CHAPTER 27: A FIFTH OF OBLIVION
"What delightful sport, Faust. These painted ladies are stunning."
"Indeed..." he said, slathering finger paint on a firm ass cheek and slapping it smartly.
The members of Lucifers Crank hadn't quite had their fill of watching naked women covered in paint cavort around their dressing room, but the fifth of oblivion the Mars Bar had provided looked pale compared to the helium fortified bug-juice 'Big Mama' Romilar and the Hells Harlots were dishing out. Of course, once the dope took hold the bikers had their own, not so abstract plans for the objects d'art.
A bottle blond, her mouth filled to overflowing by a zircon retainer, pawed at her haunches in a heap of mink and pigment. Somebody's kid sister was tying her arm off as Natasha eyed bulging veins like a lynx in heat.
"You like this, it excites you?"
"It helps me express myself," she said, staring at her life's blood as it clogged up the tube below the rubber stopper.
Meanwhile, a crowd had gathered outside of the Mars Bar, and as Geek Pederast miraculously got to his feet, the men of Precinct 5-O came on the scene in a puff of Brylcream and ignorance. Lt. Grizzle spoke for a generation of swine.
"Holy shit!"
"No word yet on the papal potty visit, but new evidence suggests fecal worship as early as Thomas Aquinas."
It was Sgt. Saltpeter, always quick with his two shits, and bringing up the rear was Sgt. X, looking stunned in a sheer negligee over shapeless corduroy culottes. He'd come in such a blinding flash of speed that he'd barely had time to accessorize.
"Tell us who done this to you! Who shot you down dead like a dog in the street?"
Pederast was shaken, not stirred, all Bozo and George Raft as he spat --
"His name's Doolan, but he won't fry, he's the heat."
"Oh, he's something hot alright. And it just hit the fan!"
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CHAPTER 28: MAYHEM AND THE BEAT
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