Page 253 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 223

with the IRS. But consorting with murderers. Do you know how many
murderers there are wandering loose in this country? Very few get caught.
Fewer get convicted. Hardly anyone gets capital punishment. So at any
given moment, all these murderers are wandering around the country as
if nothing has happened. They killed once. They’ll do it again. They’re
serial murderers. They kill one person after another. It’s like the song by
the Police: ‘Murder by Numbers—one, two, three.’ They prey on women
and homosexuals and kids. What it is, you know, is the danger. The thrill
of danger. Most of the guys I hire for my videos are murderers, or could
be murderers.
“I’ve noticed that petty criminals have lots of tattoos. Murderers have
hardly any. Somehow, as much as I like men with tattoos on their arms, I
keep remembering that murderers don’t have tattoos. There are thousands
of murderers loose in this country now. I’ve been to bed with lots of them.
The one who robbed me last year: the nineteen-year-old ex-con from San
Quentin. Great thighs. Wonderful sex. Got up out of the bed and pulled
out a twenty-two. Lobo came over the other night with a twenty-five. A
twenty-two is much more deadly. A bigger gun spends its energy pass-
ing right through you. In one side and out the other. A twenty-two has
enough force to enter your head and ricochet around making sushi out
of your brain.
“Did I tell you I’m going to try heroin? I figure why not. I remember
that book title, It’s So Good, Don’t Try It Even Once. I’ll wait till after
my mother’s visit next week. I’ve booked her on every Gray Line charter
tour there is. My mother thinks visiting me is me taking her down to
Union Square and putting her on a bus with all the other senior tourists.
These new Lemmon Quaaludes are wonderful. My television reception
has never been better. I’ve finally gotten to the point where I can enjoy at
least the illusion of success. When my mother sees my apartment, she’ll
think I have it made. Of course, she’s bringing my niece. Some brat I’ve
never seen. The kid’s been warned no doubt by my sister that her uncle is,
well, odd, and to watch out.
“You know, there’s a noose hanging down on a post on a roof way
below my windows. This view is really interesting. I’m in a penthouse on
the top of the Tenderloin. I feel almost biblical: like I could have been
taken to the top of the mount and am being shown all the things that
could be mine.
“And all I want, all I really get off on, is the danger from the young
street trash I pay nightly. The other day one of them was strangling me
just right and spitting in my face and telling me about all the guys he had

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