The dog

The dog is playing cards. The dog is bobbing for ice cubes in his ice bowl. The dog is humping the chair. The dog is sleeping in the car. The dog is playing old jazz records. The dog is giving bad advice. The dog is reading The Big Blue Book of French Verbs. The dog falls off its stool at the bar. The dog finds a way into the fridge. The dog is eating deer shit in the front yard. The dog is lonely. The dog slept all day. The dog is barking at me on the rowing machine. The dog is slurping vodka. The dog is full of bad advice. The dog growls at the baby. The dog is in bed with her before you are.

Wrong Book

I am working everyday, all day, on rewriting my autobiography, I Will Kill You, when I realize that everyone hates that book, it is infantile and there is no plot, it is full of pornography and me talking about my dialectical progression, and that I am supposed to be working on a new book, called George, which I have not even started.

What the angel of love said to me

In my heart is every disease known to man.

Clive Cussler

I ask Clive Cussler why, in Corsair, and many other of his masterpieces, there is so much violence but no sex, not even a kiss. He blames it on his publishers. He tells me that his books are considered “family friendly” and that he isn't permitted to write about sex. I tell him that he is a slave, and a waste of a life, and that his books are actually pulp garbage and that he should go die like Madoff. He reaches into his pants and tells me that he is going to sodomize me and come on my face, and I tell him go ahead, but out of his pants he pulls out a Colt pistol and points it at me and tells me to take back my words.

Dark

Come into the dark. Through a pathway between those two trees.

Exreme Measures

I am talking to Vince Flynn about Extreme Measures. I tell him that the book gets interesting only at the end. I tell him that his writing is becoming as jingoistic as the late Michael Chrichton, that there are even hints of misogyny, especially the two female characters who both admit that Nash’s form of ultraviolence is the best way. Vince gets angry, and he starts tapping a large stick he is holding on the pavement in front of him, dramatically, as though he is blind.

Advice from a Sexist Angel

There is a man behind that door. The man will say he is a woman, but you must not trust him. He will want to kiss you, but you must not kiss him. Attached to his tongue is a sharp pair of scissors, and he’ll turn you into a woman.

Vince Flynn

Vince Flynn is beating the living hell out of me. But it doesn't hurt, becuase Vince Flynn is just a writer.

Love

I am running after a woman who has insulted me. She turns around, insults me. I tell her not to insult me. She asks me why I am following her. I tell her that I can’t live without her. She insults me. Each time she does I feel a kind of pain in my chest: a horrible dull throbbing, as if my heart could have migraines.

You complete me

- George, says Candace, you complete me. When I think of you, my legs turn to mush. I think this is an odd metaphor, but I assume Candace meant to say that her heart turns to mush. Immediately, she loses her balance and I run and embrace her. – What is wrong? I ask. – My legs, she murmurs. I lift up her dress to see her two giant legs, swollen and almost blue in places. – Relieve them, she says. Oh please God relieve them. She hands me a thin knife. – Just a simple incision, she says, up the inner thigh. Reluctantly, I take the knife and place it on her thigh. I push the blade against her skin. Instantly, the leg splits open, and inside is nothing but a noxious green and brown mush.

Missing

I am sodomizing a tall woman. A tall albino man completes the sandwich with me. I tell him to leave, that I love this woman. Then I have her alone. I am kissing her. – How I love you, I tell her. – And yet you are still sodomizing me, she says. I turn her over, kiss her mouth, her shoulders. But her breasts are missing! Was the albino the woman? Whom do I love?

Real Cake

It is a busy day. My mother is having a party. People show up at the door, even panhandlers and people selling the Book of Mormon. I look through the letters by the front door. There is a carbon copy of a letter I once sent to my friend about my dad. So he knows I have betrayed him! My dad is throwing a fit because someone has brought out a dessert which is only fruit. My mother tells him that this dessert was very expensive. I tell them that I hate it when they are angry. – I’m not angry, my dad says. I just wanted a real cake.

The House of Pain

Welcome to the House of Pain, says a funny looking man. He is holding a vegetable peeler and shaving off bits of the skin around his knuckles. He sweats profusely in agony. Another woman smiles at me, and her mouth is filled with blood. She holds a coffee cup filled with what I thought was ice but I realize is glass. A black man is wearing a steel contraption on his face. He sits down in a chair manned by a man in a pink shirt. He attaches a hook to the pink shirt and pulls on a lever. The black man smiles at me, and, in one terrifying instant, his face is completely torn off. – What pain are you suffering? The man in the pink shirt asks me. – I have no pain, I say, I’m just passing through. – What do you think this is, Dante? The man asks, pulling a small hook out of his wrist and walking toward me.

Bananas

The yellow blanket is on the bed. There is a banana on the blanket. There are two bananas on the blanket. I take a banana off the blanket, another banana appears. There are more bananas than I want on this blanket. The bed is covered with a mound of bananas and it is growing. The mound fills the room. The bed collapses. The room crashes down onto the main floor. The house expands, then explodes. Bananas fill up the yard and down the street. They fill the whole city. The pile is so high that at the top the bananas are exploding because of the air pressure. But the pile keeps growing, new bananas replace the exploded bananas and explode themselves. Then the refuse builds up, and the bananas are burning up in the atmosphere. They explode into dust. The pile grows vertically, and starts to suffocate the world. And just before it does you think, There is a yellow blanket under this impossible pile that was the origin of all.