I liked the sound of it but the syntax was too regular. I wrote a second `Skinned. Skinniedup, baked. Stick a.'

That I felt was better, but lacking in verbs.

`Farceuncle midwoof floops on the conch Harkening strayners at the dolor.'

I smiled to myself: I felt I was getting closer to truth.

`Missy-led clanker retchatches purr purr floops midwoof flushiting. I wonted crandy. Yo no crandy git, dabby sated. Yo knotted again, he, replyed jobbily. Fluckit shushit. Hotbam mastar.'

But I was supposed to be expressing real feelings. How might I do that without being absurdly clear and trivial? I must proceed further, I thought: 'Mime a riter. A riter is sumun who rights. Words, wurts, worst … what too due? Fusshackle thought, ruddycup the blissbiz pronotions gaym, baby gone. Flat chance I have of whining a prize. Holy Muffer, merry of God . . . Ahhh.'

Remaindered Redeemer, where dost thou go? Kink of the Whirl, you knot me so I ken not. Rash anality has deshitted me Of all my straineth. I beg you show me merdesee. Yoose your head, your my-end, your braying! Your rashan. ality

1. He rashandill l (A reckoning crew will destroy us all.) Member, an hefull man is one who unjoys life, finds many playsures. He is a cheyeheld who nose nothink. Be rashanal and use sickology. But write, rite, right, reyet 1 Got is the kink of the Universe (Ice died for our since I ) Got is the kink of the Whirl (He nailrows what is wide and free) God makes ridid what is fleshible (To him who hass much shall be piled) The seven deadly Since he names, The thinks we've done, we must do penitentiary for (Luff, Hee says, is oil) Got so luffed the whirl that he graved is unly beGotten son that those that bleaf he died for their since may have infernal life.

Ah, Luke, I wrote on and on, for two and a half hours I wrote all glorious nonsense and sense so interfused it will take my graduate students decades to decipher it all. It's beautiful. I felt so good the next fat female that bloated her boobs for Boggles was erected on the spot. Dear Luke, you are utterly amid and I your faithfool decipherpill.

Yours, Gobbles.

Chapter Eighty-nine

[Being a questioning of Dr: Lucius Rhinehart by Inspector Nathaniel Putt of the New York City police regarding the unfortunate rigidification of Mr. Franklin Delano Osterflood.]

'It's good to see you again, Inspector Putt,' Dr. Rhinehart said. 'How have you been?'

'Fine, thank - Sit down, Rhinehart' 'Thank you. You've got a new couch.'

'You know why I've called you in?'

'No, I'm afraid I don't. Lost some more mental patients?'

'Do you know a man named Frank Osterflood?'

'Yes, I do. He was a-'

'When did you last see him?'

Dr. Rhinehart pulled out a die, shook it in his cupped hands and leaned forward to drop it on the inspector's desk. After

examining the results he said 'About a week ago.'

Inspector Putt's eyes glittered minutely.

'You . . . saw . . . him . . . one week ago.'

'Yes, about then. Why? What's Frank up to these days? Nothing serious, I hope.'

`Please describe your meeting with him.'

'Mmmmm. I remember I ran into him purely by chance on the street near his apartment. We decided to go to dinner

together.'

'Go on.'

'After dinner, he suggested we go visit a girlfriend of his in Harlem. So we went.'

'Go on.'

'I spent a couple of hours with Osterflood with his girlfriend and then I left' 'What took place at this girlfriend's place?'

'We watched some television. And, well, Osterflood engaged the girl in sexual congress and then I engaged her in

sexual congress. It was a joint session you might say.'

'Did Osterflood leave with you?'

'No. I left alone.'

'What was he doing when you left?'

'He was sleeping on the living room rug.'

'What was Osterflood's relation to this girl?'

`I'd say it was basically masochistic. Sadistic elements too.'

`Did the girl seem to like him?'

'She seemed to take pleasure in her interaction with him.'

`You say Osterflood was asleep when you left'

'Yes.'

`Was he drunk?'

`Probably.'

`Was he in good health?'

`Mmmm. No. He was overweight, had eaten too much that night. Had digestive problems. Was exhausting himself in

acts of atonement.'

Inspector Putt stared coldly at Dr. Rhinehart and then asked abruptly 'Who prepared the drinks for everyone that night?'

'Ahh. The drinks.'

'Yes, the drinks.'

Dr. Rhinehart bounced the die on the desk a second time. He smiled.

'Mr. Osterflood prepared the drinks.'

'Osterflood!' `I found several of my Scotches unfriendlily watered-down, but the service was otherwise fine.'

The inspector's face and eyes became exceptionally cold as he stared at Dr. Rhinehart.

'Did the die tell you to murder Osterflood that night?'

'Oh I doubt it. But it's an interesting question. Let's see.'

Dr. Rhinehart dribbled the die a third time, and then looked up brightly at his questioner. 'Nope.'

'I see. I suppose that's the truth,' Inspector Putt sneered.

`It's what the die told me to say.'

The two men looked at each other and then the inspector, tight-lipped, pushed a button on the side of his desk and told

the detective who came to the door to 'bring her in.'

Gina entered, dressed conservatively in a knee-length skirt, a heavy blouse and an ill-fitting jacket.

`That's the man,' she said.

'Sit down,' said the inspector.

`That's him.'

'Hi, Gina,' Dr. Rhinehart said.

`He admits it See, he admits it'

'Sit down, Gina,' the detective said.

`Miss Potrelli to you, fuzz-face.'

'Please briefly repeat your story of how the evening with Osterflood went,' said the inspector.

This guy and Frank came to my apartment and I gave them both a fuck. This guy served the drinks. Osterflood began

to act as if he'd been drugged and was getting woozy and this guy dragged him off.' 'Dr. Rhinehart?'

Inspector Putt said coldly.

'Mr. Osterflood and I paid a social call on Miss Potrelli. Frank made us all several drinks while we watched television

and engaged in sexual congresses. I left with Frank lying on the floor with a blissful smile on his face. Where is old

Frank, by the way?'

'He's dead, damn you,' said Gina.

'Shuttup,' said the inspector and then went on quietly: 'The body of Frank Osterflood was discovered on November 15

in the East River under the Triborough Bridge. An autopsy has revealed that he'd been dead about two days. He was poisoned with strychnine.'

He looked only at Rhinehart. 'You or Gina here - one of you - was the last one to see Osterflood alive.' `Maybe he just took a midnight swim in the East River and accidentally swallowed some water,' suggested Dr. Rhinehart.

`The percentage solution of strychnine in the East River,' said Inspector Putt soberly, 'is still at acceptable levels.'

'But then I wonder what happened to him,' said Dr. Rhinehart.

`Traces of strychnine have been found on the shelf above Gina's liquor cabinet and in the rug in front of the TV set.'

'How interesting.'

'You mixed the drinks!' Gina said shrilly.

'I did? No, my story is that Osterflood mixed them.'

Dr. Rhinehart scowled in concentration. 'Maybe a dice decision made him decide to kill himself in retribution for his

sins. He showed certain masochistic tendencies.'

'You mixed the drinks and you left with him,' Gina said again shrilly.

'Not according to my story, Miss Potrelli. According to my story I left first and he left later.'

'Oh,' she said. 'You're a liar.'

'Let's just say we have different stories. This confuses the inspector and makes him uneasy.'