Hillman 1990 portrait

"Surrealism is the most powerful artistic movement in modern life 

and continues to inspire and liberate all who come into contact with it.

 I am no exception." Richard Webb

The Mescal Papers, Part 2

Strange Times in Virginia Beach:

My memories of Virginia Beach Blvd., after being dosed off at a party where a civilian was explaining to me how to read hieroglyphics out loud with a mouth full of rum, which is actually e-z if you change the shape of your face funnel, which of course changes the entire sound. The whole room was doing it! I had to split after their black cat sat in the tub and howled the whole time I was taking a crap. I kept trying to get it to change his face funnel, but no go!

Later on, I was laying face down in the middle of Virginia Beach Blvd.  trying to stare down the yellow line. I had just been chased out of The Edgar Cayce Institute Library trying to find the Tibetan Book of the Dead and ended up in a closet on the second floor... I was in the process of subduing the yellow line when an officer of the law, realizing I was a GI, hauled me in. The Navy pronounced me unfit for military duty and proceeded to give me a medical discharge under honorable conditions.

This was mitigated by the fact that they raided my rack on the ultra top secret vessel the USS Palm Beach- AGER3 (Sister to the USS Pueblo AGER2) and found all my so Kafka sketchbooks, not to mention a few other surrealist psycho discoveries, my Yusef Lateef Psychimotos album for one, and, of course my unwashed hookah. The vessel was so top secret, it did not exist; so therefore, I did not exist.

In exchange for my drawings, etc. I was given a good discharge and tossed out with the stipulation that the existence of the AGER3 would never be revealed.

Now that the Korean King is Dead and his dooofus son is in charge, the story of the capture and torture of the AGER2 crew by the North Koreans  and her perfectly nolonger trumps the undisclosed sister ship AGER3 who went to The Med to replace the other spy ship USS Liberty (shot up by the Israelis after discovering their plans to  invade Lebanon ( spies, right?) I, of course, got dumped off in Norfolk after a botched attempt to jump the fence in Gitmo to join my main Man, Fidel.

So, with the clock ticking away on my Navy career, the yellow line won, the black cat drowned when I turned the water on, and I finally explained to my USAF B-24 Liberator Bombadier Dad,  how I got out of the Navy 2 years earlier than I was supposed to.

Verdad!

Guamanian Death Watch

I.

WHEN THEY PUT ME INTO PELVIC TRACTION

  I HAD TO LAUGH

  THE HARNESS WAS THE WRONG SIZE,

SO THE NURSES DECIDE TO TAPE IT TO ME

  WITH FOUR-INCH-WIDE DUCT TAPE

  “LET HER REEEEP!” THEY YELLED IN FILIPINO

  AS THEY DROPPED THE WEIGHTS FROM A HEIGHT OF FOUR FEET

  I WENT UP, MY UNDERWEAR WENT DOWN!

  A FOUR INCH WIDE TRACK OF HAIR WAS REMOVED FROM MY BODY

  FROM THE WAIST TO THE KNEECAPS

  AND I KNEW THIS WAS THE BEGINNING OF A WEEK OF TRULY

  COMPETENT HEALTH CARE—GUAM STYLE!

I FINALLY GOT MYSELF INTO TRACTION

SETTLED IN AND THEN

DECIDED TO MEET MY CHEAP-BED NEIGHBOR

HIS NAME WAS VALHALLA ELCHOOK

SON OF A RUSSIAN VODKA MERCHANT

A TERMINAL CASE OF LIVER FAILURE

A SEMI-COMATOSE, HUMORLESS IMMIGRANT

PLUGGED HOPELESSLY INTO ALL KINDS OF WIRES AND TUBES

WAITING FOR THE END….

I COULD NOT BELIEVE MY GOOD FORTUNE

AT BEING PUT IN THE SAME ROOM SO CLOSE TO DEATH

AND A CATHOLIC DEATH AT THAT!

WITH THE EYE OF THE MONGOOSE,

I WOULD SEE AND REPORT ALL!

II.

THE FIRST TIME I SAW YOU

I KNEW YOU WOULD NOT MAKE IT.

ALL THOSE WIDOWS WEEPING,

VOMITING BILE AND BLOOD THROUGH TUBES

THAT NO ONE KNOWS

WHERE GOES

YOU’RE NOT DEAD YET, MY FRIEND…

ONLY SLEEPING.

YOUR STOMACH LOOKS LIKE

A MAILROOM AT CHRISTMAS

YOUR SKIN THE COLOR OF THIS LEGAL PAD

WHEN YOU LOOKED AT ME

I HAD TO TURN AWAY

I COULD NOT HELP BUT SMELL

THE DEATH

IN YOUR PATHETIC GAZE.

ELCHOOK IS DYING

THERE IS A CURTAIN BETWEEN US NOW, VERY THIN

THE WALLS ARE GREASY WITH THE PALMS OF GRIEF

OF FRIENDS WHO ARE PROPPED UP WATCHING THE END

HE GURGLES FOR THE PRIEST 

AS IF HE IS ALREADY IN HELL! 

IT MAY BE THAT WATCHING A MAN DIE

IS LIKE WATCHING A SLOW LEAK IN A TIRE.

ON THE OTHER HAND,

A QUICK BLOWOUT MIGHT BE PREFERRED.

EITHER WAY, WHAT IS INSIDE

WILL SOON BE OUTSIDE

IN WHATEVER FORM NATURE MAY FAKE!

YOUR CHILDREN ARE HERE—THEY HATE YOU

YOUR WIFE IS HERE—SHE REALLY HATES YOU

SHE’S JUST BOUNCED A CHECK FOR YOUR OVER—SIZED COFFIN

WHILE THE “BOYS” TOAST YOU

THE ASSHOLE WHO RUINED HER LIFE!

SHE JERKS AT THE TUBES IN YOUR RUSSIAN SCHNOZ

“YOU O.K.?” SHE YELLS IN YOUR FACE

WITH HER FIESTA BREATH.

YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF GOD

AND CANNOT COME TO THE PHONE

SHE GIVES UP AND LEAVES, DRAGGING HER BRATS BEHIND HER

THANK YA JESUS.

III.

THIS MORNING

I’M HAPPY TO REPORT THAT MY ROOMMATE HAS COME OUT OF HIS COMA

EVEN THE CURTAIN IS OPENED A LITTLE WAYS

ALTHOUGH HE CANNOT SPEAK,

HE CAN ROLL ONE EYE AROUND QUITE VIGOROUSLY

AS IF IN CODE…

I WATCH THE NURSES TRYING TO IMITATE HIM BEHIND HIS BACK

WHILE HE MAKES THOSE INCESSANT GURGLING NOISES

THAT SOUND LIKE A BATHTUB THAT IS RAPIDLY FILLING UP WITH WATER

THE FILIPINO NURSES ARE REALLY ROUGH ON THE OLD BOY!

THEY ROLL HIM OVER

THEY CHECK HIS OIL

SIPHON OUT HIS LUNGS LIKE A BUNCH OF POOL CLEANERS

LAUGHING THE WHOLE TIME!

I FEIGNED OUTRAGE WHEN THEY TURNED TO SERVICE ME!

WITH BEDPANS IN HAND

THEY APPROACHED ME LIKE VAMPIRES IN HEAT

JUST THEN, IN SWOOPED A HALL WALKER (MISSIONARY)

TO CHASE THEM OFF!

“HELLO. HELLO, HELLO EVERONE!” SHE CHIRPED

SHE RUNS TO ELCHOOK’S BED,

ACCIDENTALLY TRIPPING OVER HIS

NOSE HOSE

“HERE DEAR, LET ME HELP YOU!”

SHE SHOVES HIM ANOTHER FIVE-POUND CRUCIFIX

SMASHING HIS URINAL BAG

ON HIS PAJAMAS

“OOH, GOD’S WILL BE DONE!” SHE MUSES

“LET ME SING YOU A SONG OF LOVE.”

I’M CONSUMED WITH NAUSEA

I MIMIC HER: “YOU IS A DEAD MOTHER FUCKER YOU IS…”

SHE GENUFLECTS WILDLY IN HER STATE OF GRACE

TIPPING HIS BEDPAN TO AN EMPTYING 45 DEGREES

HER EYES GAZE IN ALMIGHTY HEPTITUDE

AT THE PLASTER PEELED CEILING

WHERE SO MANY HAVE PASSED FROM THESE TWO BEDS

“THIS COMA IS A BLESSING!” SHE ASSERTS

HER PRAYERS ARE LIKE VULGAR SONNETS TO MY EARS

I’M BEGINNING TO FEEL SORRY FOR ELCHOOK

WHICH COULD BE FATAL TO MY MISSION.

IF ALL THESE BLACK CROWS WOULD JUST LEAVE HIM IN PEACE

HE’D BE BACK ON HIS FEET IN A WEEK

HEADING FOR THE CLUB

GOOD AS EVER!

IV.

AHHHH! MY LUNCH HAS JUST BEEN DELIVERED

I DON’T RECOGNIZE ANYTHING ON THE PLATE

I’M BEGINNING TO WORRY

I DIDN’T RECOGNIZE ANYTHING ON MY BREAKFAST PLATE EITHER!

IT LOOKED LIKE A NEW WAVE NUTRITION PLATE

NOW, MR. ELCHOOK HAS GOT IT MADE

HE LIVES ON AN INTRAVENOUS DIET

OF MELTED JELLO AND EGG WHITES

I KNOW THIS IS TRUE BECAUSE EVERY TIME HE EATS,

HIS BED JIGGLES FOR ABOUT 15 MINUTES 

AND THEN HE FARTS LIKE A CAMEL GOING TO AUCTION

ALL OF THIS WHILE IN A COMA! 

ALL MY FRIENDS HAVE FORSAKEN ME

THEY ALL VISITED FOR THE FIRST TWO DAYS

BUT BECAME TOO UNERVED AFTER HEARING ELCHOOK’S

CONSTANT GARGLING OF HIS OWN SPUTUM, NOT TO MENTION

THE DEPRESSING ENVIRONMENT

INTO WHICH I HAD BEEN ADMITTED

THEY DID LEAVE ME THE ULTIMATE LUXURY THOUGH:

A T.V. WITH A BETA-MAX AND A BUNCH OF ARTISTICALLY

QUESTIONABLE MOVIES.

THIS MADE ME UNBEARABLY POPULAR WITH ALL THE NURSES,

ORDERLIES, DOCTORS, PRIESTS, AND THE COOK!!!

I WAS EATING ONE OF HIS U.F.O.S (UNIDENTIFIED FRIED OBJECTS)

WATCHING “APOCALYPSE NOW” ON THE BETA

ALONG WITH MY ENTOURAGE

WHEN ELCHOOK SPAZZES AND ENTERS ACCELERATED DECOMP.

“TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT”

WE ALL AGREE, EXCEPT THEY THINK I’M TALKING ABOUT A MOVIE

ON THE BETA!

I’M READY FOR THIS FINALE.

V.

THE PRIEST IS CALLED—AGAIN

HE LIVES DOWN THE HALL

MR. ELCHOOK BEGINS TO “GET IT ON” WITH DEATH

I TURN THE SOUND OFF THE BETA

I FOLD MY ARMS OVER MY CHEST

I ADOPT A POSTURE OF EXTREME SADNESS

“WHERE IN THE HELL IS THE PRIEST!”

GRIPES AN IMPATIENT FAMILY MEMBER. 

“RIGHT AGAIN” I LAUGH TO MYSELF

I CANNOT MAINTAIN!

THE NURSE IS WHISTLING THE THEME FROM “ANDY OF MAYBERRY”

AS SHE COLLECTS THE MANY COLORED BAGS

OF HUMAN WASTE FOR DISPOSAL

I SUPPOSE…

MR. ELCHOOK IS PROFUSELY SUCKING WIND NOW 

AS THE PRIEST FINALLY BREEZES IN

PUSHING THROUGH THE CROWD OF FAMILY MEMBERS

HE BUMPS MY TRACTION WEIGHTS

PUSHING ME OVER THE THRESHOLD OF PAIN

I RING FOR MORE PILLS, FIGHTING ATTENTIONITUS

I’M UPSTAGED BY A HUGE FEMALE RELATIVE OF ELCHOOK’S

HER BULGING PROFILE ON THE CURTAIN

PRAYING, PRAYING, PRAYING

TALKIN’ THAT SHIT

“DON’T DO IT, WEBB” I HEAR MYSELF SAY

AS I REACH FOR THE SOUND ON THE BETA

I’M STOPPED BY THE POPE-ISH ARRIVAL OF THE MATRIARCH

BIG MAMA ELCHOOK,

ALL 4 FEET OF HER.

THE FAMILY ZEALOTS ARE WHIPPED INTO A FRENZY BY HER

PRESENCE

SHE IS ALL WRINKLED UP AND HARD AS A GALLSTONE

HER BONY FINGERS GRIP THE CURTAIN FOR SUPPORT

SHE SLOWLY TURNS TO LOOK AT ME

LIKE A MANTIS GOES FOR A PIECE OF BACON

I WAVE AT HER SHEEPISHLY

AS IF SHE HAD CAUGHT ME MASTURBATING

I TURN THE BETA SO SHE CAN BETTER SEE

I THOUGHT ALL OLD LADIES LIKED MARLON BRANDO!

WRONG AGAIN… 

HER ARMS ARE WAVING IN THE AIR

LIKE A PISSED-OFF ARAB

TO KEEP FROM FALLING ON HER ASS,

SHE GRABS THE CURTAIN SEPARATING ME AND HER SON

EXPOSING THE UPPER TORSO OF VALHALLA!

THIS IS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!

AS EXPECTED, HE LOOKS AWFUL

HIS HEAD ROLLED TO THE SIDE—EYES OPEN

FACING ME

THEY ARE THE PATHETIC EYES OF A CHILD

MORTALLY UNDERNOURISHED AND TOTALLY WITHOUT HOPE

THE GREY BAGS UNDER HIS EYES ARE PUFFY TOADSTOOLS

FOR ALL HE HAS SEEN IN HIS LIFE

THE PASTY YELLOW SKIN SAGS FROM ITS OWN BULK

FROM YEARS OF DRINKING FOR THE FUTURE

WELL, HERE IT IS! WELL, HERE IT IS!

VI.

I SKETCH FURIOUSLY

LIKE A CUBIST IN A HOUSE OF MIRRORS

THE SOUNDLESS T.V. BATHES EVERYONE

IN A MACABRE COLORKINETIC HELL!

COMPETING MADLY WITH THE VOTIVES FOR PHOSPHENES.

I FEEL LIKE I AM DRAWING THE BLOATED FACE OF CHRIST HIMSELF

HE HAS DROPPED THE BLACK HEAVY CROSS,

THE GRAVEN IMAGE

UNTO HIMSELF AND THE FLOOR ONTO WHICH IT HAS CRASHED

SENDING THE ROOM INTO A SPIN

AND THE FAMILY INTO SHOCK!

THE PRIEST SAYS LAST RITES IN SUCH A HURRY,

TOO FAST FOR A PAGAN LIKE ME TO UNDESTAND

WITH THE YELLOW EGG STILL ON HIS BIB

HE FINISHES HIS LIERGAIC PROSE

AND BEGINS TO MOVE TOWARD ME!

HE IS SURE THAT I’M A CATHOLIC

AS HE MOTIONS TOWARD ELCHOOK

“THAT COULD BE YOU OVER THERE, MY SON”

HE LINGERS BY MY BED,

WAITING FOR THE TRADITIONAL

RESPONSES

OF FEAR, GUILT, AND SELF PITY, NOT FORTHCOMING

I GIVE THE CROW THE FINGER

“AND THIS COULD BE YOU, MY FRIEND!”

FLABBERGASTED, HE TEARS THE “MOVING” XEROXED PICTURE OF

MARY

AND THE BURNING-HEART ART FROM THE WALL, LEFT BY THE

PREVIOUS TENTANT.

HE RUNS FROM THE ROOM TO PRAY FOR ME

FORGETTING ELCHOOK ENTIRELY.

EVERYBODY IS PRAYING NOW

BUT, NO ONE IS SAYING

WHAT’S REALLY ON THEIR MINDS

EXCEPT FOR ELCHOOK, WHO CANNOT SPEAK.

WITH THE MUSIC OF A BEACHED WHALE 

HE COMMUNICATES IN METHADRONIC HIEROGLIPHS WITH

THE MUSES OF DEATH WHICH STREAM PAST HIS RETINAS

LIKE THE BOOZE PASSING HIS OWN LIPS

FOR ALL THOSE HAPPY YEARS.

THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME

THAT I HAVE WAITED FOR SOMEONE TO DIE

WHEN I WAS TWENTY YEARS OLD AND STILL ON THE ROAD

I MET A YOUNG TRAVELLER NAMED

JOHN KAFKA OR NED NIETZSCHE OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

I HELD THIS MAN/CHILD WHILE HE

SLIPPED INTO DARKNESS

AT HIS REQUEST, I DID NOT ACCOMPANY HIM

ACROSS THE THRESHOLD

MACABRE EXISTENTIALISM HAS MORE THAN TRAINED ME

FOR THIS REENACTMENT OF QUESTIONABLE COURAGE

I COVER THESE DOUBTS WITH CHILDISH JINGLES

“THERE IS PLENTY OF AIR IN HEAVEN

WHY GASP SO HERE BELOW?

AFTER 14 ROSARIES

YOU MUST GO, NOT STAY HERE

AND RUIN THE SHOW

I LISTEN FOR YOUR WIND TO STOP

I DO NOT SPEAK YOUR LANGUAGE

ARE YOU BY CHANCE LAUGHING INSIDE

OR JUST GRINNING AT THEIR PHONY ANGUISH

YOUR FAMILY GATHERS ROUND YOU,

THEY POINT. ‘OH LOOK, HE’S SMILING’

YOU FINALLY GET TO FLUSH THIS CROWD

WHO LOVE YOU SO DIVINELY.”

VII.

THE POETIC LIMITATIONS OF MY DIVERSIONS

WERE BECOMING OBVIOUS, EVEN TO ME

AS I SLIPPED INTO A COMA OF MY OWN

I DREAM ABOUT THE GRIP OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH ON THE NECKS

OF THE POOR AND MIS-INFORMED.

I PRETEND THE POPE AND THE AYATOLLAH OF MIDDLE EAST FAME

ARE ONE AND THE SAME

400 MILLION CATHOLICS HAVE JUST BEEN ORDERED BY THE POPE 

TO CARRY AROUND PRAYER RUGS

TO BE USED FOUR TIMES EVERY DAY

EACH WOULD HAVE A BUILT-IN COMPASS WITH ROME CLEARLY

MARKED

DESIGNER RUGS WOULD BE IN!

HAUTE COUTURE WOULD FEATURE CUTE LITTLE VELOUR KNEEPADS

FOR THE TERMINALLY DEVOUT

THE ENTIRE CATHOLIC WORLD WOULD COME GRINDING TO A HALT

A RUSH HOUR IN HELL

BUMPER TO BUMPER

ASSHOLE TO BELLY BUTTON

ALL OF ONE MIND.

I WAKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT

ELCHOOK IS ONCE AGAIN NEAR DEATH

THIS TIME, A TRIBAL VOODOO MAN HAS BEEN CALLED IN

ALSO TAILORED LIKE A PRIEST. 

I TURN OFF THE T.V.

APOCALYPSE NOW WAS JUST GETTING GOOD

BUT, I WANT TO FEEL SOMETHING ABOUT THE MAN

WHO IS DYING IN THE BED NEXT TO MINE

I WANT TO FEEL METAPHYSICAL

LIKE MY DINNER OF DEAD HOSPITAL MEAT

I WANT TO DRAW SOMETHING SACRELIGIOUS

TO SHOW THE PRIEST THAT WE ARE NOT ALL ALIGNED

BEHIND HIS PLANETS,

AND THAT “NO RELIGION” ON MY I.D. BRACELET

MEANS JUST THAT!

THE BLACK CROW OF HITLERIAN FAME IS SMILING AT ME SWEETLY

HE OFFERS HIS CLAMMY HAND IN MOCK BROTHERHOOD

FOR ELCHOOK, I SUPPOSE

ONLY PRIESTS SHAKE HANDS WITH THEIR PALMS UP

WE FUMBLE LIKE GHETTO CRASHERS TO CONNECT

HE IS TRYING TO READ MY BRACELET

FOR THE DENOMINATIONAL  CLUE

TO MY OBVIOUS INTEREST IN THE CASE.

MY COVER IS ABOUT TO BE BLOWN!

I SEE A HERETIC MASSACRE ON THE HORIZON

THE ENTIRE ENTOURAGE OF ELCHOOK MOURNERS WATCH THIS

PRIEST

SPEED READ MY ARM.

IF I AM CATHOLIC, HE WILL BLESS ME

IF I AM JEWISH, HE WILL THANK ME

IF I AM MOSLEM, HE WILL FORGIVE ME

IF I AM AN ATHEIST, HE WILL TEST ME

“DO THE NOISES OF DEATH BOTHER YOU, MY SON?”

“NO FATHER, I GARGOYLE EVERY MORNING.”

IF I’M GOING TO BE CUT UP INTO KABOB,

I WANT IT TO BE DONE WITH

FULL MILITARY HONORS AND AN 18-BUN SALUTE

I SHOW MY DIME STORE TEETH

I DO MY BEST BELLA LUGOSI

HE DROPS MY HAND LIKE AN ALIEN TUMOR

THE THREE LOAVES OF BREAD RUN FROM THE ROOM

THE TWO FISHES, STINKING TO HIGH HEAVEN TURN THE SKY BLACK

AS ELCHOOK’S SOUL LEAVES WITHOUT WARNING

TEMPORARILY DISTRACTED FROM MY SECULAR DEFICIENCIES

THE CROWD RUSHES TO THE BEDSIDE

TO KISS THIS LUKE-WARM RELATIVE

AS BY CANON AND TRIBAL LAW.

THE SUN IS BEGINNING TO CREEP AROUND THE CURTAINS

I AM SAVED!

I MUST COVER MY HEAD WITH THE PILLOW TO HIDE

THIS SENSE OF HUMOUR FROM MY FACE.

FINISHED WITH MY JOURNALISTIC VACUUMING

OF THIS PATHOS PARTY OF CLOWNS, WHORES, PRIESTS,

AND YES, ARTISTS

I BREAK OPEN A FRESH BAG OF CHICHARRONES

RIVALLED ONLY BY DIP-CHIPS FOR NOISE.

I TURN UP THE BETA-MAX TO THE WAGNERIAN SOUNDRACK OF

APOCALYPSE NOW

WITH THE STACCATO SOUND OF HELICOPTER GUNSHIPS

RIPPING THE GUTS OUT OF EVERYTHING IN SIGHT,

ELCHOOK STARES AT ME.

NO ONE WILL CLOSE HIS EYES.

VIII.

I PRETEND THAT I AM AT CLUB MED, MONTE CARLO

I PULL MY CHRISTIAN DIOR SUNGLESSES DOWN OVER MY EYES

I POP THE PAIN PILLS THAT I HAVE BEEN SAVING UP

MR. ELCHOOK IS MOVED BY THE DAY SHIFT

TO WHEREVER PEOPLE IN HIS CONDITION GO

I FEEL LIKE I HAVE LOST A FRIEND TO SOME STRANGE REALITY

LIKE SOMEONE IN YOUR FOXHOLE

WHO JUST HAD THEIR HEAD TOOK OFF

THE ACTOR IN THE FILM HAS JUST

WASTED A YOUNG GIRL ON A SAMPAN

FOR ATTEMPTING TO HIDE A VIET CONG THE SIZE OF A PUPPY.

WITH THE OTHER EYE, I SEE THE FILIPINO NURSE WATCHING TOO.

I FEEL BOTH HORROR AND SHAME

FOR THIS SYSTEMATIC ABUSE OF CELLULOID

SHE FEELS IT TOO AS SHE MOVES TOWARD ME

ARMED WITH A BEDPAN AND A SHIT-EATING GRIN.

I AM SAVED BY THE INTERVENTION

OF MY DOCTOR WHO ANNOUNCES 

THAT PELIVIC TRACTION FOR ME HAS BEEN A DISMAL FAILURE

AND THAT I MAY NOW CHOOSE BETWEEN BEING INJECTED WITH

PAPAYA JUICE, A PAC-MAN TYPE FLUID

WHICH EATS EVERYTHING WITH PROTEIN IN IT 

WHICH NO ONE HAS QUITE FIGURED OUT HOW TO STOP

ONCE IT GETS STARTED.

OR GOING UNDER THE KNIFE WITH A LOCAL SURGEON

WHO WAS HIGHLY DECORATED

DURING THE JAPANESE INVASION OF GUAM

FOR LEADING A GROUP OF DRUG CRAZED

TRIBESMEN AGAINST HIGHLY FORTIFIED GUN IMPLACEMENTS WITH

MACHETES

WHO WAS COMING OUT OF RETIREMENT FOR ME.

I COULD HEAR ELCHOOK LAUGHING IN A CORNER OF THE ROOM

I COULD HEAR THE PRIEST I GAVE THE FINGER TO, HOWLING IN GLEE

THE HEINOUS RETORTS OF THE ENTIRE HOSPITAL STAFF

LEFT ME WITH A SENSE OF GLOOM THAT WOULD PROVE TO TEST

EVEN MY BENIGN SENSE OF TUMOR

.

IX.

MR. ELCHOOK IS GONE FOR GOOD

THE NURSE, ET AL HAVE LEFT WITH A FUNNY, BUT BAD TASTE IN

THEIR MOUTHS

MY LAST THREE DAYS HERE HAVE BEEN ALONE

I HAVE STILL REFUSED TO USE A BEDPAN FOR PERSONAL REASONS

MY FAITH IN IMMORTALITY IS ALL BUT GONE

I HAVE CONTRACTED BED-BUTT

AN UNKIND MIXTURE OF POISON OAK AND DIAPER RASH.

I AM RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL WITH ABOUT AS MUCH

DIGNITY

AS A LEPER AT A FASHION SHOW

AS I FUMBLE WITH THE CURB, THE HEARSE BEARING MR. ELCHOOK

SPEEDS BY

KICKING UP DUST AND GRAVEL

ELCHOOK, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ANYBODY

BUT NOW YOU ARE NOBODY.

SIGN OFF WITH SMIRNOFF THIS GREAT PEASANT HEART!

NOW, WHERE’S MY FUCKING RIDE?