Chapter 4

THEY STRIKE AGAIN

The jangling bell woke me. I groped for the telephone. Who the fuck would be calling me this early in the morning. A place in the sun, if I could answer just one easy question, most likely. Bullshit! Why couldn't they let a guy rest.

"'lo," I finally managed to mumble into the receiver.

"Bartley?" the voice screamed. "Where the fuck are you? Why aren't you working? How in the hell did I ever get stuck with a lousy no good son-of-a-bitch like you anyway?"

It was my greatest fan. My city Editor. He only screamed at me like that because he still suspected that I was the one who had slipped the turpentine in his box of rubbers at the Christmas party.

Man, you should have seen him jumping up and down. He was hollering so loud everyone in the building could hear. The composing room broad he'd been getting ready to pork had been so startled that all she could do was lay there. Her dress up, legs open. What a blast! Good 'ol George. Always good for a laugh.

"Slow slolly! Long numba,'" I mimicked, then hung up.

Groggily I fumbled for my watch on the nightstand. Squinting at it, I shook it to make sure it was running.

One o'clock. Shit! I had really overslept. No wonder the guy was yelling.

The phone began ringing again. I knew it would be George. I just ignored it. Lighting a cigarette, I waited until he finally gave up. Running over a list of plausible excuses of why I was late, I discarded most. I had already used them. Fuck it. I would think, or try to, of something on the way in.

Stubbing out the foul tasting fag, I crawled out of the rumpled bed. As usual, Wanda snoozed away. The noise hadn't disturbed her. Nothing disturbed Wanda. She could sleep through an earthquake.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I adjusted the shower. Soon I was toweling off. As I shaved, I let my mind run over the events of the night before.

With Janet's help, I had gotten Wanda down to the car. Eddie had glared at me when we'd left. That boy really wanted a piece of my tail. I suppose J.B. had returned to the party. When we had left, the band had been playing again. Several couples could be seen heading for various rooms however, and I doubted that much else would happen of interest that night.

When we had gotten back to my place, I had put Wanda to bed, then called Holloway. He had been out. I started to have him call me. Thinking better of it, I just hung up. I was tired, and the whole fucking mess would have to wait until the morning. My poor, tired, overworked, underpaid brain needed rest. Snuggling up to Wanda, I had drifted off.

Somewhere along the way, I had had visions of the Black giant chasing me through the streets. I was stark naked. At each corner his whip would catch me across the ass. That always would get a big laugh out of Eddie, who was always standing on the corner. J.B. was there too. Smiling broadly.

Coming out of the bathroom I saw that Wanda was beginning to stir. The covers fell away from her. The sight of her naked body set off a chain reaction. It ended with me between her legs, pumping merrily away. She purred happily in my ear.

Man did that chick ever love to fuck. The more I poured the meat to her, the more she wanted. Just feeling her milking my bone with those pussy muscles of hers ... Wow! I shot my load deep in her cunt in several quick, short bursts. Raising up on my arms, I looked down at her. She pouted, complaining that it had been too fast, and making noises like she wanted some more. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was already a quarter 'til two. Man I had to get a hustle on.

Planting a wet kiss on her pouting lips I pulled out of her. Apologizing for having to fuck and run I redeemed myself by promising to be back as soon as I could. Certainly before she had to go to work. That seemed to mollify her. Besides, I wasn't too sure that I even wanted her to go back to the "Red Rose." Not with the way Eddie was feeling about me. There was always the outside chance the creep might try to take it out on Wanda.

Wiping my dick on the wet towel, I began dressing. Five minutes later I stood by the bed. Wanda had already started dozing again. That broad loved only three things in life. Sleep, fucking, and grass. And, not necessarily in that order either. Bending over, I pecked her on the cheek, then split.

Bailing my heap out of the garage, I headed for the office. On the way, I called several of my contacts, managing to get enough information to prove I'd been working my ass off all morning. I knew George wouldn't believe a word of it, but at least he would appreciate my having made the effort. I wondered how long it would be before he forgot about what I had done to him at the Christmas party? I hoped it would be before the next party, since I already had a swell gag worked out for that one.

A load of saltpeter for him, and Spanish-fly for the chick. Out of sight baby. It would be like trying to cram a hand full of wet spaghetti up a wildcat's ass. Wild! Poor George. But at least he could be glad that I really liked him way down deep. Just think how it would be if I didn't even like the guy. Crazy man.

I decided that it would be much easier if I parked the car outside the newspaper's garage. I always hated to awaken the attendants when I wanted to get the heap back. Besides, I planned to call Holloway right away. He would be very interested in what I had unearthed.

Going up in the elevator I was attracted to a really gorgeous hunk of fluff that got on at the third floor. That meant she worked for the paper. Third floor? That was advertising. I made a mental note to check her out. As I got off on the seventh, I casually patted her on the fanny. She giggled. It was going to be a great day.

The two amber glows that burned out at me from what was laughingly referred to as George's face told me that it wasn't going to be a great day. I wondered if some fink had clued him in for sure that I had been responsible for the yuletide fiasco? If so, most likely George would be a little uptight. He was like that. Emotional.

"You chicken-shit bastard," George hissed affectionately. Like I said, emotional as all hell. "What's the idea of hanging up on me like that? And what's with the phony Chinese accent? Where the hell you been? Where's your copy for the first edition? Why does Holloway want to talk to you? What you been up to? What the hell's wrong with you? Why don't you answer me? Well?"

That's the way it is with George. I figure it for a case of arrested development. Questions! Nothing but questions, questions, and more questions. But, that's the way it is with those emotional types. Never can seem to make up their mind.

I was both glad and surprised to hear that Holloway had been trying to reach me. I wondered why he hadn't called me at home. He had the number. Maybe that second call hadn't been from George after all. What the hell. I decided to tell George the truth.

"What are you talking about? What Chinese accent? What hanging up? Who's Holloway? You feeling all right, George?"

George just trembled. He always got this way when his time of the month came around. Poor guy! I guess I really should take it easy on him. But I was in a hurry. Dropping the notes I'd scribbled earlier into the litter basket he used for a desk, I headed for my own. George was so happy to see me tears began trickling down his cheeks. Poor fellow. Just too emotional, that's all.

"Bartley!" he screamed, his arm upraised, fist clinched. "You sonofabitch, come back here."

Turning, I shouted, "can't chief. Gotta' call. Big story. Looks like Civil War in Switzerland! There's a rumor the Mayor is going to resign to become a social director in the Catskills. The Amalgamated Babysitters Union is set to go out at midnight, and the Telephone Company has agreed to negotiate a settlement with that widow about that dime she lost in the coin box. Big day, Chief! It's all in my notes. I put them on your desk."

George stopped trembling, the water works stopped, and some of the red puffiness went out of his face. He made a grab for the scraps of paper I'd tossed in front of him. I knew it would take him a while to sort them out from the rest of the garbage. Just in time for me to call Holloway.

I picked up the phone. Hooray! It was going to be a great day. I got a dial tone. Quickly, before it changed its mind, I dialed nine, then Holloway's private number. Soon, his mellow voice caressed my ear-pipes. "Holloway!" he boomed.

"And a pleasant good morning to you too. This's Bartley. What's up?"

"Oh. Hi Johnny. We got another one. This time the guy's in Bellevue. Weirdo Ward. Put him right around the bend. The shrinks thought he was just out of it for a while, but he finally convinced them that it was on the level. Called me about an hour ago. You interested?"

"Groovy, man. All the way. Got some hot stuff for you too. Picked up some real steam last night. No less that the 'Big Boy' himself. Looks like somethin' big, Holly 'ol pal."

There was silence on the other end. Then, in a strained voice, Holloway whined, "You been smoking that stuff again, Johnny?"

Just like 'ol Holly. Always good for a laugh. Frustrated comedian. That's what he is. George is emotional; Holloway's a funny man. Oh well, it takes all kinds to make up the world. Glancing in George's direction, I realized I had to hurry.

"Very funny, flatfoot," I opined. "Look! I gotta' scat. Meet me at the Mud factory. Bye now!"

I hung up. George was a slow reader, but by now it should have dawned on even him that that shit I had handed him wasn't even good for a filler. I didn't run for the elevators. I just sorta' walked kind of fast.

"Baart ... tleyyy!" I heard George's gentle voice. By then the elevator was there. I stepped in. "You cock-sue...." but I didn't hear the rest because the door closed, and I was safely on my way.

The Mud factory was a little coffeehouse on Second Avenue just off 19th Street. Their coffee was the reason for the nickname. But the cute little Polish broad that served it was outa' sight. She had a pair of knockers on her that would have qualified her for "Miss Watermelon." Holly denied it, but I was sure he was pronging her. Personally, my only gripe was that I wasn't.

Olga was rapping with Holly in a back booth when I came in. The tight, nylon uniform her boss supplied just wasn't big enough. Man, she had one of the most picturesque behinds of any chick around. If Holly wasn't banging that, he oughta' be arrested for stupidity above and beyond the call of duty. I thought of Wanda. My dong thought of Wanda.

"Si' down. Mud?" Holly asked.

"Naw. Let's roll. George is having his period again, and I think he's gonna' flip out. Better turn something soon or the poor slob is liable to hemorrhage."

Nodding solemnly, Holly dropped a metal Washington on the table for Olga. Patting her on the ass, he led the way out. The sun was bright. We both blinked. We headed toward Holly's squad car. We always took that when we were together. Easier to get through traffic.

Swinging over to First Avenue, Holly headed uptown. He turned on the bubble-gum machine. Like all good New York drivers, they ignored it. As far as they were concerned, Holly and his red light could just wait their turn. It was less than a mile to the hospital, and with the help of the rotating beacon, we made it in a little over twenty minutes. Which just goes to show that the Mayor's new traffic control program was working wonders.

"Gotta' pass?" the private guard growled.

Holly flashed his ducat, accepted the sneer from the civilian in uniform, and headed for the Funny Farm Floor. Getting off, we had to show identification again, and finally found ourselves peering through thick, mesh wiring. A burley attendant, in white coat and pants, eyed us suspiciously.

"Dr. Rubin," Holly said, using his official tone.

"He 'spectin' you?" the attendant tossed back.

Holly nodded. I smiled. The attendant thought. I could tell he was thinking from the way his eyes kept crossing. Revving up his brain to full power, he managed to remember what button to push.

"Cup'pa' guy'z t' shee ya' doc," he intoned in flawless Brooklynese. "Ya' 'spectin' 'em?"

"Yes I am, Dom. Show the gentlemen into my office," a metallic voice came back over the intercom.

Having received the word direct from the All Mighty, Dom nodded his head puppet-like. The chair groaned as Dom lifted his three hundred pound hulk and rolled toward the gate. He banged a heavy brass key into a lock, and the big wire mesh gate swung creakingly open.

"Doc shayzz it's O.K." Dom confirmed moronically, nodding his head in time with his words. "Dis' way."

Holly and I stepped over the threshold, heard the door clank shut behind us, then waited for Dom to catch up. His scraggy head flopping from side to side, he resembled an overgrown Saint Bernard. He smelled a little like one too. I couldn't resist.

"When you taking the exams?"

"Huh?" Dom answered thoroughly confused.

"Exams? You know, for your Doctor's license."

Holly shot me a hard look. Fuck him. On second thought, he wasn't built right. I smiled at Dom.

"Huh?" Dom repeated. I guess maybe his needle was stuck.

"You're one of the Interns' aren't you?"

"Nawww," he blushed, hanging his shaggy head. Honest to Pete the silly mother blushed. Bright red. "I'm jest 'un of de' guyzz. A-tend-dant! Dats whut I'm." His face got redder than Holly's no good bubble-gum machine. I almost pissed in my pants. I could feel Holly's eyes boring into me.

"Really? Aww, come on. You're puttin' me on. Honest? You're not one of the doc's?" I shook my head in mock disbelief. "I'd of sworn you were the Head Shrink's Chief Assistant."

"Honestly, Johnny! Cut the crap," Holly snapped.

Dom frowned. He looked from Holly to me. Holly scowled. I smiled. Dom decided that he liked me; not Holly. His face got even redder, he shuffled his feet.

"Nawww! I jest an A-tend-dant. 'oness? Ya' tink I wuz a doc?"

"Sure!" I stared back solemnly. "One of the top."

"Gee!" Dom eloquently proclaimed. As far as he was concerned all elections were crooked. Otherwise, I'd be the Mayor.

Casting a disgusted look in my direction, Holly started off down the corridor without waiting for us. Shrugging, I followed. Dom, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to lead the way, brought up the rear.

I liked Holly. Sincerely. A big man, over six feet, he was ruggedly handsome. His light blond hair had a slight wave to it. His features were clean cut and even. His light blue eyes sparkled with mirth ... usually. But, alas, like all us mortals, Holly had his failings. His sense of humor was more than lacking. But his big, redeeming feature was that he was a good cop. An honest one at that. Really!

One evening when he had dropped in on a bash at my pad, he had even threatened to bust Wanda for blowing grass. Wanda, giggling, had offered to blow him instead. 'Ol Holly had gotten pretty uptight about that, and split. Hell, as long as it was Holly, I wouldn't have minded a bit. But, that was the way Holly was.

Down the corridor, a man in a white smock stepped toward us. Smiling, he extended a well-manicured hand to Holly.

"Detective Holloway? I'm Doctor Rubin."

"Hi. Nice of you to call us. Ya' got the guy handy?"

"Yes. We thought it best to isolate him until after you had spoken to him. To tell the truth officer, we still aren't sure if he is telling the truth. One of the damnedest things I've ever heard. But, he wouldn't stop raving until we called you ... so...." he trailed off. Giving me an inquiring glance, he waited.

"Right. This is John Bartley. He's a reporter. Been helping me with the case we are working on. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Always glad to entertain members of the press. After all, they shape public opinion, and we do get our appropriations from the City and State. Ha, ha!" He smiled at me.

I smiled back at him. This is the smilingest fucking book I've ever seen. No wonder the Russians think we're nuts. Meanwhile, Dom smiled at everybody, scratched his ass, and ambled back to his desk. I had noticed that hearing that I was a member of the Fourth Estate had impressed him even more. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he called the Board of Examiners that very afternoon and demanded an application. 'On the job training,' you know.

Doctor Rubin led the way. We entered a small cubicle of a room. The walls were padded. Except for a bed, it was bare. I noted that the metal frame of the bed was also padded. A single light provided the only illumination. A man sat on the bed, his knees drawn up under his chin.

As we came in he looked at us. His eyes were wide. He had more red lines in them than a New York City Budget. He had a two day growth of stubble on his face. He was in a straight-jacket. His hair was rumpled, and the wild gleam in his eyes made me glad he couldn't move around too freely. A bit of spittle had accumulated at one corner of his mouth. I couldn't help wondering what in the hell we were doing trying to talk to a psycho like this.

"Mr. Collins. These gentlemen are from the Police and the Press. Just like we promised. They are here to talk to you; to let you tell your story. Do you feel like talking to them?"

The Doctor's voice was calm, almost a monotone. The man's bloodshot eyes followed his lips diligently. Finally he nodded his head, turning his piercing gaze in our direction. I wished I was back having a nice, quiet, intellectual discussion with Dom.

Turning to Holly, the doctor indicated the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Holly sat down. I preferred to stand. The doctor took up a position near the door. We all looked at the man on the bed. Holly cleared his throat.

"Well, Mr. Collins. I understand you wanted to talk to us. We are very much interested in what you have to say."

The wild man just stared at Holly.

"It's all right, Mr. Collins," Doctor Rubin's soothing voice intoned. "You can speak freely. No one is going to hurt you. Just tell the officer what you told us."

"He ain't gonna' believe me."

The man's voice was just barely audible. It was a deep voice, although devoid of feeling or emotion. This cat was really way out. Only his burning eyes showed sensibility.

"Try me," replied Holly evenly.

Collins just stared at him. Gradually the burning intensity diminished. He let out a loud sigh.

"It's weird, baby, weird. Even I have trouble believing it, and hell man, it happened to me." He paused, studying Holly's face intently for some sign. Holly's expression never changed.

"Try me," Holly repeated again, his voice betraying nothing. Like I said, Holly was a good cop. A real pro. Is it any wonder that I liked and respected the damn guy? Holly just waited.

Sighing, Collins began mumbling out his story. Believe me it was one of the weirdest things I have ever heard. This cat was born under the proverbial Hex; with a double capital H. Man like black cats didn't cross his path; they followed it.

"Got a fag?" Collins asked.

Holly looked in the doc's direction. He nodded. Pulling a pack from his pocket, Holly lit up, then held the weed so that Collins could take a drag. He pulled hard on it, let the smoke go deep into his lungs, then slowly exhaled. It almost made him relax. At least his eyes closed for a second. It was almost as if someone had turned off a blast furnace when he did.

"I'll have to start at the beginning. If I don't, none of it makes any sense. It makes it look like I'm a real kook! Something like the last thing isn't enough to push a guy over the hill by itself. But put it all together, and like man...." he trailed off.

Collins leaned forward and drug deeply on the cigarette again. This time he let smoke out through his nose. He was getting calmer. I began to wonder if maybe Holly wasn't holding out on me. Maybe that grass bit had been an act. I sniffed the air. Nothing.

"I been making it with this chick, see. Like she's around twenty-one, two, like that. She's kinda' kooky herself. Gotta' play with her cunt a lot before you can put the pole to her. Like, she digs it man. Guess she spent too much time whompin' her pud, alone. Anyway, she'd like that. Name's Bobbi. Tall, nice chick."

Collins let his mind drift on into fond memories. His voice trailed off. Holly thrust the fag forward again. He puffed on it, then went on with his story.

"Anyway, after this chick blows her bricks she's like ice. Real Frigadairesville. Don't want nothin' to do with a guy. Just like that. Only wants to sit in that damned apartment of hers and play with her cat."

"Well, it don't take me long before I get pretty tired of that shit. I been making it with a couple other birds, kinda' on the side. You dig? One of them, Aily, is just sort of a lay. Nothin' personal, you understand? The other, Kim, is a really groovy bird. Short, nice, stacked like a brick you-know-what. Man, that body of hers is somethin' else. Just looking at it gave me a hard-on. But she's a screwy bird. Like, she digs Yoga, and all that shit.

"Anyway. One night me and Bobbie, we have this real big rap session. I just can't dig her coldness no more. It's like snuggling up to an iceberg after balling her. Nothing else. Blank."

"So, I call Kim. She says she's cool. I make it for that night. We make the whole bit; dinner, drinks, groovy place, then back to the pad for what makes the girl go round. Dig?"

He paused. Holly nodded, holding the cigarette out for him again. Collins puffed away. It was almost gone. I noticed that Collin's voice is starting to raise a bit. His peeper's are getting even wilder. So far nothing he's said makes much sense; at least not enough to push him around the bend. I started to lose interest. To kill time, I looked around the room. Just the average, ordinary, middle-class padded cell.

"You gotta' unnerstan' man. Like, Bobbi and me been makin' it pretty straight. I ain't really gettin' much stuff on the side. Just once in a while with Aily and Kim. It's been a long time. The night Bobbi and I have our beef, I don't ball her at all. I got it bad though. Like granite man. Stones, even."

"Like I said, Kim is outa' sight. She's got a pair of tits on her that ... Uuummmm. ... Wow!" Collins bounced on the bed happily. My ears perked up.

"And, that ain't all. Not only the big boobs, but her legs are perfect. She's petite, compact, and definitely built for speed. I balled her before. Not too much, but enough to dig it good. She's tight man. So tight that it always took a good five minutes just to get the head in her. She'd cry. She'd beg. She'd plead. But man, once I poured the meat to her, she'd just turn into one hundred percent wildcat. Scratched the shit out of me."

A look of nostalgic reflection crossed his face. Collins just sat there. Lost in a cryptamnesia known only to him. After waiting for what seemed like a long time, Holly prompted him.

"Go on Mr. Collins. I assume there is more?"

"Yea! Yea, man. There's more. Lot's more. Anyway, like I'm sayin', Bobbi and me split. Hot! That's me. I make for the score with Kim. We go the route. Back to my pad. I'm lovin' her up real good. Playin' with her big tits; kissin' the inside of her thighs. Got a hard-on like a club. I'm ready. Been pouring the hooch in Kim. She's kinda' loaded. I get her blouse off. Oh, baby, what a pair of knockers that broad's got...." again trailing off. This time he snapped back immediately.

"Like I tol' ya'. She's kinda' nutty. Yoga, an' all that shit. There I am man. A hard-on like the Washington Monument; one of the most delicious chicks in the city, half stripped down. I'm pantin' like crazy. I push her over on the bed. She started to cry. I figure she's gonna' really put on this time. Instead she starts to wail like crazy; screaming, hollering, going ape."

"I stopped. I asked her what was wong ... er, I mean wrog ... er, I mean wrong, damn it. Every time I think about that night I almost go off my nut. She looked at me with those big blue glimmers of hers. Those enormous boobs were pointed right at me. I was almost out of my cork. Shit! Sweet, delicious, Shit!"

"She looks at me. 'Baby,' she says. 'I can't!' "

"'Why?' I asks. 'My Spiritual Mother says I can't fuck no more', she wails. I'm stunned. I can't believe my ears. I just look at the broad. Me! With a hard-on the size of a bowling pin, and she's handing me some kinda' Yoga shit about her Spiritual Mother saying she can't amortize no more. Christ! I got sick. I wanted to puke!"

Collins's voice was getting louder and louder. I eased toward the door. I hadda' admit the guy had gotten a bum deal, but after all, you didn't climb down outa' your tree just because some bird decided she didn't want to put out. Not even two in a row.

"I'm laying on the floor. I got stones. Man, do I hurt. The cunt is wailin', bawlin', raisin' hell. She's apologizing all over the place. Lots of good that does me. My pecker's throbbing like someone dropped an anvil on it, and all she can say is that her Spiritual Mother says she can't ball no more if she wants to expand her personality. Expand her personality!! I'd expand her if I coulda' just got my pole in her. Shit! Holy Cow Shit!"

"Then the guy next door starts bangin' on the wall. Threatens to call the cops. The broad's still making with the salt water, and my dong's still aching. I tell the cunt to get the fuck outa' there, and don't never come back. She's still cryin' when she gets dressed and splits."

"Man, what a night. First Bobbi, then Kim. And still no pussy. Do you know what I mean, man?"

Holly looked at the guy with sympathy. He knew what he was rapping about. I could tell. I knew too, although thank goodness I hadn't had to find out too often. The look on Doc's face indicated that he knew what the guy was about too. We all did. But that still didn't underscore the reason for the loony bit. Holly must have been reading my mind.

"Yes, Mr. Collins. I understand. But what has that to do with what happened later, or for that matter, why you are here?" Putting the fag out on the floor, Holly went on. "Mr. Collins. I'm sure that the two incidents were traumatic. But surely you aren't the first man, nor the last, to have something like that happen to him. Now come on man. Tell us what else happened that could have been bad enough to put you here. There is more isn't there?"

Collins nodded his head frantically. "Yea, man. There's more. Like I said. Lots more. I'm only beginning. But like I tol' you. I gotta' start at the beginning, or none of the rest makes any sense either. You just gotta' be patient man. Give me time. OK?"

Holly nodded his head in agreement. Even I began to get interested a little. The guy had had a rough time of it, and if there was even more, then maybe there might be something here after all.

"Well, anyway, I bombed with Bobbi, with Kim, and I'm laying on the floor in pain. Then I remember Aily. Great kid. Just great. And in the sack? Outa' sight, dad. Outa' sight. She loves to fuck the way some people love to eat. And she's always ready too. So, naturally, I calls her up right away. I done that before too, and she always came right over. This wasn't any exception. She lives right in the same building. I calls, and she comes right over. When she gets there, she's dressed fit to kill. Man, and am I ready."

"But she decides that she wasn't ready right then. She says she has to have a drink first. O K! So, I already plied the other broad with booze, might as well take the time and do the same for Aily. After all, I don't want to act like a pig. Right?"

Everyone nodded. Even Doc was interested. Apparently he had heard the story before, but it was not the usual kind. He could hear it again. The plot thickened.

"Like I said before. I balled Aily plenty before. In fact, she's even showed up at my place in the middle of the night, wanting me to put the blocks to her. Me. I do the best I can. So, natch I don't expect no trouble from her. Not from good ol' Aily. Shit, was I in for a surprise."

"I feed Aily the booze. Not cheap stuff neither. The best. Then this silly broad gets on a crying jag. Says I don't appreciate her as a woman. Says the only thing I'm interested in is getting between her legs. Says she's found a guy that really loves her and is interested in more than just her box. Shit! It's a fucking conspiracy, that's what. First Bobbi; then Kim; now Aily."

"Then Aily get up, dumps a drink on me, and tells me if I wanna' get laid, I can lay my fist. Can you imagine that? She even insults me. Wow! And after all I've done for the chick. A conspiracy. That's what it was."

Collins's voice had risen steadily. Now, almost exhausted, he stopped for breath. He was heaving. Even I had to admit that the guy had certainly had a rough time of it. Holly lit another fag, and the Doc even went so far as to undo one of his arms so he could smoke it without Holly's help. After he'd gotten hold of himself, Collins continued. I was all ears.

"So, I make a buck on the side by writing fuck books. You know, the real raunchy kind. Not the good stuff. Not like Olympia. The crap. Don't pay much. But at least 'nuff to pay the rent and buy a little booze when I want it."

"Anyways. I had just picked up a check from the fink publishers that day. The next day, still real uptight, I goes to the bank to cash it. Here." Reaching to his pants pocket with his free hand, Collins withdrew a crumpled strip of paper. I recognized it as a check blank. It was wrinkled.

"You got any bad tires on your heap? Take this. It's pure Goodyear. Bounced higher than the Empire State. Now, not only am I uptight in the crotch, but I'm uptight in the pocket."

He puffed furiously on the cigarette. His eyes began getting wild again, and I sorta' wished he didn't have so much freedom. His voice was hiked up an octave or two also. Poor guy. He'd really had it rough.

"That ain't all. I had just bought a brand new typewriter. SCM, it was. Beautiful thing. Two Hundred. Cash. I don't have it a week, and blooey! The fucking thing falls apart at the seams. Everything on it flips out. It was 'lectric. Turn it on, and you got the Northern Lights. Outa' sight. The roller starts flippin' back and forth like a washing machine agitator. The keys all hit at the same time, and the bell rings like it's a Madison Square Garden reject. Freaked right out."

"Now, you gettin' the pix? Dig? Unnerstan' the bit? I boxed out with Bobbi, got keel-hauled with Kim, axed with Aily, clobbered with the check, and took on the typewriter. My rent's due, and the landlord comes on with the bit about how he ain't running no welfare department. I ain't had no pussy in so long I forgot what it was like. The fuck book outfit folded. The Fickle Finger of Fate has really been workin' overtime with me ... an' it didn't use no vaseline neither."

All this was said in a rush of breath. Now Collins paused, took a drag from the fag, and looked at us from his bleary, bloodshot eyes. I had really started feeling for the guy. He'd really had it rough. Hell, who knows. Any guy might flip out under those kind of conditions.

"But that ain't the story yet," Collins continued. "That's just the warm up. The prelims. Openers. The real ball buster is yet to come."

He dragged deeply on the cig. I leaned forward. I was interested as hell now. Shit! If that was only the beginning, no wonder the poor bastard was in the loose screw department. His eyes seemed to sink in further. I was starting to really feel for the guy. Holy hemorrhoids. He'd really been through the wringer. And, he wasn't through yet. What else coulda' happened to him.

"I'm feelin' kina' low. Dig? I goes to this party. Up on the West Side. Groovy pad. I meet this chick. Tina. Outa' sight baby. Cool. Real cool."

"I plays tomcat. That don't work. I play cool. She starts to dig me. I dig her. She's comin' on strong now. Tells me she's all alone. Got the big pad out in Queens. Four an' a half. With two baths yet. She's even got wheels. Can you fix on that, dad. Here I am so fucking uptight I ain't even shit in a week, and here this livin' doll drops in on me right out of outer space. I'm groovin.' I'm outa' sight. Better'n MaryJane. Oh man!"

A far off look crept into his sockets. He seemed to be drifting off. I didn't want the bastard to flip out now. What the hell went with this Tina chick. Come on Collins. Give.

Getting hold of himself, he went on. But his voice was much lower, more subdued. I could just imagine what went next. This cunt probably wouldn't put out either. Boy, was I wrong.

"We're standin' off in a corner, and she's givin' me this . bit about her needing to take a cold shower. She rubbin' it up on me like crazy. Man, I'm ready to put the blocks to her right then and there. She says cool it. She invites me out to her place. Yea! Just like that. Do I go? You think I'm nuts?"

Thinking of what he'd said, and where he was, Collins giggled. I didn't blame the guy. What the fuck. The fact that he goes shows that he's got all his buttons. After what he'd been through, maybe a few of them had gotten in the wrong holes. What the crap. Most anybody would go a little bananas if that had happened to him.

"So. Anyway, we gets in her crate. Nice bug. Almost new. She tells me she's got the grooviest job in town. Makes plenty of bread. Got four and a half ... plus two baths ... looks, legs, boobs, the whole bit. Only she ain't got no man. Wow! Dig? She's tellin' me all this shit. After what I been through. I'm even thinkin' maybe I'll stop pissin' on the Pope's picture.

"All the way out to Queens she's rubbin' the inside of my leg. Man, my pole's up like Cape Canaveral's show piece. She's tellin' me how she wishes she don't have all them clothes on. Says it's too hot. Man! Like I tell her soon's we make her pad, she can get it all out. She kisses me. Long, deep, sexy. I'm ready to jet off right then.

"Finally we make her pad. Man, just like she says. She's outa' her rags like now. Nice. Real nice. Body like fantastic, man. She don't even wait for me. Runs right to the bedroom. Jumps in, and lays there beggin' me to hurry. Like I need beggin'. Right? I so fucked up it takes me three shots to find her hole. But man, when I do ... Outa" fuckin' sight, baby!

"Dad, this chick don't jus' like to fuck; I think she invented the bit. She screws me to a standstill. Then she wants more. Me. I rev it up and ride like there ain't no tomorrow. It was like I jus' couldn't get enough of that box.

"We fuck straight. We fuck upside down. She gets on top. She goes down. We go round the world ... then take a slow boat back. Man, I come so much, that-in the end I was just givin' her the dry heaves. We was really freaked out, baby.

"Finally, we sleep. Like I'm dead, and don't give a good shit. The next morning she wakes me up with the most fantastic breakfast any dude ever had. Not only has this chick got everything there is to have for a guy; but she cooks like an angel. I'm just waiting for me to come out of it. I figure that everything that happened has finally drove me bananas. I'll wake up any second in the Napolean Suite at Bellevue.

"But I don't come out of it. Like it's for real. The chick is. I am. It is. I spend two days there. She's on vacation, and all we do is lay around, fuck, sleep, eat, drink, and then fuck some more. It was heaven, Man. I figured I musta' got run over in the Subway, died, and had gone to heaven."

Collins paused again. He got that far away look in his eyes. He was just sitting there, staring off into space, sadly shaking his head. I edged toward the door again. First this kink tells a weird story about things that can happen to anyone; only not all at the same time. Least, it's not likely. But that I can buy.

Then, he comes on strong about some chick that we all just dream about, but never, but never, find. All his troubles have been solved, and all he can do is sit there shallow like. I figure maybe he's in the right place after all. Then, oh brother! He comes right off the floor with the next one.

"It was all there. Everything. Groovy pad. Groovy chick. Groovy times. I didn't even need pot. Every fuckin' thing anyone could ever dream of I had. I knew it was too good to be true."

He started to sob. Low at first, then the tears cascaded down his cheeks in torrents. I looked to the Doc anxiously. He just watched Collins. Even his eyes looked a little moist. Maybe Dom was the only people in this place after all.

"I started noticing things. Little things. Like, she would go down on me. Blow the livin' shit outa' me, man. But, she would never let me go down on her.

"Other things too. Like, her nipples were small. Real small. But her knockers were the size of grapefruits. And her cunt. Wild dad, but kinda' funny. Like, she ain't got no pussy lips."

"There was other things too. Lot's of them. But no use goin' into all that. Just almost through. Might as well make it short."

"On the third morning, Tina's asleep. She's on her back, her legs kina' open. I decide that I'll wake her up ... kina' special. What broad you know that don' like to be woke up gettin' chopped? Huh? You know any?"

I had to admit that I didn't. No one else admitted to knowing one either. Satisfied that he'd made his point, Collins went on.

"So, I gets between her legs. I open her slit. I'm just gettin' ready to muff-dive when ... Whamo! I see it! Oh Jesus! Sweet, golden, shit. Oh mama. I don't believe it myself."

He broke down into a fit of crying again. What in the fuck did the guy see? What was it about the gorgeous hunk of Venus that had flipped him out?

"What was it," urged Holly. Even he'd gotten uptight.

"Tina ... Ti...." Collins sobbed. "Tina ain't ... ain't no broad. She a guy. She's got a prick. No wonder she ain't got no pussy lips. 'Cause she ain't got no pussy. Like it's made in Japan, baby. Tina was a hermaphrodite! She'd had an operation."

Collins collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. His shoulders heaved heavily. His whole body was wracked with pained ululation.

I just stood there. My mouth was gaping open. Holly's too. Even the doc had just stared in astonishment. None of us could believe what we had heard.

I lit a cigarette. My hand trembled. I had heard of guys who stepped in shit and came out smelling like a rose. But this was the first time I'd ever heard of a guy stepping in a rose bed, and finding himself up to his ankle bones in shit. Wow! The poor bastard had a right to cry. Wouldn't you?

Gradually Collins's sobs subsided. Holly, always the cool one, lit him a cigarette. Collins only nodded his appreciation. He smoked the cigarette in silence. We all were silent.

"Like weird, man," Collins mumbled. "There it was. The perfect setup. Everything. The whole game. The dream bag. I had it all baby." He sighed heavily, puffed on his fag, and peered at us through sunken sockets. The poor son-of-a-bitch had really been through the wringer.

"Anyway. Tina wakes up. Right off she gloms the bit. It shakes her up too. She apologizes. Says she shoulda' to me. I agreed with her. But I was in shock man. We talk. She tried to love me up. I puked! Shit!

"I make it outa' there somehow. Tina's cryin', beggin' me not to go. Says she's in love with me. The whole bit. I make it back to Manhattan. That was two, three, maybe four days ago. Don't remember too much since then. Started hitting the gin mills. Got stoned outa' my fucking head. Got some grass. Stayed bombed for I don't know how long. That didn't help neither."

"All I could see was them gorgeous legs of hers. Those soft tits. Remember the wonderful way she fucked me until I couldn't do nothin' but just lay there. That body. That face. Those tits. Everything. Got 'Made in Japan' stamped all over it."

Collins sighed heavily again. He sniffled.

"Anything else," Holly asked.

Without looking up, Collins nodded his head.

"Oh yea. There's more. You think the Fickle Finger gonna' let you off that easy once it's got it in for you? Your ass!"

Puffing furiously, Collins dropped the dead butt on the floor.

"Las' night sometime, don't remember when, I'm walking down 25th Street. Over by Thud. You know the place?" Holly indicated he did. "Well, I gotta' take a leak, see. So I goes inna' this building. It's aroun' five, I guess. Anyways, I goes inna' can. No one in there. Leas' I don't see no one. Close the door. Then, Whamo! They jump me.

"I'm 'bout half outa' it. Don' know too much what goin' on. Don' even try to fight back. No use. Couldna' don' nuttin' no way. Outa' it man. Way out.

"They pin me, see. There's free of 'em. A little short brunette, 'dis really upfront blonde, and a real groovy redhead. They're all stacked up good. I figure they gonna' roll me. Don' matter. I ain't got no bread."

His voice started rising again.

"But they don' roll me. Instead, the blonde unzips me, an' next t'ing I know, she blowing up a storm. Keerist! What that bird don' know about sucking pole ain't been invented yet. I ain't been laid in three, four days, so I go off real fast. I figure that's it. I stall. I still ain't too sure of what's happenin'. I stall.

"Then they pull my pants down, force me to the floor. Next t'ing I know, the redhead is mountin' my joint, and the brunnies box is looking me straight inna' kisser. Then I gotta' mouthful of cunt. The Red's really goin' ta town on my joint. I don't do nothin' to the brunnie's box, so she starts fuckin' my nose. Yea! Just like that. Weird! It's a conspiracy I tell ya'.

"Anyway. I don't take long. I pop off again. The brun nie drops her load on my face. Then they tie my wrists together, pull my pants up, and they split.

"I just lay there. I can't move. It's jus' too much, dad. I mean, what can a guy do? How much can he take? First three broads I been makin' steady cold turkey me. Then I meet the most gorgeous broad I ever dreamed about, only she ain't no broad. The fuckin' check the phony publisher gave me is phonier than he is. The peck-peck I lay out a duece for don' peck-peck. The shit-eatin' landlord dumps me out on my ass. What's it all about, baby? How much can a guy take? Huh?

"Then, to top it all off, three swingin' chicks dump me inna' men's crapper, blow me, ball me, feed me pearly nectar, then split for parts unknown ... leavin' me swingin' like so much shit.

"Jus' too much man. Too much. I can' take no more. I had it baby. Up to here. Ya' gotta' help me man. Keep that Fickle Finger motherfucker away from me."

When he finished, Collins was screaming. He had backed himself into the corner, and was glowering at us out of those fireball eyes again. Glancing at the Doc nervously, I was relieved to see him step forward. Speaking in soothing tones, soon he had the guy calmed down enough so he would lay back down. I was kind of glad he didn't strap him back in the jacket. What the fuck. The poor shithead had already been through enough.

"That's about it, officer," Doctor Rubin said quietly. "That is roughly the same story he's been telling us ever since they brought him in. The last part, about being tied up, the policemen who found him will collaborate. As for the rest...." The doc just trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

Holly got to his feet. We left the padded shrink-factory. For some reason the air outside seemed to smell beautifully. I hadn't realized how close it had been in there.

Just as the doctor started to close the door, Collins called out to us. Holly stopped and stepped back to the door.

"Yes?"

"At firs' I thought maybe I had just taken a bad trip. Ya' dig? But I know it was for real. Ya' wanna' know how?"

Collins waited until Holly nodded.

"Tina. The broad out in Queens? Well, I fell in love with her ... er, I mean him, er, I mean what the fucks a guy gonna' do? How come you guy's don' do somethin'? Huh? You tell me. Why? Why me?"

All Holly could do was shake his head. How do you answer a guy like that? Especially after what he'd been through. I believed him. Know why? Because there ain't no motherfucker alive that could make up a story like that one.

"One more thing," Collins said. "The guy. There was a guy there too. Inna' men's crapper. He had a black thing with him. Like a camera. Don' know why. But he had it. Saw him. He went out right after the broads. If I don' just lay there kinna' dead like, guess I woulda' missed him. Crazy man."

Holly thanked the guy, then as an afterthought, pulled the half empty cigarette package out of his pocket. He was about to throw it to him when the Doc stopped him. Explaining that in his condition he wasn't allowed to have anything flammable. Looking at Collins, the doc softened. He took the pack from Holly, promising to see to it that he got one every hour. Holly thanked him. Collins didn't say anything. Guess the poor bastard was just out of it.

Holly exchanged a little small talk with Rubin, and after getting him to promise to call us if anything else developed, we left. I smiled real big to Dom as he let us out. He smiled back.

Getting back to the car, Holly started back to where I had left mine. He was silent. I let him alone. I knew Holly well enough to know that he would speak when he was sure of what he was going to say.

After about twenty minutes Holly reached for a fag. He'd forgotten that he'd given his to Collins. I offered one of mine. He took it without a word. Then, after lighting it from the dash lighter that he put in his pocket each time he left the car, he opened up.

"What do you think Johnny? The guy on the level?"

"Holly, he's got to be. Nobody, but I mean nobody, could dream up something like that. Not even while they were freaked out on acid. It's true all right. Even the bit about the broad in Queens. Poor son-of-a-bitch. Can't really blame him for getting his marbles all mixed up."

Holly just nodded, without making comment. We drove the rest of the way in silence. I was mentally calculating the odds that my heap would be where I left it. Since today was Thursday, I figured I had a pretty good chance. The Mayor didn't make his weekly report until tonight.