Blood and Guts in High School Read Online Free PDF Page B

wandered through the classrooms and hallways with a larger and larger stomach. She was too stupid to know what was going on. The teachers didn't tell 'cause
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    they were scared or mean dykes. We didn't tell her 'cause it was fun to make her suffer.
    Early one morning the janitor, an old man, found a bloody bundle in the bottom of one of the basement garbage cans. Later that day we saw Penelope's stomach had disappeared. The principal couldn't suspend her 'cause she had to do everything she could to prevent scandal.
    I couldn't figure out what birth control method to use. Foams and diaphragm creams tasted so bad every time I got the chance to feel a tongue on my cunt, I chose the tongue. An IUD made me bleed and get PID again. There was a druggist in Harlem who'd slip me some pills every other month if I'd give him a blow job under the counter, but once every other month isn't enough. All the boys I fucked refused to use condoms.
    I decided that if I got pregnant again, I'd stick a broken hanger up my cunt. I didn't care if I died as long as the baby died. Then I heard a story about a woman, I think it's true, who was so desperate to kill her baby she chained flatirons around her arms, legs, and stomach and threw herself down three flights of stairs. Even though almost every bone in her body broke, her baby didn't die and she gave birth in traction.
    I was still desperate to fuck. Abortions make it dangerous to fuck again because they stretch out the opening of the womb so the sperm can reach the egg real easily. They upset the hormonal system: the hormones send out many more eggs to compensate. They leave gaping holes in the womb and any foreign object that nears these holes can cause infection.
    I'm not trying to tell you about the rotgut weird parts of my life. Abortions are the symbol, the outer image, of sexual relations in this world. Describing my abortions is the only real way I can tell you about pain and fear . . . my unstoppable drive for sexual love made me know.
    My second abortion took place two months after my first abortion.
    It cost fifty dollars because it was a menstrual extraction. The differences between a menstrual extraction and an abortion are:
    In a menstrual extraction the doctor doesn't dilate the cervix. The baby is still too small.
    Since the doctor may or may not find the baby, menstrual extractions can be dangerous and are illegal.
    Most of the doctors who perform menstrual extractions are not certified MDs.
    The minute I entered the office, they doped me up with Valium.
    The factory line was shorter.
    I actually saw the doctor.
    He was the only doctor there.
    He killed 32 to 48 babies and netted 1,600 to 2,400 dollars a day.
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    He stuck his hand up my cunt and told me I was OK.
    He stuck a little needle in my arm and tried to be nice to me.
    A week after my second abortion I came down with a case of PID. When I called up the doctor to complain, he said it wasn't his fault and he had never heard of me.
    I didn't know how much these abortions hurt me physically and mentally. I was desperate to fuck more and more so I could finally get love. Soon my total being was on fire, not just my sex, and I was doing everything to make the non-sexual equivalent of love happen.
    The rest of THE SCORPIONS were growing the same way I was.
    We started out making trouble. Early one morning we rode in a stolen van into a Connecticut town and busted into a hardware store. We threw everything in the store out of the door.
    We don't hate, understand, we have to get back. Fight the dullness of shit society. Alienated robotized images. Here's your cooky, ma'am. No to anything but madness.
    Broken glass lies over the floor. Gum sticks everywhere. Shit smeared in the cracks of the table. Their cash register is ash-black like a burnt-up telephone book.
    We made the store into a death-house and the street look like the New York City east-side slum we had to live in.
    As soon as we had accomplished our purpose, we left