"Yeah, it makes you ugly, Roscoe," said Ora Lee. "You get drunk you get uglier than usual."

"I don't have to take this," Roscoe Rules said, struggling to his feet and heading toward the duck pond, hoping to find a duck he could kneedrop.

"He gets so ugly he looks like something carved off the back of Quasimodo," Spencer Van Moot observed.

"Hey, stick around, Roscoe!" Carolina yelled. "Every choir practice needs a soprano."

"Don't get nasty now," Spermwhale whispered as he bit the fat girl on the neck and sent her into paroxysms of passion. They resumed their interminable kiss and rolled around on the ground, making the earth shake under the ear of Francis Tanaguchi, who said, "Dynamite!" and lay next to them hoping the behemoths would couple before his very eyes.

Just then a park homosexual with sandals, long hair and beard walked by the group curiously.

The choirboys looked at this Biblical apparition and Sam Niles said, "Think he'll take us to heaven?"

"I can use my ticket validated by somebody," said Father Willie who was furiously trying to think of a way to steal Carolina Moon from Spermwhale Whalen.

"All I can say is I get treated like a dog at home," Spencer Van Moot whined, returning to his favorite subject.

"Anytime they wanna teach you a lesson they just hold back the sex," Father Willie agreed, suddenly having a miserable vision of the chubby Jehovah's Witness seeing him drunk and playing with the thigh of Ora Lee Tingle.

"Well who cares?" said Spencer. "The three most overrated things in the world are: home cooking, home pussy and the FBI."

"You know, Spermy, you got more hair in your nose than on your head," Carolina Moon said from the shadows where she and Spermwhale and Francis Tanaguchi rolled around.

"What dialogue! What dialogue! I could make you a star, girl!" cried Francis. "Say something back to her, Spermwhale! Something romantic!"

"Okay. I adore you, my darling," Spermwhale crooned to the sighing fat girl. "Your ass is springy as a life raft."

"And I love you, Ora Lee," Francis Tanaguchi blurted suddenly, turning to the other cocktail waitress, dragging his fingers through her upswept hairdo, which was no mean task given the half can of hair spray that was on it.

"That's just whiskey talking, you cute little shit."

"No it ain't! I love! I love you!" Francis proclaimed. "If you had a hysterectomy and took your teeth out and owned a liquor store, I swear I'd marry you!"

"Thanks, Junior," said the disgusted waitress as she pushed Francis away. "You handled that love scene like a real proa" a prophylactic!"

Just then the bearded park fairy with the ascetic face, shoulder-length hair and sandals encountered Roscoe Rules down by the duck pond trying to entice a black duck out of the water so he could hit it with a rock and drown it.

"Hello," said the Jesus fairy.

"Holy Christ!" said Roscoe Rules and the remark was not that inappropriate.

"Are you with those others?" asked the bearded man, stooping to scoop some water in both hands.

"Yeah. Who the fuck're you, John the Baptist?"

Ignoring the remark the man said, "Do you men actually screw those women in the park?"

"No, in the cunt," said Roscoe. "Now take a walk, John, before I bring your fucking head to Salome."

Meanwhile, back at the choir practice Father Willie was going to hell in a hurry. He had stripped off his shirt and shoes and was asking Ora Lee if she dared him to streak through the park as Harold Bloomguard composed a song called "I Left My Heart in Titty City."

"Put your shirt back on, Padre," said his partner Spencer Van Moot. "I gotta quit feeding you all the cherries jubilee. You're getting to look like a basketball."

"How's your como se llama these days, Ora Lee?" asked Francis as he tried to squeeze a finger inside the leg of Ora Lee's ruffled pants, causing her to honk him severely, making him cry out in pain.

"How do you like being a sex object, huh?" the fat girl grinned.

"See, you're not a real Mexican!" yelled shirtless Father Willie who was staggering around looking for trouble. "You're not even a Jap! A real Mexican like General Zapata could take a little hurt without whimpering!"

"How'd you like to get your nuts crushed by this big moose?" said the injured choirboy, holding himself.

"Who's a moose?" demanded Ora Lee Tingle, glowering at Francis. "You call me names I'll hit you so hard and fast you'll think you was in a gang fight!"

"Carolina's putting on a little more weight," Baxter Slate observed as he sat next to Sam Niles and the two quietly tried to drink themselves into unconsciousness.

"She's pregnant," Sam observed.

"What are you trying to say, what're you trying to say, Sam?" mean Dean cried out but quieted down when Baxter handed him a full bottle of bourbon.

"If she's pregnant I'll take her soon as her milk comes in," said Spencer Van Moot. "I can't feed my wife and kids no more on a policeman's pay what with the inflation and all."

"That's cause you spend all your money on faggy clothes! A man your age!" said a voice from the darkness as Roscoe Rules got tired of waiting for someone to coax, him back to the flock.

Then Francis Tanaguchi staggered away from the other choirboys and they heard him retching on the grass.

"Booo! Booo! Zapata my rear end!" giggled Father Willie Wright.

And while the party entered its final phase, Alexander Blaney slept on the grass not a hundred feet away beside two friendly ducklings while his mother wept at home and imagined him locked in the cruel embrace of a tattooed merchant seaman in some skid row flophouse.

At the end of that memorable choir practice some ordinary and extraordinary things started to happen.

An ordinary thing was that Whaddayamean Dean broke out in several crying jags and sobbed, "What're you trying to say?" every time a choirboy was foolish enough to send a remark in his direction.

An extraordinary thing was that Sperm whale Whalen lost his diamond cutter and in fact lost the use of all his muscles. He could only sit against an elm tree and snarl at anyone who came near him. Spermwhale, the biggest strongest and bravest choirboy, was so drunk he was as helpless as the baby ducks out of water.

Another ordinary thing was that Roscoe Rules became as mean as a rabid dog, and with Sam Niles drunk and Spermwhale Whalen helpless, it seemed for a time that no one was around who could tame the young policeman. He was going around jealously insulting Ora Lee and Carolina because they didn't feel like pulling that train and in any event wouldn't let, anyone as mean as Roscoe have a ride. "Pig fuckers!" Roscoe Rules sneered. "If you don't Oink they won't touch you! Gotta lead you up to a trough first to see if you're worthwhile, huh?"

Sam Niles looked up from where he lay on his stomach groaning, and said, "Roscoe, this just might be the night I get you in a lip lock and shut you up for good."

"Yeah, go ahead and try it, Niles," Roscoe said. "You and your friend Slate together couldn't handle me. Don't think I don't know you dopeheads go over there by Duck Island and smoke grass. You ain't fooling nobody, you two."

"Who's got grass?" piped Harold Bloomguard. "Better knock off that talk about grass, Harold," Father Willie advised as he tried in vain to slap Spermwhale Whalen alive so he could scare Roscoe Rules and make him quit throwing his weight around.

"I told you about smokin grass, Harold!" the paralyzed Spermwhale growled. "I got nineteen and a half years on the job and that don't ring the bell. You bring any pot here and get me fired and lose my pension with only six months to go and I'll buy a whole kilo a grass. And I'll pound it right up your ass and bury your head in the dirt and let the fuckin ducks get loaded by eatin the seeds outta your shit! YOU GOT ME?"

"I was just kidding, Spermwhale," Harold gulped.

"Well I know Slate and Niles smoke grass, the fucking degenerates," said Roscoe Rules.

Actually Roscoe was partly right. Baxter and Sam did go down by the duck pond occasionally for an illicit drug. But it wasn't marijuana. Baxter had been dating a nurse who lived in his apartment building who was an inveterate pill popper and kept Baxter supplied with sedatives and hypnotics. So it was red capsules and yellow ones which Baxter and Sam swallowed with their booze down by the duck pond, both knowing the risks involved when they mixed the drugs with heavy drinking. In fact, Baxter Slate only seemed to want the barbiturates when he had been drinking excessively.

Roscoe walked over to Father Willie Wright who was telling Ora Lee Tingle how cute she was as the fat girl's head started to drop on her shoulder.

Roscoe sniffed and said, "Padre, fucking that pig without a rubber is like playing the Rams without a helmet. Hope you got protection."

"Well I like her!" shouted Father Willie, lurching to his feet combatively. "She's better'n Frank Buck any old day. She really brings em back alive!"

"Siddown, you drunken little prick," Roscoe Rules said, shoving the chaplain to the ground, making Father Willie yell, "Darn you, Roscoe! Gosh darn you, you bully!"

"Hey, Tanaguchi!" the jealous Roscoe yelled as he saw Francis stroking Carolina's quaking buttocks. "I hear when Carolina was living with that Greek bartender he used to butt-fuck her all the time."

"Never on Sunday!" Carolina answered and Francis' giggles made Roscoe angrier.

"Her box is so big she wouldn't even feel your hand unless you wore a wristwatch," Roscoe grumbled.

"You can bet you ain't gonna know, Roscoe!" said Carolina, throwing Francis off her as she sat up and rearranged her clothing. "Cause Father Willie told me you got clap!"

"I didn't say that!" Father Willie protested. "I just told how when we were at Daniel Freeman Hospital that time you talked to the doctor about the strain you were having down there. And he said, 'Do you have a discharge, Officer?' and you said, 'Yes, Honorable.' And then you turned red when the doc and me cracked up. Oh God, that was funny!"

The chaplain rolled up in a little ball and cackled hilariously until Roscoe Rules was standing over him saying dangerously, "Padre, I thought I warned you not to tell anyone that story."

Then Father Willie sobered up and said, "Gosh I forgot, Roscoe. I'm sorry."

"I oughtta punch your lights out," Roscoe said, eyes like a cobra.

"I'm sorry, Roscoe."

"I oughtta kneedrop you right now."

"What a cunt!" Spermwhale Whalen said to Roscoe, stirring around against the tree, trying to get control of his legs so he could come over and throw Roscoe Rules in the duck pond.

Father Willie started sniveling and said, "I'm really sorry, Roscoe."

Spermwhale Whalen got disgusted with the chaplain and glared at him, saying, "What a cunt!"

And Carolina Moon squatted by the liquor case and found the Scotch all gone and thought Roscoe Rules was ruining the choir practice. She started to cry great drunken tears.

Spermwhale Whalen looked at her and said, "What a cunt!"

Carolina sniffed and said, "Thank you, Spermy. At least somebody appreciates me."

Whaddayamean Dean suddenly said, "What's it all about, Roscoe? What's it all about?"

"Oh the hell with all a you," said Roscoe Rules. "You're all a bunch a scrotes!"

The meanest choirboy took a full bottle of bourbon, the last in fact, and stalked off into the darkness to think about what he'd like to do to all of them and drink bourbon and absently pull on his whang while he fantasized.

"Gimme Scotch," said Ora Lee Tingle suddenly as her head stopped lolling.

"Ain't none," said Carolina who stopped crying and got happy again now that Roscoe was gone.

"Gimme beer," said Ora Lee Tingle as Francis Tanaguchi lurched toward the duck pond to soak his head so that he wouldn't miss the rest of the choir practice by passing out like his partner Calvin Potts who dozed next to one of Ora Lee Tingle's big legs.

"I wish we had a stereo," said Spencer Van Moot, mummified on the grass, his blanket wrapped tightly around him until only his face was exposed. "I'm older than you kids. I'd like some old music."

"I'm older than Christ Almighty," groaned Spermwhale Whalen, at last able to wiggle his fingers, and toes.

"I'm old," Spencer continued, "so I remember things you kids only saw in movies. Like the big bands. They were still around when I was young. Great times. Christ, I graduated high school in 1952. Imagine that."

"I was killin gooks in 1952," Spermwhale muttered. "No offense, Francis. And that was my second war."

"If we had a stereo we could dance on the grass," said Spencer nostalgically.

"God, you can get sweet sometimes, Spencer," croaked Ora Lee Tingle as she crawled over and lay on top of the blanket-wrapped choirboy, making him gasp for air.

"I've got a portable stereo," offered Harold Bloomguard. "But my tweeter and woofer aren't very big."

"Get some hormone shots," offered Father Willie Wright, scrounging desperately through the debris of boxes and packages for some more beer.

"Oh, that's funny!" Carolina Moon screamed suddenly. "Francis just says he told this waitress he wanted to be a counterspy and so he leans over the counter and spies up her dress. Oh, you horny little Nip!" and she honked him so clumsily he fell to his knees groaning in pain.

"Boooo!" cried Father Willie. "Booooo! Mexican my rear end!"

"Knock it off, Padre!" said Calvin Potts. "You jist woke me up."

"Well he oughtta be able to take a little pain, he's Pancho Villa or somebody," said the choirboy chaplain, belching up some beer on his bare chest and making them all boo him, The weight of Ora Lee Tingle on the blanketed Spencer Van Moot caused the choirboy to gag violently and the fat girl leaped off him surprisingly fast.

"My cop runneth over!" whooped Ora Lee Tingle, causing Harold Bloomguard to collapse in hysterical laughter in her great pink arms.

Just then Roscoe Rules, still holding his bourbon bottle which was only two thirds full, came staggering back among them. "Yeah? I'll tell you what you are, you big fitted scrote. You're just a camp follower! A station house groupie! A cop sucker!"

Then Roscoe wheeled and headed back toward the duck pond where Spencer Van Moot was already washing his vomity blanket. Roscoe paused only for an instant by Baxter Slate's blanket and quickly grabbed a set of car keys and when he was sure no one was watching, threw them into the middle of the pond.

Then Carolina Moon started showing off. The big girl quickly overpowered Francis Tanaguchi and got him in a wristlock Spermwhale had taught her, which came in handy with rowdy customers at the cocktail lounge where she worked. As the other choirboys cheered, Carolina played rough by forcing the groaning choirboy forward until his head was on the ground and his LAPD basketball jersey was falling down over his face. Then she picked him up by the belled bottoms of his faded white jeans and started bouncing him off the grass.

"Yea, Carolina! Yea!" shouted Father Willie Wright who was still shirtless and barefoot, pacing around the wrestlers.

Then while the puffing fat girl was shaking the upside-down choirboy against her plump dimpled belly, some coins, keys, a comb and a package of prophylactics fell out of Francis' pocket causing Carolina Moon to drop him abruptly on his head.

"Rubbers!" exclaimed Carolina in sweaty disbelief, her stiff lacquered hair stuck to her face. "Rubbers! Ora Lee, this chickenshit is carrying rubbers!"

"Pancho Villa, my rear end!" said Father Willie. "Booooo! Booooo!"

"A cundrum!" cried Carolina Moon. "This is what you think of us! I oughtta pull it over your head, you little prick!"

"Black Jack Pershing woulda whipped faggy Mexicans like Francis!" yelled Roscoe Rules from his exile in the darkness.

"I'll never forget the first time I met Carolina Moon," said Spencer Van Moot romantically as he limped back from the duck pond, smelling of vomit and rancid water, causing Carolina to scurry away from him.