BACKSTRAW - BookLocker
A fictional memoir except when it isn't.From a cell inBridgeton Prison,Timothy DiAngelolooks back upon acurious life.BACKSTRAWBy Tom BallOrder the complete book from the p/books/10926.html?s pdfor from your favorite neighborhoodor online bookstore.
Copyright 2020 Tom BallISBN: 978-1-64718-362-2All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by anymeans, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise,without the prior written permission of the author.Published by Booklocker.com, Inc.,St. Petersburg, Florida.Printed on acid-free paper.First edition.Booklocker.com, Inc. 2020.
By Tom Ball:FictionThe Marty Graw BookBackstrawNon-fictionBlues Harmonica: A Comprehensive Crash Course and OverviewThe Nasty BluesDropped-D Tuning for Fingerstyle GuitarSourcebook of Sonny Terry Licks for Blues HarmonicaSourcebook of Little Walter/Big Walter Licks for Blues HarmonicaRecordings (solo)‘Tis The SeasonSolo Guitar – Music From Films18 Pieces for Solo Steel-String GuitarGuitar MusicNagasaki Sails From UranusRecordings by Tom Ball & Kenny SultanHappy Hour20th Anniversary – Live!Double VisionFilthy RichToo Much FunBloodshot EyesWho Drank My Beer?Confusionwww.tomball.us
TWODREAMLAND*In matters both social and intellectual, it could be said that Clarionwas decidedly behind the national curve. Although this was the1960s, most of the adults in our town still listened to big band music, the films that came to the Rialto were usually about ten yearsold and young people wore clothes that were so far out of fashionthey were almost back in fashion again. Girls were encouraged tomarry young and stay in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. Peopleof color were patronized and treated like children or domestic pets.Elsewhere in the nation society had progressed beyond suchthings, but in Clarion we still had city-sponsored minstrel shows,featuring white professionals in blackface, crooning "Mammy.” Andthen there was the notorious Dr. Beaconbush’s Dreamland Circus, aseedy carnival that magically appeared on the outskirts of townevery spring, complete with antiquated striptease acts and a sideshow full of genuine human freaks.For three years I’d begged my aunt and uncle to let me go toDr. Beaconbush’s Dreamland Circus, but they wouldn’t let me –
56Tom Ballthey claimed I was too young for such entertainment. But this year Iwas bound and determined to go, permission or not. So it was withimmense delight that I spotted the poster outside the FaulknerBuilding that told us Dr. Beaconbush and company were coming inlate May – just two weeks hence. They would be setting up the carnival a mile into the Woods, just north of town.I had read a little about Dr. Beaconbush’s carnival the year before in the Gazette, our local newspaper. It seemed that some ofClarion’s more conservative citizenry had been up in arms that year,attempting to keep the carnival away from town. According to thearticle, the rides were dangerous, the games were rigged and thesideshow was appalling. Of course this fired up my friends and meexponentially.Some of the uproar was apparently over a bizarre hypnotistnamed Chief Pantugal, who had the appearance of a wild man ofBorneo and who "hypnotized" chickens and roosters before bitingtheir heads off – acts which were deemed cruel by both the churchand the citizens groups.But the real wrath of the good citizens was aimed in equalmeasure at the freak show and the hoochie coochie girls. Evidentlythere were several genuine freaks in the show, and although thehoochie coochie show was off limits to children, it was reported togo much further than community standards ought to allow.Dr. Beaconbush’s Dreamland Circus was considered wide open– the kind of carnival that, as long as it stayed outside the city limits, could play as raunchy as it wanted and the games could take themarks for anything they could get. In retrospect I’m sure such conditions could never have existed without the tacit approval of thelocal authorities, and probably only after substantial payoffs fromDr. Beaconbush.But none of this concerned me at the time – I only wanted tosee it all for myself. I swore a solemn blood oath that I was going,no matter what, and I was hoping perhaps to convince Jolene Gatesto come along with me. I had elaborate adolescent plans for her inside the Tunnel Of Love, most of which involved scandalous handholding activity. But Jolene was paying no attention to me whatso-
Backstraw57ever, and given that my romantic intentions were being thwarted byher indifference, I reverted to Plan B and convinced Riley that itwas essential that we attend.Marilee McCullers wanted to come too but Riley and I weresomewhat averse to bringing her along with us – after all, we figured, what if we got lucky and managed to sneak into the kootchshow? But then Marilee told us she was curious too about thekootch show, and she also promised not to scream or barf at thefreaks. And then, as if to clinch the deal, she offered to pay our onedollar admissions. Case closed. But on Tuesday, four days beforewe were due to sneak away to the carnival, an event befell the townthat was to have ramifications for some time to come.*It started out like any spring school day. My aunt shooed me offtowards Diaper with a paper bag lunch and I sauntered away in adaydream. Clouds like steel wool filled the sky.Upon arriving I noticed Riley, Marilee, Langston and RosieIwekogu all huddled in a corner of the playground, talking. Rileywas gesticulating wildly and Marilee seemed very concerned aboutsomething. Jimmy Wells, ordinarily in the heart of things, was nowhere to be seen."What’s up?" I said, tossing my notebook onto the tarmac."Please tell me some good news, like Mank choked on a chickenbone?"Riley said, "We’ve got a sub today, some skinny wimp namedMarshall. Fuckhead Mank ain’t here – he went off to help someother teachers look for Becky Sue.”"Becky Sue? Becky Sue Wells?”"Know any other Becky Sues?” Marilee said. “She’s gone. Mydad told me not to talk to any strangers."Riley looked up and said, "Becky Sue wasn’t in her bed thismorning. She wandered off last night and nobody can find her.”"Well, where’s Jimmy?" I asked. "He’ll know where she went,won’t he? Don’t they share a room?"
58Tom Ball"Jimmy’s out searching for her, too,” said Langston. "Theirwhole family’s looking – neighbors and cops, too – she might justbe out walking around, but how far can a no-brain retard get?"Marilee shot him a frosty look, then said, "Rosie saw all thecops outside Jimmy’s house."I looked at Rosie Iwekogu. He shrugged and said, "Yeah,man.""What’d you see?""Couple cop cars, and some neighbors. Some ol’ lady from‘cross the street say Mrs. Wells goes to wake up Jimmy for school,and he’s sleeping in there, but Becky Sue’s long gone.” He whistledbreezily to signify the wind.This was strange – how could Becky Sue Wells leave the housewithout waking anyone? And although Langston had worded it insensitively, he did have a point: how far could she get? Especiallyconsidering she needed a walker?Just then the bell rang and we all trudged off to class, taughtthat day by a wiry, polite substitute named Mr. Marshall. We wereto hear no further news of Becky Sue for a while.*Over the next several days the community mobilized in a search.The local Oddfellows Club and dozens of volunteers sloggedthrough the marshes and woods around town – even Uncle Roccohelped. Police used bloodhounds, and took canoes out onto theRacaugwa River. Investigators scoured phone records and combednearby houses and apartments for clues. Residents took to the streetsto put up missing-person posters that Evelyn had designed. The FirstBaptist Church held a candlelight vigil.The Sliupas Fish Market and Bobby’s Family Restaurant bothdonated food and coffee for the searchers and the Fire Departmenthoisted an enormous American flag. Even Frenchy and LordGrizzly from the Faulkner Building understood the problem andwere keeping their intoxicated eyes open. But ultimately it was fornaught – Becky Sue Wells had seemingly dropped off the planet.
Backstraw59But by Saturday I wasn’t thinking of Becky Sue. In my adolescent single-mindedness, the most important thing that day wassneaking off to the carnival. It was Memorial Day weekend, and Itold Auntie Nell I was going over to Marilee’s for the day and staying for supper. Marilee told her parents she was going over to a girlfriend's house. Riley didn’t have to tell his parents anything – hewas on a long leash.The three of us were to meet at noon out in front of the HotelWeatherford. It was a sizzling day, windy, but thankfully too earlyin the season to be terribly humid. The sun hung in the sky like aball of copper. Marilee was already there when I arrived, lookingsmug in a girl’s Dodgers cap, P-F Flyers and her sky blue dress.Predictably, Riley was twenty minutes late. Just then LangstonTennent happened to be traipsing by and promptly invited himselfto come along, so the four of us took off at a brisk clip towards theWoods. As usual, Riley took the lead."Whattaya think the freaks’ll be like?" he asked no one in particular."They’ll be like, totally gross!" answered Marilee, laughing,the freckles on her face tightening into a crinkly brown ball.Lang Tennent grabbed a handful of leaves from a hedge andbegan to chew on them thoughtfully. "They’re probably all fakes,anyway," he said."I don’t think so," said Riley. "My brother Clark went last year,and he said they’re all real. He said the private kootch show is realtoo, but it’s adults only, after dark. With freaks in it, too!""We gotta see that," I said. "Think we can sneak in?""Maybe," said Riley. "And Clark also told me they have realunborn babies in, like, chemical jars!""That’s actually true," I said, proud of my note of authority. "Iread about that in the newspaper. They’ve got unborn Siamesetwins, too. Real ones! They’re supposed to be educational, but thecarnies all call them ‘pickled punks.’”Marilee made a disgusted face and then we were all laughingout loud like Canada geese.
60Tom BallIt took half an hour to walk from town into the Woods. Alongthe way we happened across several other groups of kids headed inthe same direction, and groups of grownups, too – seemed like everybody wanted to check out the carnival.The place could be heard from a quarter mile away – asidefrom the crowd noise and the mechanical squeaks from the variousrides, the carnival also had a PA system blasting music, and a tapeloop that repeated the same ten seconds of demonic laughter overand over again. Soon we could see the outlines of several colorfulrides: a ferris wheel, a small roller coaster, and others with nameslike Gravitron, Zipper, and Centrifugi.Tents of various colors and shapes had sprouted up, and temporary plywood structures had been slapped together to form a smallcity of fun. A roll of red plastic fencing surrounded the five or sixacres of the Woods, and garishly painted arrows all pointed the wayto the entrance. Off to the side was a banner proclaiming TexasProud Dairy Day, where two men in Houston Oilers uniformsmilked a fiberglass cow. Above the admissions gate was a giantsign, Dr. Beaconbush’s Dreamland Circus.Langston coughed up his admission and then, true to her word,Marilee paid for herself, Riley and me. We passed through the turnstile and looked around expectantly. There seemed to be action everywhere: games, rides, squealing kids, half-drunk military guys,families, teenagers and the smell of carnival food."Hey, let’s get something to eat!" Langston yelled, so we allsprinted over to the food area for fried burritos, churros and snokones. We figured this would hold us over for an hour or so.The first ride we spied up close was the Hurricane, a steel andwooden roller coaster. Although it was understandably smaller thanthe permanent ones at a real amusement park, it was the largest andmost dominating ride in sight. The four of us piled in and soaredaround the Woods for all of about two minutes. Riley attempted tostand up during the ride but gravity and inertia knocked him backdown into his seat – a good thing since a 2x4 could have easilysheared off his head.
Backstraw61After the Hurricane we tried the Gravitron, an enormous spinning wheel with a metal fence around the perimeter. Kids stoodagainst the fence, then the wheel began to rotate, pushing everyoneback into the fence with centrifugal force. After a while the floorhydraulically dropped away. Langston sported an interesting greenhue when we got off the Gravitron but the rest of us enjoyed it immensely.The ferris wheel looked relatively tame after the Gravitron, sowe passed. But then we came upon a ride called the Tilt-A-Whirl."This is a total barf ride," Riley yelled excitedly and it did look likefine amusement, but the line for it extended a hundred yards andnone of us had the patience for a half hour wait, so instead we rodeon the bumper cars. The operator was a pleasant enough college kidwho let us go a second time for free.At that point Langston announced that he wanted to try his luckon some prizes so we migrated over to the games area. Here was theusual variety of carny stuff: skee-ball, a shooting gallery, pinballand the dime toss. The darts game was impossible to win – the dartswere dull and the balloons were under-inflated – but we watched fora while anyway. I thought I saw Mr. Mank out of the corner of myeye but when I looked again, he was gone.Standing behind us in the games area, a couple of skinnyMarines were jabbering excitedly. "What time’s the adults-onlyshow start?" one asked."Sundown," said the other, "out in the back and way beyondthe meadow, up the hill.""Think it’ll be like last year?""Who knows? Jefferson says they got something really twistedthis year and the cops have been paid off."Jefferson, I thought to myself. Mr. Mank’s first name wasJefferson.Langston interrupted my train of thought. "Jesus," he said,"could they shut that thing up, please?” Ever since arriving we’dheard an annoying tape recording of hideous cackling, and now,from the games area, we could finally see where it was coming
62Tom Ballfrom: outside the Fun House a wooden clown rocked back andforth, spewing with Homeric laughter."Oh, that’ll be too cool," Marilee cried, so we ran across ameadow, leapt up some stairs two-at-a-time and piled into the FunHouse, quarters in hand. At the top of the stairs, a long, twistinghardwood slide dumped out into a mirror maze. Farther along was alarge rotating barrel called the Human Laundry. Every few feet onthe walkway a blast of hot air would shoot up from the floor, making girls scream when their dresses flew over their heads. There wasalso an object called a Centrifugi, which resembled a giant recordplayer – kids would try to ride on it only to be thrown off. The floorbounced in places, usually in front of distortion mirrors, and therewas an entire diagonally-tilted room to play in.“What’s inside that one?” Marilee yelled. She had spotted another tent we had somehow missed – an oversize green and whitetent with several hand-painted signs out in front.WONDERLAND MUSEUM – TEN IN ONE, proclaimed thelargest sign in red paint. Two Headed Pig, Tap Dancing Chicken,Celestina the Bearded Lady, Arnie the Penguin Boy, Pulu theHuman Blockhead, Zip and Pip, Hibachi the Raisin Boy, World’sBiggest Rat, Giant Kentucky Redwood Bat, and The World’s FattestMan - Six Girls to Hug Him, and a Boxcar to Lug Him!Our eyes lit up. A ticket to this tent was a whopping fifty-fivecents, but I would have gladly spent my life savings. We paid ouradmissions and scurried inside.About forty other people were in there, milling around andgawking at the various displays. The Two Headed Pig was in fact alegitimate two-headed pig except it was deceased and stuffed. TheTap Dancing Chicken was just a regular chicken with tiny pieces ofscotch tape on its feet so it would shake itself to get rid of the tape.The World’s Biggest Rat was revolting and massive – it sat in awet, wooden stall with a bit of cyclone fencing around it. The thingweighed seventy-five pounds and we all agreed it probably reallywas the world’s biggest rat. Of course years later in high school biology I would learn we were actually looking at a South AmericanCapybara, and not even a particularly large one at that.
Backstraw63The Giant Kentucky Redwood Bat was just a sixty-ounce baseball bat made out of redwood by the Louisville Slugger Company.All of us chuckled at this except Langston, who became irate untilMarilee told him to cork his beak.The human freaks, though, were all quite real. The coupleknown as Zip and Pip were indeed genuine pinheads – or, as theywould say in today’s more enlightened world, people who sufferedfrom a cephalic dysfunction that made their heads abnormally small.Hibachi the Raisin Boy was a black man of about sixty whowas normal looking except that his skin was extraordinarily baggyand loose. A thin, bald headed white guy informed us that Hibachiwas from Africa and had been kidnapped by a tribe of cannibalheadhunters and put into a stew pot where he was simmered for afew weeks, which evidently accounted for his skin. Hibachi lookedbored and at one point I heard him ask somebody for a RacingForm.Just then, over in the corner of the tent I happened to spy Mankagain, huddling surreptitiously with a group of men. "Hey, Riles," Iwhispered, pointing, "get a load of the real freak show.” Rileycursed under his breath.Next we came upon the area where the World’s Fattest Manwas supposed to be, but he wasn’t there. A sexy female dwarf with aZsa Zsa Gabor accent came out instead, dressed in a tight one-pieceleopard-skin bathing suit. She apologized and told us that the fatman could not appear because he was taking a nap.Langston yelled, "Why can’t we see him sleeping? He’s still fatwhen he’s asleep, isn’t he?" but the dwarf lady shook her head no.A greasy looking patron ogled at the dwarf lady and said,"Well, what about you, baby? I wouldn’t mind seeing you asleepnext to me. You gonna be part of tonight’s private show?”Two or three other men snorted meanly and one made a wolfwhistle. The dwarf lady frowned and spit on the ground. "Hey, pal, Igot a tweezers – go find your cock!”The greasy man reddened with anger and looked like he wasabout to say something back, but then we were all swept along towards Celestina the Bearded Lady. Celestina was real – she pulled
64Tom Ballher whiskers to prove they weren’t fake. She had a girlish giggle,spoke Italian and looked about forty. Riley thought she would be anice looking woman if she shaved, but Langston figured if sheshaved, she would probably have to get a real job instead of gettingpaid just to sit in a chair and pull on her whiskers.Arnie the Penguin Boy was in the next stall and he was not anattractive sight. Arnie was basically a torso and head with hands andfeet directly attached – no legs or arms at all. He wore a striped diaper and could waddle and talk in a high-pitched voice, but he wasn’tparticularly friendly. A couple of the younger kids in the crowdburst into tears at the sight of Arnie the Penguin Boy.Then out from behind the curtain popped a guy who calledhimself Pulu the Human Blockhead. He was a massive, lumbering,dimwitted looking man in his fifties, his face all hard, boxy angles.Not outwardly a freak at all, he was nevertheless in possession ofsome curious talents.Once a sufficient crowd had gathered, Pulu smashed a 100-wattlight bulb with his head and ate the glass, licking his chops with apparent pleasure. Then he extinguished a burning cigar by snuffing itout on his tongue. Meanwhile the skinny, bald headed white guytold us how Pulu came from the Ural Mountains and had beenraised by a band of wild goats, and was therefore completely impervious to pain.Riley caught my eye and pointed to the barker’s hand, so I tooka better look and noticed he had no fingers on his right hand – onlya thumb.At that moment Pulu proceeded to drive a five-inch nail intohis nasal passage with a hammer, with no evident damage. After hepulled out the nail he did it again with a screwdriver, and then finally with a running power drill.By the time we left the Wonderland Museum, Langston washungry again so we stopped and shared a couple of french fried onion blossoms. Something fat and white caught the corner of my eye– it was Mank in his white silk suit, rapidly approaching our table.He coughed twice, looked Riley in the eye and said, "So, I see someof my students are enjoying their Saturday off from school?”
Backstraw65Riley almost choked and none of the rest of us said a word.Mank went on. "Birdwell?" he said, still looking at Riley, "I’ve beensearching for you and your loser buddies. The carnival got a call atfour o’clock this afternoon from the Clarion Police. Your father hasbeen in a motorcycle accident."Riley’s eyes grew larger and he swallowed a chunk of friedonion. "Is he OK?""He’s in the hospital with a broken collarbone, a few bustedribs and some internal injuries. I was instructed to tell you to eithergo home or go to the hospital. Your mother and brother are alreadythere."Riley looked around at the rest of us. "What time is it?"Mank took a peek at his gold pocket watch. "6:40."Langston shrugged at Riley. "I’ll go back to town with you ifyou want. I’d better be heading on home, anyway.”I didn’t really want to go just yet – I still wanted to try to sneakin and see what the private show was about, but I halfheartedly offered to accompany Riley too. He said, "Naw, you guys hang out.I’ll see you tomorrow.” He and Lang got up from the plastic table,waved goodbye and took off running toward the gate. Mr. Mankfrowned and watched them go, then tromped away.Marilee looked up at me and said, "Maybe we should havegone with them?"I sat for a moment and pondered this development. With Rileyand Langston along, the boys had outnumbered Marilee – but now itwas just the two of us and the entire dynamic had changed. It wouldhave been awkward enough for a twelve-year-old boy to try to weasel into the private girlie show, but the prospect of sneaking into itwith a girl was somehow even more unnerving.As if reading my mind, she gave a small, bemused smile andsaid, "Don’t worry, I still want to see whatever’s up there on thehill. It’ll be dark in half an hour – what do you want to do till then?"Lacking alternatives, we decided to stand under the Tilt-AWhirl to see if anybody’s money fell out while they were upsidedown, but this proved fruitless. As darkness approached we determined it was time to start sneaking up the hill.
66Tom BallIn back of the Hurricane ride was a meadow at the base of arise, and up at the top, if you squinted hard enough, you couldbarely see the outline of a black tent. We figured this was probablywhere the kootch show would take place, so we took a circuitousroute through a section of twisted oak trees and approached the tentfrom the eastern side.Sneaking up the hill was fairly easy in the growing darkness,but actually getting inside the tent would be another challenge altogether. It took fully twenty minutes of painstaking exploration tolocate an exploitable seam between an area of the tent’s floor andwall. We slid inside and laid upon our bellies, discretely attemptingto peek in.Thirty or forty surly looking men milled around smoking, sipping from flasks, mumbling, encircling a small pen that wasbounded by yellow plastic fencing. We could really only see themfrom about the chest up – children were not permitted and as a secondary precaution, several bales of hay stood partially blocking ourview.The skinny, bald headed guy – the man we had seen earlier, theman with no fingers on his right hand – stood alone off to the leftside, shouting something over a hand-held megaphone. Just then atall man wearing a clown suit and face paint rushed over to us andblew a huge cloud of smoke in our faces, then ran away howlingwith laughter. The smoke, whatever it was, made me spin and gaveme an instant splitting headache. Since that time I’ve become familiar with the scent of many smokable drugs; this was not marijuana,hashish or opium. It had a sharp, acrid, medicinal scent – mostlikely DMT or PCP or some other nasty chemical.Off to the right, just inside the tent, I caught a quick glimpse ofMr. Mank standing with two or three Mexican men. Mank was embroiled in an argument with the Hungarian dwarf girl in the leopardskin bathing suit. Her cheeks were contorted and florid with angerover something. All of a sudden she jumped and slapped Mr. Mankacross the face, whereupon Mank made a fist and ferociouslypunched her, full force, in the stomach, doubling her over in pain.
Backstraw67I tried to whisper something like, "Holy shit!" to Marilee, butmy mouth wasn’t functioning properly. Finally I mumbled, "Yousee that?"She nodded. Her face was pale, and her eyes were watery andred from the smoke.Now the bald man with the fingerless hand was shoving Arniethe Penguin Boy, who waddled into the tent wearing his striped diapers. Arnie glanced around at the crowd in befuddlement, evidentlyconfused by all the chaos. A couple of sailors yelled obscenities athim and then several other dwarfs also appeared – ones we hadn’tseen before, including a girl in a pink dress, and a black man. Welost sight of them when they went behind the hay bales.Pulu the Human Blockhead sat on a stool, naked except for ajockstrap, his hairy chest and back glistening with sweat. An acneridden teenage carny was there too, and Zip the pinhead came parading through, smiling idiotically from a saddle on the back of aShetland pony. Crazy calliope music blasted from a speaker system,obscuring whatever it was that the fingerless man was saying overthe megaphone.Now the crowd began to holler loudly and smirk. From ourhidden vantage point we could not see what was occurring, butwhatever it was, it was causing quite a reaction. A few voices muttered things like, "There oughtta be a law," and, "There is a law,"but most of the voices were raucous and filled with a sickeninglaughter that made me retaste the fried onion blossom I had eaten anhour earlier.Inching forward, Marilee and I crept along the hay-strewnground to try and get a better look. Suddenly we heard a crack fromabove and a large, square bale of hay crashed down onto our backs,striking us directly. It must have weighed over thirty pounds. Momentarily stunned, I stared blankly at the crowd while the fingerlessman muttered over the megaphone, "Looks like we’ve got company.”Then another voice said, "They’re only kids.” The clown thencame running over and blew more pungent smoke – an impossiblyhuge amount of it – directly into our faces. Dark people were cack-
68Tom Ballling, men were cursing. Someone yelled, "Fuck ‘em, look what thefreaks are doing!"The crowd’s attention turned momentarily back to the pen, andmine turned to Marilee. She had been rendered inert by the hay baleand the smoke – she lay on the ground with her eyes open but notseeing. The bale had been heavy and had hit us square. Marilee’sDodger cap had been knocked off her head and sat in the dirt a couple of yards away.The noise grew louder. The entire scene became surreal – Ifound myself disoriented, spinning. Bolts of light came through,coiling around inside my head, pushing at my temples like a vice.The bale had knocked the wind out of me and all the junk food wehad eaten did not help, but mostly it was the unsettling peculiarityand ferocity of the situation that was turning my stomach. And thesmoke – what was in that smoke? I attempted to swallow and foundI could not. The small blond hairs on my arms bristled up like quills.I tried to shut my eyes but my eyelids wouldn’t close. Abruptly Irealized that I was stifling the urge to be sick.The crowd was stirred up now, animalistic, seething at whatever they were witnessing. My breath was coming in quick andshallow gulps. A sickly, sweet smell permeated the tent. Thereseemed to be a simultaneous relaxation and tightening of the air, asthough we were wrapped in a wet, silky membrane. The ground appeared to quiver underneath us, and there were noises. Darkness.Steam. The crowd of men. Groaning. Crying. Guttural sounds.Shrieks of laughter and pain. Voices: “They didn’t see anything.”"Just like animals do it.” "Get ‘em the fuck outta here!” "Saturdaynight in freaktown!”Next thing I knew I was up and running, sprinting as fast as mybody could carry me, Marilee beside me, the two of us tripping onrocks, slipping on gopher holes, oblivious to our direction, only thatwe wanted, needed to get away from the place. I don’t think weslowed down until we were all the way out of the Woods and wellinto the edges of Clarion, whereupon we laid down on a stretch oflawn by a curb, our chests heaving, our bodies howling.
Backstraw69A house on the corner had a garden hose so I ran over andturned it on. Both of us doused our heads and hands with the water,out of breath, greedily rehydrating in the warm evening air.Up on our feet again, our pace slowed as we regained our equilibrium and made our way into the relative civilization of town."That was too goddamn weird," I muttered, but Marilee did not reply – although the both of us were befuddled, neither of us seemedto want to talk about whatever we thought we had seen. With nomore than a few shallow words between us, I walked Marilee to herhouse in Birch Knolls, then made my way back to the apartment.Fortunately Auntie Nell and Uncle Rocco were out to a movie whenI let myself inside and curled up into a fetal position on the couch.*That night I slept poorly. I tossed and turned and kept replaying theday’s events, trying in vain to straighten out the images. The longerI denied the perceptions that flickered behind my closed eyelids, themore terrible the dream
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Andreas M unch and Endre S uli Mathematical Institute, University of Oxford Andrew Wiles Building, Radcli e Observatory Quarter, Woodstock Road Oxford OX2 6GG, UK Barbara Wagner Weierstrass Institute Mohrenstraˇe 39 10117 Berlin, Germany and Technische Universit at Berlin, Institute of Mathematics Straˇe des 17. Juni 136 10623 Berlin, Germany (Communicated by Thomas P. Witelski) Abstract .
