I took the elevator down. feeling rather good. a good jaunty 4-floor ride down. the elevator was kind of a cage-like contraption and smelled like old stockings, old gloves, old dustmops, but it gave me a feeling of security and power - somehow - and the wine rode all through me.

but then I got outside and had a change of mind. I went to the liquor store. bought 4 more bottles of wine and went back to my place and rode the elevator back up. the same feeling of security and power. I walked into my place. Vicki was sitting in a chair crying.

"I've come back to you, you lucky darling," I told her.

"you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you hit me. YOU HIT ME!"

"umm, I said, opening a new bottle. "and you give me any more s.h.i.t and I'll hit you again."

"YEAH!" she screamed, "YOU'D HIT ME BUT YOU WOULDN'T HAVE ENOUGH GUTS TO HIT A MAN!"

"h.e.l.l NO!" I screamed back, "I WOULDN'T HIT A MAN!

YOU THINK I'M CRAZY? WHAT'S THAT GOT TO DO WITH IT?"

that settled her for a bit and we sat for a bit and we sat drinking down the watergla.s.sfuls of wine, port.

then she started in on her abusive stuff again, mostly claiming I jacked off while she was asleep.

well, even if it were true I figured that was my business and if it wasn't, then she was REALLY crazy. she claimed I jacked off in the bathtub, in the closet, in the elevator, everywhere.

everytime I got out of the tub she'd run into the bathroom, like: "there! I SEE IT! LOOK AT IT!"

"you crazy bat, that's just the dirt-ring."

"no, that's "COME! that's COME!"

or she'd run in while I was bathing under the arms or between the legs and say, "see, see, SEE! you're DOING IT!"

"doing WHAT? can't a man wash his b.a.l.l.s? those are MY b.a.l.l.s, G.o.d d.a.m.n you! can't a man wash his own b.a.l.l.s?"

"what's that thing sticking up there?"

"my left index finger. now get the h.e.l.l OUT OF HERE!!!"

or in bed, I'd be sound asleep and all of a sudden this hand grabbing my string and nuggets, man, sound asleep in the middle of the night, these FINGERNAILS!

"AH HA! I CAUGHT YOU! I CAUGHT YOU!"

"you crazy bat, the next time you do that I SWEAR I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"for christ's sake, go to sleep-"

so this night she just sat there screaming her j.a.c.k.o.f.f accusaa"

tions. I just sat there and drank my wine and didn't deny anything.

this made her angry, angrier.

and angrier.

finally she couldn't stand it, all her talk about jackingoff, I mean ME supposedly jackingoff and me just sitting there smiling at her, and she jumped up and ran out the door.

I let her go. I sat there and drank my wine, port.

same old stuff.

I thought it over, umm, umm, well.

then very leisurely I got up and took the elevator down,same old feeling of power. I was not angry. I was very calm. it was just the same old war.

I walked on down the street but I didn't go to her favorite bar.

why repeat the same play? you are a wh.o.r.e; I tried to make a woman out of you. b.a.l.l.s. after a while a man could get to sounding pretty silly. so I went to another bar and sat down on a stool near the door. I ordered a drink and took a slug, set the timing down, and then I saw her. Vicki. she was at the other end of the bar. for some reason she looked scared s.h.i.tless.

but I didn't go on down. I just stared at her as if I didn't know her.

then I noticed something next to me in one of those old fashioned fox furs. the dead fox's head hung down over her breast looking at me. the breast looked at me.

"your fox looks like it needs a drink, sweetie" I told her.

"it's dead; it don't need a drink. I need a drink or I'm gonna die."

well, a nice guy like me. who am I to spread death? I bought her a drink, her name, she told me, was Margy. I told her that I was Thomas Nightengale, shoesalesman. Margy. all these women with names, drinking, c.r.a.pping, having monthlies. f.u.c.king men. getting folded into walls. it was too much.

we had a coupla more, and already she was in her purse, flashing the photo of her children, an ugly demented boy and a girl without any hair, they were in some dull place in Ohio, the father had understanding. oh, one of THOSE? and he brought these women in the house and screwed them in front of her with all the lights on.

"ah, I see, I see," I said. "yes, of course, most men are beasts, they simply do not understand. and you're SUCH a sweetie, what the h.e.l.l, it ain't right."

I suggested we go to another bar. Vicki's a.s.s was twitching and she was half Indian.

we left her there. we went around the corner. we had one around the corner.

then I suggested we go to my place. do a little eating. I mean, get something to cook, bake, fry.

I didn't tell her about Vicki, of course. but Vicki always prided herself on her G.o.d d.a.m.ned baked chickens. maybe it was because she looked like one. a baked chicken with horse teeth.

so I suggested we get a chicken, bake it, bathe it in whiskey.

she did not demur.

so. liquor store. 5th of whiskey. 5 or 6 quarts of beer.

we found an all night market. the place even had a butcher.

"we wanta bake a chicken," I said.

"oh, christ," he said.

I dropped one of the quarts of beer. it really exploded.

"christ," he said.

I dropped another to see what he would say.

"oh, jesus," he said.

"I want THREE CHICKENS," I said.

"THREE CHICKENS?" "jesus christ, yes," I said.

the butcher reached in and got three very white-yellow chickens with a few long black unplucked hairs that looked like human hairs on them and he wrapped them all up a big big bundle, all in pink tough paper with this real gripping tape, and I paid him and we got out of there.

I dropped 2 more quarts of beer on the way.

I rode up the elevator, feeling my power rising. when we got inside my door I lifted Margy's dress to see what was holding her stockings up. then I gave her a big chummy whiskey-goose with long-finger right hand. she screamed and dropped the big pink bundle. it fell on the rug and the 3 chickens came out. those 3 chickens, all white-yellow with their 29 or 30 drooling dropping murdered human hairs sticking to them looked very strange gaping there on that worn rug of yellow and brown flowers and trees and Chinese dragons, under electric lights in los angeles at the end of the world near 6th street under Union.

"oooh, the chickens."

"f.u.c.k the chickens."

her garter belt was dirty. it was perfect. I goosed her again.

well, s.h.i.t, so I sat down and peeled the whiskey bottle, poured a couple of tall watergla.s.ses full, took off my shoes stockings pants shirt, took one of her cigarettes. sat in my underwear. I always do that, right away. I like to be comfortable.. if the broad don't like it, f.u.c.k her. she can go. but they always stay. I got a manner. some broads say I should have been a king. others say other things. f.u.c.k *em.

she drank most of her drink and started for her purse. "I have some children in Ohio. they're lovely children-"

"forget that. we've been through that stage. tell me, do you suck d.i.c.k?"

"what do you mean?"

"OH, b.a.l.l.s!" I smashed my gla.s.s against the wall.

then I got another one, filled it up, and we drank some more.

I don't know how long we worked on the whiskey but it must have gotten to me because the next thing I know I was laying on the bed naked. staring up at the electric light and Margy was standing there naked and she was rubbing my p.e.n.i.s quite rapidly with her fox fur. and while she was rubbing she was saying over and over, "I am going to f.u.c.k you, I am going to f.u.c.k you-"

"listen," I said. "I don't know if you can f.u.c.k me. I jacked-off in the elevator earlier this evening. I think it was about 8 o'clock."

"I will f.u.c.k you anyhow."

she really speeded up that fox fur. it was all right. maybe I could get one for myself. I once knew a guy who put raw liver in a long drinking gla.s.s and screwed that. me, I didn't like to stick my thing into anything that could break or slice. imagine going to a doctor with a b.l.o.o.d.y c.o.c.k and saying it happened while s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g a water gla.s.s. once while I was b.u.mming in a small town in Texas I saw this well-built wonderful f.u.c.k of a young broad married to this little shriveled up old dwarf with a nasty disposition and some kind of malady that made him trembly all over. she supported him and pushed him around in a wheelchair, and I used to think of him pouncing on all that good meat. I'd get a picture of it, you know, and then finally I got the story. when she had been a younger girl she had gotten this c.o.ke bottle stuck all the way into her s.n.a.t.c.h and just couldn't get the thing out and had to go to a doctor. he got it out, and somehow the story got out. she was ruined in that town after that, and didn't have sense enough to get out. n.o.body wanted her except the nasty dwarf with the shakes. he didn't give a d.a.m.n - he had the best piece of a.s.s in town.

where was I? oh, yeah.

her fox fur went faster and faster and I finally got something going just as I heard a key go into the door. oh, s.h.i.t, it was probably Vicki!

well, it's simple, I thought. I'll just boot her a.s.s out and go about my business.

the door opened and there stood Vicki with 2 cops standing behind her.

"GET THAT WOMAN OUT OF MY HOUSE!" she screamed.

COPS! I couldn't believe it. I pulled the sheet over my pulsaa"

ting and throbbing and giant s.e.xual organ and pretended to be asleep. it looked like I had a cuc.u.mber under there.

Margy was screaming back: "I know you, Vicki, this ain't your G.o.d d.a.m.ned house! this guy EARNS his way by licking your a.s.shole hairs! he gets you babbling to heaven in Morse code with that long sandpaper tongue of his, you're nothing but a Wh.o.r.e, a true blue t.u.r.dy-gulping 2-dollar wh.o.r.e. and THAT went out with Franky D., and you were 48 THEN!"

hearing that, my cuc.u.mber went down. both of these broads must have been 80 years old. singly, that is, together they might have reached back to suck-off Abe Lincoln, something like that.

suck-off General Robert E. Lee, Patrick Henry. Mozart. Dr. Samuel Johnson. Robespierre. Napoleon. Machiavelli? wine preserves. G.o.d endures. the wh.o.r.es blow on.

and Vicki screamed back: "WHO'S A Wh.o.r.e? WHO'S A Wh.o.r.e, HUH? YOU'RE A Wh.o.r.e, THAT'S WHO! YOU'VE BEEN SELLING THAT CLAPPED HOLE OF YOURS UP AND.

DOWN ALVARADO STREET FOR 30 YEARS! A BLIND RAT.

WOULD BACK UP 4 TIMES IF HE RAN INTO THERE ONCE!.

AND YOU HOLLERING *POW! POW!' WHEN YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH TO GET A GUY TO COME! AND THAT WENT OUT.

WHEN CONFUCIUS f.u.c.kED HIS MOTHER!"

"WHY YOU CHEAP b.i.t.c.h. YOU'VE GIVEN OUT MORE BLUE b.a.l.l.s THAN A SILVER CHRISTMAS TREE IN DISNEYLAND. WHY YOU-"

"listen, ladies," said one of the cops. "I will have to ask you to watch your remarks and lower the volume. understanding and kindness are the keynotes of Democratic thought. oh, I just DO love the way Bobby Kennedy wears that tickling blobbing knot of raunchy hair over one side of his darling head don't you just?"

"why you f.u.c.kin' queer," said Margy, "is that why you wear them tight pants, to make your a.s.shole sweeter? G.o.d, it DOES look NICE! I'd kinda like to do you in myself. I see you s.h.i.ts bending over into car windows giving out tickets on the freeways and I always feel like pinching your tight little a.s.ses."

the cop suddenly got a brilliant flare in his dead eyes, he unhitched his club and tapped Margy along the side of the neck with it. she fell to the floor.

then he slipped the bracelets on her. I could hear those clicks, and the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds ALWAYS snapped them too tight. but they felt almost GOOD once you got them on. kind of forceful and heavy and you felt like Christ or something dramatic.

I kept my eyes closed so I couldn't see whether they threw a robe or something over her.

then the cop who snapped the bracelets said to the other cop, "I'll take her on the elevator. we'll go on the elevator."

and I couldn't hear very well, but I listened as they went down, and I heard Margy screaming, "oooooh, oooooooh, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d. let go of me, let go of me!"

and he kept saying, "shut up, shut up, shut up! you're only getting what you deserve! and you haven't seen ANYTHING yet!

this-is just the-beginning!"

then she really screamed.

then the other cop walked over to me. through one narrowed eye I could see him put his big black shiny shoe up on the mattress, up on the sheet.

he looked down at me.