I have never been caught at the scene of a crime zone featuring I Was Eight. I had to stand on my knees to drive cars, and to steal them, too. A kid was lighter than a growd man. Of course, every last one of us were all growd men. Rubbish. Another smaller kid would get down there to work the accelerator. – Go faster. Go slower. Go really, really fast. No. Faster. Fist against the brake. I said stop not kill us. – I have no computer record indicating either prosecution, pornosecution, pistolaprosecution be so in Denmark so do creditors I have know idea means kinda what creditors do. I owe nothing to anyone. I am an upstanding member of the community who assisnates people Other People don’t like. Be so I have never had a credit card. Except for the one that pulls it out of ATMs. Bubba, take the money and run. Why do you think I have that doctors bag. My best mask is simply the black leather opera mask worn for three decades by Louis 14 who was a King and not a nice one at the opera or anywhere. Foul-tempered bitch. A House To Die For. Personally, I would have preferred Russia but being around Dear Aunt Catherine, it was iffy. . France has all kinds of shit for sale. There are no pleasant kings. They are uncivil. It is like saying there are no angels when they are pouring out of the sky like banshees. Robbing ATMs is so banal. That is all the thing does. I don’t know what it is. I bought it in a fucking trinkit shop at the Grand Canyon. I really did. But robbing ATMs works best done in the land hoodies and masks. I am Joan of Arc. I do know how to rob a bank. My little gun is hardon plastic, and only has one shot. If you cannot hit your target – and moving targets like slithering into the thickets and the vines – are well-known in your paradigm of escape. Men who paid to fuck you in the ass would usually respond (not well) to the news I needed more money. A raise. Or no ass to fuck. Your first and last vodka shot. And the snakes and the mammals and the babies of the mammals and the sparrow hawks in the high trees the rabbits hide from. Are all attendent. Watching you being raped again I was supposed to do it the selling of me. Camouflage and the old telephone rings. The Angels arrive with the magpies. The fucking angels scrunched up on the wet floor of systemic blood. The blood of Other People. The blood of the poor. God is fucking dead can you get it into your empty head do not come over to my house and drink Kool Aid with me hiding in whatever sanctuary in dark recesses of the cold wallpaper wrapped in witches black concourse with the moon. But we had drowned my little gun in desire and all the other dirty little tricks who want to play with guns okay, we will play with guns, but I don’t owe you any more money for the drugs. My asshole is wiped clean. I got that stare. A small nod, okay. Everything was not okay. Everything was a calculated risk. I’ve tried. Risk is risk. Or stay in your Mommie Tummy. Everything is an opportunity is an opportunity. No, she’s dead. Don’t get all moral with me because that boat has sailed for the beaches of Greenland and all the girls. Have plastic. At night we sit around fires and knit. But usually we’ll hit the street by midnight. I am so fucking not interest in sucking cock. Or cock at all. Oh, no, not that again. I have said this in print a million times. Just give me the ones who want to talk. But no. They all want to fuck me. All. All. All. No one believes it. I can write about sucking cock, and I can create a scene where everyody and that would mean you, too, comes to Babylon Daddy and his sores. Jagger has a double. It works for him. Usually, we have a schedule at various hotels. I love hotels. Room Service. Are you fucking kidding me. I had dinner with a Room Service lad. Who plunged into the food he had delivered. He was good at plunging into the unknown there is no one and nothing that is unknown. AI controls everything. There is nothing more to be afraid of. What do I have to do to get Room Service at all times. That was a relentless and barren landscape for the Minute Doctor in what happened next never stuff that cold black eyes cunning to the flame, dissolved into a lurid liturgy of grunt and sweat under all your wounds, but the ones of you bid memory ejaculating onto your very scabs not unlike a handsaw. Demons in the backs of trucks. They are not always colder than a freezing cage. FrostBightIsNever somethin to fucking play around with. No. I don’t care if you use the password what password oh that password fucking password it’s tattooed on the bottoms of my feet. I did not agree with regarding your scared fetish with respect. I just don’t care. Oh, make it stop make it stop. Satire, Well, satire. This is going to hurt. Married tricks pay me to hurt them. A theatre of the absurd. Clothespins. Wire brushes. Copper probes. Electrified. I kid you not. Frequently, the saunas. There is no such thing as the Traverse City Straight Sauna. My leather doctor’s bag (Tommy Ford and Sons) while I will hold you as you die give me your tongue. Feed me your disgorgement. Bellowing in silence as no one of his generation could speak. Spit. Subtracted. People who spoke – at all – in many cultural tribes of every man is his own desert of arrant and unkind, too, while memory holds in captivity all of your current children in this life, the Others being quite similiar one half their numbers, dead. But the living don’t know that yet. Yet. An utterance in their heads. Everyone was just too fucking tired. We slept on the theatre floor next to the Popcorn Machine.