Tales of Ordinary Madness Read Online Free PDF

week.”
    â€œMany of those delicate little snits are always going somewhere. What is it? A grant?”
    â€œYes, a grant. But he can’t paint.”
    â€œI know that. But it’s his statues,” I said.
    â€œI don’t like his statues,” said the Panama Kid.
    â€œListen, Jimmy, I may not like Arthur but I have been very close to his statues.”
    â€œBut it’s the same old stuff – the Greek shit – gals with big tits and asses in flowing robes. Guys wrestling, grabbing at each other’s cocks and beards. What the hell is it?”
    So, reader, let’s forget Mad Jimmy for a minute and get into Arthur – which is no big problem – what I mean is also the way I write: I can jump around and you can come right along and it won’t matter a bit, you’ll see.
    Well, the secret of Arthur was that he built them oversize. Very very impressive. All that fucking cement. His smallest -sized man or woman loomed over eight feet tall in sunlight or in moonlight or smog, depending upon when you arrived.
    I tried to get into his place in the back there one night and here were all these cement people, all these big cement people just standing around outside there. Some of them were as high as twelve or fourteen feet. Huge breasts, pussies, cocks, balls, all about the place. I had just finished listening to The Elixir of Love by Donizetti. It didn’t help. I still felt like some kind of pygmy in hell. I’m out there screaming, “Arthur, Arthur, help me!” But he was on the hash or something, or maybe I was. Anyhow, the god-damned fear builds.
    Well, I am six foot and 232 pounds, so I just threw a body-block on the biggest sonofabitch there.
    I got him from the back when he wasn’t looking. And he fell face-forward, and I mean – he FELL! You could hear it all over town.
    Then, out of curiosity, I rolled him over, and sure enough I’d broken off his cock, one ball, and another ball neatly sliced in half; part of the nose gone too, and about half the beard.
    I felt like a killer.
    Then Arthur stepped out and said, “Hank, good to see you!”
    And I said, “Sorry about the noise, Art, but I stumbled into one of your little pets out there and the fucking thing tripped-up and fell apart.”
    And he said, “That’s all right.”
    So I went in and we smoked shit all night. And the next thing I knew the sun was up and I was in my car driving along – around nine a.m. – and I drove through all the stoplights and red lights. No trouble at all. I even managed to park the car a block and a half from where I lived.
    But when I got to my door I found I had this cement cock in my pocket. The damn thing must have been at least two feet long. I walked down and stuck the thing into my landlady’s mailbox, but there was plenty left over that stuck out, bending and immortal, and topped by that huge head, left to the mailman’s discretion.
    Okay. Back to Mad Jimmy.
    â€œBut I mean,” said Mad Jimmy, “do they really want me in COURT? In COURT?”
    â€œListen, Jimmy, you really need help. I’ll drive you to Patton or Camarillo.”
    â€œAh, I’m tired of those fucking shock-treatments.... Burrrrrrr!!!! Burrrrrrr!!!!”
    Mad Jimmy rattled his body all about the chair taking the treatments again.
    Then he adjusted his new Panama in the mirror, smiled, got up and walked to the phone again.
    He dialed his number, looked at me and said, “It just keeps ringing.”
    He just hung up and dialed again.
    They all come to see me. Even my doctor phones me. “Christ was the greatest head-shrinker and ego of them all – claiming he was the Son of God. Throwing those money-changers out of the temple. Naturally, that was His mistake. They got His ass. Even asked Him to fold his feet so they could save one nail. What shit.”
    They all come to see me. There’s one guy with a last name like Ranch