covered up the fact that most of the Indian wars were
really fought on the east coast.  For the first time, the spectre of war
had been reduced to the movies.  In most cases, the Indians won.  And it
was all on account of my footwork. 

Did you ever try to stand up in a fight?
then how do you know you can attack him?
because I do
Fuck you, tutzi, I'm leaving.
now what?  Ask Ann to do the show.
She just came off stage
and he shot her.
Well, of course, a horse is the best thing going for you in a fight.
I wanted to say real fight, but he cut me off.
I shied and threw him.

JHis head hit the rock.
I knew he was dead by the way he got on.
Most Indians ride light in the saddle.
But Bill was dead.  Stoned.

God, they hit us with everything.  I thought my stall would have looked
good just about now.  My stall would be heaven.  Sitting Bull rode around
the ring. Fucking showoff.  I had to have him in the show.  Just to
demonstrate who owned me.  I was in tights and a black leotard.  He led me
around the ring.  I lifted my hooves obediently and put them down
precisely where he wanted.  Which he conveyed through hi s knees.  Into my
ribs.  I felt the knife go in.  And then I exploded. 

Terrorists.  The attacks on the presidential palace were rebuffed.  He had
the bastards by the cojons.  Squeeze.  The whore house blew up.  Fucking
bastards, they what... 

She had forgotten what she was going to say.  He stared at her.  You took
my eyes.  Of course.  He had her eyes.  Lenny, I don't know about this. 

	Trust me.  You'll like it.

	He got on his hands and knees and followed her into the hole.  Now
Lenny.  Now.... what. 

	Lenny, she's dead.

	I told him.  She had a heart attack and died.  I didn't say about
the ropes.  Or the bondage.  I just said she was dead. 

	Fucking bastards.  Let me alone.  I don't know about Peron.  I'm
not here.  I'm in Venice.  I'm living under a pier.  Now I remember.  The
whore house blew up.  I had to go cellular.  To get on the internet.  I'm
living in a box under a pier.  All I got is my laptop.  And a set of
Calvin Klein underwear.  That stinks to high heavens because I haven't had
a bath in a week.  I don't have no where to go.  I'm lost.  Wait a fucking

	Shitfaced asshole.  Let me alone.  Who are you, anyway?  How'd I
get here?  They slipped me a roofie.  I was laying in bed.  To tell you
the truth, I didn't want to know.  Want to remember.  I'm sort of glad
they did it.  Memory and meaning don't mix.  I asked if he used a condom. 
Naa.  Why should I?  Hey I'm clean.  I don't got no diseases.  You do now. 
I told him I was HIV postive.  You should have seen his dick face.  You
didn't tell me you had aids.  Like you didn't ask either.  It was true.  I
was out like a light.  He was screaming I should have told him.  Like it
was my fault.  And then he started to hit me. 

	He worked off a lot of male rage.  I felt every inch of it.  Hey,
why'm I doing this?  She rolled over in bed and fell off it. 
Her body hit the floor.
They stepped on her face.
Ashe got the toe of one shoe in her mouth
and he jerked it
her head snapped back and hit the bed.
maybe it was consumption
they were fighting like hell in the library.
Eva fell down a flight of stairs.

His eyes recorded it
into the future
would find it
on webpage.  What is a webpage?  It has a protocol, I assume.  She was not
unthinking.  She understood every word.  Her impatience betrayed her. 
Come out of hiding. 

don't engage
en garde
he tapped his bonnet
she responded in kind
showing back to her 
the seeds of the universe
it was out there somewhere.  He would find it recorded in time.  On a
webpage.  Waiting for her to come back.  Because it would be a different
face in a different mirror.  Each on a different Kelly.  But would each
one be a different mirror?  A different Eva?  Who was no longer a name but
a concept.  If you understand what I mean? 

Otherwise, you'll have to go back to the beginning and start again.  As a
new Cody.  On a map somewhere.  West of Cheyenne but south of the
Arapahoe.  In Connecticutt.  Gotcha. 

On information such as this, Custer rode to glory.  A dead legend.  Crazy
Horse rallied the Sioux.  And Sitting Bull came in from the left.  A
fusillade of bullets opened her up and her guts fell out on the floor. 
The horse dances.  On its own entrails. 
 Going deeper.  Kadath.  Come in

They lost the signal.  He tried again.  We have Kadath in the far north
responding with twenty votes.  For or against?  I don't know.  Well, count
them.  They counted.  They were almost up to Millard Fillmore.  Janus.,
Come in, Janus.  On Mars, she expl oited the low gravity to take him
outward.  He was beginning to look stupid.  Come in, Planet Earth.  Was
this the Galaxy?  No, that's down the street.  Come on, Kel.  We ran down
First Avenue, and ducked into a doorway for a smoke.  Kelly was still
wobbl ely on her new legs.  She clung to me.  Oh, Code, I'm afraid I'll
break.  Don't think of it, Kel.  I love you.  Well, it was a start.  I had
about three hundred words programmed into Kel, and several sentences.  She
still didn't know how to form words int o meaningful phrases and
sentences.  Actually, I wasn't too sure how to teach her.  I reassured her
everything was okay.  I don't know if she understood.  How do you teach a
robot to think?  That's what I was trying to find out.  I pushed a button
on her remote and she stopped talking.  It's sort of like being with a
my-size Barbie.  Some guy can be coming onto her at the bar, and she's
trying to tell him about long term futures.  Kel, I said, shut up.  Just
go along for the ride.  Okay?  Is this Istanbul?

I want to go home
they took her home.
Borges wrote a story.  Sneering.  Judgmental.  Non-virtual reality.  He
finally succeeded in writing something real.  But he was mistaken in the
fact that non-virtual reality means reality.  It's a different dimension. 
In other words, it's six dimensional.  Of course.
	Save that.  Make a note.  Do you have the recordings?  Of all such
labyrinths, this led to all the others.  She was wandering again.  I
didn't tell you because I thought you wouldn't like me.  I didn't tell on
you because I... 
Lenny, don't do this to me.
Kelly's thoughts floated across the...

Legba needs I soul.  Did I mention Lenny was into voodoo?  Legba can make
the dead walk, but he needs someone's soul to make it work.  So we took
yours.  You don't mind, do you?  They handed it around.  She didn't know
you can take a person's soul out and move it around.  Like it was an
outofbody experience.  Get up, Kelly.  We got to go.  I followed her down
the street.  You're right.  It was hell.  I hated it.  Creativity does not
begin in hell.  It goes there.  To find out what it's like.  And then it
comes back.  At least, that's the idea.  But getting out of hell is no
easy task.  For one thing, you're stuck there.  Frozen.  Like an old clam. 
The only way to escape is if someone blows up the whore house.  Then you
get free.  They stuffed the bomb up her cunt.  You going to be the beeeg
bang, senorita.  You maka beeeeeg baby, conchita.  Boom boob.  I'm walking
around with this inside me.  What is it?  I hate it.  I hate being
pregnant and being hiv.  What's it going to look like?  I'm birthing a
devi l.  GET IT OUT OF ME!!!!!!!!! Cody walked down the hall towards the
door marked centrifuge.  Where was she going now?  This sucked.  I am a
human being.  Not a fucking messenger service.  She was a mule.  She
carried it into the whore house.  You pregnant again? 

	God damn you bastards.  She stared at them though groggy eyes that
were no longer her own.  They left and she got dressed and went
downstairs.  The night clerk wanted a piece of the action.  She was too
weak to resist.  She gave him the six pack.  It cos t a dollar.  Come on
Cody.  Get up.  She started to climb up his leg, and he kneed her under
the chin, snapping her head back.  It was going to cost a fortune to get
her back together again.  She was totally three dimensional.  It's getting
to look like o ne of those hangy things.  Mobile?  Just barely.  Calder
used to do them.  In his backyard.  He made Kelly hang in ways you
couldn't conceive.  But always well balanced.  So that she didn't fall
over.  It took some imagination to subject her back into the form of a

	A hanging woman.  I know I botched up the scene in the kitchen. 
Let me try again.  Kelly was standing next to the refrigerator in a pink
teddy.  It clashed with the orange refrigerator.  And the Tappan Zee. 
What?  Just bare with me.  I'm already naked.  He fondled her in the
library.  Borges had seen Buffalo Bill when he brought his circus to
Urgencina.  And she thought he had looked stunning in his pretty blonde
wig and high heels in a whore house out past Palermo in the stockyards. 
Step through here .  Beyond one of the doorways was a man with a
sledgehammer.  And she was like a cow going down one of the chutes towards
the final passage.  Have you considered there might be other people in the
library?  Of course there are.  Then why haven't we seen a ny?  Saw. 
What?  Seen.  Jack Benny used to crack me up.  Who am I?  It didn't stop
with the trees.  He named every blade of grass.  Hopper.  Squiggly. 
Bernard.  You don't think of a blade of grass having much identity, do
you?  And yet, there it is.  Ev erything gets a name.  For gods sake,
Adam, enough.  I'm tired of naming things.  God called this one Hercules. 
And this worm is Adam.  But that's your name.  Then who is this?  Adam. 
Can two things have the same name?  And if so, how?  In what order?  How
about color?  If each wheel is called Sam, how do you tell one wheel from
another?  There were no answers.  Only questions.  Give me a feel.  He
took it.  That will be ten dollars.  He paid.  It went on.  How are you
doing now?  Can I buy it?  Is it f or sale?  Why do you have it and no one
else?  Brian had exclusive rights.  He's my agent.  Show me around.  You
might get an answwer.  Hi.  My name is Cody.  Right now I'm on Star
Search.  I've been on for three weeks.  Knock me off.  I dare you.  They c
ame out and it was mano a mano.  The bulls backed off.  He hurt me.  Feel
the pain.  It's like opium.  You got to wake up now.  Don't you see what
they're doing to you?  He is Duarte and she is Perone.  The question was,
who would pardon who?  Would she p ardon him for what he had done to her? 
Or would Gore say the hell with the whole mess and start over?  What if I
kept the passwords on Dickie's computer?  And he gave them to some whore
on the internet?  And she lost them?  Somewhere in the library.  Whi ch is
infinite and does exactly what you tell it to.  Because that's what it is,
isn't it?  Sentry duty.  You sleep.  I'll listen.  Is that someone there? 
Or was it my imaginagtion.  Stephen, get away froim me.  Their crosses
were joined.  He led her dow n through the labyrinth into the library.  A
mouse ran across the floor.  It was the first thing living they had seen
since they came in.  Eva wanted to weep.  But she could no longer see. 
Maybe she had imagined it.  Leaping like a stallion in the mornin g air. 
The sunlight glinting off its main.  Frame.  Fuck you, Frame.  I said I
wouldn't come back.  Then what is this?  I don't know. 

	I was so confused.  Is she dead?

	What does it matter?

	Did you win the Lotto?

	It was a nice car.  Where are we going now?

	You'll see.  A villa outside Rome.  An old warehouse.  Some trees. 
In the palatza.  Everything is interconnected.  Heaven and hell feed off
of each other on the thruway.  Touch the tip of your tongue against his
pallette and then come back.  Kelly's ins tructions were explicit.  Don't
try to be a hero.  When she disobeyed orders she was punished.  Then she
was sold at auction.  And taken to a different stable.  Lakota Sioux not
the only Sioux.  Also Ojibway.  And Cincinnatti.  Master of the Gods.  The
In dians rode in from left field and killed the umpire.  Bill rode to the
rescue.  Many of these Indian victories took place during the World
Series.  The names of new tribes popped up.  Reds.  Astros.  The Ogalalas
were in the National League.  Am I still c onnected?  Don't worry.  I'll
take care of you.  That's what you told Annie.  She died in a whorehouse
outside Denver.  An old rodeo queen.  Sure shot.  Bang bang.  She timed it
to the exact Ojibway.  Many Twosons was sent to bring her home.  Then they
sh ow it again.  I've seen this fucking rerun so many times, it's
pathetic.  That's why I don't want to say anymore.  Just leave it like
that.  Okay? 

	But he wasn't satisfied.  He walked her like that into a social
gathering where his mother and sister sat across from them on the low
sofa.  Kelly.  Cody.  Eva tried to look as if nothing was wrong.  Like her
skirt wasn't too short.  Her tits hanging out .  Nothing looked right. 
His mother glanced away.  She had been looking at her crotch.  Kelly's big
mashed potato was bulging in her pants.  His sister tried at act as if
nothing was happening.  She was out of it.  Or so she pretended.  Come
here, my dear, I've been dying to meet you.  Maybe that's where she got
it.  Kissing Borges's sister.  She was deeply consumptive.  A skelton. 
Stinking Jew.  Which one?  They batted it back and forth.  Not me, tutzi. 

	Neither would touch it.

	Too hot to hottentot.

You think everything can be contained in a paragraph.  You're so fucking
clean.  I'm more than a blip on your memory map.  I'm free.  Fuck off.  He
touched her like an editor and cut off her arm.  "Now we'll see." 


	Please don't hit me again.

	He reached over and grabbed her in her most sensitive spot.  You
could hear her in Rio when we Argentines got done with her.  But first,
you have to catch me.  Buffy, the wonder horse, made marks in the sand. 
He drove his spurs into her weak chest.  She reared, eyes flashing.  They
lit up the room.  Borges mounted her at the library steps and rode her
into the stacks.  For all I know, they're still in there.  Fighting it
out.  At night some times you can hear the screams.  Everyone hears them. 
It's not just me.  Heiner heard it the other night, didn't you?


	Now what are we going to do?

	Turn her over to the Germans.

	It was only a few days march to the interior.  Buffy, get up.  He
whipped her.  She just lay there.  Enough is enough.  Every slave has is
day.  Get up, slut. 

	This time she went down hard.  No.  Tragedy is when you do not
know your fate but you rebel against it.  And comedy is when you give in. 
It's here in the Comedy of Aristotle.  He says it right there.  She had
foregotten about meaning.  You have got to c ome back.  Come down.  Don't
say anything.  I pressed her mute button.  Now try this.  Kelly crawled
down Main Street on her belly.  Her body sack just ooozed primordial pus
as she tried to right herself.  It was beginning to swell up, and look
loathsome.  I wondered why she let herself go so bad.  I didn't want to be
seen with her anymore.  Yours is a Palermo fixed in time.  While mine
moves.  He centered her over the hole and let go.  I want to go home.  Get
up, Kelly, we have to go.  I knew she didn't understand, but I talked to
her like she did.  Said what we had to do.  And then made her do it.  Get
the fuck out of my head you bitch.  I wanted my soul back.  But I didn't
know where I wanted it from.  Me.  Or her?  Once more we floated through
each ot her.  Was it enough?  No. 

	Okay, you outrageous bitch, leave me alone.  I seemed to draw her
towards me as I pushed the leaver. and brought her back when I pushed her
away.  Her head kept meeting my fist.  Go back, you stupid jerk.  Leave me
alone.  Her secretions engulfed me.  Al right.  Let me alone.  There must
be some where out of here said the jester to the thief.  And then there
was a line of umlauts.  And some Cyrilic characters.  She could no longer
recognize the letters.  "It looks like an upside down L and an H that's
had a stroke.  Then there's something like a big A doing something dirty
with a little backward k."  "Does it have anything above it?"  Just a
little circle.  Like a halo.  Paleo Frisian.  Maybe.  "What was Rosas's
name?"  "Rosas."  I mean, his first name.  "I don't know.  Pedro?  Martin. 
Winthrop.  What does it matter?  Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda
tenemus.  Which means, what's in a name?  Not literally, of course." 
Borges had proved the quotations were infinite because besoides tjhe
alhphgabets are encoded it must mean something.  He ran his finger over
the spines of the books as if searching for one title in particular. 
There were also mistakes.  Would have to be.  Get it out of here.  I was
lying on the floor looking up at the refrigerator like it was a monolith
and thinking, "coooool."  I think I said.  It's orange. 

	Note: I'm still working on this chapter, but since it's a letter
that must be sent, I'm posting it here.  There are, however, one or two
points that ought to be clarified, since in the story they appear as
gibberish.  One is that the School for the Amer icas is a college at Fort
Benning, Georgia where the U.S. Army trains military personnel from South
America to be pathological murderers.  One might think that Latin America,
with its long tradition of destroying the human spirit by means of
persecuting t he human flesh, might not need a whole lot of insight on
this point, especially from Norte Americanos, but at Fort Benning, the
gringos have it down to a science, complete with manuals and hands on how
to.  They also send out advisers for on the job train ing, such as
threading a wire through a teen-age girl's teeth and then connecting it to
house current to make her talk.  All this has been documented, and is paid
for through the generousity of the American (north, u.s.) taxpayer.  I
learned about it on public access television, on a channel owned by the
city of New York. 

	That's the other thing.  In his column the other day, William
Safire (NY Times, 10/10/96), one of the few Nixon appointees to escape
indictment via Watergate, asked if and why we weren't all outraged that
Bill Clinton took a campaign contribution from a foreigner.  Considering
that Orrin Hatch wants to sell the southern half of Utah to the Dutch,
this didn't seem like a big deal.  But I am especially outraged that the
mayor of New York and the governor of New York want to turn over public
access televis ion channels, television that belongs to the people, to a
foreigner who came here and became a citizen for the exclusive reason of
taking this country for everything he can get.  Rupert Murdoch, you
remember, has already tried to buy the Speaker of the Ho use of
Representatives for four million dollars, the speaker entirely willing to
be bought, except he had himself already screwed a previous speaker for
much the same kind of deal, so they had to sort of back off on that.  But
in this case, Guiliani and P ataki are already bought and paid for, and
they are giving the channel to Murdoch -- forget that it's illegal --
apparently for nothing because it's supposed to be "educational."  It sure
is.  Murdoch has a right wing news station he wants to run on it, b ut
Time-Warner-Turner, who own the major cable franchise in this city, don't
want him.  The Warner Bros. won't even give poor old Rupert the time of
day in his vision quest.  And Ted Turner called him der Fuerhrer, creating
a furor.  Dot settled it.  To m ake everything look fair and even,
Guiliani et al propose donating a second city channel to another
millionaire who also owns an "educational" commercial news station.  I
mean, come on.  What are we, the Indians?  This is our reservation.  If
you want to know more about the mechanics of this bargain, you can look it
up on the New York Times webpage:  Thank you.  And
now, my story continues.  -- Cody 10/11/96

                           Chapter 18

                          Jurassic Park

	"Coming up next: Bill Clinton and Bob Dole square off in their
first presi" (click) -- tv announcer

	"Locating the Employee:  The C.I. (counter intelligence) agent must
not discard the possibility of employing women.  Women should be employed
in some situations, while in others, they could be used with greater
effectiveness than men.  Remember that wom en are, as a rule, more
emotional than men, but there [is] no difference in their intelligence." 
-- "Handling of Sources," U.S. Army Training Manual, School of the
Americas, Fort Benning, Ga., withdrawn in 1991 when an internal
investigation disclosed it (and others) contained objectionable passages. 
(Surprise!  No one knew they were there.)

	"Managua, Nicaragua is a beautiful spot.  You buy a hacienda on a
two-acre lot."  -- song

Dear Brian,

	Thank you for your efforts on my part -- even if their ultimate
goal seems to be to consign me and my novel to hell.  It is fine with me
that you will only be able to publish the first section on your webpage
(  I thought you had bitten off
a rather large order when you first proposed doing the whole thing. 
Besides, as I have said, by the time the election is over, much of it,
especially parts two and three, will be yesterday's news.  Also, it's okay
if there ar e shifts and changes in my "erratic paragraph breaks".  The
element of chance and mistakes plays a big role in my writing, as you may
have noticed. 

	Tonight, I am a blank little girl, unable to write much.  I have
been busy with my wedding dress, and getting the invitations sent out. 
Kelly is no help at all, mainly because her fingers don't work.  I let her
lick the envelopes, but she is so messy, s ince she has to do it on her
hands and knees -- actually, her knees, because her arms won't hold her
up, and she usually ends up face down on the floor with her delectable ass
stuck up in the air, and then I get to playing with it, and well, it's a
destraction.  What was I saying? 

	Oh yeah.  This letter isn't going to be very long.  I just wanted
you to know how thrilled I am to be appearing on your page, and I
completely understand how small it is, but as they say, size doesn't
matter.  Look at Kelly.  She doesn't have anything.  And yet, I wouldn't
want to have anyone else fuck me.  Of course, she has a wonderful tongue,
and the way Lenny improved it...  You know those things they use to clean
out toilets?  What are they called?  The snake things.  Kelly is a real
roto rooter.  In a lot of ways, Kelly is better off dead than she was

	I was thinking of sending you Kelly's prison diaries.  They might
make some interesting reading if you really want something that describes
hell.  Poor Kel.  She's a good writer, too.  But they aren't on my
machine.  I'd have to type them up.  So it may take some time.  Let me

	Like I said, so much of my book is dated.  By now, most people
think Dickie Morris is someone Dole tapped for his shadow cabinet.  His
last big surprise.  Naming the guys who might have served if he won.  But
won't.  Because he isn't going to.  Dole, him self, is almost a forgotten
man.  It's hard to maintain a high degree of fury about a campaign that
belongs on the obituary page.  I mean, what can you say about so what? 
That's why it's so hopeless.  I wanted to write something relevant for our
time, bu t the whole election is irrelevant.  All I'm left with are words. 
And words mean nothing.  If you know what I mean. 

	Did you watch the debate?

	I thought it was terribly cruel.  Not the debate, itself, but
PBS's scheduling a two hour documentary on Theodore Roosevelt just before. 
Talk about nasty.  Next to T.R., Clinton and Dole look like wallpaper. 
And Roosevelt's been dead since 1919.  Is th ere no pity left in this
world for mediocrity?  I didn't watch the debate, but I watched T.R.  What
a guy.  Hard to believe that he was a Republican.  But the Republicans
hated him.  They just kept kicking him upstairs to get him out of the way;
then one day, bang, and there he was.  The man who shot McKinley was named
Leon Chillgoosh.  I know that's not spelled right, but it's the way it
sounds.  A friend of mine wrote a play about him.  McKinley died at the
beginning of the twentieth century like a livi ng sacrifice, much as
William III died at the beginning of the 1700s.  If it wasn't for
Chillgoosh, we might not have the Food and Drug Administration and the
Grand Canyon, because those were things Teddy Roosvelt started, so think
about it.  Those were t hings I learned from watching T.R.  What do you
think I would have learned from watching the debate? 

	I couldn't take it.  It was too much.  Chillgoosh had literally
pulled the plug on the nineteenth century.  And now, here we were, nearly
a hundred years later, and we were still fucked up.  Except now we had
something even better than the Remington Smith & Wesson he had used to
punctuate McKinley.  We had a clicker. 

	I had.  Clinton and Dole vanished from sight.  Eat your heart out,

	Of course, he had to die.  Less than a month after McKinley was
dead, he was, too.  His trial was over faster than if it had been on
Mattlock.  Makes you wonder why they were in such a hurry.  To get him out
of the way.  Wouldn't want to embarass the new president.  Make a clean
break.  A fresh start.  Hang him.  Maybe he expected the president to
pardon him.  After all, he had done him a big favor.  He kept his mouth
shut.  The way Susan McDougal seems to be doing.  Right up to the end. 
And then they t hrew the switch, and wham.  I think my friend said he was
electrocuted.  Oh, Susan, please talk.  Tell Kenny what you know.  Turn up
the energy.  Oh yeah, now I remember.  The School of the Americas.  That's
what I wanted to talk about. 

	There's this college or school down at Fort Benning, Georgia, near
where Kelly and I are going to be m.. m,married...  I almost said
murdered.  Both of us are sort of graduates.  It...  Oh, no... that's not
what I wanted to say.  Yes it is.  Shut up.  Ke lly doesn't want me to
tell.  Okay.  Maybe some other time.  Kelly, they can't hurt you anymore. 
I promise. 

	They made me a lieutenant colonel.  Uniform and everything.

	You know, it's funny.  Even though she's dead, Kelly's hands
twitch when I mention School of the Americas.  There.  She did it again. 
And I never taught her how to say some of those things she has in memory. 
It's like she's put them together herself.  About not talking about the
school.  It's not like I'm ashamed.  Of what happened there.  Neither of
us knew the other had been recruited.  On Television last night, they had
a program about what happened there.  And what they did.  When it was
over, I wa s curled up in the corner, crying.  With my hands over my head. 
Screaming don't hit me. 

It was like I remembered./ I don't want to Kelly could be so rebellius. 
We could make her He complimented her on her teeth. 

Chillgoosh  chilld goosh  chill cooogsh
Emma Baumgold.
I can't remember
aagaggagaghfdgdg  Goldman.
they had mannuals
victor emmanual
on how to do things
which they taught the stup[id south americans
who like never heard of torture
before they got to that clinic.
and then they had a workshop
anmd they brought in the girl
and they knew
what to do.

Want to hear one?

can define the "employee" as that person who renders (her) services in
exchange of remuneratation or compensation.  Like, we won't kill him. 

	I'd have to type it up, and I'm not in the mood.  To tell you the
truth, I don't care.  What was it I was trying to remember?  What's the
use?  Who cares?  Like PeeWee Herman says, I don't have to see the movie. 
I lived it.  Right? 

	My mind's blank again.  Like a movie screen.  Nothing on it.  But
it reflects the light, and I begin to see shadows.  Roosevelt.  Chill
Goosh.  Now I get it.  The name of the rose.  That's right.  Rosas.  The
dictator, was named Eric.  They dropped the v elt.  Now, he was out in it,
shooting lions.  They killed 17.  He and his son.  As long as I remember
this, I'm safe.  Who I am.  It doesn't matter.  Anymore.  I'm Cody Ann
Michaels.  Roosavelt came towards her.  He was like a god.  He was a fat
old man i n a porkpie hat.  Well, who says a god has to look like one? 
You mean, this is the president?  You've got to be joking.  They rolled in
the aisles.  Nothing had ever been this good before.  And it hasn't been
since.  And we owe it all to Leon Chilgoosh. 

	A bullet had taken the life of the president.  The fat old pig,
and now the young revolutionary was in the saddle.  Cody appeared at the
White House.  Like the colonel, she was a colonel.  Where'd you get your
training?  Avenue of the Americas.  Street w alking.  The colonel
remembered her.  And had her picked up.  They had her brought to the
school.  No one would miss her.  Street trash.  This was getting hairy
again.  Hey, wait a minute.  Who are you guys?  They were various street
thugs rounded up in various south American countries and brought to the
school to train to become el presidentes.  ole.  And vicious cutthroat
killers.  Oh, we already know how to do that.  Yeah?  You think so.  Just
wait.  Then they brought her in.  It was Kelly. 

	I hadn't seen her in five months.  Boy, had she changed.  She
stared at me, and something seemed to change in her eyes.  And then she
went dead again.  What do you want me to do to her? 

	They said that was up to me.  The first thing I did was bring her
back to life.  It had an unsettling effect on the recruits.  They were
used to killing people.  Not reviving them.  Kelly's screaming drowned out
their words.  Now then, I said, notice the tits.  They were like
cannonballs hanging at the ends of elastic socks.  Flesh colored socks. 
Or waterbags made out of soft stretchy rubber.  We want her to be fully
articulate.  Oh yeah, one of the things in the manual said : reember that
women are can be used greater effectivieness in men than man re,e,ber
wpm,e afagas oh god ai did on't want to thjhaogkl

	I'll talk.  I'll tell.  Roosevelt wasn't his presidentic 
that count
it his journeys 
say that
the president was bullshit. 
hide what he really do
what president really do
that count
nopt what he do
I think we're getting it out of him
his journeys.
into darkness
at the edge
of time
one.  The journey in despair
two.  The journey in triumph
three, the one where you shot all the lions.
the lion approached him over the velt.  The president had one eye and wore
thick glasses.  He was holding an elephant gun that had a kick on it like
a rocket sled. 
he could not see the lion.
But Leon could see him.
Leon's ghost had followed him around for eight years.  And now it wanted
its money back. 
Roosevelt said he couldn't have it.
Fucking jew, give me my pay check.
Leon, don't be antisemitic.  Now calm down.
Roosevelt and Chillgoosh had a long conversation out there in the dark
continent.  And then he came home to a hero's welcome.  You make some big
tradeoffs.  Journey 4. 

The River of Doubt.

They named it for him.  When he came back.  Teo Doro.  El Hombre.  The
man.  If I keep thinking of this, I don't have to think about the other
one.  Roosavelt.  Roosaavelt.  High School.  Played ours.  In High School
Football.  Oh god, please don't let me
 think anymore about any of this.  oh my god oh my god omigod OM I Got. 
she crawled.
lick my boot, bitch
nice teeth
we take this wire
some of the stuff came in the diplomatic pooches.

that he did.
a very thin wire that we run in between her teeth like dental floss.  She
will do anything we want her to.  Watch what we make her do to her friend. 
whole afternoon.
I picked Cody up by the big jellyrolls and hurled her against the wall.
this is street trash.  we know they have no information.  we just use them
to show you what can be done.  No one will miss these two. 

they want to turn it over to fox.

the channel that showed the programs about the school.  Guiliani is trying
to give it to Murdoch.  For his news channel.  aaaggagagdfgghghdfaghadfh
I'm not lying.  I'm not. 

into the sea
the bullets took her out
she was trying to climb the fence when they shot her.
o mi god
kept saying over and over
making breath
getting kicked in the gut
her red hair
never see this again
back in their native countries
they would try to recreat what they had seen
in that fetid dungeon
under the Georgia soil.  These young ladies are going to be married. 
Creating a threat to the American way of life.  What are we going to do
about it? 

Just let them try.

We'll be waiting at the church.

Things were getting hairy.  maybe you did it.  Give me a break.  It was
you.  I know it was.  We'll take care of your daughter.  Treat her like
our own.  Dear, Alice.  Keep your hands off her.  I can't tell you how
sorry I am about your dear father.  He was a hoot.  Bring her back. 
Kelly screamed. 

in Cody's ear
Cody began to gradually wake up
a soaking with cold water woke her up.

he wants to give it to fox.
pataki does too

did you write this?
he showed her the article

"You remember Pataki and Guiliani, don't you?  It was their welfare system
that cut off benefits and medicaid to Carla Lockwood.  She was the mother
who starved her four year old daughter to death in the Bronx.  While she
rummaged around and borrowed to f eed her other kids.  Pataki and Guiliani
want to make slaves out of people like Carla Lockwood.  When they come for
help, they are given brooms and told to sweep the streets.  But Pataki and
Guiliani have a soft spot in their hearts for mendicants like Ru pert
Murdoch.  You remember Rupert Murdoch, don't you?  Rupert Murdoch is the
penniless immigrant who landed penniless and huddled from the distant
shores of England, which he had already taken to the cleaners and became a
U.S. citizen so that he could ta ke it to the cleaners, too. 

this gibberish
this filth
did you 
did you write it you little guttersnipe whore
Kelly said.
Actually, I had.

Trying to get out news to the world that Rudi Gouliani is trying to give
away more of the city's broadcast media resources.  Oh, it's too
complicated.  What do you care?  Roosevelt.  What we need is another
Roosavelt who will protect our media resources l ike he protected the
Grande Canyon.  Or charged up San Juan Hill.  He was like Che. 

	Che Quevarra and Teddy Roosevelt are a lot alike.  They both had
asthma and both liberated Cuba.  They were also rich.  And both had taken
off into the Outback.  In search of himself.  Che met Fidel.  And Teodor
met Leon.  Now we were getting somewhere. 
 They nodded towards each other over a creme de menthe.  In Paris or
Lisbon.  Or was it South Beach?  Later, that night, the tension quivered
between them as they formed the crystal.  Positive and negative particles
attacked the nucleous.  Then, withdrew. 
  By Jove.  I think she's got it.

	Teodor, I love you.  Leone.  Come with me to San Francisco.  I
can't leave Havaii.  Hawaii.  Wha.  Get it.  Wha.  Wha, what? 


	"The Americans are great liars." -- Sitting Bull

	"Don't forget the past," -- Dole, speech on national health care

	Funny, these two inscriptions don't have anything to do with each
other, and yet, they're carved on opposite faces of the stone.  What could
that mean?  Dan, I think this was a library.  This stone says, "The House
of the Chief."  This says "Ladies."  This is a symbol for stop.  Hitler
was on drugs.  Teodor, I love you.  The river of doubt. 

why'd they call it that?

in kubla khan my special dome can zanadu
dad's a little out of it.  Can we get on with our work?  They wove a
hundred baskets every hour.  a pleasure doom fortell.  he mumbled on the
banks of the river as the snake coiled round about him holding a box with
a dead chicken in it. 
the news
want to be an anchor person
is that what you want to be?
don't hit me nomore
now will you tell
she knows nothing
but she will tell 
to get free
get your gun ready.  he's coming at you.
he waved the gun
he couldn't see a bally thing
something yellow moving against yellow
grass against sun
the pale underbelly of Europe
the lion disappeared
the gun made a noise that would knock you on your ass
his legs stuck up in the air
this is how you interrogate your witness
your emformant
your employee
his girl friend
his mother
his sister
his whore
like steps.
economy of motion
everything has to be precise.
if the witness dies, you've lost a valuable source of information
here, we don't have to worry.
these girls are worthless
they know nothing
but in the field
it's different
so make your mistakes here.
go on and try
he pushed her towards Cody
oh god, no nono leon  noonononnn

you hurt your hand
he had it wrapped up in a bandage
McKinley looked surprised
He took several days to die
It seemed like weeks.  Waiting.  Wondering, would he make it?
The phone rang.  Someone, whoever it was, hung up.  But that's silly.  I
had nothing to do with it.  She tried to look calm.  She had been having
coffee when they arrived.  She stood in the doorway to the terrace. 
They arrested her.
The wife of the presidente.  The daughter

For forgery.
That's what they said.  What happened?  My mind is not clear.  Clarify it. 
The phone rang.  It was mother.  I made an excuse.  Said I was with some
people.  She said that was alright.  She would call back later.  I felt
awful.  I don't want to talk about it.  I lied.  I'm alone.  I didn't want
to talk just then.  Don't hit me.  A captain and several men walked in. 
They took her away. 

Leon Chill Goosh stop it.  He went back to his country.  To foment another
revolution.  I'm trying to think.  They fucked me up.  Dole stomach
cancer.  Watch out.  Clinton.  Twelve o'clock high.  I'm going to smoke. 
Light up.  Take drugs.  Get laid.  Hav e babies.  Fuck you.  I don't care. 
I don't care about anything.  The journey of doubt and self despair. 
Once, it had been despair of loss.  Now it was loss of hope.  The Indians
gave him a drug.  He took it for the rest of his life.  It was totally ill
egal.  And magic.  It made him all powerful.  And intelligent.  And loony
as a coot.  He began to see the world as it was.  All the power beings
that got him down river.  They came to him.  He used his magic.  They
moved off through the current and headed into the next white water.  Teddy
could have told you about white water.  He was in enough of it.  Up to his
neck.  Okay, ask him.  You can do it.  Ask him about it now! 

	Do it.

	Just do it.

	That was another thing Dole had done.  He had done do it.  Or
rather, don't do it.  Which was the opposite of do it which was owned by
Nike.  So Nike told him not to do it.  Tell kids, Just don't do it.  When
it came to drugs.  It was hard to know who to feel sorry for.  Or enraged. 
Enraged at Dole for stealing Nike's theme saying, or Nike for paying kids
30 cents an hour in Third World countries to make 150 dollar shoes.  It
was like two dinosaurs fighting it out, and you're a ground squirrel
trying no t to get stepped on.  Who do you root for?  Rupert and Turner
are another example. 

	Of course, the dinosaurs are dead.  But you know what I mean. 
It's like we are living in an ongoing Jurassic Park of the Soul, out in
the suburbs of Buenos Aires.  Where obnoxious old beomoths beat on each
other.  Who wins?  You know it's not the voter.  The voter is always the
loser.  In fact, that's what it means.  In Sanskrit.  vtr means man who
offers his face to be used as a urinal.  Or vote.  The vtr's face is a
vote.  And ever vote counts.  Especially when you have to pee.  The winner
is the man who gets the most urinals with his name on them.  Leon was
Teddy's vtr.  Alternatively, vtr is a kind of double.  A doppelganger. 
Who were those other two?  I forgot.  Oh yeah, Fidel.  Now, I'm going to
test you in the fire. 

Time Warner Turner owns the major cable franchise in New York.  Fox wants
Warner Turner, of which it is a competitor, to carry its news programming
on one of its channel.  Werner says no.  The mayor tries to back Murdoch. 
Turner calls Murdoch der Fuerhre r.  Dot tears it. 

mayor says use one of city's public access channels.  one i saw avenue of
the americas no way jose, wkg
now get up
they walked down to the boat and pushed off into the current
when an electric current is run through the wire threaded between her
teeth, you s3ee tje efffect
space changes
Kenny, you would get tons of information this way.
I just know you would.
the girl came to
her face was swollen
now I'm trying to remember
the ceiling fell in
i was alone there
i saw it
he's a witness
she did, your honor
your worship
they reall meant it
go on, what were you saying?  it was torture.  Was it?  How do you know? 
Have you ever seen a little girl being tortured?  He was a disgusting
i met on the lower east side
when i was bumming around
Shel Goosh.  Shel goes tomorrow.  Send him to Paris.

Tell our troops to be ready to move out.  We attack the Presidential
Palace at dawn on the night of the awakening when we found out what the
t21st century was all about.  There was the twenbty first century kind of
look.  If looks could kill.  I get you.  The sentences each stopped dead. 
Then went on.  He was like Lincoln.  He was dead.  Lincoln had taken a
night to die.  McKindley, several days.  Kennedy had died in less than two
hours.  Garfield took the longest, lingering for months, while van Allan w
aited.  It was Arthur.  Of the celtic mists.  He was A. Arthur.  AA. 
Anonymous.  A dead beat.  A stolen arrow.  It didn't matter.  It was him. 
Come back to make things right.  What had he done?  Pendragon.  You must
look at what comes after.  He set up Roosevelt for the fall.  But Leon
stepped in and took him out.  HJe was dead. McKindley was dead.  They
named a mountain in Alaska after him.  Where way for ah died.  What? 
Wayfarer.  Yuki Wayfarer.  The irrevokable one.  Who?:  I'm you, stupid. 
Get up.  She stood up.  He stood in front of her.  He was gorgeous.  I
don't have to take that kind of shit, that no one wants.  Get out of here. 
He threw her out.  She dragged her ass home.  Where was I? 

The important thing to remember was McKindly awas dead.  Did I have
anything to do with it?  Big Mac.  Attack.  The only mick we ever had for
president.  Until Kennedy came along and threw him out.  It was unseemly
for the presid4nt to so behave and we ha d to cover it up, he didn't know
aisle have to ask Elizabeth
Elizaaba  can't hardly talk
say it
e  eea k
she had failed to use master text in her mistress's name
and was severelly disciplined
her naked behind was skinned raw
those big ass cheeks danced
Kelly had told them all about the coded relief folders that she got from
the kitchen with the whip
now what do we do.
it says pound the nail in

Yeah.  This looks like it.  Cody, you swine, you planned it like this.  Or
had she?  Through the false light of the Kasbah, she knew she would be
safe from her wrinkles.  Light fell on her.  And she knew it did not
matter what they took away.  It was what they left behind that mattered. 
Out there on the islands of the south pacific in the cargo cult.  The
planes useed to bring us refrigerators.  Now they bring us women.  Young
girls.  Some no loader than six or seven.  With great humongous tits. 
Tits bigger than their baby faces.  What do we want with those?  They were
in a consignment meant for a pig farm in Brazil.  Check your coordinates. 
They don't stand up.  She won't be much longer, either.  Commander Nora,
we have conk[gtaYeah.  Boy, these street girls are wonderful.  They die
with such beauty. 

Four commanders were sitting around the pool, talking about homework.  In
their countries, they were all generals.  Except for Louie, who was a
field marshall.  And dressed like a girl. She was so beautiful.  We all
wanted to fuck her.  But that was only a pose.  We knew we had her.  We
were getting in while she was getting out.  In that bathing suit.  White. 
Skin tight white.  You could see every nook and cranny of that skinny body
h olding up those big boobs.  We struck up a conversation.  It turned out,
she likes privates.  I showed her mine.  We got closer to a deal.  Now,
for a sure shot, focus on her belly button and aim for a tad just two
thumbs under.  Black talons spun through her gut. 

	A little to the left.

	That really opened her up.  Scrubs!

The boys cleaned her up.  Made her like new.  Then they got out of there
for the next shoot. The generals shot to their hearts content. 

Okay.  Revive her.

Everything dissolves.  Becomes something new.  We were killing it. 
Slowly.  Surely.  Killing it.  We want to know exactly where that point
is.  Comprede.  Don't die now.  Please God, don't die now.  I worked too
hard on her.  It ain't right.  Why take my land?  I don't belong here. 
What am I doing?  I can't do this.  The land is protected.  It has a lock. 
The Joyners might show up and claim their share.  uh oh.  We got four
thousand dollars riding on it.  With interest.  By rights, the land was
theirs.  They could just take it.  So there it was.  He was stuck with it. 
In the first, they had taken a woman away from him.  And left him with a
daughter.  He rides west.  In the second, he goes south, travelling light,
on horseback, with two thousand rough riders, and two orchestras on the
main deck, and several attractive young ladies who did yoeman's service
among the guards, the Bundys and Snopes.  Lili Snopes was my Grandmother. 
At night, we retired to the ship, for a light supper.  Bright the next mor
ning, I was back in camp, charging up San Juan Hill.  You know what it
means, don't you?  Of course you do.  We all died of laughter.  When we
heard that.  You remember.  Don't you?  Don't cry.  It stains the cheeks
with moisture.  Hit her instead.  East, on a killing binge all over
Africa.  Well, nobody said he was a role model.  But the last direction
was not the most difficult, but it was the most interesting.  They were
coming from the south down the river of doubt.  The Doubt flows north. 
Like the D on.  Before emptying into the larger river.  All over Europe
the bells were going off, and he was on the river.  Camp Town ladies sing
this song.  O the doo dah day.  For God's sake, Father, shut up.  What was
he blithering now?  About the hun.  Attila.  War.  What war?  The one
that's coming, son.  Over there, by the ripples.  Go that way.  We were
lost again.  Where does this one go?  How should I know?  I've never been
here.  I thought you had.  It reminds me of Smoot-Hawley.  What about
smoot hawley?  I shot a bear there twice.  You shot bare or you shot one? 
Whatever.  Macondo was just around the next bend in the river.  Let us
cross over the river, boys, and rest under the trees.  As he sat on the
bank of the River of Doubt, the old man imagined in his half blind fever
when he had been the first el presiden0te to fly; the pilot had had to
tell him to stop waving to the crowds below, or they would crash -- or had
walked behind a dead king going to be buried.  He also remembered the
lions.  They were a great team.  As they played on the beach.  The old man
was remembering the lions.  Come on, hit him, Charlie.  Give him a smack. 
Take him over your knee and harangue him like Khadafii.  Last chance
coming up.  Trying to inject some suspense into the d ebate.  You boys
figuring on sharing?  He looked them over.  They lied.  Okay.  I guess
you'll do.  Yule duel.  Arron.  burr.  Hopalong Cassidy.  Sundance, you
sure this is New York?  It says on this map.  That's a fruit juice strain. 
Any day now.  Cody, I'm coming in.

	"I have yet a great life work to complete before I pass over the
river... I have been supervising the taking of motion pictures.. These
start with the opening of the West and come down in well-defined periods
to the present day. These have been taken for the United States Government
and will be preserved in the archives... for the education of future
generations."  -- Buffalo Bill, 1914

	What are you doing here, stranger, old pard?

	Indeed, there in the tropical rain forest, Buffalo Bill and Pawnee
Bill's Congress of the West materialized out of the trees.  Bill was
riding his prized Cheynne pony, Kelly Ann Morgan. 
The girl glistened there in the sun
in her circus rider's silver dress
The Snows of Kilamanjaro.  I knew I saw you somewhere.  Roosevelt, isn't
it?  Hemingway.  Ernest Hemingway.  Do you mind if I ask you a few
questions?  For the Kansas City Star.  The Topeka Sun Sentinel.  You don't
have to answer any of this.  It was like a movie.  They were right there. 
As sure as you are.  And what did Mr. Cody say?  Did he offer to help? 
Was he in any way, shape or form concerned about your welfare?  Answer me. 
Well, no.  He wasn't that.  A pyramid shape took form in the spacing.  H e
was getting it up there.  The ex-president mumbled, no he didn't think so. 
He hadn't thought to ask.  Near the top of the peak, there's a leopard. 
No one knows why the leopard was at that altitude or what it was looking
for.  I don't know why I'm here , either.  I just want to go home.  The
leg became gangeronomous.  He became delirious.  We couldn't placate him. 
We knew the mountain was about the blow.  A huge dome was blowing up. 
Think clearly.  You must think clearly.  Did you see him?  Was he the re? 
What kind of suit did he have on?  Not now, Teddy.  Go play.  So he played
and played.  But he wanted something more.  He wanted a blonde.  At his
mercy.  Somewhere out in the badlands.  Where no one can interfere.  Or
hear.  A sound proof room.  Now scream your guts out.  He said, thouse who
will not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.  That is what he
said.  That is what Joe Hegel said.  So what?  I run this place.  No one
tells me what to do.  Want to bed?  All these men are on the edge of
death.  Checking it out.  Looking into the inferno.  He had a deathbed
conversion.  Too late.  She cut his fingers off.  Their male souls plunged
down to hell.  Kelly went round and came out here.  A missile greeted her. 
She did another reincarnation.  Same thing.  Another.  Ruby Ridge.  Back
again. Sayonnara.  The battle of Versaises.  Mind the curtains.  The
French revolution ends here.  He came home. 

	This time there were no ticker tape parades to console him.  No
bells and whistles.  No speeches.  No invitations to elegant soirees in
Greenwich Vilkage.  Only a great war.  A war to end all wars.  Please
don't keep going back.  Goin dow.  Put a hand grenade in her mouth and
put the key in the other girl's left hand.  A war to make the world safe
for Democracy.  She now has the advantage.  Over there.  Kelly follows her
around like a dog.  Down under.  That follows from what is to be.  An
innocent foil, in a hands of a madman.  Now lead her around the room. 
Look at her scamper to keep up.  This is the way you give him a mouth job. 
Cody plays with her.  Kelly responds.  Like a whippit.  Her tail pulled
down into her crotch.  Now stake her. The pin is fastened to a string with
which Kelly is led around 
A different feeling from the finger. 
She's positively salvating around that grenade. 
Che made possible Fidel's ascendency. 
He died on the altiplano of Bolivia, leading an insurection. 

	What does this mean?
	It's going to be a military wedding
	Many opf our classmaites will be there.  She righted herself and
sat schoolgirl straight at the desk.  Now step on it.  We got to get out
of here.  Come on.  We don't have much time.  They dumped the body in the
lake.  Weighted it down.  Found her childr en there.  She doesn't make
sense.  Said she did it.  Kelly was running in her dreams.  Trying to get
out.  Escape.  Hunted her down.  Dogs.  In the swamp.  They gave me her
prison diaries.  She had a lot of anger.  No one ever explained why the
leopard had climbed so high.  Or what it was looking for. 

	Note: Parts of this chapter have been censored.

                           Chapter 19

                           Prom Night

	"If the First Amendment will protect a scumbag like me, then it
will protect all of you.  Because I'm the worst."  -- Larry Flynt

	"I will return and be millions" -- Eva Peron

Dear Brian,

	oooo, there is nothing more desireable than a good straight man. 
And you are the best. 

	First, I quote from The New York Times, (10/6/96 Week in Review,
p.7), something I am loth to do, because it always leaves me feeling cheap
and depraved: 

	"These lessons appeared in some of the Army's training manuals that
were used at the School of the Americas, a military academy at Fort
Benning, Ga, and that were distributed in Columbia, Ecuador, El Salvador,
Guatemala and Peru to help governments threa tened by leftist rebellions." 

Now if you have trouble with that, call or write Punch Sutzberger.  I'm
dealing in non-virtual reality here.  Also there's a photograph captioned
"the entrance to the School of Americas at Fort Benning, Ga." which shows
a doorstep with School of the Ameri cas and Fort Benning spelled out in
the tiles.  Inside, according to TV, beyond this hallowed step, is a hall
of fame where the walls are covered with picture of some of the school's
more illustrious graduates.  Many of these guys would make Herman Goerin g
wet his pants with envy.  Next to them, Dolphy (the Hitman) Hitler was a
sniveling helpless wimp.  I didn't get all the names, but they include the
guy who headed the death squad who killed the five priests, their
housekeeper and her sixteen year old da ughter in El z..  Also the
generals who used to make people disappear in X..  Also the generals who
used to make Indians die horrible deaths in w..  At one point in the early
eighties, the entire southern cone of South America was run by School of
the Ame ricas alumnae.  Another famous person who studied democratic
principles at the school, although I don't think they have his picture
hanging in the lobby anymore, is Manuel Noriega.  You remember Manny?  CIA
Director George Bush's point man in Panama City?  For further information,
I suggest you contact Congressman Joseph Kennedy, D.-Mass., who keeps
trying to get the school defunded, ie. shut down.  You might also check
your neighborhood hotbot (  I got 855 SOA matches
when I did.  This is just a briefing.  Normally, I don't get into this
kind of pig pr. 

	Besides that, there is much in your profound letter which must be
assimilated.  I am afraid it will take time -- more than "48 hours" -- so
I hope you will not think me inconsiderate if I do not address most of it
now.  (Note: see below.)

	But thank you for your compliment.  I think it was a compliment. 
You may have just been insinuating my writing is like someone breaking
wind.  Mithryl also means "elf silver."  It's used to make chain mail
which is stronger than steel and much lighter.  The dwarves once mined it
in the caves of Moria.  But greed overcame them and they dug too deep,
unleashing great evil in the form of a balrog.  It killed many of them,
and the others were forced to flee.  Sometimes I think I may be doing the
same.  Digg ing too deep with this book.  (By the way, I have been chary
about using your own nom de guerre in print as I did not know how you
would feel about it.  I don't want to blow your cover.)

	Like Will Rogers, all I know is what I read in the papers (and see
on TV).  But he used the news to make people laugh.  I can't do that.  To
me, the news is much more horrifying than anything Stephen King ever
dreamed up.  I'm just trying to keep up.  Bu t I may not have much time
left.  In fact, this could be my final chapter.  I almost wish it were. 
Just so you know.  I don't have any illusions.  I know that Pataki and
Guiliani's goon squads wouldn't have any trouble finding me.  The guys at
my URL are n't going to sacrifice their nuts for the likes of me.  So it
may not be long before I disappear, too.  The FBI already busted another
cadre of freedom fighters in West Virginia.  It's only a matter of time
before they kick my door down.  Or maybe I'll ju st be disappeared.  I
hope you don't get in trouble for being nice to me.  I promise not to
tell.  Anyway, everything will be erased.  We'll only keep one copy for
the files.  Kelly has already gone underground.  Well, actually, I put her
in a footlocker and buried her in the swamp.  I had to do a lot of heavy
folding to get her to fit.  I said I'd pick her up on the way to the
funer... wedding.  Why do I have such morbid thoughts when it comes to
marrying my beloved? 

	I notice you wrote me a long lesson in civics which I am
definitely going to read before I go to ground.  Don't worry about it
falling into the wrong hands.  By the way, you seem to know a lot about
Fort Benning.  You aren't a double agent, by any chance ?  I mean, like,
this isn't a set up, is it?  Funny, that never occurred to me before. 
That you might be running a sting operation.  Setting up an ambush.  I
wondered where the leaks were coming from.  To be truthful, I suspected
Kelly.  It wouldn't be t he first time the bitch betrayed me.  Stop it. 
I've got to stop thinking like this.  I'll be getting paranoid. 

	What I was trying to say in the last chapter was that what was
important about Theodore Roosevelt wasn't his being president.  It was the
journeys he made; his four vision quests.  Anyone can be president. 
Witness the present incumbent.  But Roosevelt w as the only president we
ever had who made a game of it.  The only other one who even came close
was Reagan.  Neither took it very seriously, but where they differed, I
think, was that T.R. made people feel good about themselves.  People told
their childr en, once they had seen a giant.  Reagan on the other hand
gave people, especially the white middle class, the high sign to become
irresponsible dropouts.  Roosevelt always played to win.  He did
everything flat out.  And he was deadly serious about everything. 

	As for the government, try not to get hung up on that.  The
government mostly runs itself.  I think I read somewhere that ninety
percent of the bureaucracy in Russia after the Bolsheviks took power had
been in the Czar's civil service.  Just as today, mo st of the people
running Russia were also running the Soviet Union.  El Presidente has
nothing to do with it.  By the way, when I use the term, "El Presidente,"
I am talking about a generic el presidente, not someone specific, just as
when I use the word, Clinton, I am not talking about anyone in particular. 
The president pretends to govern.  That, in fact, is where the word comes
from.  Sanskrit 'pss" means, he who pisses -- or floods -- in the faces of
the voters -- or urinals -- of the land most.  Has nothing to do with
politics.  It's strictly a fertility rite.  Why do you think eight years
is the max?  That's when they killed the old king and ate him.  It was
only Franklyn who went for four.  Fucking showoff.  It would never happen
again.  Truman wa s the last president who could have gotten as many terms
as he liked.  But he was smart enough to quit and get out of town. 
Washington is not a nice place for old presidents.  It eats them alive. 
T.R. split. 

	So what am I saying?  Actually, the Golden Bough specifies seven
years as the term of the king.  Which is exactly how long T.R. had been in
the White House.  (And Truman, too.) Like Truman, he had been a
beneficiary of Tecumseh's curse.  You know, every generation, the white
chief dies.  My friend who wrote the play about Chill Goosh also wrote a
song about Tecumseh.  Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this.  It went
something like, why did he have to be the first, da da, to escape
Tecumseh's curse?  Mean ing, Reagan.  Reagan was the first president
elected on a twenty year cycle who didn't die in the White House since
William Henry Harrison, who killed Tecumseh, died in 1841, a month after
being sworn in.  He missed.  Tecumseh mist.  Well, a lot of people will
say it didn't matter.  He was brain dead, anyway.  But there are others,
who told the FBI, just as Hinckley was taking aim, an Indian appeared and
deflected his aim downward.  They only said it was a stomach wound to shut
Haig up.  It was a closely held secret from then on.  All of the doctors
were shot.  Chill Goosh.  Chill Goosh.  I've got to keep saying this. 
Keep my mind straight. 

	I'm really up tight.  I can feel them closing in.  I knew I should
have gone when I had the chance.  That was really very sweet about the way
you described me:  "Cody brings to mind a twelve year-old in ponytails,
freckles, innocence and not much else.  Mith..."  It was almost like you
could see me.  The way I was.  Oh, you don't have one of those pictures do
you?  The ones Alec made of me when...  Not the one with the dog?  Oh my
God, you can see me!  You must have the video.  The one that comes with th
e free hologram.  Or is the blowup doll with my face on it?  You disgust

	What did you mean, "not much else?"  Wasn't that enough?  I'm
trying to tell you something.  But what was it?  Got to think.  Keep my
mind clear.  It's hard.  Sometimes I get really confused.  Some people say
it's from all the drugs I do, but I think it' s more like brain damage
from getting beat up so much.  Maybe it's both.  Of course it's hard to
run a government. You have to make everything out in triplicate.  And then
file it.  All that paper has to go somewhere.  And then someone wants to
look at it .  And you have to go and find it.  Anyone can look at
everything.  But it all takes time.  So just wait.  I'll get it for you. 
The school.  What school was that?  Australia?  The Americas.  Which one? 
Both.  Also Central America.  Hello Central, get me knowman's land. 
Exactly.  Know Man is an island.  Complete onto itsself.  We defeated it. 
What are you raving about? 

	Father had jumped into the current in order to stop a canoe that
had gotten into the rapids, and hurt his leg on a sharp rock, thus
incapacitating him.  It became infected, and jungle rot set in.  He and
Borges sat on the banks of the stream and talked a bout puzaisles.  Si. 
The Argentinians call them the Malvinas. 

	Roosevelt had been a revolutionary.  He reinvented the U.S.
government.  He was one of two presidents to do so.  The other had been
Jackson.  Franklyn also gave it a good try, but he was really only an
extention of T.R.  Why do you think they voted for h im?  T. R. come back
to save mankind and help them out of their depression.  Franklin was
another of Tecumseh's victims.  Or was it something else?  Were they
diametrically opposed?> Implacable enemies.  Franklyn arranged the train
on Cousin Alice's wedd ing gown.  Eleanor watched.  They were already
married.  And she watched him like a hawk.  Through those beady eyes. 
Alice got the message.  Uh, thank you, Franklyn. 

	You're holding out on us.

	He was right.  I was playing for time.  I didn't want to talk.

	Tell us about the school.

	I had wanted it to be so different.  I hadn't wanted to start with
prom night.  At the School of the Americas.  I wanted to lead up to that. 
Get into it slowly.  With a few tantalizing diversions.  Like how Kelly
looked the night of the prom.  She was w earing a skintight network of
blue sequins.  Her fifty-six inch tits bulged over the top.  And her long
curly hair was a nimbus cloud exploding around her head.  She wore
regulation boots, black, shiny, knee high, with seven inch heels, and
black stocking s.  Her face was made up heavily, but you could still see
how pretty and adorable it was.  She was the date of a heneralissimo from
south of the border.  But my mind was scrambled.  My data contaminated. 

	I can't do this.  Something in me does not want to remember.  To
write.  I wish to write about good things.  Like, today, a federal judge
threw Guiliani and his plan to put Fox on Crosswalks out of court. 
Crosswalks is the name of the five public channe ls the city owns.  The
good guys finally won.  Like, on Crosswalks I learned the security guards
at Kennedy Airport are paid five bucks an hour.  Like these are the guys
who are supposed to keep other people from putting bombs on planes like
TWX-800.  The y don't even make as much as the welfare people who are
cleaning the streets with toothbrushes.  Okay.  That was an uncalled for
remark.  I take it back.  If Ted Turner can take back his Fuerhrer furor
snipe at Rupert Murdoch, I can take back the part abo ut toothbrushes. 
I'm sorry for demeaning the Holocaust.  Now can I go? 

	Not so fast.

	Those rednecks out there the FBI is rounding up, think the Jews
are behind everything.  But, of course, they are.  Everyone knows that. 
Someone has to run the government.  And if the president won't do it, that
leaves the Jews.  So what? 

	We have a few more questions.

	When I started to tell this story, I forgot to mention, everyone
had a rank.  The girls, too.  Because in most South American countries, it
is illegal to torture civilians.  Only combatants.  Kelly was a
commandante.  I was a lieutenant colonel.  We were divided up into sides. 
I was with the supreme command.  Kelly was senderosa.  Luminous Senderosa. 
On the Shining Path.  She was Guzman's girl friend.  I was a Yankee First
Class American whore. 

	Everything's falling apart.  My story.  Everything.  Whether or
not there was any actual el presidente there, many of the people who were
there went on to become high ups, if not actual dictators.  Like, I don't
know if Pinochet was there.  Or Garcia-Lor ca.  Or Henny Garcia.  Who took
over Guyana following a cue from the C.I.A.  But there were others like
them.  Men who would make their mark on the world by...  Why are you
defending yourself? 

	If I don't, who will?

	That was strictly forbidden.  Kelly let her arms hang by her
sides.  With the boxing gloves on them.  Then he hit her.  She did not
interfere this time.  Just went down in a heap.  Good.  Now you're getting

	When I saw Kelly, at first I was surprised.  Because at first I
thought she had gotten a set of balls.  But then I realized what I was
looking at were her swollen labia.  Both sides were engorged with blood. 
All she needed now was a dick. 

	General Sam stuck his cigar up inside.  The wet end first.  Now
watch.  Kelly's eyes got big.  She glanced around.  Wasn't anyone going to
save her?  She, of course, couldn't interfere.  Her big thick cunt lips
wrapped around the cigar like it was a mout h.  She was actually smoking
it.  Something in her stomach muscles.  The way she worked them.  Created
a vacuum.  Drawing the smoke up inside her and making the tip of the cigar
glow brightly.  Left to itself, a cigar will generally go out.  But not if
yo u smoke it.  It just keeps burning and getting shorter.  Kelly's mouth
opened as she felt the heat on her inner thighs.  And up under her belly. 
She sucked in her breath and the cigar lit up.  Sort of a soft aaaah came
out of her lips.  Her eyes were hal f closed.  She was going to piss on
it.  I just knew she would.  Just as it got too close.  Almost down to the
pubic hair.  And then, whoosh.  The General's eyes warned her not to do
it.  Not this time.  He took out his gun and pointed it at her.  Kelly b
roke out in a sweat.  Just try, bitch.  Kelly waited.  The cigar glowed. 
And the ash rose.  The lit tip burning down to the thick bushy red hair
growing between Kel's legs. 

	"You'd better use that thing or lose it," General Sam told her.  At
first, I didn't understand what he meant.  Kelly looked up. 

	"If I had a dick like that, I'd know where to put it," another man

	The other officers glanced at me.

	"I heard she had the hots for the pretty lieutenant colonel."

	"Hey, wait a minute."

	The look in Kelly's eyes showed that she saw a way out.  I started
to back away, but the men held me.  One of them pulled my pants down so
she wouldn't have to fumble with the thick gloves.  "No, Kelly, don't!" 

	"Wait," one said, "First, she has to give the commandante a
blowjob."  That was Kel's rank in the Senderosa.  It was actually a word
they used for anyone who didn't have any specific rank.  Anyone could be a
commandante.  Even a meter maid. 

	Someone kicked the back of my knees hard and I went down on all
fours.  I tried to get up, but my comrades held me, jerking my head back
by the hair, with Kelly's cigar sticking in my face.  I opened my mouth
wide to take it.  General Sam warned me what would happen if the cigar
went out.  I wrapped my lips around the big Havana behind its incandescent
tip.  Kelly moved it in and out.  The more I sucked on it, the hotter it
got.  My mouth filled with burning heat and I nearly choked.  The inside
of my mo uth was bone dry.  At the same time I was crying.  I felt totally
betrayed.  It's not like I had any illusion about my status there.  I
mean, I was basically a mascot for the rojas, the red team.  I knew real
colonels didn't have to wear a leash.  But at the same time, this was
totally demeaning, being made to give head to a sendero left wing commie
slut.  General Sam rubbed his beretta across her behind, making Kelly bump
and grind her hips as she fucked my mouth.  She rammed the cigar all the
way in, sc orching the back of my throat; it seemed longer than I had
imagined, and then she drew it slowly back down the center of my tongue
until she got to the stud.  Her belly sucked in on the rich thick tobacco
and a ball of fire lit up the inside of my mouth. 

	After that, I was fucked the same way.  Sam again told me that if
I made any liquid, he and his men would make it so I would beg them to
shoot me dead.  But there was no room in my cunt to accommodate the
thickness of the cigar without totally enfolding it.  I shrieked
mindlessly as it crossed over the threshold of my clit, heating the rings;
it paused there as if it were an officer making known his commanding
presence before a defeated cringing whore, and then plunged deep into my
soft, vulnerable inter ior passage.  Sam slammed the side of my head with
his gun.  "Give her some action.  What are you waiting for?  Don't be
lazy."  I wrapped my legs around Kel and started to pump.  Later, I was
court martialled for conduct unbecoming an officer.  But that' s another

	Oh, no more.  I can't go on doing this.  I don't even know what
I'm saying anymore.  I wanted to tell you so much.  I just know (slap)

	It brought her back.  Now, Miss, let's get some straight answers. 
Okay?  Cody nodded. 

	The girls were imported from all over.  Caracas.  South Beach. 
Oslo.  All teenage street trash.  Although there were some older women
mixed in.  Maria was 32 and five months pregnant.  No one would miss them. 
When they got to Georgia, they were divided up.  Rojas on the left. 
Greens on the right.  Kelly and I were separated.  Then brought back
together under certain controled conditions.  Like a professional
wrestling match.  Extreme boxing.  Bare kuckle, anything goes.  Even cut

	Dip your fist in honey.  And then bury it in cut glass.  You
better put on a glove, first.  Then hit her.  Makes interesting patterns
on the face.  They taught us to fight dirty.  While they watched.  Two
redheads duking it out.  For their besotted pleas ure.  Do you wonder I
hate men? 

	I could go anywhere on the base.  They even gave me my own car and
driver.  To take me around.  My date for Prom Knight was Raul.  He was
from South America.  Each of the girls had her own room.  Two rooms
sharing a bath.  Which could be tricky, say one girl had a general from Y.
who wanted to take a leak while a sub-lieutenant from El z. was taking a
bath.  Like, who took precedence?  Him or me?  Or say even a K.t..  Who
didn't even have a country for god's sake.  On the base, we were all
brothers.  But in the whore house, that was different.  It could get macho
macho.  This isn't the rain forest, Manolete.  "Hey, go fuck a donkey." 
World War 2.  "Your mother's already blowing it."  Many died on the
bandilieros of their compadres. 


	I'm telling you.

	Stop fooling around.  Now talk.

	I'm not going to tell you anything more about what happened to
Kelly.  It was just too mean.  She had a white corsage that Pepe had given
her.  That was the name of the old Admiral who was taking her out. 
Pinochet had been a navy man.  This is not to su ggest anything libelous. 
Nothing like that.  The dress barely came to her crotch.  I was wearing
white.  Skin tight.  See through.  black lace panties.  A corset with
suspenders.  My tits bare.  Under the thin material.  I felt so seductive. 
I just want ed everytone to look at me.  Instead, they were paying
attention to Kelly.  She was getting all the action.  It was getting dark. 

	I could not bring myself to go back there.  To where we buried the
body in the swamp.  I remembered what she had looked like, and I could
imagine what she would be like now.  Arcangel.  We have Arcangel on the
line, Mr. President.  Will you take the call, please." 

	Teddy picked up the phone and said hello.  His sister answered. 
Go away.  He hung up.  It rang again.  This time, it was his mother.  He
would not talk to her.  The old man's cannon fired a fusilage up into the
pretty redhead's cunt.  You saw her face s hift, and then she responded. 
you're right.  there isn't any school. i lied.
not so fast.  What are you covering up?

tell me.  He shook her.  Her head snapped back and forth.
she passed out
wake her up
they put her through another round
where was her mother.

Afterward, she would straighten her panties, pull down her skirt and go
back to the party. 
where am I?

i keep getting my neck beaten so much I keep thinking when I wake up what
will it be like?  All over?  But the shouting.  Methodist's ridge, that
was where it was.  Shore was, Paw.  Is Andrew Jackson still preisiodent I
heard one of them saying as if he knew it was a threat to humnan
existence.  That's why we buried it in the obituaries, we thought no one
would care.  The doomsday machine.  Soon, unless we met certain
conditions, it was going to blow.  And we had forgotten what the
conditions we re.  Actually, we never knew.  Don't kill us.  I speaka
ingles what's the problem?  Me American Citizen.  Do not kill.  Shoot him. 
How were we to know we were on your turf, citizens?  Shoot him.  We
tourists.  This is Yellowstone.  Free park.  The people shot them.  We
have a schedule to keep.  Set up the tents.  The Nez Pierce headed north. 
North to Alaska, a little bit east of Nome.  He left clues in the
crossword puzzle, you see, so they found him.  But how did he know they
were looking for him?> He died.  Slumped over his steering wheel.  Three
days after he won the nobel.  Dead on the way to a conference.  He's dead. 
Now move on to the next one.  Shoot him.  Keep going.  It's an old
American technique.  Either salute it or shoot it.  Many died. 
Because there was a pecking order
of who you could shoot and who you salute.  Heil.

It went by rank.  And country.  God and country.  The fatherland.  Das
flanderin man.  At the bottom of the totem pole were the K.t.s.  All
thcensored K.t.s had was a rain forcensoredst and a parking lot across
thcensored bordcensoredr in Honduras.  Thcen sored othcensoredr
gcensoredncensoredrals from othcensoredr countricensoreds would
condcensoredsccensorednd to thcensoredm with total
politcensoredncensoredss, somcensoredtimcensoreds lcensoredtting
thcensoredm pick up censoredxtra moncensoredy for mcenso rednial tasks
such as shining thcensoredir boots whilcensored thcensored
gcensoredncensoredral fuckcensoredd thcensored audio-visual of thcensored
day.  Thcensored K.t.s wcensoredrcensored bcensoredlow thcensored Ton Ton
Macoutcensoreds and thcensored Hce nsoredll's Angcensoredls.  Thcensored
only thing lowcensoredr than a K.t. was a K.b..  Thcensored K.t.s, at
lcensoredast, wcensoredrcensored applying thcensoredmscensoredlvcensoreds,
fighting for thcensoredir bcensoredlicensoredfs, by going into nativcens
ored villagcensoreds and putting hand grcensorednadcensoreds in thcensored
mouths of tcensoredn-ycensoredar-olds and blowing thcensoredm up
whilcensored thcensoredir parcensorednts watchcensoredd, and thcensoredn
killing thcensored mothcensoredr and shoot ing thcensored old man's balls
off.  Thcensored K.b.s would havcensored likcensoredd to havcensored shot
thcensored balls off thcensored Communists in Havana, but thcensoredy had
bcensoredcomcensored bcensoredsottcensoredd by thcensored brothcensoredls
of Miami whilcensored thcensoredy waitcensoredd for thcensored gringos to
gcensoredt thcensoredm thcensoredir country back again.  Fidcensoredl and
Chcensored had hung out in Oricensoredntcensored Provinccensored fighting
thcensored Baptistas, but thcensore d K.b.s wcensoredrcensored not going
to givcensored up thcensored flcensoredsh pots of South Bcensoredach and
Coconut Grovcensored for somcensored moisquito infcensoredstcensoredd
bivouac in thcensored San Juan hills.  What for?  When they had people
like Jesse Helms and Toricelli to do their dirty work in Congress.  They
were thoroughly spoiled.  They only pretended to train.  The generals of
legitimate countries despised them. 

How about it?  Want some?  uyh yeah
like who's going to believe it when your dead and I'm the one in trouble? 
Getting rid of a whore at three in the morning is a tricky business.  You
never know who you're going to pick up and what you're going to do with
her.  Take her to the airport.  I run a car service.  Pickups and
deliveries.  Very fast.  Very neat.  It's a franchise.  Take her where she
wants to go.  Did a five star admiral from a country like P. outrank a
doorman at the Ritz?  Keep going.  Don't stop.  The ack ack ack nibbled at
th eir heels.  Never a dull moment, she thought, falling into a fox hole
at three in the morning.  Verdun.  We shipped them to Verdun.  For
redistribution.  This one goes where?  Down here under the bushes, no one
will notice her.  The ack ack ack ripped up the blonde's dress.  Comrade
Nina.  She was a friend of the Admiral's.  Until one day he got tired of
her, and that was it.  Kelly fell hard.  I watched her lie there.  Not
moving.  An inch.  Not even a centimeter.  She wasn't even breathing.  So
what> I U brought her back.  She tested me.  But I showed her.  Now she's
where she ought to be.  In raging pits of hell fire.  The shameless hussy. 
Oh, come on Aunt Agatha.  Lighten up.  You'll get your chance at her. 

	There was nothing left of Kelly.  She was just gone.  I think the
force field was a litle much.  You didn't have to do that to her.  You
know what?  I think you liked it.  I think you liked killing Cody.  Didn't
you.  Admit it.  I had to admit that our s ide also had blood on its
hands.  But we were fighting for a cause and she was on the side of the
revolution.  Our intelligence gathering is very sophisticated.  Like, you
beat up a whore, and she tells you everything.  IT's right there.  /What
more do yo u need to get a warrant?  Oh, and also do a blood test.  I want
to know exactly how she died.  It must have been wonderful.  I get it now. 
You killed her.  Right?  That's about it. 

He looked down at his hands at the hands that had killed Cody.  Never mind
the other one.  She's trash.  But this is Cody.  How did you describe her? 
Cody brings to mind a twelve year-old in ponytails, freckles, innocence
and... what?  What else?  Teddy, I think you did it.  Congratulations, 
Mr. President.  I think you finally killed your inner child. 

	He looked down.  uh yeah.
	Ay Caramba.../ the castandedss are dancing in my gberaing Carlos,
come in Carlos.  I'm not kidding any more.  Where are you?  Don Juan was
the gardener.  He was supposed to watch out for little Teodora.  Did I say
ah.  I meant o.  And he lost him out in the desert.  The kid was hiding. 
Or had been eaten by a mo untain lion.  And don Juan was in trouble.  So
he made up this story about anthropology.  Showing the kid plants.  Lost
civilizations.  Brujos.  The old man was a wizard with words.  Carlos

	Many times the old man tried to poison him.

	Many times Carlos found out about it and got away.
He was like a cat.

The old man was tricky.
his dick was limp
the castanets were riccochetting in his brain
as the bullet passed through and lodged in a chair.
Not necessarily the thing you're looking for.
Abercrombie & Fitch outfitted his expedition.  I'm going to Afriac.  What
have you got?  Cholera.  The measles.  Chicken pox.  He floated on a blur
of asthma through the world.  Do you know what not being able to breathe
is like?  Try it some time.  It ca n be very spiritual.  He held his
breath while the next one came in.  Then let it out.  The resin soaked
into his pores.  Going deep.  Down to the balrog.  Waking it up.  Making
it think.  MAybe there might be some way out of here for the beggar from
reli ef.  Balrogian lore is not exactly clear on what a balrog is, but you
wouldn't want to meet one of them.  Wha'd I say:?  I said you may be one
of them.  He wasn't sure what she had said.  So he decided to make an
alternative universe.  Which he did.  Begi nning with Africa and going on
to the end of his life.  It means the house of the chief.  The heart of
darkness on San Juan hill was the most profound thing I have ever
remembered.  But I did it.  And put one in too.  I'll use this revolver to
kill myself if anything goes wrong.  So don't worry.  They shan't eat me. 
Oh Teodor, I'm so glad.  I never doubted you.  Then they went up river and
shot a buffalo.  The war was getting serious.  This was a genetic war,
which cannot be said to include all options.  Of course not.  I said I
would be there.  Didn't I?  Yes, madame, you did.  But you have been shot
by your husband.  Frances Macomber.  It had been a fair fight.  He had had
the luck of the draw.  Besides that, he shot her in the back.  Those big
expensive tits exploded on the elephant gun's explosion.  Giant
mammeraries hollowed them out.  Put sugar in them.  Used them for servers. 
A shelf, right across her breasts.  The other board underneath and holding
them out.  Have one.  He took the big juicy fruit and gave it a bounce. 
Kelly just stared.  I threw her into the trash.  Come on, sweetcakes, give
us a bounce.  I'll get you for this, Cody.  I swear I will.  Yeah.  Yeah. 
Like I'm afraid of her.  Forget it.  Kelly gave orders from prison.  Cody
disob eyed.  Wait til I get out.  She would really crack the whip on the
fourteen year old smorgasbord.  Someone pulled my pants down.  Kelly's big
lips were drooling cunt spit.  What comes after the inner child? 

	nada nothing
the void
The commandantes roamed about the prison camp, looking at faces, sorting
them out.  This one stand over there.  This one here.  Take those out back
and shoot them.  You just had to be in the right line.  She was shaking in
her shoes.  What if she passed the test.  Then what?  He'd be all over
her.  Don't touch me.  She was not impressed.  One commander in particular
singled her out.  A grenade was slipped into her mouth and she was led
into the center of a circle.  Where she was led around by the pin. 
Between her teeth and her tongue.  One wants it in.  One wants it out. 
Which one wins?  Kelly was whining, she didn't want to do it.  Slap.  She
cried.  Eveerything was getting squishy squishy.  Time to get out.  We met
Jung on the footpath.  Going in.  Y ou must see it old man.  Bully.  Ya
wohl.  Schatzi.  He thought he was in Africa.  The burning sun gets to
you.  Ich bin ein Berliner.  Which is a sugar treat.  A lot of smart asses
laughed at him when he said that.  But the girls knew what he meant.  His
sweet jelly roll.  Let the good times role.  Teddy, did you say that? 
What?  That.  No.  Let the good times roil.  Sugar was having a feast. 
Ich Bin Ein Berliner.  Just so they would get it.  Jackie was furious. 

	But I don't want to talk about the Kennedys.  They're too
powerful.  It would get me in trouble.  They had gotten married in
Georgia.  Same as me and Kel.  I really loved her.  I don't want to admit
she's dead.  I've only buried her in the swamp.  It's n ot a fittin
funeral for a girl like Kelly.  She should have roses.  And lots of pink
ribbon to tie up her curly red hair.  Wait a minute.  I'm the bride. 
Kelly's supposed to wear dress uniform.  Okay.  She looks more like a
Rockette than a macho stud.  B lack panties.  Military tunic, slicing
directly across her hips.  As she moved, it was like she was fighting with
her clothes.  Operation Media had been a success.  My father's child
bride.  She was younger than I was.  I wanted to hurt her.  I let her we
ar my hair shirts.  Actually, it was more like a metallic mesh, made of a
special alloy and much lighter than silk.  It clung to every curve and
hollow of her luscious young body.  He ran his hand lightly over it,
generating a current which she felt throu gh her every fiber.  Stumming
it, he moved down to the cells of the poor innocent waif.  You could also
snap or whip it, causing overpowering sensations.  Kelly was like a
guitar.  He played her all night.  Giving the neighbors no sleep.  "Hey,
man.  We have death squad practice in the morning.  Shut up."  "Why are
you complaining?  I have nun raping."  He really hated that class.  All
South Americans are pious Catholics.  The people who ran the school were
mostly Baptists and Episcopalians, with a few Israel i advisers.  Somehow,
the gringos had gotten it into their heads that the South American
soldiers would like to rape nuns.  It was a typical misperception caused
by lack of communication between two radically different cultures.  The
men were made to do it over and over again, so that when they went back to
their countries, they would be able to do it right.  They also had to
write a term paper on underlying theory.  Some excelled, but others
suffered terribly, even more so from the knowledge that these were not
real nuns they were raping, but young girls, street whores, wearing
surplus habits.  It was disgusting.  Eventually, however, several
commandos filed a suit in federal court, claiming their religious freedom
had been violated.  They also contended that the requirement the papers be
in English was unconstitutional.  The government ended up having to pay
each man enough money to buy his own developing nation.  It cost millions
of American tax dollars.  ("And that's your money!")

	Duels were fought on the parade ground at dawn.  If you could get
up that early with the kid in the next room banging on drums.  The school
had its own orchestra.  And theatre socieity.  At night, plays would be
performed in the solarium.  The officers w ould bring their ladies. 
Decorum reigned.  It was like any other small town campus.  Jorge went out
for football.  By this time, she was just babbling.  Anything to make the
current go away.  Curants and ways.  Call our man in Peoria and complain. 
It's just like an office.  You get up and go to work there.  Mine is just
downstairs.  Would you like to come down?  He shot her.  He had been
stalking her.  But he did not know the vice admiral of the Joint Chiefs
would be fucking her at the same time.  It wa s like an elephant gun went
off inside her.  Actually, it had.  Macho macho macho man.  Ole.  To have
and have not.  Do you remember how the light was at seven in the morning? 
Behind her.  She spun, drawing her gun.  Friendly Fire took her out.  Get
to the point.  That's the video you have, right? 

If you don't, I can send it to you.  Let me give you the address of my fan
club.  14 Beaumont.  The green house on the left.  You can't miss it.  I
didn't tell you about the other girls.  Commander Niki.  Captain Amanda. 
That's right.  You're in here.  G ive her the door.  Let me get this
straight, you're Ted who?  And you bought what?  Here, let me show you on
a map.  Of Greenland.  The generals trudged onward.  The whole army of the
south had been exterminated.  Now all that was left was the generals. 
Dragging their asses through North Carolina.  Trying to reach the union
lines.  If they could just got a job there, the south might still be
saved.  Beauregard outflnaked Jackson on the left.  And came in through
the soft underbelly of Baton Rouge.  Gotta go there.  They moved the state
capital north so it would be close to a whore house.  And this was the
blackest.  This was the true heart of darkness.  This was Joyner territory
they were passing through.  Never cottoned to them.  Settle a few scores. 
N ip out the back.  Hit her in the face.  He loves her.  What can I say? 
The guy's in love with his target.  They always do that.  Guys fall in
love with who they're trained to kill.  Which is themselves.  I mean,
she's like a mirror to his excellency, the fifty star field marshall.  One
for every year.  This is the one who keeps flunking so he doesn't have to
go back to El zia.  The ancient land.  The island where we would find him. 
Another sea.  What is this?  The ocean is that way.  This is an ocean.  If
the ocean is that way, then this must be a different ocean.  I cristen
thee, what am I going to call it?> Winston.  Hernando., Alfonse, after my
father.  If only he could have lived.  Joe Kennedy did.  Till Jack was
president.  And then he had a stro ke.  Strange, isn't it.  Just as it
seems you've finally got things where you want them, the roof caves in or
the ground shifts.  A hand reaches out of the center field bleechers and
-- it's a home run!  Nothing worked.  Only his mind was still active.  I n
the end, he named it Grace.  
What a wimpy name.  
The biggest optcean in
the world, and you call it 

what? that's the way he talks now


hojo took him out.
Hank tried to protect her.
She betrayed him.
the generals turned in their papers

they were hopeless.  There was insurection in the ranks.  Put him down. 
Do it.  shoot first.  Kill them.  She went mad after that.  It was the
town people who played the bad guys.  Didn't you notice.  She shot him in
the back to protect her husband, but after that, she went crazy with the
shock.  The big gun had broken her shoulder. hurling her back across the
furniture like some primeval rage
built up inside of her.
were there leaks at the power plant
there are now
good.  Let's get out of here.

The two figures ran down the slope of the wide lawn, picking up dew on
their clothes.  He followed the trail like a bloodhound, picking up scent. 
She came through here.  The most dangerous game.  Knowing who was the who
and who was the target.  Does anyo ne know the exact description of the
gun teddy roosevelt took with him onto the serengetti plaine where he was
a peace officer for sevreal years.  He came back to a hero's option.  Take
the pledge or take a walk.  The airplane picked him up and took him i nto
the air.  Explain that.  If you're so damned smart.  It's me, waiting to
get in.  Outside.  With the twister. That's what we called her.  The
twister. Hey, you're not writing any of this down are you?  I could get in
big trouble if someone saw this.  If the revolution does not come to a
full stop now.  But he could no longer control it.  A sweet breeze was
blowin g through the atrium, scented with pine.  She sprayed some on her
wrist.  See.  It's just like pine.  This is Fruit of Magnolia.  And this
is Milk of Magnesia.  Try some.  It's groovy.  We're marching to Peoria. 
You know, you could get sick of hearing th at over and over again.  Being
with Teddy on a trek was mindboggling.  He was always talking.  Out there
in the wilderness.  All that land that he's saving up.  It's my country
and I'll do what I want with it.  That's the idea, you see.  You do
something with it.  What's this?  A pyramid of skulls.  What's it for? 
The tourists.  A busload of tourists had gotten onto the Yellowstone
Range.  William Tecumseh Shermann had said it was safe because the Indians
kept their distance from it.  And now it was all going down a hole.  In
the ground.  But Sherman was wrong.  The Nez went strauight through there
on their flight to the sea., There was no time for niceties.  Teddy's
uncle Edgar died.  So did Hubert and Grace.  He sawed it off, the gun. 
And went looking for someone else to blow away. 

they heard the report and then the echo coming from the Fairgrounds.

Maximillion was dead.
he had the distinct impression someone was trying to get him.

oh, not old sure shot.  I'd do anything to get out from under him.  I'll
take him for you.  Then you owe me.  Randy Wright was calling in his
optioins.  They were down to the bone.  I give you this.  You take that. 
Two old dictators having it out on the planes of Seringetti.  I have been
emperor of Chile.  I have been boss of the world.  I have a buntline
special coming your way,. Oh yeah?  I killed Cody. 

That was the topper.  A man without a target.  No one could touch him. 
But Cody was still alive.  Back in the states.  Having a ball.  Kicking up
hell.  Now don't go too far.  You'll unleash a balrog.  A what?  Something
you didn't ask for.  Oh. i sent my soul invisible to the afterlife to tell
something something and by and by my soul returned and said I'm it.  You
yourself are heaven and hell.  Actually, she had been to New York, which
is a lot like both of them.  Actually, she had stayed at th e Ritz and
sent a deputy to handle the dirty work.  That's you.  Comprende?  Yeah. 
If you could survive Fort Myers, you could take everything.  Even the
Citadel.  Women defeated the purpose.  They had won.  Soon they were
bringing their friends.  Soon it was occupied.  The territory was being
domesticated.  The men tried to break out.  Freedpm was not so easy to
obtain anymore.  Like old clams, they were slowing down.  Thje generals
danced in the moonlight.  You can do a lot of things with voodoo.  Yuki
beat out a beat.  To keep them stepping in their bright uniforms.  During
the day they would train and during the night they would dance.  There was
no letup on the reigme in power for the first time in many centuries, he
began to make changes.  Soon he h ad reached the heart of darkness beyond
the office.  And then he would know what to do. 

Rambo took her out.
Raul was furious.
Carlos said he didn't care.
My brother said that?  What does he mean?

Now we shot the rabbots/ headed downstream.  What did you mean by that?  I
just said it.  How do I know what it means?  I don't.  So forget it.  Keep
the guns away from Dad.  This was burdensome.  We had to check the weapons
every evening to make sure th e president had not taken one to bed. 
Fucking a gun in the middle of the night could have dire reprocussions. 
From boyhood, he had tested himself, sleeping each night with one of his
father's riftles tucked under his chin.  The safety off.  Now it was g
etting good.  It was a closed coffin.  He died in his sleep.  When it
finally went off, it was no surprise.  He planned it that way.  To the
last still moment of doubt.  Was erased/.  Every night, the girl from the
golden west appeared and told him a stor y.  And in the morning, she would
be gone.  The next night she would come back, laced with the powers of the
east and trailing a cloud of dust.  Like a train.  Franklin fixed it.  He
was gaining experience.  Soon he could cope.  And a tin of cheeses from
Abercrombie's lower level.  He ate the cheese as he fucked the gun.  Boy,
could that be a kick. 

                        Another Epilogue


	Here is some extra junk I have not been able to work into what
I've written so far.  It may also address some points in your letter: 

	Rosas, the dictator's, full name was Juan Manuel de Rosas.  de
Rosas died in exile in England but his remains were returned to Argentina
in 1989 by President Carlos Saul Menem as a prelude to granting
presidential pardons to military officers, many of wh om were graduates of
the School of the Americas, for political crimes such as dropping people
out of airplanes into the Atlantic Ocean.  Rosas was never actually chief
of state, he was more like a warlord, but Menem buried him with the
honors.  Ole. 

	In case you haven't noticed, the federal Aid to Families with
Dependent Children is finished, kaput, wiped out by Clinton's new
anti-welfare law.  Same with other federally supported welfare programs. 

	How many children do you think gay people have?  Banning same sex
marriages has nothing to do with welfare.  But it does and will affect
immigration policies and insurance policies for same sex partners.  For
instance, if your partner is foreign born, be ing married will not
automatically entitle him or her to legal residency.  Also, the tax codes
are set up so married couples pay much more than single persons, and you
pay even more if you are married and file separately.  Check it out. 

	I doubt that anything I might say, no matter how rational, is
going to inspire Rupert Murdoch to reach out and help people, although it
is a kind, sweet thought.  The reason Guiliani and Pataki are reaching out
to try and help Rupert at this juncture of his life, has to do with the
fact he owns Channel 5 and the New York Post, which have played a major
role in getting P. & G. their present jobs.  In short, he owns them. 
Among the Post's columnists is Arianna Huffington, who not long ago
(9/18/96) wrote an article complaining about a Senate bill which would
force HMOs to allow new mothers forty-eight hours maternity hospital care. 
Even Jesse Helms and Strom Thurmmond voted for it.  But Mrs. Huffington,
who is a mother, said it was "barmy."  She, she sai d, had left the
hospital in less than 24 hours with both her kids.  "What I needed is what
every new mother needs: help at home so I could devote myself to my babies
during this critical bonding period."  Oh yeah?  The idea of bonding with
Arianna Huffing ton is scary enough, but what Mama H. neglected to mention
was while the epoxy was fixing between her and said offspring, the home
help included an immigrant nanny from a third world country who the
Huffingtons knew was in the U.S. illegally; i.e. illegal alien, one of
those peons to whom her very rich congressman husband campaigned to
deprive of health and educational services when he ran for the senate. 
The millions the Huffingtons threw away trying (unsuccessfully) to get
Michael elected broke all rec ords for a senate campaign, enough to buy
their own banana republic.  But they stiffed the government for social
security taxes on their illegal nanny.  However, this is a moot point now,
because under Clinton's new laws, non-citizens, whether illegal or not,
will be ineligible for social security even if they have had payments
taken out of their paychecks.  So much for the fruits of kindness and
rationality.  Personally, I'd rather scream. 

	(I've got to finish this fucking book.  It's making me nuts.)


Part 5 Index Part 7