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Louis Toodleoo). Warm spring wind blows faded pink curtains in through open window.... Frogs croak in vacant lots where corn grows and boys catch little green garter snakes under broken limestone stelae stained with shit and threaded with rusty barbed wire.... Neon -- chlorophyll green, purple, orange -- flashes on and off. ) Johnny extracts a candiru from Mary's cunt with his calipers.... He drops it into a bottle of mescal where it turns into a Maguey worm.... He gives her a douche of jungle bone-softener, her vaginal teeth flow out mixed with blood and cysts.... Her cunt shines fresh and sweet as spring grass.... Johnny licks Mary's cunt, slow at first, with rising excitement parts the lips and licks inside feeling the prickle of pubic hairs on his tumescent tongue.... Arms thrown back, breasts poin- ing straight up, Mary lies transfixed with neon nails. ...Johnny moves up her body, his cock with a shining round opal of lubricant at the open slit, slides through her pubic hairs and enters her cunt to the hilt, drawn in by a suction of hungry flesh.... His face swells with blood, green lights burst behind his eyes and he falls with a scenic railway through screaming girls.... Damp hairs on the back of his balls dry to grass in the warm spring wind. High jungle valley, vines creep in the window. Johnny's cock swells, great rank buds burst out. A long tuber root creeps from Mary's cunt, feels for the earth. The bodies disintegrate in green explosions. The hut falls in ruins of broken stone. The boy is a limestone statue, a plant sprouting from his cock, lips parted in the half-smile of a junky on the nod. 4 0 0 The Beagle has stashed the heroin in a lottery ticket, One more shot -- tomorrow the cure. The way is long. Hard-ons and bring-downs are fre- quent. It was a long time over the stony reg to the oasis of date palms where Arab boys shit in the well and rock n' roll across the sands of muscle beach eating hot-dogs and spitting out gold teeth in nuggets. Toothless and strictly from the long hunger, ribs you could wash your filthy overalls on, that corrugate, they quaver down from the outrigger in Easter Island and stalk ashore on legs stiff and brittle as stilts... they nod in club windows... fallen into the fat of lack-need to sell a slim body. The date palms have died of meet lack, the well filled with dried shit and mosaic of a thousand newspapers: "Russia denies. |
