It was one of the outer rooms of the first floor. I
stumbled on something—a footstool, I think—
and I almost went down. I banged into a table to hold myself up.
"That's right," said Harry, "wake up the whole fucking household."
"Look," I said, "what are we going to get here?"
"Keep your fucking voice down!"
"Harry, do you have to keep saying fucking?"
"What are you, a fucking linguist? We're here for
cash and jewels."
I didn't like it. It seemed like total insanity. Harry
was crazy; he'd been in and out of
madhouses. Between that and doing
time he'd spent three-quarters of his
adult life in lockup. He'd talked me into
the thing. I didn't have much resistance.
"This damn country," he said. "There
are too many rich pricks having it too
easy." Then Harry banged into some-
thing. "Shit!" he said.
"Hello? What is it?" We heard a
man's voice coming from upstairs.
"We're in trouble," I said. I could feel
the sweat dripping down from my
armpits.
"No," said Harry, "he's in trouble."
"Hello," said the man upstairs.
"Who's down there?"
"Come on," Harry told me.
He began walking up the stairway. I
followed him. There was a hallway, and
there was a light coming from one of the
rooms. Harry moved quickly and silent-
ly. Then he ran into the room. I was
behind him. It was a bedroom. A man
and a woman were in separate beds.
Harry pointed his .38 Magnum at the
man. "All right, buddy, if you don't
want your balls blown off, you'll keep it
quiet. I don't play."
The man was about 45, with a strong
and imperial face. You could see he had
had it his own way for a long time. His
wife was about 25, blonde, long hair,
truly beautiful. She looked like an ad for
something or other.
"Get the hell out of my house!" the
man said.
"Hey," Harry said to me, "you know
who this is?"
"No."
"It's Tom Maxson, the famous news
broadcaster, Channel 7. Hello, Tom—"
"Get out of here! NOW!" Maxson
barked.
He reached out and picked up the
phone. "Operator—"
Harry ran up and slammed him across
the temple with the butt of his .38. Max-
son fell across the bed. Harry put the
phone back on the hook.
"You bastards, you hurt him!" cried
the blonde. "You cheap, cowardly
bastards!"
She was dressed in a light-green negli-
gee. Harry walked around and broke
one of the shoulder straps. He grabbed
one of the woman's breasts and pulled it
out. "Nice, ain't it?" he said to me.
Then he slapped her across the face,
hard.
"You address me with respect,
whore!" Harry said. Then he walked
around and sat Tom Maxson back up.
"And you: I told you I don't play."
Maxson revived. "You've got the
gun; that's all you've got."
"You fool. That's all I need. Now I'm
gonna get some cooperation from you
and your whore or it's going to get
worse."
"You cheap punk!" Maxson said.
"Just keep it up, keep it up. You'll
see," said Harry.
"You think I'm afraid of a couple of
cheap hoods?"
"If you're not, you ought to be."
"Who's your friend? What does he
do?"
"He does what I tell him."
"Like what?"
"Like, Eddie, go kiss that blonde!"
"Listen, you leave my wife out of
this!"
"And if she screams, I put a bullet in
your gut. I don't play. Go on, Eddie, kiss
the blonde—"
The blonde was trying to hold up the
broken shoulder strap with one hand.
"No," she said, "please—"
"I'm sorry, lady, I gotta do what Har-
ry tells me."
I grabbed her by the hair and got my
lips on hers. She pushed against me, but
she wasn't very strong. I'd never kissed a
woman that beautiful before.
"All right, Eddie, that's enough."
I pulled away. I walked around and
stood next to Harry. "Why, Eddie," he
said, "what's that thing sticking out in
front of you?"
I didn't answer.
"Look, Maxson," said Harry, "your
wife gave my man a hard-on! How the
hell are we supposed to get any work
done around here? We came for cash
and jewelry."
"You wise-ass punks make me sick.
You're no better than maggots."
"And what have you got? The six
o'clock news. What's so big about that?
Political pull and an asshole public.
Anybody can read the news. I make the
news."
"You make the news? Like what?
What can you do?"
"Any amount of numbers. Ah, let me
think. How about, TV newscaster
drinks burglar's piss? How's that sound
to you?"
"I'd die first."
"You won't. Eddie, go get me a glass.
There's one there on the nightstand.
Bring me that."
"Look," said the blonde, "please take
our money. Take our jewels. Just go
away. What's the need for all this?"
"It's your loudmouthed, spoiled hus-
band, lady. He's getting on my fucking
nerves."
I brought Harry the glass, and he un-
zipped his pants and began to piss into
it. It was a tall glass, but he filled it to
the brim. Then he zipped up and moved
toward Maxson.
"Now you're gonna drink my piss,
Mr. Maxson."
"No way, bastard. I'd die first."
"You won't die. You'll drink my
piss—all of it!"
"Never, punk!"
"Eddie," Harry nodded to me, "see
that cigar on the dresser mantle?"
"Yeah."
"Get it. Light it. There's a lighter
there."
I got the lighter and lit the cigar. It
was a good one. I puffed on it. My best
cigar. Never had anything like it.
"You like the cigar, Eddie?" Harry
asked me.
"It's great, Harry."
"OK. Now you walk over to the
whore and get that breast out from un-
der the broken shoulder strap. Pull it
out. I'm gonna hand this jerk-off this
glass full of my piss. You hold that cigar
next to the nipple of the lady's breast.
And if this jerk-off doesn't drink all of
this piss down to the very last drop, I
want you to burn that nipple off with
that cigar. Understand?"
I got it. I walked around and pulled
out Mrs. Maxson's breast. I felt dizzy
looking at it—never had I seen anything
like that.
Harry handed Tom Maxson the glass
of piss. Maxson looked over at his wife.
and tilted the glass and began to drink.
The blonde was trembling all over. It felt
so good to hold her breast. The yellow
piss was going down the newscaster's
throat. He stopped a moment at about
the halfway mark. He looked sick.
"All of it," said Harry. "Go ahead; it's
good to the last drop."
Maxson put the glass to his lips and
drained the remainder. The glass fell
from his hand.
"I still think you're a couple of cheap
punks," Maxson.
I was still standing there holding the
blonde's breast. She yanked it away.
"Tom," said the blonde, "will you stop
antagonizing these men? You're doing
the most foolish thing possible!"
"Oh, playing the winners, eh? Is that
why you married me? Because I was a
winner?"
"Of course that's why she married
you, asshole," said Harry. "Look at that
fat gut on you. Did you think it was for
your body?"
"I've got something," said Maxson.
"That's why I'm Number One in news-
casting. You don't do that on luck."
"But if she hadn't married Number
One," said Harry, "she would have mar-
ried Number Two."
"Don't listen to him, Tom," said the
blonde.
"It's all right," said Maxson, "I know
you love me."
"Thank you, Daddy," said the blonde.
"It's all right, Nana."
"Nana," said Harry. "I like that
name. 'Nana.' That's class. Class and
ass. That's what the rich get while we
get the scrubwomen."
"Why don't you join the Communist
Party?" asked Maxson.
"Man, I don't care to wait centuries
for something that might not finally
work. I want it now."
"Look, Harry," I said, "all we're
doing is standing around and holding
conversations with these people. That
doesn't get us anything. I don't care
what they think. Let's get the loot and
split. The longer we stay, the sooner we
draw the heat."
"Now, Eddie," he answered, "that's
the first good bit of sense I've heard you
speak in five or six years."
"I don't care," said Maxson. "You're
just the weak feeding off of the strong. If
I weren't here, you'd hardly exist. You
remind me of people who go around
assassinating political and spiritual
leaders. It's the worst kind of cowardice;
it's the easiest thing to do with the least
talent available. It comes from hatred
and envy; it comes from rancor and bit-
terness and ultimate stupidity; it comes
from the lowest scale of the human lad-
der; it stinks and it reeks and it makes
me ashamed to belong to the same
tribe."
"Boy," said Harry, "that was some
speech. Even piss can't stop your flow of
bullshit. You're one spoiled turd. You
realize how many people there are on
this earth without a chance? Because of
where and how they were born? Because
they had no education? Because they
never had anything and never will have
and nobody gives a fuck, and you marry
the best body you can find, your age be
damned?"
"Take your loot and go," said Max-
son. "All you bastards who never make
it have some alibi."
"Oh, wait," said Harry, "everything
counts. We're making now. You don't
quite understand."
"Tom," said the blonde, "just give
them the money, the jewelry... let
them go... please get off Channel 7."
"It's not Channel 7, Nana. It's letting
them know. I've got to let them know."
"Eddie," said Harry, "check the bath-
room. Bring back some adhesive tape."
I walked down the hall and found the
bathroom. In the medicine cabinet
was a wide roll of adhesive. Harry made
me nervous. I never knew what he was
going to do. I brought the tape back into
the bedroom. Harry was yanking the
phone cord out of the wall. "OK," he
told me, "shut off Channel 7."
I got it. I taped his mouth good.
"Now the hands, the hands in back,"
said Harry.
He walked over to Nana, pulled out
both of her breasts and looked at them.
Then he spit in her face. She wiped it off
with the bedsheet.
"OK," he said, "now this one. Get the
mouth, but leave the hands loose. I like
a little fight."
I fixed her up.
Harry got Tom Maxson turned on his
side in his bed; he had him facing Nana.
He walked over and got one of Max-
son's cigars and lit it. "I guess Maxson's
right," said Harry. "We are the sucker-
fish. We are the maggots. We are the
slime, and maybe the cowards."
He took a good pull on the cigar.
"It's yours, Eddie."
"Harry, I can't."
"You can. You don't know how.
You've never been taught how. No
education. I'm your teacher. She's
yours. It's simple."
"You do it, Harry."
"No. She'll mean more to you."
"Why?"
"Because you're such a simple
asshole."
I walked over to her bed. She was so
beautiful and I was so ugly I felt as if my
whole body was smeared with a layer of
shit.
"Go on," said Harry, "get it on,
asshole."
"Harry, I'm scared. It's not right;
she's not mine."
"She's yours."
"Why?"
"Look at it like a war. We won this
war. We've killed all their machos, all
their big-timers, all their heroes. There's
nothing left but women and children.
We kill the children and send the old
women up the road. We are the con-
quering army. All that's left is their
women. And the most beautiful woman
of all is ours... is yours. She's helpless.
Take her."
I walked up and pulled back the
covers. It was as if I had died and was
suddenly in heaven, and there was this
magical creature in front of me. I took
her negligee and ripped it completely off.
"Fuck her, Eddie!"
All the curves were absolutely where
they were supposed to be. They were
there and beyond. It was like beautiful
skies; it was like beautiful rivers flowing.
I just wanted to look. I was afraid. I
stood there, this horn of a thing in front
of me. I had no rights.
"Go ahead," said Harry. "Fuck her!
She's the same as any other woman. She
plays games, tells lies. She'll be an old
woman someday, and other young girls
will replace her. She'll even die. Fuck
her while she's still there!"
I pulled at her shoulders, trying to
gather her to me. She had gotten
strength from somewhere. She pushed
against me, pulling her head back. She
was completely repulsed.
"Listen, Nana, I really don't want to
do this... but I do. I'm sorry. I don't
know what to do. I want you and I'm
ashamed."
She made a sound through the
adhesive on her mouth and pushed
against me. She was so beautiful. I
didn't deserve that. Her eyes looked into
mine. They said what I was thinking: I
had no human right.
"Go ahead," said Harry, "slam it to
her! She'll love it."
"I can't do it, Harry."
"All right," he said, "you watch
Channel 7 then."
I walked over and sat next to Tom
Maxson. We sat side-by-side on his bed.
He was making small sounds through
the adhesive. Harry walked over to the
other bed. "All right, whore, I guess I'll
have to impregnate you."
Nana leaped out of bed and ran
toward the door. Harry caught her by
the hair, spun her and slapped her hard
across the face. She fell against the wall
and slid down. Harry pulled her up by
the hair and hit her again. Maxson.
made a louder sound through his
adhesive and leaped up. He ran over
and butted Harry with his head. Harry
gave him a chop along the back of the
neck, and Maxson dropped.
"Tape the hero's ankles," he told me.
I bound Maxson's feet and shoved
him onto his bed.
"Sit him up," said Harry. "I want him
to watch."
"Look, Harry," I said, "let's get out of
here. The longer we stay—"
"Shut up!"
Harry dragged the blonde back to the
bed. She still had on a pair of panties.
He ripped them off and threw them at
Maxson. The panties fell at his feet.
Maxson moaned and began to struggle.
I punched him a hard one, deep into the
belly.
Harry took off his pants and under-
shorts.
"Whore," he said to the blonde, "I'm
gonna sink this thing deep into you and
you're going to feel it and there's
nothing you can do. You'll take all of it!
And I'm going to cream deep inside of
you!"
He had her on her back; she was still
struggling. He hit her again, hard. Her
head fell back. He spread her legs. He
tried to work his cock in. He was having
trouble.
"Loosen up, bitch; I know you want
it! Lift your legs!"
He hit her hard, twice. The legs rose.
"That's better, whore!"
Harry poked and poked. Finally, he
penetrated. He moved it in and out,
slowly.
Maxson began moaning and moving
again. I sank another one into his belly.
Harry began to get up a rhythm. The
blonde groaned as if in pain.
"You like it, don't you, whore? It's
better turkeyneck than your old man
ever gave you, ain't it? Feel it growing?"
I couldn't stand it. I stood up, took
out my cock and began masturbating.
Harry was ramming the blonde so hard
that her head was bouncing. Then he
slapped her and pulled out.
"Not yet, whore. I'm taking my
time."
He walked over to where Tom Max-
son was sitting.
"Look at the SIZE of that thing! And
I'm going to put it back into her now
and come right inside her, Tommy boy!
You'll never be able to make love to
your Nana without thinking of me!
Without thinking of THIS!"
Harry put his cock right into Max-
son's face. "And I may have her suck me
off after I'm finished!"
Then he turned, went back to the
other bed and mounted the blonde. He
slapped her again and began pumping
wildly.
"You cheap, stinking whore, I'm
going to come!"
Then: "Oh, shit! OH, MY GOD! Oh,
oh, oh!"
He fell down against Nana and laid
there. After a moment he pulled out.
Then he looked over at me. "Sure you
don't want some?"
"No thanks, Harry."
Harry began to laugh. "Look at you,
fool, you've whacked off!" Harry got
back into his pants, laughing.
"All right," he said, "tape up her
hands and ankles. We're gettin' out of
here."
I walked over and taped her up.
"But, Harry, how about the money
and jewels?"
"We'll take his wallet. I want to get
out of here. I'm nervous."
"But, Harry, let's take it all."
"No," he said, "just the wallet. Check
his trousers. Just take the money."
I found the wallet.
"There's only $83 here, Harry."
"We take it and we leave. I'm ner-
vous. I feel something in the air. We
have to go."
"Shit, Harry, that's no haul! We can
really clean them out!"
"I told you: I'm nervous. I feel trou-
ble coming. You can stay. I'm leaving."
I followed him down the stairway.
"That son of a bitch will think twice
before he insults anybody again," said
Harry.
We found the window we had jim-
mied open and left the same way. We
walked through the garden and out the
iron gate.
"All right," said Harry, "we walk at a
casual gait. Light a cigarette. Try to look
normal."
"Why are you so nervous, Harry?"
"Shut up!"
We walked four blocks. The car was
still there. Harry took the wheel and we
drove off.
"Where we going?" I asked.
"The Guild Theater."
"What's playing?"
"Black Silk Stockings, with Annette
Haven."
The place was down on Lankershim.
We parked and got out. Harry bought
the tickets. We walked in.
"Popcorn?" I asked Harry.
"No."
"I want some."
"Get it."
Harry waited until I got the popcorn,
large. We found some seats near the
back. We were in luck. The feature was
just beginning.

© Frank Silvanski