lf into a hemorrhage。 Do you see all that？〃
〃Yes；〃 I said reluctantly； because I did。
〃Now the guy loading the cigarette was not a feeb； although I got to say that in my own personal estimation a guy who thinks loading another guy's cigarette is funny is a little bit deficient in the sensa…yuma department。 But even if his sensa…yuma starts with some guy getting the shit scared out of him and spilling his beer all over his balls； you'd think a guy who wasn't a feeb would be at least interested enough in keeping his teeth inside his head not to do it。 Yet they do。 They do it all the fucking time。 Now； being a literary man…〃 （He obviously didn't know about Gash Me； My Darling； Ants from Hell； and the forthing Flies from Hell； Ruth）
〃…can you tell me why he goes ahead； and ends up picking his teeth up offa the bar on account of he might be able to hawk the fillings？〃
〃Because he has no sense of futurity；〃 I said dismally； and for the first time； Ruth； I felt as if I could really see Carlos Detweiller。
〃Huh？ I don't know that word。〃
〃He doesn't know…isn't able to see ahead to the oute。〃
〃Yeah； you're a literary man； all right。 I couldn't have said it that good in a thousand years。〃
〃And that's my answer？〃
〃That's your answer。〃 He clapped me on the shoulder and led me toward the door。 〃Go home； Mr。 Kenton。 Have a drink； a shower； and then another drink。 Watch some TV。 Get a night's sleep。 You did your duty as a citizen； for Christ's sake。 Most people would have just tossed those pictures aside。 。 。 or saved them for their scrapbooks。 That sounds weird； but I'm a police…type guy； not a literary…type guy； and I know that some people do that； too。 Go home。 Forget it。 And content yourself with this…if the guy's book is as bad as you said； you just sent him one hell of a rejection slip。〃
So I did just what he said； m'darling…went home； had a drink； had a shower； had a meal； had another drink； watched TV； went to bed。 Then after about three hours in the rack with no sleep…I kept seeing that picture； with the slit in the chest and the dripping heart…I got up； had about three more drinks； watched a John Wayne movie called Wake of the Red Witch on TV （John Wayne looks a lot better in a GI helmet than he does in a diving helmet； I want to tell you）； went to bed again； and woke up with a hangover。
It's been a couple of days since all of this went down； and I think…think…that things are beginning to return to normal； both at Zenith House and inside my head。 I think （think） it's over…but it's going to be one of those Incidents that haunt me all my life； I guess； like the dreams I used to have as a kid in which I stood up to salute the flag and my pants fell down。 Or； even better； there was the time Bill Gelb； my illustrious co…editor at Zenith； told me about。 He said he told this joke to a guy at a cocktail party： How do you stop five black guys from raping a white chick？ Answer： give them a basketball。 〃I thought the guy I told it to just had a good tan until he threw his drink in my face and walked away；〃 Bill said。 That's the kind of story I could never tell on myself； which may be one of the reasons I haven't lost all of my respect for Bill； although he's a bigoted； lazy； horse's ass。 All of which is to say I feel sort of like a horse's ass。 。 。 but at least it's over。 If all of this seems to make me a hysteric…someone who would eagerly testify at the Salem witch…trials…please write and break our engagement soonest。 。 。 because if that's the case； I wouldn't marry me either。
As for me； I'm sort of clinging to what Tyndale said…that I acted in good faith as a citizen。 The one thing I'll not do is send you the photos； which were returned to me today。 They might give you the sort of dreams I've been having…and those dreams are definitely ungood。 I've e to the conclusion that all special effects wizards must be frustrated surgeons。 In fact； if Roger gives me the okay； I'm going to burn them。
I love you； Ruth。
Your adoring horse's ass；
John
from the office of the editor…in…chief TO： John Kenton DATE： 2/2/81
MESSAGE： Go ahead and burn them。 I never want to hear about Carlos Detweiller again。
Listen； John…a little excitement's fine； but if we don't start some action here at Zenith； we're all going to be looking for jobs。 I've heard that Apex may be hunting buyers。 Which is like looking for dodo birds or pterodactyls。 We've got to have a book or books that will make some noise by this summer； and that means we better start looking yesterday。 Start shaking the trees； okay？
Roger
interoffice memo FROM： John TO： Roger RE： Tree…shaking
What trees？ Zenith House exists on the Great Plains of American publishing； and you damned well know it。
John
from the office of the editor…in…chief TO： John Kenton DATE： 2/3/81
MESSAGE： Find a tree or find a job。 That's all there is； sweets。
Roger
February 4； 1981 Mr。 John 〃Judas Priest〃 Kenton Zenith Asshole…House； Publishers of Kaka 490 Avenue of Dog…Shit New York； New York 10017
Dear Judas；
This is the thanks I get for giving you my book。 Okay； I understand。 I should have known what to expect。 You think you are SO SMART。 Okay。 I understand。 You are really nothing but a dirty betraying bastard。 How much have you stolen。 Plenty； I would guess。 You think you are SO SMART but you are nothing but a 〃Warped Plank〃 in 〃the GREAT FLOOR OF THE UNIVERSE。〃 There are ways to deal with GUYS LIKE YOU。 You probably think I am going to e and get you。 But I am not。 I would not 〃dirty my hands with your dirt；〃 as Mr。 Keen used to say。 But I can fix you if I want。 And I want！ I WANT！！！！
Meantime you have spoiled everything here so I suppose you are satisfied。 That doesn't matter。 I have gone West。 I would say 〃fuck you〃 but who would。 Not me。 I wouldn't even if I was a girl and you were Richard Gear。 I wouldn't if you was some really neat girl with a good build。
Well I am going away but my material is copywright and I just hope you know what copywright is even if you don't know 〃shit〃 from 〃shoe…polish。〃 So you just put that in your pipe and smoke it all the day long Mr。 Judas Kenton。 Goodbye。
I hate you；
Carlos Detweiller
In Transit
U。 S。 of A。
February 7； 1981
Dear Ruth；
I had sort of expected a 〃fuck…you〃 letter from Carlos Detweiller…it was in the back of my mind； anyway…and I got a dilly just the other day。 I employed Zenith House's creaky pre…World War I Xerox machine to make a copy； and have enclosed it with this letter。 In his anger he is almost lyrical…I especially like the line about me being a warped plank in the floor of the universe。 。 。 a phrase even Carlyle might admire。 He misspelled Richard Gere's name； but maybe that was artistic license。 On the whole； I'd say I feel relieved…it's over； at least。 The guy has struck out for the Great American West； undoubtedly with his rose…cutting shears slung low on one hip （on one rose…hip？ oh； forget it）。
〃Yeah； but is he really gone？〃 you ask。 The answer is； yes he is。
I got the letter yesterday and rang up Barton Iverson of the Central Falls Police almost at once （after getting Roger's grudging approval for the long distance； I might add）。 I thought Iverson would go along with my request to check matters out； and he did。 Seems he too thought the 〃sakrifice photos〃 were too real for fort； and the latest Detweiller munication does have a rather threatening tone。
He sent a man named Riley…the same man who went before； I think…to check out Carlos； and he （Iverson； not Riley） called me back in ninety minutes。 It seems that Detweiller served his notice almost right after being released from custody； and the Barfield woman has even advertised for a new florist's assistant in the local newspapers。 One mildly interesting thing： Riley checked on the guy in the 〃sakrifice photos；〃 and came up with a name I know： It was Mr。 Norville Keen； the same guy； I'm pretty sure； that Detweiller mentioned in his first two letters （〃Why describe a guest when you can see that guest；〃 and other pearls of wisdom）。 The cop asked her a few questions about the staging