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ma and made mea culpa motions and put out papist pleas to Pope Pius。
I dipped over to the Diablo Club。 I downed some Dos Equis and bought some boss burro act artifacts。 A cook cooked me up some cat…meat carnitas to go。 A burro handler hipped me to Pedro Pimentel's private number。
I called the taco…phile Tojo of T。J。 and told him I had Teitelbaum's furs。 I tantalized him and told him I took down ten times Linda Lansing's take。 Tojo told me to meet him tomorrow。 I said I'd slide by his slave camp and move in my mountain of mink。 Tojo told me he'd measure the mound and meet me with mucho money。
I moseyed back to the motel。 Frank was moaning for mama。 Sammy was making like the Marquis De Mau…Mau。 I booted Bad Bob into the bathroom and fed him the cat…meat carnitas。 He went at it carnivorously。 I didn't want him to die。 I had to toss him to Tojo before he purchased a pass on Pancho the Pedophile。
I loped out to the lilac Lincoln and ran the radio。 I latched onto an L。A。 station and lucked out on a late…nite newscast。 No news： nothing on the massacre in mink or lashed Linda Lansing。 My bet： Bad Bob's boys in the BHPD buried it all。 I could buy out of my bind and wave bye…bye with a big bundle of cash。
Noxious night air noodled my noggin。 Some thread in my theories thrashed and threatened to lash my logic on the Linda Lansing end。 My brain broiled。 My mind misfired。 I couldn't cook a contradiction up in context。
I noxiously night…dreamed。 I ran the radio dial and got reverential with Rachmaninoff。 I pictured a perfect world。
I deliver the dough to Dot Rothstein and pay off my perfidies。 I pop down to Paraguay and purchase a palace and some peons。 I instigate indentured servitude。 I install myself as El Jefe。 I spawn the spic 〃Hush…Hush〃〃Husho…Husho〃 en Espaflol。 El Presidente Strongman Stroessner stridently defends me。 I defame the democratic…minded devils out to oust him。 I slather slander in a land with no libel laws。 I lance libidinous Latins and lynch leftist losers in print。 I pride myself as a prime antimie。 I hobnob with nervous Nazis assimilated in Asunción。 I hump their halfspic/half…nordic； radically race…mixed and ravishing daughters。 I spot a special Hush…Hush Hilda。 She hatches a hole in my heart。 I build the Berchtesgaden West as our love lair。 We breed a brood of bright little Getchellites。 I give them thick thesauruses on their first birthdays。
Oooooh； Daddy…o！ I was digging it all； dystopian！
I bopped back to the bungalow。 I freeze…framed Frigidaire Frank
He was beaming bemused and be…bop beatific。 His blue eyes blazed and blended with fabric flecks on his shiny sharkskin suit。 He bowed and bestowed a benediction。
〃I forgive you your transgressions； for I have been to the high mountaintop。 I am the way and the truth and the life。 Walk with me and you shall not walk alone。〃
Sammy said； 〃That acid shit misfired。 The motherfucker thinks he's Jesus。〃
6
Tojo's burritofied Buchenwald：
Five football fields under a tortilla…tamped tin roof。 A sunken sun magnet in the middle of a massive mesa。 Nine hundred niflos broiled brown。 Bright…eyed brats brought in to sew serapes and loom lacework and shear sheet metal into shiny souvenirs for burro show sharpies。 Labor by lathe； loom； and laundry press。 Stoop work at standing stations。 Slaves slotted down fifty rows roamed by rough boys with bullwhips and Bulgarian machine guns。
Kiddie casas off cattycorner。 Corrugated cardboardcourtesy of Carl's TV in Carlsbad； California。
Facing Maladroit Mesa：
A barbed…wire bordered baby White House built to 1/10 scale。
Righteous replication。 Exquisite external detail。 A lush lawn that led down to Slave City。
The lawn did double duty as an unpaved parking lot。 I pulled up behind a beanerized Buick and a frijolified Ford。； I felt felicitously fit and joyfully jingoistic。 Tojo was flying a flag。 His lusty little Lucifer was trimmed in tricolored lace。 I flipped him a salacious salute。
The joint was jumping jackrabbit high。
A bonaroo buffet boded by the barbed…wire boundary。 Bullwhips bit bullet…loud。 Mangled muchachos moaned and mewed； 〃Mamacita！〃 Blackshirted blowhards lounged on the lawn and swicked switchblades into the grass。
I vipped out of the van。 I hauled Bad Bob out by the hair。 Sammy made a mountain of mink and moved it onto the lawn。 The Juke Box Jesus was rope…wrapped and mouth…muted and mummified in mink。 He could suffer and suffocate。 He could vegetate in the van。 He didn't play in my plan。
Sammy sealed him in safe and soundless。 A blackshirt blizzard hit the Mink Matterhorn。
They reveled and rolled like dogs in the dirt。 They mauled mink and salivated on sable。 They grabbed and grass…stained and chewed up choice chinchilla。
A shadow shot over Mink Mountain and shaded in shiveringly。 Pedro Pimentelthe tostadofied Tojo and menudoized Mussolini。
A spiffy spic。 A blackshirted blackguard with blackhead pits and bad teeth。 A jackbooted jackal not to jive with。
He said； 〃Stop。〃
The blowsy blackshirts stopped and stood at attention。
He turned to me。 〃Mr。 Getchell？〃
I said； 〃In the flesh。〃 I hair…hauled Bad Bob over to him。
〃He killed your kid brother。 I'm giving him to you as a getacquainted bonus。〃
Bad Bob boohooed and begged for his life。 Pimentel pulled a pistol and popped him in the pineal gland。 He sheared off six more shots and shaved his crew cut down to a crease。
Sammy said； 〃Dig it！〃
Pimentel reholstered his heater。 〃You look like the American entertainer； Sammy Davis； Jr。〃
I said； 〃That's 'El Negrito。' He's a torpedo for a nigger mob in South L。A。〃
Sammy said； 〃What's shakin'；Jefe？〃
Pimentel patted his paunch。 〃Quite a remarkable resemblance。 e； I will give you a tour before we eat。〃
We whipped through the White House。 The fa？ade was fetching and faithful to our founding fathers' design。 The inside was lusciously Latinate and refreshingly revisionistic。
The rooms resembled rat…traps on Route 66。 Jefe housed his hermanos herd…style。 They bunked in six…bed bunkers hung with burro act artwork。 Dingo dogs and Dobermans dashed down the halls and defecated dolorously。
They lived in the Lincoln Bedroom。 The Lincoln portraits were painted by Pedro Pimentel。 El Jefe altered Abe and changed him to a cholo in a '52 Chevy。
The dog den opened into the Oval Office。 The lewd little Lucifer leered on a lusciously loomed lavender rug。 A heavy…hung hound was humping a chewed…up Chihuahua。 A Pekingese was pissing on Pedro Pimentel's papers。
The Rose Room stood in as a stall for the stars at the classy Club Diablo。 Dig the hip heaps of hay！ Dig the trough tricked up with the devil dick design！ Dig the donkeys dozing in postcoital peace！
The Roosevelt Room was a gun range。 The John Adams Room adjoined it at a rigid right angle。 It was Pedro Pimentel's private party pad。
A faux furflocked floor。 Sheet…shrouded walls to smother with smut films projected prick…primingly。 Presidential artwork by El Jefe：
Abigail Adams on dowager dyke Eleanor Roosevelt。 Pat Nixon knob…noshing FDRwigged out in his wheelchair。
Oooooh； Daddy…o！ Save me from this pixilated Picas