fires  of histamine  spurted from  Lee's glowing
core  and  covered  his  raw  periphery. (The  room was
fireproof, the walls of iron blistered and  spotted with
moon craters.) He took  a large  fix and  falsified his
schedule.
  He  decided  to visit  a colleague,  NG Joe,  who got
hooked during a Bang-utot attack in Honolulu.
  (Note:  ъang-utot, literally,  "attempting to  get up
and  groaning..." Death  occurring in  the course  of a
nightmare...  The  condition  occurs  in males  of S.E.
Asiatic extraction.... In Manila about twelve  cases of
death by Bang-utot are recorded each year.
  One  man  who  recovered  said  that  "a  little man"
was sitting on his chest and strangling him.
  Victims often know that  they are  going to  die, ex-
press the fear that their penis will enter the body and
kill them. Sometimes they cling  to the  penis in  a state
of shrieking hysteria calling on others for help  lest the
penis  escape  and  pierce  the  body. Erections,  such as
normally occur  in sleep,  are considered  especially dan-
gerous  and  liable to  bring a  fatal attack....  One man
devised  a  ъube  Goldberg  contraption  to  prevent erec-
tion during sleep. But he died of Bang-utot.
  Careful  autopsies  of  Bang-utot victims  have revealed
no  organic  reason for  death. There  are often  signs of
strangulation   (caused   by   what?);   sometimes  slight
hemorrhages  of  pancreas  and  lungs  -- not  sufficient to
cause  death  and  also  of  unknown  origin.  It  has oc-
curred to the author  that the  cause of  death is  a mis-
placement of sexual  energy resulting  in a  lung erection
with  consequent  strangulation....  [See article  by Nils
Larsen  M.D.,  The  Men  with  the  Deadly  Dream  in  the
Saturday  Evening  Post,  December   3,  1955.   Also  ar-
ticle by Erle Stanley Gardner for Time Magazine.] )
  NG  lived  in  constant  fear of  erection so  his habit
jumped  and  jumped.  (Note:  It  is  a  well  known tire-
some fact, it is a notoriously dull and long  winded fact,
that  anyone  who  gets  hooked  because  of  any disabil-
ity  whatever, will  be presented,  during the  periods of
shortage  or  deprivation [such  a thing  as too  much fun
you  know]  with  an  outrageously  padded,  geometrically
progressing, proliferating account. )
  An  electrode  attached  to  one testicle  glowed briefly
and  NG  woke  up  in  the  smell  of  burning   flesh  and
reached  for  a loaded  syringe. He  rolled into  a foetal
position and  slid the  needle into  his spine.  He pulled
the needle out  with a  little sigh  of pleasure,  and re-
alized that Lee  was in  the room.  A long  slug undulated
out of  Lee's right  eye and  wrote on  the wall  in iri-
descent  ooze: "  The Sailor  is in  the City  buying up
TIME."
  I am waiting in  front of  a drugstore  for it  to open
at  nine  o'clock.  Two  Arab boys  roll cans  of garbage
up  to  a  high heavy  wood door  in a  whitewashed wall.
Dust in front  of the  door streaked  with urine.  One of
the boys bent over, rolling the  heavy cans,  pants tight
over his lean young  ass. He  looks at  me with  the neu-
tral,  calm  glance  of  an  animal I  wake with  a shock
like  the boy  is real  and I  have missed  a meet  I had
with him for this afternoon.
  "We  expect  additional  equalizations,"  says  the In-
spector in  an interview  with Your  ъeporter. "Otherwise
will occur,"  the Inspector  lifts one  leg in  a typical
Nordic  gesture,  "the bends  is it  not? But  perhaps we
can provide the suitable chamber of decompression."
  The  Inspector  opens  his  fly  and begins  looking for
crabs, applying ointment from a little clay  pot. Clearly
the interview is at an  end. "You're  not going?"  he ex-
claims. "Well, as one judge said to  the other,  'Be just
and if  you can't  be just  be arbitrary.'  ъegret cannot
observe  customary  obscenities." He holds  up  his right
hand covered with a foul-smelling yellow ointment.
  One's  ъeporter  rushes forward  and clasps  the soiled
hand in both of his. "It's been a pleasure, Inspector, an
unspeakable pleasure,"  he says  peeling off  his gloves,
rolling  them  into  a  ball  and  tossing them  into the
wastebasket. "Expense account," he smiles.
  HASSAN'S ъUMPUS ъOOM

  Gilt and red plush. ъococo bar  backed by  pink shell.
The  air  is  cloyed  with a  sweet evil  substance like
decayed  honey.  Men  and  women  in  evening  dress sip
pousse-cafes through alabaster tubes.  A Near  East Mug-
wump sits naked  on a  bar stool  covered in  pink silk.
He licks warm honey from  a crystal  goblet with  a long
black tongue. His genitals are  perfectly formed  -- cir-
cumcised  cock, black  shiny pubic  hairs. His  lips are
thin and purple-blue like the lips of a penis,  his eyes
blank  with  insect  calm.  The  Mugwump  has  no liver,
maintaining   himself   exclusive  on   sweets.  Mugwump
push  a slender  blond youth  to a  couch and  strip him
expertly.
  "Stand up and  turn around,"  he orders  in telepathic
pictographs.  He ties  the boy's  hands behind  him with
a red silk cord. "Tonight we make it all the way."
  "No, no!" screams the boy.
  "Yes. Yes."
  Cocks  ejaculate  in silent  "yes." Mugwump  part silk
curtains,  reveal  a teak  wood gallows  against lighted
screen  of  red  Hint.  Gallows  is on  a dais  of Aztec
mosaics.
  The   boy   crumples   to  his   knees  with   a  long
"OOOOOOOOH,"   shitting  and   pissing  in   terror.  He
feels the  shit warm  between his  thighs. A  great wave
of hot blood swells his lips and  throat. His  body con-
tracts into a foetal position and sperm spurts  hot into
his  face.  The  Mugwump  dips  hot perfumed  water from
alabaster  bowl,  pensively  washes  the  boy's  ass and
cock,  drying  him  with  a  soft  blue  towel. A  warm wind
plays  over  the  boys  body  and the  hairs float  free. The
Mugwump   puts   a   hand   under   the   boy's   chest  and
pulls  him  to  his  feet.  Holding  him  by  both  pinioned
elbows,  propels  him  up  the  steps  and under  the noose.
He  stands  in  front  of  the  boy  holding  the  noose  in
both hands.
   The  boy  looks  into  Mugwump  eyes  blank  as  obsidian
mirrors,  pools  of  black  blood, glory  holes in  a toilet
wall closing on the Last Erection.
   An  old  garbage  collector,  face  fine  and   yellow  as
Chinese  ivory,  blows  The  Blast   on  his   dented  brass
horn,  wakes  the  Spanish  pimp   with  a   hard-on.  Whore
staggers  out  through  dust  and  shit  and litter  of dead
kittens,  carrying  bales of  aborted foetuses,  broken con-
doms,   bloody   Kotex,   shit   wrapped  in   bright  color
comics.
   A  vast still  harbor of  iridescent water.  Deserted gas
well  flares  on  the  smoky  horizon.   Stink  of   oil  and
sewage.   Sick   sharks  swim   through  the   black  water,
belch  sulphur  from  rotting   livers,  ignore   a  bloody,
broken   Icarus.   Naked   Mr.   America,   burning  frantic
with  self  bone  love,  screams   out:  "My   asshole  con-
founds  the  Louvre!  I  fart  ambrosia  and shit  pure gold
turds!  My  cock  spurts  soft   diamonds  in   the  morning
sunlight!"   He  plummets   from  the   eyeless  lighthouse,
kissing  and  jacking  off  in  face  of  the  black  mirror,
glides  oblique  down  with   cryptic  condoms   and  mosaic
of  a  thousand  newspapers  through   a  drowned   city  of
red brick  to settle  in black  mud with  tin cans  and beer
bottles,  gangsters  in  concrete,  pistols pounded  Hat and
meaningless  to  avoid  short-arm  inspection  of  prurient
ballistic experts. He waits the slow striptease  of erosion
with fossil loins.
  The  Mugwump  slips  the  noose   over  the   boy's  head
and  tightens  the  knot caressingly  behind the  left ear.
The boy's  penis is  retracted, his  balls tight.  He looks
straight  ahead  breathing   deeply.  The   Mugwump  sidles
around  the  boy  goosing  him  and caressing  his genitals
in  hieroglyphs  of  mockery.  He   moves  in   behind  the
boy  with  a series  of bumps  and shoves  his cock  up the
boy's ass. He stands there moving in circular gyrations.
  The guests shush each other, nudge and giggle.
  Suddenly  the  Mugwump  pushes   the  boy   forward  into
space, free of  his cock.  He steadies  the boy  with hands
on  the  hip  bones,  reaches up  with his  stylized hiero-
glyph  hands  and snaps  the boy's  neck. A  shudder passes
through  the  boy's body.  His penis  rises in  three great
surges pulling his pelvis up, ejaculates immediately.
  Green  sparks  explode  behind his  eyes. A  sweet tooth-
ache  pain  shoots  through  his  neck  down  the  spine to
the  groin,  contracting  the  body  in spasms  of delight.
His   whole  body   squeezes  out   through  his   cock.  A
final  spasm  throws  a  great  spurt  of sperm  across the
red screen like a shooting star.
  The  boy  falls with  soft gutty  suction through  a maze
of penny arcades and dirty pictures.
  A  sharp  turd  shoots  clean  out  his ass.  Farts shake
his  slender  body.  Skyrockets  burst  in  green  clusters
across  a  great  river. He  hears the  faint put-put  of a
motor  boat  in  jungle  twilight....  Under  silent  wings
of the anopheles mosquito.
  The  Mugwump  pulls  the  boy   back  onto   his  cock.
The  boy  squirms,  impaled  like  a  speared  fish.  The
Mugwump  swings  on  the  boy's   back,  his   body  con-
tracting  in  fluid  waves.  Blood  flows down  the boy's
chin  from  his  mouth,  half-open,  sweet, and  sulky in
death. The Mugwump falls with a fluid, sated plop.

  Windowless   cubicle  with   blue  walls.   Dirty  pink
curtain  cover  the  door.  ъed bugs  crawl on  the wall,
cluster in corners. Naked boy in the  middle of  the room
twang  a  two-string  ouad,  trace  an  arabesque  on the
floor.  Another  boy  lean  back on  the bed  smoking keif
and  blow  smoke  over  his  erect  cock. They  play game
with  tarot  cards  on  the  bed  to  see  who  fuck who.
Cheat. Fight. ъoll on the floor snarling and spitting like
young animals. The loser sit on the  floor chin  on knees,
licks  a broken  tooth. The  winner curls  up on  the bed
pretending  to  sleep.  Whenever   the  other   boy  come
near  kick  at  him.  Ali  seize him  by one  ankle, tuck
the  ankle under  his arm  pit, lock  his arm  around the
calf.  The  boy  kick  desperately  at Ali's  face. Other
ankle pinioned. Ali tilt the boy  back on  his shoulders.
The  boy's  cock  extends  along  his stomach,  float free
pulsing. Ali put  his hands  over his  head. Spit  on his
cock. The other sighs deeply as Ali  slides his  cock in.
The   mouths   grind   together  smearing   blood.  Sharp
musty  odor  of  penetrated rectum.  Nimun drive  in like
a  wedge,  force  jism  out  the other  cock in  long hot
spurts.  (The  author  has   observed  that   Arab  cocks
tend to be wide and wedge shaped.)
  Satyr  and  naked  Greek  lad  in  aqualungs   trace  a
ballet  of  pursuit  in  a   monster  vase   of  transparent
alabaster.  The  Satyr  catches  the   boy  from   in  front
and  whirls  him  around.  They  move  in  fish  jerks.  The
boy  releases  a silver  stream of  bubbles from  his mouth.
White  sperm  ejaculates  into  the  green  water  and floats
lazily around the twisting bodies.
  Negro  gently  lifts  exquisite  Chinese  boy into  a ham-
mock.  He  pushes  the  boy's  legs  up  over  his  head and
straddles  the  hammock.  He  slides his  cock up  the boy's
slender  tight  ass.  He  rocks  the  hammock   gently  back
and  forth.  The  boy  screams,  a  weird  high wail  of un-
endurable delight.
  A  Javanese  dancer  in  ornate  teak  swivel  chair,  set
in  a  socket  of  limestone  buttocks,  pulls  an  American
boy  --  red hair,  bright green  eyes --  down onto  his cock
with  ritual  motions.  The  boy  sits  impaled  facing  the
dancer  who  propels  himself  in circular  gyrations, lend-
ing  fluid  substance  to  the  chair.  "Weeeeeeeeee!" scream
the  boy  as  his  sperm  spurt  up  over the  dancer's lean
brown  chest.  One  gob  hit  the  corner  of  the  dancer's
mouth.  The  boy  push  it  in  with  his finger  and laugh:
"Man, that's what I call suction!"
  Two   Arab   women   with   bestial   faces   have  pulled
the shorts off  a little  blond French  boy. They  are screw-
ing  him  with  red  rubber  cocks.  The boy  snarls, bites,
kicks, collapses in tears as his cock rises and ejaculates.
  Hassan's  face  swells,  tumescent  with  blood.  His lips
turn  purple.  He  strip  off  his  suit  of  banknotes  and
throw it into an open vault that closes soundless.
  "Freedom  Hall  here,  folks!"  he  screams in  his phoney
Texas  accent.  Ten-gallon  hat   and  cowboy   boots  still
on,  he  dances  the  Liquefactionist  Jig,  ending  with  a
grotesque  can-can  to  the  tune of  She Started  a Heat
Wave.
  "Let it be! And no holes barred!("
  Couples attached to  baroque harnesses  with artificial
wings copulate in the air, screaming like magpies.
  Aerialists ejaculate each other in space with  one sure
touch.
  Equilibrists suck  each other  off deftly,  balanced on
perilous poles and chairs  tilted over  the void.  A warm
wind brings  the smell  of rivers  and jungle  from misty
depths.
  Boys  by   the  hundred   plummet  through   the  roof,
quivering  and  kicking  at  the end  of ropes.  The boys
hang at different levels, some near the ceiling  and oth-
ers  a  few inches  off the  floor. Exquisite  Balinese and
Malays,  Mexican  Indians   with  fierce   innocent  faces
and bright red gums. Negroes  ( teeth, fingers,  toe nails
and  pubic  hair  gilded),   Japanese  boys   smooth  and
white  as China,  Titian-haired Venetian  lads, Americans
with  blond or  black curls  falling across  the forehead
(the  guests tenderly  shove it  back), sulky  blond Pol-
lacks  with animal  brown eyes,  Arab and  Spanish street
boys,  Austrian  boys  pink  and  delicate  with  a faint
shadow  of  blond  pubic  hair,  sneering  German  youths
with bright blue eyes scream "Heil Hitler!" as  the trap
falls under them. Sollubis shit and whimper.
  Mr.   ъich-and-Vulgar   chews   his  Havana   lewd  and
nasty,  sprawled  on  a   Florida  beach   surrounded  by
simpering blond catamites:
  "This  citizen  have  a  Latah  he  import  from  Indo-
China.  He  figure  to  hang  the  Latah  and send  a Xmas
TV short to  his friends.  So he  fix up  two ropes  -- one
gimmicked  to  stretch,  the other  the real  McCoy. But
that Latah get up  in feud  state and  put on  his Santa
Claus  suit  and  make  with  the  switcheroo.  Come the
dawning.  The  citizen put  one rope  on and  the Latah,
going  along  the  way  Latahs will,  put on  the other.
When  the  traps  are  down  the  citizen hang  for real
and  the  Latah  stand  with  the  carny-rubber  stretch
rope. Well, the  Latah imitate  every twitch  and spasm.
Come three times.
  "Smart young Latah  keep his  eye on  the ball.  I got
him working in one of my plants as an expeditor."
  Aztec priests strip blue feather  robe from  the Naked
Youth. They  bend him  back over  a limestone  altar, fit
a crystal skull over  his head,  securing the  two hemi-
spheres  back and  front with  crystal screws.  A water-
fall pour  over the  skull snapping  the boy's  neck. He
ejaculate in a rainbow against the rising sun.
  Sharp protein odor of semen fills the air.  The guests
run hands over  twitching boys,  suck their  cocks, hang
on their backs like vampires.
  Naked lifeguards carry in iron-lungs full of paralyzed
youths.
  Blind  boys  grope  out  of  huge  pies,  deteriorated
schizophrenics  pop  from  a  rubber  cunt,   boys  with
horrible skin diseases rise from a black  pond (sluggish
fish nibble yellow turds on the surface).
  A  man  with  white  tie and  dress shirt,  naked from
the waist down except  for black  garters, talks  to the
Queen  Bee  in  elegant  tones.  (Queen  Bees   are  old
women  who  surround  themselves  with  fairies  to form
a "swarm." It is a sinister Mexican practice. )
  "But where is the statuary?" He talks out of  one side
of his face, the other is  twisted by  the Torture  of a
Million  Mirrors.  He  masturbates  wildly.   The  Queen
Bee continues the conversation, notices nothing.
  Couches,  chairs,  the whole  floor begins  to vibrate,
shaking the guests to blurred  grey ghosts  shrieking in
cock-bound agony.
  Two  boys  jacking  off  under  railroad   bridge.  The
train shakes through their bodies, ejaculate them, fades
with  distant  whistle.  Frogs  croak.  The   boys  wash
semen off lean brown stomachs.
  Train  compartment:  two sick  young junkies  on their
way to Lexington  tear their  pants down  in convulsions
of lust. One of them soaps his cock and works it  up the
other's ass with  a corkscrew  motion. "Jeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
sus!"  Both  ejaculate  at once  standing up.  They move
away from each other and pull up their pants.
  "Old  croaker  in  Marshall  writes  for  tincture and
sweet oil."
  "The  piles  of  an  aged  mother  shriek out  raw and
bleeding  for  the  Black Shit....  Doc, suppose  it was
your  mother,  rimmed  by  resident  leaches,  squirming
around  so  nasty....  De-active  that pelvis,  mom, you
disgust me already"
  "Let's stop over and make him for an ъX."
  The  train  tears on  through the  smoky, neon-lighted
June night.
  Pictures of men  and women,  boys and  girls, animals,
fish, birds, the copulating rhythm of the  universe Hows
through the room, a great blue tide of  life. Vibrating,
soundless hum of deep  forest --  sudden quiet  of cities
when  the  junky copes.  A moment  of stillness  and won-
der. Even the  Commuter buzzes  clogged lines  of choles-
terol for contact.
  Hassan  shrieks  out:  "This is  your doing,  A.J.! You
poopa my party!"
  A.J.  looks  at  him, face  remote as  limestone: "Uppa
your ass, you liquefying gook."
  A   horde   of   lust-mad   American  women   rush  in.
Dripping  cunts,  from  farm  and  dude  ranch,  factory,
brothel,  country  club,  penthouse  and   suburb,  motel
and yacht and cocktail bar, strip off riding  clothes, ski
togs, evening dresses, levis,  tea gowns,  print dresses,
slacks,  bathing  suits  and  kimonos.  They  scream  and
yipe  and howl,  leap on  the guests  like bitch  dogs in
heat with rabies. They  claw at  the hanged  boys shriek-
ing:  "You  fairy!  You  bastard!   Fuck  me!   Fuck  me!
Fuck  me!"   The  guests   flee  screaming,   dodge  among
the hanged boys, overturn iron lungs.
  A.J.:  "Call  out  my  Sweitzers,  God  damn  it! Guard
me from these she-foxest"
  Mr. Hyslop, A. J.'s secretary, looks up from  his comic
book: "The Sweitzers liquefy already."
  (Liquefaction  involves  protein  cleavage  and  reduc-
tion  to  liquid  which is  absorbed into  someone else's
protoplasmic being. Hassan, a  notorious liquefactionist,
is probably the beneficiary in this case.)
  A.J.:   "Gold-bricking   cocksuckers!  Where's   a  man
without his Sweitzers? Our  backs are  to the  wall, gen-
tlemen.  Our  very  cocks  at stake.  Stand by  to resist
boarders, Mr. Hyslop, and issue short arms to the men."
  A.J. whips out  a cutlass  and begins  decapitating the
American Girls. He sings lustily:
Fifteen men on the dead man's cheat
Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum.
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum.

Mr.  Hyslop,  bored  and  resigned:  "Oh Gawd!  He's at
it again." He waves the Jolly ъoger listlessly.
A.J.,  surrounded  and  fighting  against  overwhelming
odds,  throws  back his  head and  makes with  the hog-
call. Immediately  a thousand  rutting Eskimos  po