The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs, William S.) (16 page)

“Boss, he don’t look good — That sneaky pete caught up with him” —

“Oh my God send out Green Tony” —

“Green Tony took off for Galaxy X — On the last saucer, boss — He’s coming round now” —

“For God’s sake shove him out there with a wing and a prayer” —

The Old Doctor reeled out onto the platform — Then he heard the screaming marks and he steadied himself and he drew all of it into him and he stood up very straight and calm and grey as a wise old rat and he lifted his old blue hands shiny over the dirt and he brought them down slow in the setting sun feeling all the marks so nasty and they just stood there quiet his cold old hands on their wrists and ankles, hands cold and blue as liquid air on wrist and ankle just frozen there in a heavy blue mist of vaporized bank notes —

If you get out there in front of the marks and panic and try to answer them — Well — We don’t talk about that
— You see the Old Doctor just draws all that charge and hate right in and uses it all — So the louder they scream and the harder they push the stronger and cooler the Old Doctor is — Yes, son, that’s when you know you’ve got them cooled right — When you can take it all in so the louder they scream and the harder they push the stronger and cooler you are — And then they are quiet — They got nothing more to say and nothing to say it with — You’ve taken it all all all you got it? (Good, save it for the next pitch) — So there they stand like dummies (they are dummies) and you let your heavy cold blue hands fall down through them — Klunk — cold mineral silence as word dust falls from demagnetized patterns — and your spirals holding wrist and ankle — Where we came in —

Now some wise characters think they can call the Old Doctor twice —

“All right, Doc, get out there and quiet the marks” —

“Marks? What marks? i don’t see anybody here but you — All right drop that camera gun — It won’t do you a bit of good — i’ve had every weapon in the galaxy pulled on me” —

“But i got the fix in — i got the Big Fix in” —

“Mister, i am the Big Fix — Hello yes good bye — a few more calls to make tonight” —

You see, son, in this business you always have to find an angle or you’ll be in the bread line without clothes or a dime like the song says the angle on planet earth was birth and death — pain and pleasure — the tough cop and the con cop — It’s an old vaudeville act — Izzie the Split used to take both parts — But that was in another galaxy — Well it looked like a nice quiet easy pitch — Too
quiet like they say in the old Westerns — Fact is we were being set up for a buy and all the money we took was marked — So why did we walk into it? — Fact is we were all junkies and thin after a long ride on the White Subway — flesh junkies, control junkies, heavy metal junkies — That’s how you get caught, son — If you have to have it well you’ve had it — just like any mark — So slide in cool and casual on the next pitch and don’t get hooked on the local line: If there is one thing to write on any life form you can score for it’s this: Keep your bag packed at all times and ready to travel on —

So pack your ermines, Mary — Write back to the old folks at home — you see this happen before — three thousand years of that old ace in the hole — There was something had to happen and it happened somehow — The Public is gonna take the place apart — He went away but i’m here still — To quiet the marks — He just said “i’m tired of you and i’m checking out” — And they may flash the marks quiet — But boy the pipes the pipes are calling — When you call Him just to raise the price of a ticket — Call the Doc twice? — He quiets you — Here’s the Doc now — That old ace in the hole? Good bye old paint i’m aleaving Cheyenne — Ghost writing in the sky trip that you’re gonna take — This “Green Deal”? — What’s this from Florida up to the old North Pole? — Push me down the tone scale baby, down in the hole? ? In the bread line, Jack — Pick up that heavy metal —
Adiós
— Don’t want it —

Now some write home to orgasm death — Who cooked up your dreams? And that “White Smoke”? — Man, we been subliminated — From this valley they say you are
going — That sneaky peat bog caught up with him — on a slow boat to China — Green Tony on the last saucer, boss — a big bank roll — a wing and a prayer — without clothes or a dime if they lost his old blue hands over the sky — They’ll tell you of trips — in the setting sun — ghost riders in the sky — just stood there quiet — Yes they lost that old hand cold and blue as liquid air — So the louder they scream the old folks at home you’ll see me cooler — old ace in the hole — this to say and nothing to say it — He went away —

Money that they’ve lost and spent like dummies — And they may flash a big word line — But, boy, the pipes the pipes are calling as word dust falls — They’ll be in the bread line — holding wrist and ankle just to raise the price of a ticket — now some wise characters — “Marks? What marks? — i’m aleaving ghost writing in the sky — Drop that camera gun — It won’t do you a bit of good on the trip that you’re gonna take — i’ve had every weapon in three galaxies pulled on me one time or another — from Florida up to the old North Pole” —

“But i got the Big Fix in — i got the Big Fix down in the hole” —

“In the bread line without clothes or a dime — Hello yes good bye —
Adiós”
—

Well these are the simple facts of the case and i guess i ought to know — There were at least two parasites one sexual the other cerebral working together the way parasites will — That is the cerebral parasite kept you from wising up to the sexual parasite — Why has no one ever asked the question: “What is sex?” — Or made any precise scientific investigation of sexual phenomena? — The
cerebral parasite prevented this — And why has no one ever asked: “What is word?” — Why do you talk to yourself all the time? — Are you talking to yourself? — Isn’t there someone or something else there when you talk? Put your sex images on a film screen talking to you while you jack-off — Just about the same as the so-called “real thing” isn’t it? — Why hasn’t it been tried? — And what is word and to whom is it addressed? —Word evokes image does it not? — Try it — Put an image track on screen and accompany it with any sound track — Now play the sound track back alone and watch the image track fill in — So? What is word? — Maya — Maya — Illusion — Rub out the word and the image track goes with it — Can you have an image without color? — Ask yourself these questions and take the necessary steps to find the answers: “What is sex? What is word? What is color?” — Color is trapped in word — Image is trapped in word — Do you need words? — Try some other method of communication, like color flashes — a Morse code of color flashes — or odors or music or tactile sensations — Anything can represent words and letters and association blocks — Go on try it and see what happens — science pure science — And what is love? — Who do you love? — If i had a talking picture of you would i need you? Try it — Like i say put your sex image on screen talking all the sex words — Hide simple facts of the case: two parasites one sexual, the other electric voice of C — Well the board as you listen fills in — I ought to know —Cerebral parasite kept you from wising up board books written in symbols of sexual parasite — Pressure group relying on rectum while you jack-off — Control “real thing” — collaborators
with image trapped in word — What is word? Word is an array of calculating machines — Spots of weakness opened up by the track goes with it — The Ovens smell of simple facts of the case and i guess won’t be much left — little time, parasites — Now we see all the pictures — Cerebral phonograph talks sex scenes — And this pubescent word evokes images does it not? Look and accompany it with human nights and watch the image track fill in — Stranger lips bring down the word forever — Word falling — Photo falling — hide nor hair — at the club insane orders and counterorders — stranger on the shore — My terminal electric voice of C, where’s it going to get me? — Lover, please forget about the tourists — i said the Chief of Police after hours — This thing D.C. called love — You better move on — British Prime Minister, say it again — Hear you, Switzerland — Freeze all living is easy — My heart to mindless idiot — It had to be you — You won’t cut word lines? — Found the somebody who — It’s electric storms of violence — Any advantage precariously held — June July and August walk on — Pinball-led streets — i’m going home, drugstore woman — Show you something: berserk machine — One more time, Johnny Angel? — with short time secondhand love? — nothing but The Reality Concession to set up a past — Workers paid off in thing called “Love” — the junk man at the outskirts —

Gongs of violence and how show stranger on the shore — Real Mr Bradly Mr Martin charges in — “Where’s it going to get me? — Artists take over” — counterorders and the living is easy — it’s orbit of the Saturn Galaxy — Snap your fingers — dreams end everything — hide nor
hair — at the club actually be your way — Time — It’s stranger on the shore — After hours this secondhand trade-in called “Love” — You better move on — Tentative flesh — So good night — Say it again — Face sucked into other apparatus — now trading mornings — So pack your ermines, Mary — You see this happen before — Stranger on the shore my real ace in the hole — June July August walk on — The public is going to take the place — I’m going home — Nothing but Green Tony on the last saucer, boss —

Word falling, photo failing, old folks at home — You’ll see me guess orders and counterorders — And they flash a big word pay-off — But boy the pipes the pipes are calling as you listen — Big money be in the bread line — wising up — scandinavia outhouse parasite just to raise the price of a ticket — Word flesh group relying on rectum — Now we see all the pictures feeling along — And this pubescent word covered orgasm death on a slow boat to China — Stranger lips bring roll call — Rectum suddenly released as he melted nitrous film flesh — Word is an array of calculating machines from Florida up to the old North Pole — Image track goes with it — Ovens down in the hole — Won’t be much left — In the bread line —
Adiós
— Now we see all the pictures —

Enter George Raft groom
cum
chauffeur — He lurked hat and collar and hands in his pockets — Heavy with menace he takes the job of looking after someone who was sure to reach the film — Sticky end abroad — George Raft went home talking — Smoothest of all the tough guys tiring from films altogether — a little fleshier around the jaw suite but available for civilian jobs — Those eyes still
snap and this ain’t Hamlet — I want hunched tight hipped purpose — Action — Camera — Take — Hanging stays as butler — 500 full-time officials — The death penalty will
not
be scrapped as transport, Mr Workers’ Union — You’ll find it waiting down shadow pools — The try begins with BO AC — sufficient spurts that traditionally service transient hotels with rose wallpaper — Attempt is now in Rome with the film — red nitrous fumes over you — Young witness circumstances brown ankles — Naked for physical factory rushed to execution marriage — Two boys mutually stylized hover the vigil till execution image back to hotel room in London — Harm begins in Britain from his face — cobblestone lane pageant — shirt flapping pants slide down — felt execution marriage — Stanley Spencer left that mess — Who is that naked corpse? — Sex would die on the answer — Around in biographer languorously sure that there is me-you cock flipped out and up as one is or need be a boy in kerosene lamp light — old dead-pan anecdotal sage for transient hotels — “Bend over you” — young conceived in this cook book — Pants down to the ankle his first sexual experience convinced him that carnal love reproduces feedback from vacant lot — laughing suburb boys quiet elegant and soft stay in close — His style is cool like his head was sewed on a Russian version of James Dean — filtering black aphrodisiac ointment in Spanish fly that will take photo turnstile through flesh — Two faces tried to rush entirely into his face — He was in the you-me in you with all the consequences — burning outskirts of the world — Character took my hands in dash taught you
from last airport typical of his decision to intersect on new kind of daring in memory of each other —

“I say nothing and nothing is now in Rome with the film — Intersected eleventh hour paper — Star failed yesterday — Screen went dead — Young face melted” —

“Good bye then — I thought entirely into the room with me — Panama” —

From San Diego up to Maine Solemn Accountants are jumping ship forever —

“Word falling, photo falling, sir — In the last skimpy surplus, sir, orders and counterorders — Stranger outside, sir” they said — “And what’s it going to get me?” —

Allies wait on knives — Street gangs had to be you — You won’t cut word lines? — From a headline of penniless migrants electric storms of violence — Our show and we’re proud of August walk-on — Her Fourth-Grade Class screamed in terror — Pinball-led Street of the Dogs — I looked at the pavement — Show you something: berserk machine — Pavement was safer — stale streets of yesterday? — short time secondhand love? Workers paid off in thing conditions? —

Delusion of death going — Artists take over — Was it easy? — Only this should have been obvious: orbit Of the Saturn Galaxy — Only live animals write anything — hide nor hair at the club — after hours this liz replica synthesized from tentative flesh — So pack your ermines, Mary, you of later and lesser crimes pudgy and not pretty —

“Will Hollywood never learn?” —

“On the last saucer, boss” —

Unimaginable disaster — You’ll see me guess time — It
is impossible to estimate the damage — And they may flash streams in the area, but boy the pipes the pipes are calling — in Ewyork, Onolulu, Aris, Ome, Oston that old ace in the hole — past crimes feeling along your time —

Enter George Raft
cum
Paris in the Spring all his hands in his pockets — Heavy with the Japanese Sandman — Looking for someone who was trading new dreams for old —

“Unchain my broad” —

George Raft went home tiring from films altogether — but available for civilian jobs — once in a while — sticky end for Old Black Bird — “Martin’s reality film is the dreariest entertainment ever presented to a captive audience.” He stated flatly. The opening scene shows a man sitting in the bar of a luxury hotel clearly he has come a long way travel-stained and even the stains unfamiliar cuff links of a dull metal that seem to absorb light . . the room buzzes with intrigue . . Mauritania . . Uranium . . Oil . . War . . This man and what he sees are
in the film
. . Clearly portentous exciting events are about to transpire. Now take the same man
outside the film
. . He has come a long way and the stains are all too familiar . . An American tourist confides in the bartender: