mattress, up on the sheet.
he looked down at me.
âis this guy a fag? he looks like a fag, sure as hell.â
âI donât THINK he is. he might be. he can sure ball a broad, though.â
âyou want me to run him in?â he asked Vicki.
I had my eyes closed. it was a long wait. god, it was a long wait. that big foot there on my sheets. the electric light shining down.
then she spoke. finally. âno, heâs ⦠o.k. leave him there.â
the cop took his foot down. I heard him walk across the room, then wait at the door. he spoke to Vicki:
âIâm going to have to charge you 5 bucks more for your protection next month. youâre getting a bit harder to watch out for.â
then he was gone. I mean, out into the hall. I waited for him to get into the elevator. I heard it go down to the first floor. I counted to 64. then, I LEAPED OUT OF BED.
my nostrils were flaring like Gregory Peck in heat.
âYOU ROTTEN BITCH. YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN AND IâM GOING TO KILL YOU!â
âNO, NO, NO!!!!â
I raised my hand to give her the old backhand.
âI TOLD HIM NOT TO TAKE YOU!â she screamed at me.
âummm. thatâs right. Iâve got to consider that.â
I lowered my hand.
then there was some whiskey left and some wine too. I got up and put the chain on the door.
we turned off the lights and sat there and drank and smoked and talked about things. this, and that. easy and casual. then, like old times, we looked at the same red horse that flew and flew in red neon on the side of a building just downtown to our east. it flew and flew on the side of this building all night. no matter what happened. you know what it was, a kind of red horse with red wings of neon. but I told you that. a winged horse. anyhow. like always, we counted: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. the wings always flapped 7 times. then the horse, everything, stood still. then, it started again. our whole apartment would be in this red glow. then when the horse stopped flying, somehow things would get white for a flash. I donât know why. I think that it was caused by an advertisement beneath the red winged horse. it said, some kind of product, buy this or buy that, in this WHITE. anyhow.
we sat and talked and drank and smoked.
later we went to bed together. she kissed very nicely, her tongue was kind of an apologetic sadness.
then we fucked. we fucked as the red horse flew.
7 times the wings flapped. and in the center of the rug the 3 chickens were still there. watching. the chickens turned red, the chickens turned white, the chickens turned red. 7 times they turned red. then they turned white. 14 times they turned red. then they turned white. 21 times they turned red. then they turned white. 28 times.â¦
it had ended a better night than most.
TEN JACK-OFFS
old Sanchez is a genius but I am the only one who knows it and itâs always good to go see him. there are very few people I can stay in a room with more than 5 minutes without feeling gutted. Sanchez passes my tests, and I am very test, hehehehe, oh my god, anyhow, I go to see him now and then in his hand-built two story shack. he installed his own plumbing, has a free-feed line from a high-power voltage line, has connected himself up a telephone which feeds underground from a neighborâs installation, but he explains to me that he cannot call long distance or out of the city without exposing his sycophancy. he even lives with a young woman who says very little, paints, walks about looking sexy and makes love to him and him to her, of course. he bought the ground for very little and although the place is some distance from Los Angeles, you might call this an advantage. he sits among wires, popular mechanics magazines, tape recording sets, shelves and shelves of books on all subjects. he is concise, never rude; he is humourous and magic, he writes very well but is not interested in fame. once in a great while
he looked down at me.
âis this guy a fag? he looks like a fag, sure as hell.â
âI donât THINK he is. he might be. he can sure ball a broad, though.â
âyou want me to run him in?â he asked Vicki.
I had my eyes closed. it was a long wait. god, it was a long wait. that big foot there on my sheets. the electric light shining down.
then she spoke. finally. âno, heâs ⦠o.k. leave him there.â
the cop took his foot down. I heard him walk across the room, then wait at the door. he spoke to Vicki:
âIâm going to have to charge you 5 bucks more for your protection next month. youâre getting a bit harder to watch out for.â
then he was gone. I mean, out into the hall. I waited for him to get into the elevator. I heard it go down to the first floor. I counted to 64. then, I LEAPED OUT OF BED.
my nostrils were flaring like Gregory Peck in heat.
âYOU ROTTEN BITCH. YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN AND IâM GOING TO KILL YOU!â
âNO, NO, NO!!!!â
I raised my hand to give her the old backhand.
âI TOLD HIM NOT TO TAKE YOU!â she screamed at me.
âummm. thatâs right. Iâve got to consider that.â
I lowered my hand.
then there was some whiskey left and some wine too. I got up and put the chain on the door.
we turned off the lights and sat there and drank and smoked and talked about things. this, and that. easy and casual. then, like old times, we looked at the same red horse that flew and flew in red neon on the side of a building just downtown to our east. it flew and flew on the side of this building all night. no matter what happened. you know what it was, a kind of red horse with red wings of neon. but I told you that. a winged horse. anyhow. like always, we counted: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. the wings always flapped 7 times. then the horse, everything, stood still. then, it started again. our whole apartment would be in this red glow. then when the horse stopped flying, somehow things would get white for a flash. I donât know why. I think that it was caused by an advertisement beneath the red winged horse. it said, some kind of product, buy this or buy that, in this WHITE. anyhow.
we sat and talked and drank and smoked.
later we went to bed together. she kissed very nicely, her tongue was kind of an apologetic sadness.
then we fucked. we fucked as the red horse flew.
7 times the wings flapped. and in the center of the rug the 3 chickens were still there. watching. the chickens turned red, the chickens turned white, the chickens turned red. 7 times they turned red. then they turned white. 14 times they turned red. then they turned white. 21 times they turned red. then they turned white. 28 times.â¦
it had ended a better night than most.
TEN JACK-OFFS
old Sanchez is a genius but I am the only one who knows it and itâs always good to go see him. there are very few people I can stay in a room with more than 5 minutes without feeling gutted. Sanchez passes my tests, and I am very test, hehehehe, oh my god, anyhow, I go to see him now and then in his hand-built two story shack. he installed his own plumbing, has a free-feed line from a high-power voltage line, has connected himself up a telephone which feeds underground from a neighborâs installation, but he explains to me that he cannot call long distance or out of the city without exposing his sycophancy. he even lives with a young woman who says very little, paints, walks about looking sexy and makes love to him and him to her, of course. he bought the ground for very little and although the place is some distance from Los Angeles, you might call this an advantage. he sits among wires, popular mechanics magazines, tape recording sets, shelves and shelves of books on all subjects. he is concise, never rude; he is humourous and magic, he writes very well but is not interested in fame. once in a great while
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