Through Beatnik Eyeballs : TEI edition
author: R. A. Norton
source date: 1961

THROUGH BEATNIK EYEBALLS

by R. A. NORTON
A Novel of Teen-Age Life
PEDIGREE BOOKS LONDON

An original PEDIGREE BOOKS edition

first published in Great Britain 1961

Copyright reserved

PEDIGREE BOOKS

are published by

Edwin Self of 73 Parkway, London, N.W.1.

Printed and made in Great Britain by

The Racecourse Press, Limited

23 Coleridge Street, Hove 3, Sussex

CONTENTS

- Page
- GLOSSARY FOR BODS FROM SQUARESVILLE 5
- PART ONE THROUGH FENELLA'S EYEBALLS 13
- PART TWO THROUGH BIG CHIEFS EYEBALLS 71

GLOSSARY

For Bods From Squaresville

- Barrelhouse — a disreputable place.
- Bashville— a place for shy. bashful people.
- Beatsville— a place for Beatniks.
- Belly-rack— laugh.
- Birdland— the country, woods.
- Blacken— annoy, upset, feel bad.
- Blackened— Stupid, bad.
- Blade— knife.
- Blast— party, happy lime.
- Brain-user— thought, idea.
- Bread— money.
- Broad— girl.
- Bug— annoy, look at, move about.
- Bull— male.
- Bull-jive— stupid, annoying talk.
- Bundle— fight, row.
- Butt— cigarette end.
- Buzz-tone— a muted trumpet.

- Can— behind.
- Case the joint — explore the place.
- Cat— a keen boy.
- Catch— see. take notice of, get.
- Charge— reefers.
- Chariot— car.
- Check my reins — slop.
- Choke— annoy, render fed up.
- Clinker— somebody different, a misfit, a fault, a chip on the shoulder.
- Clobber— clothes, crowd, things.
- Cloud 9 — a state of being so happy it feels almost like a dream.
- Clue you in — tell you.
- Coffee pot — a popular person, the life and soul of the party.
- Corn— over-sentimental, childish.
- Cradle— bed.
- Crummy— stupid, worthless.
- Cube— a person who has no idea of how to enjoy himself.
- Curseville— swear words.
- Curvesville— a place for girls with superb figures.

- Dark seven — a depressing week.
- Delirious seven — happy week.
- Demonsville— a wicked place.
- Dents— teeth.
- Dicty— snobbish, bossy.
- Dig— like, understand.
- Double— a date.
- Drag— clothes, dress.
- Dreamsville— sleep.
- Dunesville— the sand dunes.

- Endsville— an earthly paradise.

- Far out — somewhere pleasant, dreamy.
- Feather-bank— pillow, cushion.
- Flee the scene — leave.
- Flip, Flip my lid — get excited at.
- Four bars past (scared, bored, etc.,) — very scared, bored indeed.
- Frame— figure, body.
- Freap— a cross between a freak and a creep.
- Frolic-pad— any place where a good time is had.
- Fungus— a despicable person.
- Fusebox— head. Ill-connected fusebox — unbalanced mind.

- Gasser— a great person, friend.
- Germsville— hospital.
- Git-box— guitar.
- Give me five — shake hands. '
- Give gloom the go-by — get happy.
- Give the igg — ignore.
- Glut— eat.
- Glutting pad — restaurant.
- Goo— sloppy love, over-played romance.
- Goof off — go to sleep, day-dream. Goofed — not all there.
- Graffy— worried, nervous.
- Great Spirit — God.
- Green stuff — money (£1 notes.)
- Groovy— perfect, friendly.
- Gung ho — in favour of.
- Gutbucket— sexy music.

- Handle— name.
- Headache grapplers — aspirins.
- High— a happy state of mind.
- Hip— in the know.
- Hipster— an experienced man, a know-all guy.
- Hot for — highly approve of.

- In there — somewhere perfect, modern.

- Jangle— ring up on the phone.
- Jam— love-making.
- Jelly bowl — a fat person.
- Jilt— throw out, give the sack to.
- Jive— talk (mainly nonsense.) Now a form of dance.
- Joy-box— piano.
- Juice— drink. Soak juice — get drunk.
- Junkie— drug addict.

- Law— the police.
- Lenses— spectacles.
- Lessonsville— school.
- Liquorice stick — clarinet.
- Loose goose — an eccentric, mad person.
- Love-hint— gentle kiss or endearment.
- Love-sign— any sign of affection.
- Lumber— court, vamp.

- Mime— hair. Mane rake — comb.
- Mane-scragger— hair-dresser.
- Manor— district.
- Nadges— illness, discomfort, Nadgy — hurt, uncomfortable.
- Negative— no, nothing.
- Nod— sleep.
- Orbit (in) — out of this world, high.
- To put into orbit — to put into circulation etc.
- To come into orbit with — to meet somebody.

- Pad— place, home. Pad down with — live with.
- Pad off — go home.
- Pad-wise— homewards.
- Patter— talk.
- Peasants— working people, who only have their high times at weekends and evenings.
- Peck— kiss.
- Pen— write.
- Platter— gramophone record.
- Pot— marihuana, reefers (drug cigarettes).
- Pseudo-bohey— people who pretend to be bohemian.
- Punk— a feeble, useless person.
- Pusher— person who sells drugs to the public (illegal).

- Quaky— uncertain, doubtful (situation etc.)
- Rave— terrific. To rave at — to get excited at.
- Rave to — to go anywhere.

- Scat, Scatty — mad, crazy (talk etc.)
- Seller of love-signs — streetwalker.
- Slab— bed.
- Smutsville— a dirty place.
- Snog— to kiss and cuddle for some length of time.
- Solo— alone. On the solo list — without a date.
- Sour apples — cyder.
- Squaresville— a place for squares, cubes, freaps and fungi.
- Squaw— girl friend.
- Stereo— sound.
- Strictly for the sparrows — something unenterprising or stupid.
- Struggle-buggy— an old car.
- Stud— boy. man.
- Swinging trad — the swaying kind of dance most often done to traditional jazz.

- Tombsville— death.
- Ton (do a ton) — to do 100 m.p.h. on a motor-bike etc.
- Tune out — leave.
- Turf— neighbourhood. Turf-mate — neighbour, friend.

- Utopia Manor — Heaven.

- Way out — somewhere perfect, a long way away.
- Weed— reefers.
- Wheel— bus, car. Wheel park — car park.
- Wife— girl friend, (it also can have the literal meaning).
- Wing off — leave in a hurry.
- Witch— girl, woman. Witch-seller — streetwalker.
- Wow me — be keen on me. Like wow — wonderful.

- Zip-gun— the home made type of gun frequently used by gangs.
- Zooty— keen, modern.
- Z's (pile up the Z’s) — take some rest, sleep.

PART ONE

Through Fenella’s Eyeballs

Chapter One

I GOT to admit it. I'm a clinker from way out, strictly heading for nowhere. I living in this lone pad up the City. I not a regular beatnik or nothing, but sometimes I do hang with this beat outfit. Got me a couple of gassers which really enliven me, and mostly we just defy what we don't dig. They not hipsters you understand, just beat, knocked about kids like myself, who from now on in, is going to call their own deal.

It’s not the great Bomb I got it against. I plainly not believe this ever be fired off. Mostly I got it against myself, for being mightily different from what I’d like to be. I hate them black moods and screw fears which come on me, likewise my memory. I not want to remember bad things which been done to me, cause it plainly affects my way of life. Like when I sees a little kid playing in the gutter, I can even shake with rage. What purpose I got hating kids? It only make me feel bad. Race soon die out if no more come, but to me this would be fine. I care not a lump of bread if race die out when I do. If it no better than the last it plainly going to benefit by remaining unborn.

Peoples is evil. Likewise myself. I not going to play dicty like I higher up the ladder, but unless you got religion or something you really got no place to gel to. No wonder you grovel after making bread, give filthy love-signs, and soak the juice. If barmen wasn’t so keen on their green stuff they'd belt peoples away before they got really soaked Likewise all them which do sell love-signs. They act plenty tempting and lure many guys to Smutsville.

Bread should plainly be done away with. It the cause of many evils. Me, I'd flip to see the crummy debutantes selling pegs for their supper. Not that I'm mightly poor or anything but I sees no need for these dicty folk having more than the poor freap with the wooden leg. It really blacken me about the way in which bread is spent. That plenty go on the madmen Bomb and rockets when it could go to help animals seem tough. I could love animals a lot. It sicken me when peoples act cruel to them. I once got mighty high to see a hound bite some kid’s hand for teasing it.

Now I lived most my life with a regular-looking Moms and Dad. We been at this small pad in the Suburbs. They keep having madmen bundles all the time. Again, bread be one of the causes. Dad not one for having fancy squaws or soaking the juice. He acted plenty good to us. but his trouble be he expect too much of Moms. Moms suffer from her blackened nerve-ends, which give twitch plenty often. She do little housework and always grumbling. One day she have it out on the locomotive which did nearly run her down. Other times it be the young shop assistant which give her wrong change. Still, she love me plenty. Likewise Dad love me. They both tried their utmost to give me the most, treat me best. But this cause many bundles.

I knows I be the only one they got, but they sent me in the wrong orbit by all their efforts. They reckon nothing too good for me. They plainly disgruntled now I quit my pad and become a beat. They always did hate folk to belly-rack at me.

Now they got the lot. Little kids bug me with their bull-jive, even gets to throwing garbage at me. Freapish young cubes eyeball me long time, and comment loudly on my rave drag. Got me a long mane which do happen to curl at the ends. I disguise this by scruffing it into bunches all the time and wearing a helmet. Plenty often I march the turf bare-foot with this nightshirt hanging below my duffle coat. Much times I do stop to sit on dustbins or pillar-boxes, maybe till the Law reach the scene.

Chapter Two

I GUESS you could call me a lone beat. I mean I reckons some people the most, but do prefer to orbit solo plenty often. I done tried to lose my feelings but they still returns to prick me. Like when I takes in a Movie, and maybe my mane look quite nice for a chance. I’m sitting there and some guy will act friendly, try to get me to patter, maybe tell me his handle and pass at me. Then maybe needs to get to the ‘Ladies’ and he see my dirty feet and oil-stained jeans and then its like he never done tried nothing. Maybe that same guy call me “Beatnik", as I pass him with a turf-mate. Get me right! I not relying on making a double with some quaky old man in the movies, but it blacken me that he dislike to eyeball my bare feet. Now I takes a bath every day. This because I likes the feel of water, the smell of soap, and it give me something to do. Naturally, my feet do pick up grime after marching the turf longtime, but anyways they starts clean. Come Winter I wears mainly about three pairs of socks and even a madmen boot or shoe. Sees no point in catching the nadges.

It so happen that one time I had me a respectable job sticking labels on bottles. This even earned me much green stuff, but I taking no jive from no-one. Soon as I found I could scrape bread from doing a few oil paint signs, I give it the go-by. When I paints it always be in a mood. Mainly memory moods, like when I sees myself as a kid in school.

Guess it had to be the way it did, me being the only kid and all. Hardly knew any other kids when I started out. Must have been the shyest kid from Bashville. Got real scared of what they kids would do to me. Cos I felt this way tried to please them too much. One day a zooty kid ask me if I a pig or not. To please him I reply ‘yeah!’ This naturally were a big deal among the infant clobber, and from then on they plenty amused themselves by asking me if I was a dustbin or a cabbage leaf.

Once I was known as number one Freap of the school I got a bundle on my hands every second. Some lousy boy-child kicked me in the belly one time and I did never dare to tell my Moms about it. It so happen that Moms only get to hear about things I done wrong—tough! them other sneaky kids would patter on me all the time if I touched them in return for goading me all day. I was mightly glad to be expelled as a clinker. They even sent me to a head doctor. He got me to play with dogs and throw darts and draw animal pictures on the wall, and finally dismissed me as shy but otherwise normal. Big deal! I all out to drop that shyness tag along the way.

Chapter Three

HAD me no turf-mates. The manor reckoned I was dicty and let me be. Played me my own games and took the belly-racks only for so long. Then zoots, I let fly. Ravaged about and yanked kid’s manes damn near out their fuseboxes. Could bundle as well as most studs and lost me no time in ramming their dents down their throats.

In those days in spite of my big deal act I got mighty shocked at some of the kids: they which did curse at their Moms and they which did belly-rack during the Lord’s Prayer. These kids did also bull-jive their way out of any trouble—lucky kids!

Way back this school had me a madmen pash on these two witches, Susan and Thelma. Seems to me now, they 'had nothing zooty about them in any way. Thelma did have a lank greasy perm tied back her neck, and was mighty pale looking. I recalls that Susan was more in there, with a real girl-type figure. However, I did rave on them, and plenty followed them about, eyeballing their little games of high jump,, when they did cover them with sand.

I forgot to mention I did have me one gasser. Like just one. She call herself ‘Janet’ and act plenty corn. Babywise she turn on them tear-taps often. Guess I did high-hand it to her and give her a blackened deal much times. I plainly realise this be a psychological reaction. Them which do get bullied likewise got to bully others, or some such rot.

Chapter Four

WHEN I were a young broad I did clearly reckon that I was heaven-bound. Like I mean I felt so mighty good and angel-type, they got to kill me so’s I get there quick. Did say these little prayers, and would turn the tear-taps on when I heard me sad Bible stories. Reckoned all them Prophets and Disciples were mighty fine and even saw me as a martyr. Moms and Pops did belong to some meeting which believe the world end soon, but they give religion the go-by after short time. I did lose my heaven-bound feeling as I journeyed through the years, like it ain’t so real no more.

Being like I was a lone kid so much I had me these three rag-dolls which I plainly brought to life. Gave them handles and ages, made them cute little drag, and did give them homework to do. I be happier with them than I been with anybody since. Now I had me this crazy fear that I’d lose my dolls. Worse still, that the world would end, like I been taught, so’s I would have to leave them and head for Heaven, cos it be wrong to take anything with you. I definitely not want this world to end—truly I didn’t.

Chapter Five

MOMS did start me off in some crazy school where they got a fine old stud for Headmaster. He gentle and kind and going to give me one whole chance. I had a plainly neutral time there so I got nothing to report. Bundles still going on at my pad. Dad even got moms taken to Germsville once. Me, I thought she’d bleed to death—nearly puked and got me this blackened feeling for days after.

Can’t feel no love for dads and moms now. Like it got to be deep down somewhere, but I reckons it travelling a different orbit right now. They did give me many a hightime, but it just tore me apart, living in the ‘Great Divide’ all the time. They reckon they brought me up just fine, teaching me religion and not to like strange men and all. Fact is, they done scared me of studs by their crazy talk. How they want me to get mated legal when I somehow got this dirty feeling about it? True, I now knows it be not dirty, but I still remains plainly scared of it.

Chapter Six

NOW time come for me to start at senior school. I’m clearly a dunce except for figures which I adds plenty well. The happenings were neutral for the first few years when suddenly we gets this new lady-teacher. I’m thirteen now, and been living on a diet of hop-scotch and five stones. This lady-teacher enliven me to such an extent I go real scat. Love winged in, and send my heart flipping like it permanently gone crazy. I done worshipped that woman. She make my heart beat one time she tell me I really quite pretty. We all alone on these stairs after detention when she say it. It make me come over so corn I at a loss for what to say.

I did plainly play the freap and give her a rose one time; tied it up with that madmen piece of green cotton and softly presented it to her. She give me a smile from Endsville, which keep me orbiting for the rest of the term. But one bad time I did knock a tennis ball into her dinner plate which got her mighty darkened.

Come the end of term we had this frolic, with crazy little cakes, and wobbly jellies, and bits of celery and stuff. Had these platters from Squaresville, like the “Gay Gordons” and such. But I was plenty hot for anything which meant changing partners. Some of the crazy staff joined in, starting together, but moving along. This highly delighted me, as my love-heart was moving in there. Time came when I got to dance with her. My fuse-box near blew a fuse. Truly it did.

It be the first time she had to put her arm round me. I just nearly melted away. Her drag especially exalted me, likewise her sinuous attitude. She gaily having a fine time, flashing smiles way out round her. Dance did have to end. This fumigated me. But I had my time, and I reckons she been my favourite witch for all time.

Did strike me as a shame that it be not possible to marry them of your own sex, and I plainly cool off her when she marry some hipster.

Chapter Seven

GOT me a movie bug and spent plenty time there living the parts. I reckoned many film stars—both studs and witches—they plainly my ideal.

It different for me at Senior School. I mean there were no great bashers and trouble makers. Anyways it was exclusively witches only. Got me some fine mates and really had a ball playing they teachers up. Found me in detention fair every week. But to me it was my first real lively time.

Enjoyed the lessons fine. Like them funny little experiments with bubbling test-tubes of goo, and spitting into bell jars and such. My art teacher practically turned a zip-gun on me, ’cos I acted so messy, slapping paint everywhere, flicking bits in her hand-bag, and tipping jam jars of water over her nylons. She not appreciate mood signs and call me a messy menace.

Now when I be pad-wise I clearly raise a riot with them class mates I made. We often rave to some manor where we scrump them little apples off the trees and climb to some roof to glut them. Peoples even got the Law on us, and plenty a fine chase took place.

Now time come when I begins to find myself left out again. Like I played this hand before. What them silly witches want to double with studs for? Soon I’m fifteen and folks beginning to wonder where my boy friend hiding his face. My mates give plenty help and we do go to many frolic-pads and the like. Theys try to find me a real gasser but I not having any. I can patter with studs fine, but when it come to love-signs, I prefer to give it the go-by. Studs even treat me nice but I always manages to refuse a date.

I’m quite lonely now, once them witches leave me be and start matchmaking elsewhere. Saturday mornings I rave down to the café which got a jukebox, and ear at platters.

It so happen that just before I quit school, I asked to be in this madmen play. It take place on a desert island and all. Come the great day it went berserk. I’m definitely not joking. These madmen pyjamas I had to wear got this great gap torn out the seat, when I was sitting on this beat-up old bucket.

When it happen to be my turn to take the stage, I find my cue not there. This punk-kid is meant to come on with everyone but she got herself lost. So I trails on single and find just one witch on the stage—the wrong one at that. She evidently got distemper coming on or something, cos she acting a real madman, and bundling all the cast behind a dust sheet at the back.

She address me, “What you doing here, Ernest?” This definitely not in the play, so’s I reply, “Nothing.” This stump her for the moment but she soon patter on, “Oh, be quiet, Ernest.” This beginning to blacken me, so’s I plainly tell her to shut her mouth. Staffs getting mighty graffy sitting back on they cans.

There be no holding this witch now. She got these muck-spreading boots with steel studs on, and start kicking out and scratching up the stage like nobody’s business. She send this coconut, which sitting pretty as part of the scenery, hurtling off the stage. It land in some freap’s lap. Plenty of them eyeballing the show give bellyrack at this, and someone send that nut clattering back on the stage. Witch got her flip line all ready and say:

“Oh, the monkeys must have thrown that.”

It so happen this play were a flop. Apart from the faggy stage which got all beat-up, we told we somewhat over-acted and give out the slapstick more. Hence I given acting the go-by.

About this time I bought me a git-box and got to playing some real gutbucket. It pass the time anyhows. I still take in a movie with class-mates. They now got used to the idea I nobody’s squaw. Studs scare me, the way they always trying to peck at you all the time. They got about five pairs of hands each, likewise. Patter be definitely about studs more than anything else right now.

Chapter Eight

SOON after I quit school I took me a vacation, before I starts working in that bottle factory. There I met me the first stud I ever done liked. He just used to swing with me at these frolics and play tennis with me and all. Nothing more you understand. When I returning home he just sort of put his arm across my shoulders and give me five. This nothing to compare with my turf-mates, who been snogging in back yards and garbage-infested alleys for years now. Naturally I not bother to clue them in.

Before longtime I reckons I should try to get in there boy-wise. Even enrolls at this dancing class with high hopes. Most the time I left hugging the wall, cos I got this face looks like it been hewn out of granite. Guess I was scared and could hardly give the peoples a smile, so why they going to dance with me?

I recalls that time I did split my tight skirt. Tough for me. However I act the big deal and even raise a laugh or two. We taught all kinds dances, even the Swedish Clap Dance which can become mighty dangerous. Fair near knocked a chick’s fuse-box off one time.

I soon busted out this class cos I wasn’t making no headway date-wise. Them which I did like saw me not, likewise them I saw nob liked me. Even felt a pash for the lady dancing teacher creeping on me unawares, and although I felt it would have been softly pleasing, I reckoned I were too old for them things.

Didn’t go nowhere much once I quit that. Kept goofing off and wishing I had just one solid thing I could rave at. It truly hurt my feelings to be called a young maid. “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.” and such. I even turned them tear-taps on plenty often. Got no resistance. Moms probably reckoned I heading for a breakdown or something cos I’d mooch round the pad doing crazy things. Like making toilet-paper bows and sticking them in Mom’s dressing gown, or maybe Moms would smell this real cool smell and worry to death I got reefers, when I only been experimenting with aspirin in cigarette. It taste real fine and strong but the kick you obtains is strictly not permanent. Negative. It only last while you actually drag.

Then come the time when I did finally think I was making the grade. This little chick at work was real groovy, and I accompanied her to many jive-sessions. Studs there didn’t scare me so much, didn’t act hip all the time and jive me for doubles. Just used to get plenty of fair dances with no strings attached.

Before longtime I came into orbit with this bohemian stud. This struck me as zooty, cos up till now I been a made-up cube. I soon drop all my hair curlers and give my dancing-shoes to a turf-mate. I plainly begin talking scat and digging trad, and generally getting in there. This stud real backward. He tell this chick I go with, he like to double with me, but he really got no bread. He some apprentice-lad and he definitely not want to take a chick out lest he can spread his bread around. My mate tell me this. I naturally highly delighted he wish to take me out, but sad he no green stuff heir. Still I continues to see him at the jazz club, and we jive trad plenty often. He never pass with the love-sign, you understand, cos he not one for taking free jam.

It so happen that after I know’d him for about a month I rushed to Germsville. We not know where we pad down or nothing, and anyways the whole thing end there. They doctors keep me in Germsville plenty long, while it be their pleasure to cure my pneumonia.

I comes out feeling decidedly nadgy and found me I lost my interest in stuff again. It all come back. But Gaffer! By the times I back in orbit, everyone I did reckon seems to be plainly keeping to a different manor. They even moved me to some way out different factory.

Chapter Nine

NOW I’m seventeen. Yet here I be without no ties— ready to start way back all over again. This new factory highly blacken me. They got it right into me and tell me it be my business to make their tea, and wipe the lipstick stains off their cups. They got a sucker. Had to stay a while in order to earn me some bread, but I definitely played it hostile.

Witches there were silly bitches, throwing it round all the time what dates they done made. They got it into me cos I a lone witch.

“Got you no bloke?” they’d say, or: “Poor you, nothing to do in the evenings.”

They’d care not a lump of bread what happened to me, but still they managed to take time off to belly-rack at me. They were definitely, “All right Jack,” and bugged me so much I did nearly break that Commandment which plainly say, “THOU SHALT NOT KILL.”

Did finally throw my hand in, and found me paying regular visits to the ‘Labour Exchange.’ These peoples cross-examined me and generally acted mighty dicty. They tell me my first visit I done come in the wrong drag. Be it possible that my refugee skirt, poverty socks and chunky boots looked out of place? Next time when I did turn up clutching this madmen packet of chips, they damn near burst their fuse-boxes.

Come this time, I was a semi-beat. I mean I’d even cook Mom’s dinner and square stuff, and I still held some communication with the outside world. Like if some mate asked me to a corn caper with some cubes I’d go. Maybe I still hoping I make the grade like normal. But other times I’d play the Beatnik, looking plainly scruffy and carrying me my git-box with me.

These peoples finally found me a job, only this time X sticking labels on boxes instead of bottles. Big Deal! I did reckon my mates there. They even delighted me and soon I’m half-way into orbit.

One Saturday I did take a trip into Croydon. They got this little market there which I clearly like to eyeball. Took me this little walk down between them stalls, overflowing with cabbages and stuff. At the first stall I comes to, be this real great showman type. He got some red and black stripe cap on as he give with his plenty gone line of selling. Did ear at his patter some moments, and even bought this crazy little brush from him.

I then moves on down the line, enlivened to the cool scents around me and all that cheerful chatter. Little kids still in school, yelling at the tops they voice-boxes.

“You got to buy these tomatoes and lettuce-leaves,” and such. Checks my reins at this bookstall when real sudden-like ears this stud hollering. Swings round and plainly finds it me he be jiving at. I did feel in this groovy kind of mood so’s I decide to get right in there. When I moves over I discovers that two studs been waiting to jive with me. They mending some madmen hole in the road, you understand, and must be getting mighty blackened.

This one who patter Irish, ask me to the movies straight off. He truly got these way out liquid eyeballs, which given time, could even have sent me far up. This other stud got it planned that we go swinging. I felt plainly flattered. But again that old clinker I got, did stop me from accepting the double.

I give an excuse and softly move on. Still they sent me way in orbit, and as I stops by this pretty flower-stall, I feels real high, like that Sun got to be shining twice as bright. Little things like that cheer me no end. I knows they never going to get me nowhere but the kick was present and that be highly promising.

Chapter Ten

TIME I like is night. When we done had some rain and all them streets is wet and shiny. Street lamps reflect yellow in all them puddles, while stars is peeping out looking nice. Sweet smell is in the air, like its clean and all them quaky smells is being outdone. You sees couples marching the turf or hanging in bunches, and that’s when I lets myself goof off a while. Gets to pretending I be one of them, in some real crowd of gassers that send me.

Don’t want to get mated yet. Just wants me a regular stud who don’t send my nerve-ends jumping with his love-signs.

Now come my first double. Never done dated before when this guy I been giving the igg at work, up and say: “Lady-witch, like you to rave with me some place?” Now the reason I give in where he concerned be that he wear lenses and generally act mighty Bashville.

“He not harm a fly,” I thinks, “and I got to get me some practice somehows.” * Now I not spread it round plenty as I not sure of myself yet. My Beatnik trend gave me the go-by as I did drag up smart for this guy. He got this weird handle, Clifford or something, but this only help to reassure me he not jam-mad. Moms say she prepare us a supper so’s it be all fine. This double should have been one big deal. I’ll clue you in at once, it was not. We took in this movie and all.

No sooner we got our seatbelts fastened than he get my hand to his lips, Latin-wise, and appear ready to go. Then we just sort of leaning together when I get a madmen cramp in my shoulder. This softly blackens me, and before longtime my hand start aching likewise. I not have the nerve to pull away, you understand. That were my trouble. Like a crazy little rabbit paralysed with fear.

He definitely appear fond of me and jive some real corn at my ear-lobes. He not trying anything wrong, you understand, but I just feels so screwed up I can’t give none. We march home gripping arms and I act like I enjoyed myself.

But for me there be worse to come. I been escaping his crazy lips all evening, but when we approach my pad he plainly demand just one love-peck. Got to brace myself. Wants to feel high. Peoples should feel high when they about to receive their first ever kiss. So’s I been told, so’s I always wanted to, but something missing.

His fuse-box come down, shadow mine, then, wham, he’s on there. I just close up in time, cos he naturally got a somewhat passionate mood on. Then I bust away, wish him to Dreamsville, and move on into my pad. I take some time just thinking. First thing which strike me, is the fact that I been scatty to double with a stud I not keen on. I strictly wanting some free movie show with no jam to follow. Studs is all the same. Come future I going to steer clear of them with lenses, likewise, till I finds a real gasser for me.

Gave this guy the igg after that and explained to him we be travelling, different orbits, which suited me fine. It somehow not seem real to me that I did make that double. I always been Fenella Hurst, school-girl, joker, acting the big deal all the time. This Fenella not been kissed? It seem like unreal. She a tomboy from way back. She go jiving with her mates, to the movies solo, that’s what she is. No stud done told her in a whisper she a lovely girl.

Leastways now I knows I got to just cool it and wait my turn. Let them other witches snog they lives away. I giving it the go-by. No more fluster from way out. Guess I can sweet-talk my way out of anything. Bellyrack! That’s what I think.

Just one week later I act the lone witch and catch a locomotive to the City. Just to eyeball the scene, you understand. Did sit me down, and starts glutting this madmen sandwich when some hipster approach. Now this screw me up, cos it’s like different from they studs I jived with in the market. That were on my own territory more. But sudden-like I gets scared being these many miles from my pad. Wishes that Moms were with me and all.

This hipster got a dark skin and a zooty little beard. He tells me he think I Continental. This highly delight me but I still on edge. Seems so many guys trying for doubles lately, and none I’d give a lump of bread for. I sweetly explain I got a date already which make him orbit off.

Before I even finished my tuna fish sandwich, a little middle-ager up, and starts jiving at me. I still a corn or something cos I patter with him like I done known him twenty years. He only asking me the time anyways. I feels he definitely harmless after that other stud which gave me the jitters. That all I know!

There had to come this crazy march or something scatty, for higher wages and stuff. Peoples did get quite riotous. The Law was to be seen getting in there and trying to cool they mobsters down. Anyways I feels this madmen panic come on me, cos I hates getting hemmed in any place. Lets this middle-ager take my arm and escort me out of it. Before I registers the fact he gripping my duffle coat mighty hard round the waist. Again I comes on paralysed. He even tell me I’m charming, but I had enough, and tell him I has to catch this certain locomotive. He clutch me like his last chance and insist on buying a platform ticket and sitting with me. He strictly the artful type. I got this newspaper on my lap, so’s he slide his hand under it and catch mine.

Second time I gets cramp in that madmen hand in a fortnight. I’m ready to deal out but he got other plans. He plainly hint that he buy me dresses and plenty such drag if I just sees him some weekends. Nothing else! I clearly explain it be not possible. He must reckon I need a new outfit judging by what I threw on today. He still got hold of my sweet hand when that welcome locomotive rave down the track. Seems I heard his type jive some place before. Guess it were at the movies and all.

When I did duly arrive at my pad it blackened me plenty, to think of the way I always act so meek. Most witches who been not willing, would plainly have dislocated that middle-ager’s arm But me. Negative. I just sits there, allowing him, all froze up.

I this one great clinker and that real tough for me.

Chapter Eleven

MY brain keep returning to the past and all. Sometimes would get me real raw moods, remembering how I done never had a chance, what with being spoilt and such. Others, got to thinking about them happy times. Kept recalling that teacher-broad of mine. Love welled up real true in them days. Why I not find such love again? Never been like that before or since. That lady got plenty fascination for me still, but she probably now infested with kids and all.

I still not cured of this boy-fever. It’s like them nasty things never happened when I walks down the street at night. I obtain a lasting kick when studs do whistle. Better still if some stud say,

“Hello, Sweetheart.” You knows he not mean it, but it can still push you far out.

Still had me no craze on nothing—just live this empty, routine life. I now got it into my fuse-box that I want a stud younger than me. This because I feels capable of dealing with him. It so happen I meet such a stud when I goes walking one day, but something still make me refuse. I plainly the shy type where studs is concerned.

Chapter Twelve

NOW back the factory I been stirring plenty trouble for myself. It seem I been coming late, doing little, and even playing scat much times. Got to get me my kicks some place, but if that boss man won’t take it, I definitely going to give work the go-by. Got to experimenting with paints and all and managed to get this screwy mess of lines which I called “Desire” into some local exhibition. Before longtime the bread roll in for it and at this I quit the old factory for keeps.

I plainly have much time to think, just throwing paints around all day. It seem to me, even though I quit work, I still mighty hemmed in by Society and all. I mean there’s Mom’s friends which do visit the pad, and I am naturally, supposed to drag right. They blacken me with their bulljive about leaving my good job and all. It be not their business what I do, and yet when I takes the turf some neighbour-woman will stop and bug me plenty with such patter.

Then there’s still them few cube mates I got. When they jangle me I got to make square stuff with them all the time. I must give my cube side the go-by; really I must, ‘cos the last few years I done lived like a cube, clearly proved to me I made no headway nothing-wise.

Way over the half-year mark, I’m coming up to eighteen, yet I only had me one lousy date, got me no regular mates to speak of, nothing I plenty enjoys doing, and most times just unable to give gloom the go-by.

Chapter Thirteen

NOW I take this vacation with moms and pops for short while. This when I meet some fair Beatniks who tell me they orbit the coast come summer all time. I just sort of marching the sands one day when I catch this zooty beat busting out this cave. Moves obliquely towards it. I kind of standing in the entrance like, when this little stud jump out and holler, “Why you be on beat territory?”. I plainly tell him I done eared this musics which send my sweet soul far out. He kind of double look at me and say, “ Enter the pad, you hear plenty better then.”

I kind of scared but step right in this dark hole in the cliff. Far in I catch these candles and sees shadowy cats squatting on boxes, while the smell of sour apples is strong. Some couples is swinging real trad and easy like. They just got a couple of git-boxes and this one horn which they giving all they got. Musics stop on that. They beats eyeball me over, and this leader stud come forward. “Give me five,” he say and extend his hand. I clearly shaking like a leaf now. Never done nothing crazy like this before. My mouth all dry and I strictly wanting to quit but this stud say, “Like you a goblet of cyder?” I could do with a drink so’s I agree. He then show me to a box. All them gassers start crowding round now and I plainly never felt such a freap before. I tell them I done come on vacation with moms and pops and I make me my bread doing oil paint signs. This catch their interest. One stud up and ask, what crowd of beats I hang with. I has to tell him I not got a crowd at all, just a few odd mates, strictly cube.

Before I knows it I pattering mighty fine and feeling like this been my pad for all time. They beats acted real nice—not like a crowd of belly-racking teddy boys. Negative. They far more polite than a cocktail party. Gives me a chance to jive my story before they busts in on me. Tell me there be two beat crowds hanging out in this resort.

They say the other gang be at Demonsville and plainly explain to me, that they who belongs to it do hit the pot, bundle with citizens, and generally act mighty free with the love-signs. Some of their studs even done stole lovesigns from peoples on vacation. My crowd tell me they reckons this be plainly mean-cat, and orbits when the Law do catch them. “Them others just a load of hypocrites,” the leader tell me. “They loud voice it up all the time what they got against the H-Bomb and all, yet they the cause of many a blackened bundle. They knocks the Law for belting peoples who done wrong, while they belts people who doing right. They a lusty lot,” he warned me. “Plenty often they do turn zip guns on us—but we fortunately got many more peoples, so we do send them crashing back to Demonsville.”

Sudden-like I gets to thinking how Moms’ll be eyeballing them sands for me. Got to wing off. But first I make it plain I coming that way again. Gets to Moms and tell her I done met a crowd who going to take me up. She not worry her fuse-box ’cos she know we going back our pad come week-end. Got me 3 days to eyeball they gassers.

Chapter Fourteen

DREAMSVILLE not come easy that night. Keeps getting madmen bursts of elation just as I about to goof off. Just lies there shaking and mighty high, thinking how pretty them stars look. Then my eyes bug the time. It gone two in the morning. Going to take me a walk. I grabs my duffle coat, yank my mane into place, and slips my feet into Pop’s madmen sandals.

Guess I did know I going to meet one of them beats or something. I act plenty thoughtful and leave this note for Moms in case she come to life before I return.

Took this little cliff path which lead me out near the cave. I never done seen them sands at two o’clock in the morning. They kind of wet where the waves just rolled in. Moon acting mighty big, Lording this great light, fair over all the sky. Got that nice salty smell in the air, as I lets my feet sink in the sand. Them waves thundering about like nobody’s business, chasing each other to the shore.

Just as I kind of losing myself in the waves and all, I hears this real sweet voice quite near. Swinging round, I sees this stud twanging his git-box, and voicing it up about his lost love or something. He definitely a lone cat to-night. Nobody else show his face. Then I recalls it was one of them studs giving musics in the cave. He got a zooty voice like all soft and mellow. Wanted him to keep it singing all night, but he stop and say to me, “I mighty glad you come to our pad this p.m., you strictly for us. You not throw you away on cube stuff no more.”

At this time I only know a little jive-talk but I plenty quick to learn the lingo. He tell me, “When I did catch you this p.m. it were like I done lost my sweet soul. You be my dream, love-heart.” Now this strike me as far from corn in any way, ’cos suddenly I done realised I feels the same. This been the first stud who raced my pulses and all.

I eyeball his gentle face in that moonlight. He got one of them tiny beards and flashing white dents. He so willowy it like he going to get lost in a sandstorm or something. Got those old dustmen trousers on and a leather jerkin. “Take us a sweet walk to Dunesville,” he ask me. I somehow not scared with him no-how. I agree and we start marching they sands real closelike, but not touching, you understand. He strum that git-box from time to time and patter softly.

He tells me his Moms been a seller of love-signs and he plainly not know which love-sign he come from. Never had no regular Pops, though he had plenty studs at his pad which give him sweets and all. ‘Cos of this he reveal he given love-signs the go-by much times, although he admit he done had one witch who pad down with him some months. It then turn out she already mated legal, and a bit of a seller on the side, so he orbit off. She blacken him so much he never had no other witch since. That were a year ago.

We finally reaches Dunesville, and gets us a sheltered spot with a madmen blackberry cane behind us, and squat in silence awhile.

Then real sudden he ask me if I believe there be a Great Spirit or anything. I tell him I used to more than I do at present, but that on a night like this it seem highly possible to me. He get all bitter on that and say •why there be accidents and wars and all if such be the case? I no preacher, so I stays shut.

His eyes kind of far away as he say, “you know what I thinks, that when you reach Tombsville you just stays there, like you gone, and never knows nothing no more. But I wish it weren’t that way. What I thinks would be fine, wouldn’t be Heaven and Hell and all, but this time where you lived the same number of years again. You’d know all the time it weren’t your first life, but that it were either your reward or punishment, depending on how you treated other peoples this time. Like say you done kicked a kid in school, when you come round and live this second time, you’d feel that kick, not him, and you’d know it be your own fault you now feeling it. Likewise you’d know it be your own fault you now feeling it. Likewise all them torturers in the wars and all would have their nails torn off and such, and them kids what tied fireworks on cats’ tails, would plainly get them fixed on their cans and blasted off.”

“If this were the case you’d strictly get peoples acting good to each other, spreading plenty presents about and such, so’s come their second time round they going to get them all back. Still, I knows that be just a brain-user from far out,” he finish. “What you believe then?”

His theory strike me as plenty logic, but I knows it be not that way, ’cos everybody going to give, just in order to get, if such were the case. I tell him I did once think the world about to end and how the good peoples would take over. He agree it sound all very fine, but he evidently losing interest in the subject now. Got a restless hand fingering that git-box as he say, “you going to finish your vacation soon?” I nod on that. “Where you pad at?” he ask. I tell him it be near the big City, and this enliven him plenty, as he explain he spend winter there all the time.

He suddenly quits playing with his git-box and leave it lying in the sand. He real close now and them stars is shining yet. It seem like I been here from way back and going to stay here long-time. Knows his face like I know’d it ever. That hand plays havoc with mine. Makes me tremble like a real corn kid. “That willowy frame mighty strong.” I thinks as he hold me tight.

He dropping gentle love-hints all down my mane, and likewise I replying. Then it come! The kiss I done waited send me flipping. He whisper plenty love-talk then, “Wow me, love-heart,” he say. “Give your gentle-heart a high time.” He even got a lyric.

“Where you been with them sweet lips,

Them great eyes and man, those hips

Which made to love.”

We got a fine lip-contact worked out when he act like he searching for something.

Real sudden I feel a cold screw fear which must plainly have come from that past I got. It hit me like before. I recoil. Make the break so fast he taken unawares. Then it’s like I’m running, running for Moms, my ragdolls and all them comfort things I ever done known. Must have been goofed on that night air or something. Can’t even remember that stud’s face no more. He probably bull-jiving me about his life story and all. Big deal!

I bust in the boarding-house, making this clatter so Moms jerk awake. She wide eyeball at me. “Where you been?” she say. I catch my breath and say, “I took a brisk walk.” She plainly ready to nod off any second so she leave it on that. I head for bed and that’s it. I’m in Dreamsville. Danger’s past. I just a soul at rest and all that rot.

Chapter Fifteen

COME the end of our vacation we just naturally returned to our pad. Things were just the same. All my crazy oil paint signs stashed away in a corner.

Now it so happen that after short time I get much green stuff for one my oil paint signs, and plenty spread it around. This even coincide with the time Moms get taken away. She been acting mighty jittery for some time now. Then she keep getting at me for not keeping regular work and all.

Me, I getting plenty morbid myself. This semi-beat caper be getting me down, yet I not quite got the nerve to bust clean away.

Then one days I got this grumble on when I do blame Moms that I never going to marry and such. She plainly scream at me and tell me it be my own fault. She say she never told me to hate men. That’s a lie. She done plenty told me they after just one thing. Anyways we bulljive at each other, till she catch me round the throat. Lucky for me I did know how to break them little fingers, she got, and escape out of it. She curse like nobody’s business and soon turf-mates is hovering near, while some neighbour-woman fetch the Law.

It were very upsetting for Dads when he get back. It blackened me to see him. He damn near turned them teartaps on. Truly he did. He tell me she going to have a rest-cure and all.

Pad was clearly now broken apart. I see’d it coming from far off. In a way it help some. I no longer dependent on Moms for nothing. It’s like she gone for good. Can’t run to her for help. Might as well pad elsewhere and bundle that grown-up world myself.

I duly waits for her return, so Dad got someone to mend his socks and all, then I clues them in real gentlelike. “Love-hearts, the time has come for me to bust out the nest and make my own way,” I tell them. This fair near sent Moms back where she just come from, but Dads keep her down.

I promise to pen them regular, and to return to the pad plenty often. Then I gets this madmen mood and takes a lone flat. Now I going to be a real beat. Going to knock convention at every turn.

Chapter Sixteen

BEFORE I been up my new pad long I rave into the crowd I done met on vacation. They naturally recalled me and come over to patter.

It be on this real cold, smog-like evening when most of the leaves done fell off them trees. I kind of scuffing the gutter searching for mood when I sees them. One of they witches catch me first and holler at me.

Straight off I screw up inside, cos I knows I going to eyeball that stud who take me way out the Dunes that time. I not joking. He rave at me plenty quick. “ Loveheart,” he say. “You did leave me mighty cold that night. Like you felt me cold, my heart.”

I act it up like I care not a lump of bread. “It were me what was getting cold,” I tell him. “Had to catch me my wrapper. It were back that boarding pad.”

Lucky for me the whole crowd now starts busting in and jive flow in all directions. When they learn I got me a pad local, they tell me they near own the manor, and I be highly encouraged to join them. This I consider. It plainly be not possible to give this stud the igg when he going to march the same turf as me. I agree. Zoots, we off! Heads for this coffee-bar where I suddenly registers I got that ardent stud sitting next to me. We kind of separated from the mob by this madmen curtain and all. He now speak plainly. “What went wrong that night, chick? Tell me true. I thought we was orbiting plenty fine when you quit the scene.”

I at a loss for what to say when he continue.

“You act like a teaser. What you got to give me the works and then back out for. You did give me zooty lovepecks and then you gone.”

My voice-box just about going to function so I say, “You going too far. So’s I kiss you. Take you that to mean I a fallen witch? I had me enough so I bust out.”

“You damn did bust out love-heart. Left me clutching a handful of sand,” he say. "You going to double me again or can’t you take too much love-signs?”

I now getting mighty enraged, and do plainly tell him, “You only got jam on the brain, man. You go find some witch who sell it like your Moms, if such be the case.” I clearly touched him off, cos the table go crashing over as he jump up. He just leave me on that and bust into the street.

I kind of shaking now and wish I be back my pad and all. Some of the gang seen him bust out mighty quick and do straightway ask me what happen. I tell them I given him the go-by and all. They evidently seen these lovers’ bundles before, cos they soon forget the event.

After short time I give an excuse and head for my pad. Goof it off. That’s another night gone. Still feels like I a mean, lone soul deep down.

Chapter Seventeen

NOW I plainly sees that crowd from time to time, even that stud who mainly give me the igg. But like I already done said I orbits alone much times.

Suddenly got me an urge from way back to be real young again. Start out new. As this naturally be not possible I even lets myself pretend it be so, by going round these parks and recks and places where little kids is playing. Now I left off hating little kids at this time cos I knows they no longer going to hurt me bad. Anyways it suit me better to get in with them and even act friendly. I knows nothing jittery going to happen to me in such company. Little kids even raise me fair out of me. Like its my second time round and things is working out better this time.

Plenty often I catches a locomotive to the suburbs where I bug the scene in my own time. Got many little parks and playgrounds and such, so’s I got a mighty absorbing route. I drag less crazy for these journeys as I going to cause a big deal if I march about in crazy helmets and all. Even wears some shoes and lets my mane hang loose, not all screwed in bunches or anything. At first I just kind of eyeball the surroundings. Anyway, I always waits for them kids to patter first. Some of them call me blackened handles, you understand, but I finds that if I goes and speaks to them which do bellyrack at me, they often starts acting groovy more.

For instance, this little cat call me “Beatnik,” one time, so I up and say to him. “What is a Beatnik. Now, boy, you tells me what a Beatnik is, and I going to tell you if I am one or not.” He strictly lose his tongue on that. , Presently he say, “You got long hair and that, and black jeans.”

“So’s,” I reply. “You consider all them old ladies with long hair, what they does in buns, to be Beatniks? Likewise all them kids wearing black jeans, which plenty sell in the shops to millions.”

He even smile on that. “Nay,” he reply. “You just look like one or something.” Anyways after I sees this stud real regular, I learn how groovy kids can be to them which got more years on them. It plenty please me to kick this madmen football around with these eleven year olds. Likewise it please me plenty to see them having they bundles and bull-jiving each other. “Zoots!” I think. “They kids not changed since I been one.” They still vicious and all, but I enjoy playing round them ’cos now I immune to them. They even take me back to the nice things, like games and being care-free and all, while I not got to be bullied and pinched and such.

I definitely not be a real kid again if I could. I got it just fine playing on the outskirts. I always been like this though. Never wanted to get deeply involved or anything. Guess that’s why I never had any real close mates and that. Deep down I scared of getting hurt. I always been sensitive or some such rot.

I take in many different suburbs and before longtime I got mates way over the place. I scared of jiving with them who beginning to grow up, like they giggly witches who got about fourteen years on them. Give them the go-by at present.

Little kids strictly amuse me with their patter. These small witches I met up with one place got plainly definite ideas. They only about twelve, you understand, but they all reckons they going to be mane-scraggers and such.

They plainly not know how it amuse me when they patter about they boy-friends Just you picture those small squaws in they short white socks and lace-up shoes, jiving love-talk at some dirty-kneed stud in short pants. They highly precocious. It be their plan to get mated legal when they’s sixteen or so. I not joking. They sits in these groups jiving each other. “You love Bill,” or “Why don’t you snog Peter?”

It highly satisfy them to eyeball a snogging session, though I has to inform you that mainly they not dealt in proper till they a couple of years older. Now studs of their age jive football and cowboy stuff mostly. For years yet they going to talk space-ship rather than witches.

This life suit me fine, you understand. Do me a few oil paint signs, eyeballs the kids and come evenings rave with them beat gassers to some frolic-pad.

Chapter Eighteen

ONE time we did land at this genuine barrel-house. A wayout stud sending his buzz-tone high into orbit. Another guy belting his joy-box in plenty rhythm. The whole pad swinging to this gutbucket when some lady-witch appear, dragged up mighty fine like she catching plenty bread. Start singing with this throaty voicebox about how she done lost her way or something.

I swing trad with many of the mob, excepting that stud who been chasing me. He now trying to double this singer broad.

That softly choke me. He the living hipster, telling me that jive about him not liking love-signs and all. His Moms probably a regular washer-woman or lavatory cleaner, and he just laying the drama telling me about her selling love-signs and such.

If I weren’t partly soaked in sour apples, I not reckon this barrel-house one lump of bread, but I has to rave some place and nothing serious being done so’s I take it in.

Chapter Nineteen

SOMETIMES gets me deep in Dreamsville at night, when, wham! I catch this nasty little nightmare. Jerk awake shaking sweat busting out on me. It’s like I thought somebody in the pad, strangling me and all, or that the manor done caught on fire. Times like that I do wish my Moms were present. Decides to get me a hound, just for company and all. Guess that landlady not have dogs in the place though. You even got these crazy rules living way out by yourself in some pad. Strictly big deal.

When I raves to the suburbs on my madmen search for youth or something, I naturally never tells my beats the happenings, ’cos they going to think I done lost my brain. Kids and parks is nowhere. Strictly cube. I keep it quiet.

I discover it be the young witches who belly-rack at people most. You sees them bugging these middle-agers and jiving at them. They a nutty lot. Seems like different from when I been that age. Doubtless that because I plenty occupied with my teacher-broad, not spending time jiving corn at studs.

They freaps act mighty dicty when they catch a beatnik on their turf. They belly-racks, or give the igg, or plainly yell out, “clinker take a bath”. Any Park you go, or any street corner come week-end, or any evening in summer, you sees these groups of eager witches hanging out. They zipped in they skirts mighty tight, and got them spiky heels on them. They definitely stud-hunting. They buzzing like bees till some cat zoom up on a motor bike or something. Then all they witches turn silent, completely give each other the igg and all start jiving corn at this stud. He must truly feel a mighty fine cat, with all them kittens playing up to him. He only got to call trumps and they starts playing the hand.

As I never been like this I feels I has to find me out more about such happenings. There were this little jazz club about 8 miles out the City, which I passed some times. I seen these modernists standing outside and gels me the urge to go there.

When I tells the gang, they plainly agree this strictly for the peasants. “Them little local clubs be highly square,” the leader tell me. “You get kids dragged up like they way-out witches, manes piled mighty high on their fuseboxes, like they Brigitte Bardot and all. Then you gets them psuedo-bohey types which softly blacken me. Thinks they the living, strictly true to life, trad effort. Mainly they be mane-scraggers and such and let they manes hang loose, but you can plainly tell these, by their bleach, chunky bangles, and highly elaborate footwear.”

“I want to go for the kick,” I tell him. “I maybe get a' belly-rack or two.” The rest of the gang clearly not interested so’s the leader-stud agree to take me, but we first decides it going to be strictly platonic. No madmen lovesigns or anything.

Chapter Twenty

COME this night we take the locomotive to the jazz club. We not dragged too crazy, ’cos the chance is the management not going to admit bare feet and nightshirts. The leader who call himself “Big Chief Jive,” got a scraggy mane, sort of flicking his shoulders and all. He always wear these black corduroy pants and a black leather jacket. He got a handsome face on him and several of they pseudo-witches, with pale lipstick, and masses of eye make-up, give him some wide come-on signs. He plainly different from the usual mob and this excite them.

We grabs a seat near the band, which were a fair trad effort. Most the witches about the floor seem mighty young, and evidently dig not the finer points of trad. They even prefers these madmen platters which come on in the interval. Them hip-wriggling guys with graty voice-boxes and such.

The modernists come in their mobs and plainly dominate the pad. I keen on some of their drag. It strike me as far out, but this not mean I going to become a convert. I reckon them little skirts with frills at the bottom, and they balloon-bursting boots with them fancy buckles. Some he studs got zooty-type manes and all, but it blacken me to know they done sat in some mane-scraggers plenty long in order to achieve the effect.

Big Chief and I swings clearly trad much times and even gets a fair proportion of the mob eyeballing our effort. We gets some loud belly-racks from them Teddy types in they crepe-sole boots and flashy shirts. Big deal! They done had their time mainly about five years ago. It surprise me there still be some living. They as old-fashioned as the struggle-buggy.

The pad not really hopping till half-time. Then this sweaty little singer come on the stage with three mates hugging git-boxes. He got this lip curl when he sing and this plainly delight the witches. It even gets rather crude. He swinging them thighs in all directions and voicing it up how he want to hug and kiss and such. This strictly for the love-sign addicts. I turn my gaze to the peoples around me, more. Few folk clearly having a high time. They naturally belly-racking and pattering. Yet I feels they strictly done it all before, the older studs and witches just standing in groups, with them blank stares in their eyeballs.

It be them 14-year-old witches who really having a time It plain to see they not been coming long, and still finds it a rave. One little witch, handing out love-signs to at least six studs, who clearly having a ball. She throwing her arms round them plenty, and acting mighty corn. Then some others is acting crazy, chucking juice at each other, and dipping they butts in cyder bottles and all. It seem the usual thing for witches to lap-sit and many is snogging their studs.

This a fair beatnik effort. The drag is fancy, true, and the peoples got respectable jobs and all, but this be the typical scene in a suburbs jazz club. They getting soaked, snogged, and I even sniff a bundle in the air. So these be the cats who knock the beats. They a low-down bunch. True, I catch a few respectable guys in a corner, pattering nice to some witches with lenses, but the rest clearly as gone as any beat.

Big Chief soon say, “Let’s get our cans out of here. It strictly for the peasants.” I agree, so’s we head for the way out. This madmen group is standing out the door, highly soaked with juice. We get a few four-letter words thrown at us, but gives it no ear. “Let’s return to our turf,” Big Chief advise me.

On the locomotive we gets this crazy couple next to us, who keep jiving some foreign talk at each other. They give with the guffaw and slap five plenty often. “Which orbit they in?” Big Chief ask me. “Endsville first stop,” I reply. We laugh on that and I suddenly registers I dig Big Chief plenty. I like it the way it is, you understand, don’t want to be his regular squaw or nothing.

When we reach the manor we sit on these dustbins some time and patter. He a way out different cat to that git-box stud. Don’t give me no tough life-story or psychology lesson or nothing. Mostly just makes me laugh, telling me how he done got into trouble at school and all.

He got a very happy pad, be tell me, and return there often. With him, it plainly be the urge to be free, what made him give his pad the go-by. We goes on sitting there ’till we starts goofing off, then he suggests marching me to my pad. . We reach the scene mighty soon and I give him five. “Like I’ll eyeball you soon,” I say. “Naturally, chick,” he reply, “I enjoyed taking you with me to-night. You maybe be my wife again sometime?” I nod on that. It been nice and groovy and I softly high. Then he just lean over and place this love-sign on the top of my fuse-box. This a sweetly pleasing gesture and I reply by pecking his cheek. He still stand there kind of unwilling to quit, but I gives no further sign and he not pressing the point. “Catch you to-morrow,” he say and gives this zooty wink at me. Then he’s gone and it’s like I wish he were still there, yet I’m glad he ain’t.

Glad he taking things slow-like, ’cos that's the way it’s got to be. Hit my pillow and straightway I black out, lose the happenings in Dreamsville.

Chapter Twenty-One

WHEN I comes to next a.m. I gives plenty time to my thoughts. Then suddenly rambling on like nobody’s business. Got this madmen urge to get out on the turf. walk about among peoples I don’t know, car at them, and get in there. This feeling soon pass, and I get to thinking about far off places, and wondering if I ever going to see the scene in Italy or anywheres. Would be kind of nice to travel around. Must buy me a chariot come future. Then I catch a clinker. I not got enough green stuff. Where I ever going to raise enough green stuff for my purpose? Peoples already seeming to tire of my oil paint signs. Where I go from here?

Gets into my pink overall and spends the day covering some canvases with signs. But the mood be not with me. I head for Big Chief’s pad. When I reach it he not open up for some time.

When he do I sees he still got his dressing gown on and he been soaking it up plenty. He not seem to recognize me at first, then he tell me to enter. “Squat,” he say, while I searches the pad for a seat. He sinks on to the floor then and covers his fuse-box with his hands.

“What wrong?” I ask. “You got the nadges?”

“Negative,” he reply. I just got clued in that my sister did take off for Tombsville. Like I never going to eyeball her no more.” He practically got the tear-taps on now, so’s I move at him and catch his shoulders. He so soaked I hardly hear what he say. “We done played together all the time when we was kids. Why, she give out so sudden-like? I wish I been back my pad last night instead of down that lousy jazz-club you took me,” he finish.

He shove the bottle at me then and tell me to soak it up. I shake at that. He got some evil-smelling juice in there, which could even make me puke. He cry at me long time, then, and tell me he decided to return to his pad and live with his Moms and all. This give me a soft shock. Like I going to miss him plenty.

I reach his lips and place this love-kiss on them. He taste of that juice he been drinking but I give it no mind. He just remain neutral at that, giving out none, so’s I lean my fuse-box against his, and let it be.

After short-time he ask me to come out the turf. He quickly get into some drag and catch my hand. “Let’s give the gang the igg this time,” he say. “Just you and me double some place. Where you want to rave?” It were a nice fine night, kind of crisp and all, so’s I suggest we just march somewhere. Seems we walked miles, all through Soho, where them lights twinkled at us, and all them tasty food smells hit us, as they come out of doorways.

Locomotives ramming their way to the front, ever chasing and catching the guy just ahead. Honking and screeching, jerked to many a stop by them artful traffic-lights. We pass this wrinkled little guy sitting on a newspaper stand, like he made it his permanent pad. He ask Big Chief if he interested in a keen show, but Big Chief reply ‘Negative!’

We march on eyeballing them night sights Soldiers on leave raving about in laughing groups. Witch-sellers standing on corners, smoking with these great long cigarette holders; little parties of nervous teenagers up from the suburbs looking for kicks; the Law. on the lookout for bundles; pushers on the lookout for junkies; young witches on the lookout for studs; old witches on the lookout for studs; middle-aged studs on the lookout for witches; even studs on the lookout for studs.

We saw a couple of them queer guys walking along, like they cared not a lump of bread who see them. They even got the Law on their side now.

Further along we catch this preacher-man evidently working overtime. He standing near this night-club and attracting plenty belly-racks from the peoples passing by. He got two small studs with him who could even be his sons or something. They raising their voice-boxes in song, in between Pop’s preaching effort.

Big Chief checks his reins at this. “Eyeball them freaps belly-racking that guy.” he say. “It bugs me that peoples act this way. That preacher-guy evidently got something worth jiving about. More than them clinkers heading for nowhere got.”

I agree on that. We stand earing his patter short-time. Then his sons give this plenty fine effort with this hymn. It kind of heavenly, the way they sings it so sweetly, all among that heathen clobber around them. All them raucous laughs and cars honking and such, and they just singing on like they all alone.

We finally marches on feeling real uplifted by the scene. “I sometimes wish I had religion and all,” Big Chief tells me. “Then I could kind of hope I see my sister again come future. Still I can’t believe it nohow.” I tell him, “Sure you going to see your sister again. Come the New World and all.”

He don’t say nothing then. We just walk along. We come to this little fish-shop and Big Chief say. “Let’s glut. I got a large hunger on me ” “Me. likewise,” I reply. We enter the pad. It stifling hot and all them seats is taken so we just stands by the counter, like, eating these chips out of a newspaper. I never did feel so groovy with anyone as I did with Big Chief Jive. I plainly tell him this, and he likewise agree he reckon me plenty. Tomorrow he quitting the scene but he give me five that he going to pen me mighty often.

We bust out the fish-shop then and find a dustbin to squat on. He gets a packet of butts out then and lights up. “Wish I had me some pot,” he say. “You definitely joking,” I tell him. He laugh on that. “Sure,” he say. “Where that going to get me?” He playing with my mane now, got this thoughtful kind of look on his face, but he don’t say nothing. I let the time pass. No point in padding off. I waiting on him to kiss me, but he don’t. It plain to see he rot jam-crazy.

After very longtime we march pad-wise. He look kind of scared like a small kid when we reach my pad. “This is screwy,” he tell me. “But somehow I don’t want to go back my flat yet. It so black and dreary.” I tell him he welcome to come in with me short-time.

We give that landlady the igg and bust into my pad. Switch them lights on, flip that radio into orbit. The place be in a shambles what with all my madmen oils and canvases scattered everywhere. Big Chief slowly case the joint noting my mood-signs with interest. “You got one to spare?” he ask me, “One I can rave back with me?” I nod on that and tell him the choice is open.

While he eyeballing them I throws some coffee on the stove. He must have been really laid out, cos when I takes the coffee in to him. he lying flat on the sofa, like he plainly found Dreamsville. He got these dirty smears on his face what his tear-taps done made. Didn’t catch them before. I gets this flannel and sponge them off, while he goof on like he permanently gone. Next thing I grabs his boots off and loosen his shirt. I almost feels like I’m his Moms and all, different from before. I fetch this crazy blanket and fold him in real nice. Then I flicks out the light and sets to my bed-chamber.

I feels mighty wicked goofing off with a stud right in the next room. But I got the instinct he a gasser from way out. I waste no more time. Nods off real quick.

Chapter Twenty-two

FIRST thing I know next a.m. he’s brought me in this tea and toast and all. How nice! “I mighty sorry I went to Dreamsville on you last night,” he say. “You should have jerked me out of it.”

Before I hardly started my toast the landlady come belting on the door, like she definitely planning to knock it down. I open up, still in night drag. She catch Big Chief hovering at back and holler like nobody’s business. Tough for her she got an evil brain. No good clueing her in. She not believe the truth. She state she running a respectable pad and all, and plainly threaten to jilt me out of it. I quit on that. Ain’t taking no bull from a double-bellied fat woman. Gathers my clobber and that’s it. I head for Big Chief’s pad. He going to eyeball the gang one last time. Meanwhile I decides to take his flat over from him while he gone. That ways I feels like I still got a contact.

The whole gang accompany him to the locomotive so’s I not eyeballing him solo no more. Naturally there’s no farewell love-sign or nothing. He look so young, leaning out that window, with all that scraggy mane in his eyeballs.

I got this feeling like it’s highly possible I ain’t going to see him no more. I give this clinker the igg. It not gong to be that way. I knows it not, and yet. . . .

After short time I find myself getting highly into debt. Seems like I got no alternative but to return to Dads and Moms. This softly choke me ’cos it’s like I hardly been away and now I got to go back. I get truly blackened, give up catching the gang much times, and wander the turf alone. One time I did nearly have the Law on my head. It so happened that some made-up witch with her guy is marching along mighty zooty, when she do eyeball me. She say a word to her stud, who give with a bellyrack. She patter mighty loud then, giving me plenty chance to catch what she say. “Don’t these Beatniks look pitiable especially when they're all alone like this one?” I kind of tighten up at this but she evidently pressing the point. “Looks like this one can’t even find a guy. Not that I blame the guys, mind you.”

She jiving so high-hat like it her stud she want to hear, no-one else. But I heard the lot. It’s like all them bad things what ever been done to me is all up on their hind legs at me. My brain tell me not to act the clinker, but I plainly give reason the igg.

I kind of move at that witch real fast, pummel her on the back while I sort of hooks my legs round hers. Give her a sharp kick and push her down. Her stud standing there goofed with shock. It send the peoples passing, high into orbit, now that they found a scene to eyeball. I’m off at that. Give that manor the go-by. Somebody screech at me they going to fetch the Law, while that witch’s stud suddenly come back from Tombsville and say: “Why, she a madman. That dirty Beatnik plainly should be locked up.”

I shaking plenty as I reach my pad. It’s like I’m half crying and all. Don’t know what hit me. I getting so’s I don’t know what I going to do next.

Chapter Twenty-three

I NOT been back my pad long when Moms up at me to earn some green stuff. She fair near had an attack when she see my weird drag and all She inform me at once, “You not going barefoot round these streets, my girl. You be taken up.”

I have a tough time of it back home. It’s like Moms still not quite over her breakdown and all. I feels myself getting mighty jittery in her presence. My brain starts getting these fears which I never had before. I screw up whenever I thinks of Tombsville. It’s like I never realised I heading that way ’till now. I want to give up, go there straight-way, ’cos everybody going to reach there some day, why I got to hang it out? When I got me clearly morbid, I bust out the pad awhile, but this pleased me none. I kept thinking peoples were laughing at me, and all, and when little kids threw handles at me, I’d give them a bundle. Moms saw me swiping some kid round the fuse-box one time and plainly fear the Law going to get me.

Some of my cube-mates jangle me up just for diversion. but it’s like l can’t get in there no more. I screw up on seeing them I know, and when that ’phone jangle, my nerve ends go berserk.

When I sees a double walking out I gets mighty furious.

“Why they acting so happy?” I think. I plainly feel like moving at them and hollering, “You going to reach Tombsville yet.” or “You not lie high longtime when you lose your arm or something.”

Before, I guess, I never thought nothing could really touch me. I mean anything truly awful like losing your eyeball or something. Now I getting screw fears all the time. Time frightened me and all. Now ain’t that crazy? One minute I’d be getting to think how soon you going to die, while other times I be blackened ’cos I so lonely and days seem so long and all. I even welcomed a bundle with Moms ’cos this fill up some the long day. Anything to prevent that screw brain-user, fear, getting in there. I got me these images of hell-fire and all and could plainly see me without a leg and such. Them tear-taps of mine were strictly working overtime.

Moms wanted me to go to a head-doctor, but I not having any. They only human and got plenty sin in them. Moms been lucky to get a pleasant rest-cure, ’cos in one hospital I got this mate, the patients plainly have a tough time.

My mate tell me the nurses curse at them old ladies in the senile ward and tie their night-drag to chairs and all. Likewise they find it a routine matter to jive dirt at them like they got no regard for sex or nothing. My mate say they nurses got nothing better to do than belly-rack when some madman puke or something.

It not only me I feel morbid about, neither. I sort of turn the tear-taps on for anything sad, or if anyone slash animals about like they made them and all. All them experiments doctors do on them just to help cure people crucify me. No peoples worth cutting up animals for. If I going to die of cancer I not want some animal to suffer for it. The Great Spirit done given animals life, likewise peoples, so’s who got the right to kill them or anything?

I get these bad nightmares when I sees an H-bomb Bundle. Though I plainly not think one come. But I gets to thinking about them other bundles where young soldiers taken their guns and got to Tombsville before they even fired them, and all them who got wounded and such.

It certainly be a cruel world. I never would kill myself, though, ’cos I want to do something desperate to pay peoples back. If I done killed myself I never going to eyeball the result. It only cause a two-day stir anyways.

I did think of robbing a shop or trying screaming in the gutter, but give them the go-by ’cos I not got the nerve.

Sees me a motor-bike in the road and zoots! I get to seeing blood on it. Sees me a spike and wham! I got a plainly horrifying accident on my brain. Get me right. I not actually see them things, only plenty think them.

Worse were to come.

I done raved at musics all my life, when real suddenlike I gets this screw fear of stereo. It too loud and send me jumping. Likewise all such noise. It seem mighty heartless and harsh, and it even seem to be laughing at me, ’cos I not so brassy and all. Yet when the noise were not present the silence would hit me and I’d get this madmen twitch come on.

Likewise, I got screw-fears of the Sun ’cos it seem so bright and cheerful, like it going to reach right into my bones. I screwed up at the Wind and all ’cos it seem like it going to break me; while that rain did seem to be eating at me like it was mighty hungry or something.

One time I took this madmen walk a short way when I did meet this old witch. She not know me from anywhere or nothing, but she step in my way and start jiving i at me.

“You a good girl?” she ask me. I tell her I don’t know. She then get this preacher-act come on her. She jive at me how the world all going to be burned with fire, and shout so loud all the peoples passing by do eyeball her. She tell me it be my fault there presently going to be a big war with bombs dropping and all. "That’s a lie,” I yell at her. But now she jiving about keeping the Sabbath holy or something, so’s I give her the go-by. Them old witches got a mighty large clinker on them, Still she made her point. I even got this nasty feeling about it when I trying to goof off last thing.

Chapter Twenty-four

I HAD this tough time for some months when I did give it the go-by. I got a new brain, it seem. Like I got cast-iron resistance. ’Cos I know now I never going to Tombsville and never going to get in no accidents or nothing. I going to grab from life ’cos that be the only possible way.

I finished with them oil-paint-signs for good, but I decided to become a madmen writer and beat-poet and all. Got to bust out my pad again and live in peace.

Nothing seem like real to me no more, except that which already done happened, and I knows is there. I could easily be a solo being. I don’t get those madmen twitters in my fuse-box no more, and peoples would plainly never reckon I been a screwed-up freap. Unless you do happen to catch my badly-bitten nails, you going to imagine I got granite nerves and all.

I sort of only half in there but this suit me fine. I’m not quite real you see, and nothing bad going to happen to them who ain’t quite real.

Before longtime I’m back the City once more, marching the turf barefoot and sitting on pillar-boxes, I catch a few of them gassers I made, but mainly I remains on the solo list.

I find I get blackened mighty fast all the time, so’s then I just lay out in a bath or something.

Now I secretly been waiting on Big Chief penning me and all, but it seem evident he giving me the igg. I see it plain I never going to get mated legal, likewise I never going to pad down with nobody. I see it clear I got the lone trail of a clinker ahead of me.

I goof off and fair near live the life of a pot-addict, excepting I don’t smoke pot. What I means is, I dreaming all the time.

Sees me as a happy kid in school with all the kids liking me instead of bashing me the way they did. Sees me as being in this one happy family without all them blackened bundles we done had.

Then I gets to seeing myself as a regular teenager or something. Starting out new, learning without all them screw fears, how nice it is to be some guy’s squaw, how zooty it is to get you first love-sign. How much there is to live for, love for, work for and such rot.

I got me bread now, yet the urge to spend it be not present. I give travelling the go-by ’cos I kind of feel 1 never quite going to make it. I only get screwed up, the boat going to sink or something, when everybody else on board plainly having a high time.

Years can come, years can go, ’cos I been cheated out of my youth, and it ain’t going to return a second time.

If Youth be the time when you supposed to be high and carefree and getting new kicks and such, it plainly given me the go-by, ’cos my fuse-box been that of an old witch all along.

All I live for is to dream. And all I dream of is to live. But it’s like I’m heading in no direction. Orbit strictly unknown. Destination nowhere!

PART TWO

Through Big Chief’s Eyeballs

Chapter One.

IT seem I been here plenty long. I recall years and years of things I done and all. It were tough for me I had no Pops ever. I mean he were present once, but I never eyeballed him or nothing. His sweet soul in Tombsville, you understand.

Now Moms tell me that Pops were this one great gasser, and how he treated her proper and such. I definitely trying to carbon him and all, Mom’s been a gentle gasser to me. Positive she has. Bought me plenty fine toys way back, and always ready with the green stuff. It be a fact that she got a little^girl brain. She see no evil nowheres. It’s like peoples all got a heart of gold where she concerned. Now this mighty fine, cos she always out to make me an upright stud and such, but it just ain’t for real.

She not believe it how teenage kids can behave. I had this turf-mate one time, who plainly busted some shop to gather loot. He even clobber some gentle witch’s fusebox in order to get to it.

Now Moms seem to think this a horror story, strictly ‘X’ certificate, but strictly not for real. She got this type brain which goof away from blackened deals. She could even be in league with the Devil and not know it.

I now playing the freapish grandad and clearly eyeballing my past. I were a strange little clinker on the way up. Truly I were.

One of the things my loving Moms got into me was naturally the fact that witches are plenty high-minded, pure cube, white souls. Now I took my Mom’s words for lasting truth. It be known to me now that them little white souls got many a twisted spot on them. They a two-timing bread-scavenging, free-balling lot.

It come as a shock to me to learn that witches even like love-signs. Now the way I been taught, it appear they never give even the gentlest love-hint, till they’s mated legal, and then it strictly for the purpose of raising a madmen family. I dropped many a clinker with my strange brain-users way back my teens.

Chapter Two

NOW I’ll tell you straight, there were one thing I been dreading right the way up. I screwed up total at the thought of going in the Array and all. Now I no lily-livered yellow-belly. Leastways that not the main reason. But I never did see no point in madmen bundles and such. And them gruesome things you got to do in the Army, like sticking these blades through straw men and all, would get my imagination roused.

Could make me turn the tear-taps on to think how gassers like Moms’ going to get killed if a big bundle come. Them nastly little bombs dropping and all. Now I just recalls bombs and sirens and shelters from my infant days. There plainly be bigger and better bombs now. Who going to live through all them fall-outs and mushroom clouds and such? Maybe it burn you mane off and lose you your sight, while them big boss-men squat back in the chairs pressing buttons.

I think we should quit bundles and live in peace. Even in peace you find many problems. Anyways I found me one or two.

Now lesson-wise, I started off in some private dive, which my gentle Mom’s put up green stuff for. It soon strike my teachers I ain’t got no hidden talents or anything. Leastways if I have they too deeply hidden to be found. I got me these cube gassers who plainly as dicty as me. We give them big bad studs the igg. We reckon our little games of football when all that mud be squelching at you like nobody’s business. I were even quite a hipster at it.

Chapter Three

I RECALLS this chick who shook me up all round the manor. She a living doll of nine years. I guess I had the same age on me, and were a mighty skinny young freap "at the time. I used to buy her these crazy sweets and spread madmen presents on her all the time. She fancied me not one lump of bread, but my scat brain were on her total. Just kind of worshipped the turf she walked on and all. She had this zooty mane which were the fair colour of wheat, and this corn handle, Lobelia, or something.

Still it were a rave diversion for me, cos she one of them pure white witches my Mom’s done told me about.

In between my love-stuff I got to thinking how I’d plenty dig becoming one of them apprentice-lads. Could learn me how to weld iron, or print, or chop wood about, or anything. Now Mom’s really got enough bread for me not to have to work, but at this time I saw not the possibility of her keeping me.

Had me a small sister who really enlivened me. I plenty fond of her. We’d lay these crazy games together all the time. The only times I had these great bundles was over her and all. Thought she a way out witch strictly heading for the angel-band. This is soft lie.

Now although Moms went regular to church and all she hardly knew what sin was. I mean, I reckon there be no need for a Saviour if peoples be as good as she make out.

Chapter Four

WHEN I quit that private dive and set off in Lessonsville Senior I got one madmen shock after another. Damn near flipped my fuse-box.

Naturally I reckoned all them other kids were the clinkers and I the only hipster. But the situation had to reverse, when I did plainly see that I the only clinker present.

Life not that zooty load of fun I been led to believe. It be a fact that if you going to ride with religion at all, then peoples is going to Hell as well as Heaven, and peoples you love is going to Tombsville with blackened souls. All be not gold that claim it come from Glitterville.

Before I been a senior student long, I catching on fast. Got me some wide patter what Moms never heard before. At first I not really dig what my patter mean, but I plainly knows it do come from Curseville, and this send me flipping. I soon think I a big bad stud and even act mighty dicty with it. I throw the bull-jive round and talk scat with the gassers.

Soon I start lumbering this witch. I got Fourteen years on me, and an eyeball full of goo for a pretty chick. Mind you, I still not know what it were all about, till one time Moms call in the kitchen. “Son,” she address me. “I going to clue you in to them Birds and Bees,” or patter to that effect.

She imagine she given me the total gen on the subject, and might pleased she got the corn over with. But although she clued me in how them Birds and Bees get their madmen families and all, she not tell me what they do for kicks, you understand. Naturally it surprise me to learn from turf-mates that love-signs get thrown around plenty, and how some lady-witches even sell them. Now bread for love-signs not strike me as logic. Cos they plainly not mean anything. Studs tell me that love be strictly corn. The kick is what counts. But I catch not their meaning. Where love-signs are concerned I has to play the cube.

Now it appear this witch I been lumbering, intend to double the entire population of Studsville. My mates belly rack when I claim to be flying with her one night.

“You not know which side her fuse-box to kiss, Freap,” they jive me. I give these funny men the igg and | set my sights on the time ahead. Truth is I screwed up cos this is my first double, but my squaw clearly not the shy type, and clue me in date-wise.

We gets to a movie and I even catch her hand cos I sees no harm in it. I not make with the love-sign cos I kind of admire her and all. Now ain’t that cube? She even jive me, “Gentle gasser, you lost you lips or something? I waiting on a good-night love-sign. Maybe you get no kick cos you not reckon I a rave witch. If such be the case, love-heart, give me five and pad off.” I quickly explain to my lady-witch how she send me far out. “You flip me, lady, like you a wow from Endsville,” I reply, and catch her to me.

I place this real sweet love-hint on them lips and that’s it. I quit the scene. But it’s like I'm flying way out above the manor. My gentle feet scarce touch the turf as 1 orbit pad-wise. My sweet soul taking a soft trip to the Moon. Dreamsville take over and I give in ’cos I knows I going to get strictly rave dreams.

Chapter Five

NOW it blacken me considerably to return to Lessonsville and find my lady-witch lumbering this way out cat with gooey eyeballs. I catch her aside. “Gentle squaw, I knows you got plenty studs and all, but I did think you going to double me total.” “Why you think that, Studface?” she reply.

Then I gets me this nasty little brain-user. I thought ’cos she let me peck her she dig me the most. But negative. Maybe she hand out love-signs to all them studs, like she cared not a lump of bread. “You just a high-time witch,” I tell her. “You ain’t no better than a lady-hound. Do all them guys rave love-hints at you ear-lobes?”

She belly-rack at that. “You belong to some far back time, Daddy,” she tell me. “You lacking in goo like it given you the go-by.” I’m softly choked at her patter and it were plenty long before I done dated one of them witch-faces again.

Chapter Six

COME my fifteenth year I naturally quit Lessonsville total.

Took me this apprentice-lad job, printing and such. I even finding it a rave, when, wham, these guys start jiving me all the time. “It's like you ain’t normal, son,” they tell me. This because I not throw bull around all the time about witches I had doubles with and all. These jam-brains even choke me.

Now I done tried to get in there jam-wise, but it be not possible. Some the older studs tell me they groovy with plenty witch-sellers and such. I still don’t registers what kick they obtain though. Them made-up broads with tart faces could well be painted pillars for all I dig them. I’d care not a lump of bread for one of their love-signs. I even beginning to wonder if there be any pure white witch souls present.

You sees these gentle lady-faces in the street, and zoots, you reckon you found a gasser. But behind them sweet looks you got a bread-making machine. They think cos they got the build and the privilege to hand out what they got, they going to catch much green stuff.

Like this sweet lady I came into orbit with when I was sixteen. I seen her marching the turf in this zooty drag, and even flipped plenty. “She look a mighty fine dame,” I tell myself, I kind of follow her but then my brain catch a clinker. It fair difficult to double a lady-gasser, cos them gentle witches who got white souls on them, not going to fly with a strange stud. If you rave up to some new fusebox and make the grade, it highly possible she a no-good witch.

Still, I takes a chance. I so scat on this lady, I not care if she a witch-seller from Trashville. I catch her up. “Lady, I eyeballed you some place before?” I ask her. She reply “I recall them features from way back. Be you that stud playing belly-chords on his git-box at the jazzpad?”

Now this shake me up, cos its like she got a real glimmer of recognition in her eyeballs. The fact is I just recently bought me this git-box and one time I had me an appointment to play it at the jazz-band. The place was swarming with Art Students and all, and smoke was heavy in the air. It struck me as a fair example of a barrel-house. I not rave there for kicks, you understand, ’cos I kind of Bashville and all. I recalls some of them witches were plenty cool, and it enlivened me to eyeball their sleek manes and gentle, naked faces.

“You a way out Art Student?” I ask the broad. She answer positive, and likewise tell me she got this handle ‘Mimi’ on her. I make this double with her and it’s like I’m in there at last. The wait was long but strictly not in vain. It’s like I’m kidding myself though, cos before longtime I discover this chick be highly neurotic.

Let me clue you in. She got this clinker on her about studs. It’s like she wanting them to give with love-signs all the time, just so’s she can slap them down. One time she take me out in her Dad’s struggle-buggy. The ride was far out, the mood strictly elevating. Sht kind of make me peck her all the time, then real sudden-like she pull away, give me the igg.

“You jam-mad,” she tell me. “Studs is all the same. Get you to Smutsville, Daddy.” This turn my gentle brain scat. That softly teasing witch going to be taught a lesson.

“What you game, clinker?” I ask her. “Be it possible you got an ill-connected fuse-box? If studs bug you so much, why you rave come-on signs at them all the time?” She silent on that. It’s like she thinking real hard. Turning all them deep down brain-users way over.

It seem to me she want to be able to hate studs, so she give them a jam trail to follow. Then when they take the bait she shoot her mouth off at them. I no fancy head-doctor but I guess her Moms be at fault somewhere.

When I’m a Pops I going to be mighty careful how I do clue my kids in on stuff. Once you get these little clinkers on you, you not throw them off easy. Like with me. I bitter at witches all the time cos they not so white as Mom’s told me. Got me these high-up angel visions, when I plainly never going to orbit with an angel.

Guess that blackened clinker keeping me from having a ball.

Chapter Seven

I USED to do these crazy things all the time, which Mom was none too hot for. I got me this one mate who suited me fine. He plenty hate witches, different to me, cos I keep flipping at them, you understand but it’s like they all Jezebels. He just dig them not.

We took up a beat way of life come weekends, and much times had us these balls camping out and such. I could even rave on Nature and all. Cos when I got me blackened moods, I only got to go someplace quiet, like the woods or something, and I quickly returned into orbit. We used to take us fishing clobber with us and belt them softly flowing streams for fish-type fish. Then we’d kind of build us a fire and glut our catch. Then before we total ready to goof off I’d get me my git-box out and serenade them stars.

Some nights it seem like that black roof practically touching us and all, and it were like you only got to extend our hand and you going to catch plenty star-dust. ! always reckoned trees plenty, and we even used to get our cans way up in them branches. Swung us about Tarzan-wise like we fair near owned them leaf-tops.

My mate never patter much about himself. I not even know what his Pops work at but he evidently got some clinker on him. Cos often we'd be far in Dreamsville, when, wham, he’d give with this cry and jerk me awake. He kept catching these little nightmares and all, and it be like he lost his years total. Practically called for his Moms like a punk kid.

It never kind of struck me he got the nadges or anything, till he taken real sudden to Germsville. Tough for him he did never get to coming out again. I could even have turned the tear-taps on, cos we done had many a ball together.

After that I’d kind of march the manor solo and even started eyeballing witches again. It’s like I see them true now. They there for the taking. All you got to do is spread bread on them and they fallen ladies. Where witchheads is concerned I plainly no hipster. Never done more then pecked a chick, so’s I plenty reckoned a freap jam-wise.

My mates did patter bull plenty often about their squaws and such. Now I never got me jam-crazy, cos of how Moms taught me to treat lady-witches. This be highly scat, likewise strictly for the sparrows, cos Moms been proved wrong. Why I still screw up at witch-sellers and all?

Chapter Eight

THE clinker with most witches is they thinks of themselves total. It’s like they the queen of the land. Bellyrack! They could well claim to be the queen of Trashville. You ears them pattering solo on what studs they doubled, like it mattered one whole loaf of bread. They seems to collect doubles like stamps. Big deal!

I not dig they scatty brains yet, but it plenty appear they give all stud-faces wide eyeballs of goo just cos they is studs. They faces suddenly catch a new look when a stud appear on the scene. They even make that stud think he the fairest cat available. Much times they reckon him none, but they got to jive corn at him just cos they got it into they silly fuse-boxes he a bull.

I could plainly clue these witches in, “Lady-gassers, give not them gentle signs to any cat-face. You maybe get mated legal come future, and then you Daddy ain’t going to ride with them lumbering looks. He bang you down if you rave goo eyeballs way out round you.” Witches is bull-crazy from way back. Likewise bulls be soft witch-hunters. That the way it is. That the way it got to be.

Chapter Nine

NOW come this certain time I even bust me my leg. Needs got me to Germsville. I had me one high lime in there. I done expected this soft choke but even obtained me many a belly-rack. Plenty of these Nurse-witches got these little accents on them.

I fell total for this sweet Irish lady, with gentle eyes and dark mane. The Matron got this Scottish voice-box which highly delighted me.

They got these madmen tablets which they give me one night when Dreamsville give me the go-by. In short time them brain-wheels started turning in many a circle, and my frame likewise appeared to sway. Then, wham, I black out and lose the happenings till a.m. come.

I got to pattering with this little chap who were my temporary turf-mate. He having his belly bust open or something, and they give him this madmen pair of long socks to drag into before he catch the blade. He sot this pretty squaw calling on him most times which softly choke me. Still I keep eyeballing that lady-nurse I been jiving about. She got blue eyballs which give flashes just like madmen torches and all. It be her pleasure to lead me round Germ Manor. She keep telling me not to lean so heavy on her, but I clutch that lady like she strictly the end.

One time she jive at me real zooty. “You’ve got a lovely cuddle,” she tell me in that Irish voice-box. This clearly shake me up. Them Irish voices kind of twist their way into your soul and all. Or maybe it were just because them looks that went with the voice were total in there.

Witches got the power to make me flip with just one sweet sword. That’s what blackens me. How I ever going to know if they dig me plenty? I lose my heart and catch me a mighty corn disposition if they give me one sign.

Now some of my apprentice-mates call, to rave the gen at me like it mattered or something. Some lady turf-mates and gassers of Moms even send me flowers and all. Now ain’t that nice? Had me several gladioli sticking they fuseboxes out my tooth mug, while these madmen bouquets of flowers did float about in kidney basins.

Now I got me belly-racks all the time at this old stud who could ear at nothing no more. Tough! Them nursewitches got their work cut out getting through to him. You’d see their hunch-backs leaning at him longtime, while they hollering at the tops they voice-boxes at his ear-lobes.

You’d catch the old gasser first thing jiving. “But Nurse I can’t take med’cine before me breakfast,” and such. The trouble be that any patter between them were mighty slow. He always going to shout, “What?” at them three times before they gets in there. One time he get this clinker on him and yell out mighty loud. “Nurse, I’ve lost me pyjama trousers.” Now this appeal to me cos it’s kind of funnylike. “You haven’t had them for the past three weeks,” she tell him, and this softly close the patter. He an enlivened Daddy, though, and not look like he got ninety years on him. He reckons my Irish lady the most and I hear him tell Matron one time. “When I look in her eyes I can see her soul.” Matron plainly inform him he acting like an old Romeo. But my lady-witch plenty fond of him and jive scat with him all the time. Like one time he complain he unsteady on his feet, she tell him he must have been at the sherry again.

They got plenty movement in Germsville all the time. You’d get these madmen paper boys come round plenty often. This tousle-mane stud got just one brain-user on him. He got to get his bread in advance or there going to be a big bundle.

Then the belly-rack to end all belly-racks, you got this lady-cleaner come round loaded with mops and such. She a plenty cheerful gasser but lacking in dents, you understand. She had these madmen grips holding back a lank wad of mane, a strawberry-type overall, and huge, worn down-at-heel muck-spreading boots.

Now I been given this cactus by a neighbour-woman which enlivened me some. It were one of them prickly-type leafs you not got to water never. But this ladycleaner not dig the art of horticulture, and give it a mouthful of water every day. She finally ruin my prize prickle-can by knocking it fair out its pad, and busting it in again upside-down.

I even blackened to leave Germsville cos I really got no purpose to return to the outside World, I kind of want to goof off there longtime, just eyeballing that Lady-Nurse and all. But this could not be.

I returned to my regular orbit after I given Germsville the igg. It enhanced gentle Moms to have me back. Truly it did. Cos she been getting mighty graffy while I been inside.

Chapter Ten

STILL got to rest that leg effort short time so’s I let the time roll by. Don’t do much at all. Just gets to thinking and all. Recalls that way back senior school I went to. Events were always screwing me up in Lessonsville. Truly they were.

I got one of them slow-type fuse-boxes which never got a rave reply till too late. It seemed the Chief always blackened at me even when I not done nothing.

I recalls one time all us studs were changing in the cloakroom when someone tap my belly. Just for kicks, you understand. Now this stereo kind of break from my voice-box. It so happen some masterman ear it and clap me in detention. That hipster who the cause of it naturally got away free.

Now these kind of things shook me up all the time, cos I got just one main fear on me. I got mighty graffy that I be jilted out of school. To me this would have meant total death. Leastways I not want to choke Moms up and find every job giving me the igg.

I got kind of bitter at the other fellows cos they seemed to be plainly having the best of both worlds. They got pretty squaws when they not in Lessonsville, and when they present they got much to belly-rack at, yet never seem to catch detention. With me it were different. I only got to jive out of turn and them master-faces going to have my head.

I recalls this certain time which left me grinding my dents. We’d had this little football match and just raved back to glut ourselves. This dicty stud start acting up a big deal. He keep throwing bull around like nobody’s business. Got these smutty little jokes on him all the time. Seemed like he high in there, and having this one great ball by himself. Then, wham, this master-man reach the scene. This particular teacher-face were a freap from way back; would do these mean little things to them he dug not, while he’d spread those he reckoned. He got a big eye for this loud-voice stud and join in the scat. He kind of give this stud a playful slap which make him say, “Master, you looking for a bundle?’

Now if I jived anything like this at them in charge, I going to get jilted out on my can, like yeah!

But the master-man take no offence. He a little queer I reckons cos he enter into this free-balling game with that stud. That loud stud grab this jug of water off the table and soak the master-man. They gone now. Have this madmen bundle in the middle of the floor. I quit the scene, total disgusted. The rest of the studs just having one great belly-rack, but some clinker prevent me. Last thing I eyeball is that stud catching the master-man, twisting this madmen lump of wet mane round his fingers. The pad clearly gone scat. Water fair near over everything.

What softly choke my system is the fact that they dicty stud going to be prefect come term end. What fun! I don't catch them making me prefect after I done soaked some master’s drag.

I naturally were a plenty retiring stud when I started out, but I been getting crazier as I got more years on me.

One time some little studs come to me and ask me to catch them some conkers off these madmen trees lining our yard. Straightway I grabs this cricket bat out the games cupboard and starts busting at them leaves. Even throws a couple of balls up there. Tough for me that blackened bat did catch itself way up them twig-tops. Just one more detention for the clinker of Lessonsville.

I'd start bugging them master-men all the time with my bull-jive. I even got to asking this lady-teacher for a double—just for the belly-rack, you understand. She slammed me down like nobody’s business. But there was no cooling me that day, zoots, there wasn’t. I tell that lady-teacher I not unduly blackened by her refusal, cos I know there be other beats on the turf. Man, did she wild eyeball at me?

Seems like those days gone real far away now—like they never were.

Chapter Two

NOW I gets back into orbit real fast. Back to work. Wham! Back to my turf-mates, We gets to skating now and again. This a real zooty pass-time I reckons. Catch them pretty witches zooming round like nobody’s business. Some got these frilly little skirts which enliven my brain no end.

Now I notes all them goings on, cos the rink could even claim to be a barrelhouse. I not just bull-jiving when I say that some of them guys could hardly stand up straight, cos they got a load of juice on them. Some of they witch-faces making like they sellers from way back. That’s a lie. Cos they still at Lessonsville and all, yet they knows how to eyeball it round.

Then one time my sister-face get to that skating rink with me. Now I thinks she the living, repeat, strictly living end. Cos she got this pretty little face on her and a genuine build from Curvesville, I high-hand it to myself what a fine witch she is. Not like them others and all. That what I think!

Now I catch her sweet hand and skate her round icewise feeling I a mighty fine cat. It’s kind of nice having studs eyeballing your sister-face, and reckoning she far beyond Endsville.

Now I not catch it first, till this stud rave into us and say to me, “You got a fair piece there. You deal me in \

just one love-sign, Daddy, and I your slave for all time.”

I softly blackened at his scatty line of patter and tells the man straight. “She ain’t leaving my hand, hipster. Give gloom the go-by elsewhere.” I see he now got this mean eyeball on him. “Daddy,” he reply. “You won’t keep that hot-pot longtime. Others got eyeballs to see that goods train passing before them. Any cat can see by that goo she giving out, she strictly not a one-man effort.”

I shake on that but he quit the scene in one whole hurry. My sister-face now tell me “ You bug me, brother. What you got to act like you own me for? I even getting blackened holding you silly hand all the time. I could give that cat who were present a big eye.”

This ain’t real. My sister jiving like a witch-seller. “Lady, you watch them eyeballs,” I tell her, “They going to catch you what you don’t want.” I been viewing her with angel eyes too long. I can see now how she playing up to them bull-faces. Guess I never really noted before how she swing her can and toss her mane and all.

Moms have a fuse blow if she seen her, lumbering the entire population of the manor, like a lady-hound.

I recalls what happen this time some months back. I been marching the turf like nobody’s business, when wham, I seen my gentle sister coming at me with this gypsy-face stalking her. He a real dirty stud with long mane and muck-spreading boots, and it seem highly possible he got a. blade on him. I catch him jiving at her and she replying. I get might graffy at the happenings cos I not like his looks one lump of bread. When my sister-face see me she get this scarey look on her, like she feeling guilty and all. She don’t jive at him no more, just give his patter the igg.

Now I naturally ask her where he rave from and what kind of a gasser he claim to be. She silent on that short time before she tell me. “Truth is I not know him from nowheres, but he catch me up and ask me to go to the woods with him. I so scared I pretends to act groovy so’s he don’t bundle me off. I mighty glad I did catch you, Brother-head, way back there.”

I takes her word for it cos she never been known to lie, but it’s like I’m in doubt. Didn’t strike me she was making nervous patter at all. Seemed more like she about to make a double, till she eyeball my head out there.

Trouble is I not been watching her on the way up. We kind of grown apart more as we put on them years.

She tells Moms she got to see turf-mates every Sunday. Naturally Moms take her word as lasting truth. But after that skating do, I not so sure. I decides to follow her can come week-end, and clue me in total.

“I’m on the solo-list this week,” she tell me. “So’s I calling on my old school mate.” This seem to hold a clinker somewhere, so’s I ready for a change in direction as I gets after her. She gave to this little park effort, and 1 soon eyeball her meeting this mob of rough-looking studs. I catch only one other witch on the scene, so it evidently ain’t no petting party. Tough for me I not hip to the happenings, cos before long I catch that other witch and my sister snogging a couple of them studs. “So,” I thinks, “she got a guy and never done told me.” Tm choked.

I soon feel myself being softly strangled cos that guy ain’t no special stud or madmen double or nothing, just a love-sign addict. She raving at plenty of them studs now, spreading jam way out round her. I damn near bust in on the scene. Yet something stop me.

Them rough-looking guys getting bored with the free jam now, and starting to bundle among themselves. One of they freaps catch my sister and throw her to the turf. This get me really scared cos I thinking how frightened my sister-face must be. But I wrong on that, cos real sudden-like I catch her laughter. Like she never had such a high time before. She bundling this stud like a wild-cat, really getting in there.

I sink to the turf. My fury done left me. It’s like I not feeling anything at present.

After a while I return to the pad, tell Moms I think I going to puke, and catch me my cradle.

Stare into that sky, just thinking. It’s like my sister always been a white lady. What make her take this turn? Feels like I can’t face her no more, yet I still mighty fend of her and all.

A big stud like me never going to turn them tear-taps on and yet. . . . It’s like they done turned themselves on and all.

Chapter Twelve

CATCH my sister next a.m. and plainly tell her I reckon she a big bad clinker. She belly-rack at me when I tell her what I eyeballed. “Gentle Brother,” she tell me. ‘Tm sad to say I consider you a cube. Like you so square your edges is prominently showing. Daddy, you evidently got no idea how to enjoy yourself. You not recognize a kick if you got one.”

I slap her down. Bust out the pad. Got to get me clean away cos my fuse-box not going to stand her bull. She a hardened witch. That plain to see. I even feels like killing her but that ain't going to solve nothing. She still done them things and I still done seen her.

This when the brain-user reach me of taking a beat line of action. Going to get me a pad up Town. Mom’s such a gasser she give me an allowance. I knows for sure. I not getting to work today cos them guys must have known what my sister were like all along. Must have let me sing her praises wildly, while they knew it were all a load of crap.

In some ways it appear I inherited that gentle brain Moms got, thinking peoples is white all the time, yet I knows they ain’t.

Going to clue Moms in this evening. Meanwhile I giving gloom the go-by and casing the territory. I enters this coffee-bar we got down the street. It even strike me as quaint. Got these little fishes and nets and things way over them walls, and this madmen juke-box way over the corner. I bug them platter labels and finally select me a low-down blues. Zoots! I already down in my muckspreading boots.

This Italian guy ask me what juice I got in mind, and I plainly tell him coffee’s the pitch. I not the smoking type really, but I kind of needs a butt right now so I hand out the bread for some.

After short while these two guys enter and before long patter at me. “You out of work too, honey?” this quaky-looking stud with a beard ask me. I tell him I soon will be, cos I just given it the go-by. Now although I bitter at my sister and all I never going to tell folk the reason I leaving my pad. So I thinks this scatty story up how I got fed-up with boss-men and wants my freedom and rot.

That bearded bull give this wayout smile like he my loving turf-mate or something. “Man, give work the igg. We got other means of making bread. Nothing the law going to catch us at neither.”

I not wait to ear the shady brain-users but gets my can to the door like I can’t wait. Spends the entire day marching the manor, kicking stones, and glutting madmen lettuce leaves I caught off this little stall.

Got me a mighty blackened mood like Satan had me. It so happen I see’d this little cycle standing at the kerb, like nobody ever going to use it again. That’s a lie, ’cos I get in there quick. Grab that framework and orbit off. It’s like I’m not scared of the Law or anything. Just one clinker upset me. That’s the fear that Moms be shaken up if I do land in jail. Suddenly I quit that cycle. Moms already got one black one on her hands* child-wise. Sees no need to add to her problems.

It seem like years before peoples start busting out their offices and such, in one madmen rush pad-wise. Locomotives like wild, live things with vicious dents ready to get you, shoving their way through the darkening clobber.

I catch this wheel and reach my pad. Put off telling Moms my decision ’cos she clearly not going to ride with it.

Going to get me to a twist-up tonight. Going to swing my can far into the morning. Yeah! Going to have me a zooty ball.

Chapter Thirteen

WE got this big ballroom plenty near the pad, which I been to several times. I go solo that night, you understand. Soon as I gets there, catch these enlivened witches twisting like little angels. I could get hung on a bus-load of women. Truly I could.

Then I get to thinking. If I so hot for witches it follow that my sister got the natural right to be hot for studs. That I now realize. What I got against her is that she give in too easy. Most studs reckon dames is for trampling on, strictly doormats. They thinks they can take jam whenever they wants it. That’s what I blackened at. I choke to think my sister get discussed in this free-balling manner by them inhabitants of Smutsville. She should keep herself for a gasser-guy who going to mate her legal.

Guess peoples got different reasoning though. Anyways, if I was a chick-face I’d find no trouble in keeping clear, ’cos I plainly been born under Bashville’s famous gooseberry bush. I got this certain feeling on me all the time, like I never going to take no witch jam-wise. Going to keep that madmen frolic till I catch my wife’s orbit. It going to bore themselves silly. Likewise they creating this Iona for it, that I knows.

Them studs who been with witch-sellers and all, soon going to bore themselves silly. Likewise they creating this dirty feeling along with it. Now this should never be.

Jam and love-signs got to be from Endsville exact. How zooty it going to be, to get in there with you one loving squaw. Have you some nice kids and such. Strictly out of the Solar System.

I lost deep in my thoughts when this stud give me five “Where you been hiding your face?” he jive me. “Maybe you a sick cat cos you never showed at work, and Gutter done softly choked himself, wondering where you were.”

I shake him off. Tell him I’ll be there come tomorrow. That’s a lie, but I got to cool his bull-jive somehow.

Grabs many a witch and swings out, total enlivened. Then sudden-like I catch this gentle witch jiving with a chick-mate. Man, she shake me up. Then sinuous looks send me flipping. Now this truly happened before I know, but I kind of reckon it even stronger this time.

She got a mighty tight skirt on her and could claim to be the Queen of Curvesville. Got her mane puffed out nice, and these winkle-pickers at her feet. Positive, her drag exalt my brain total. I even reckon I going to mate her legal yet I not even jived at them ear-lobes she got. I move at her then, but this stud reach her one step ahead. Tough! Got to wait the twist out. Then when I do reach her she claim she feel goofy and squat a while. I give that lady plenty time to catch a hundred breaths, then get her to the floor.

Lights dim as we get in there. Band be giving with this slow drag. My mood were total gone.

I patter this lady and tell her I more than willing to lead her to her pad. She refuse, and tell me she already got a wheel which she drive herself home in. This shake me. She must be a mighty high-class dame to own a wheel Maybe she a green stuff heir.

She tell me real cool-like she waiting on this stud who playing ball in the Army at present. That’s fine! She got all she need without me. Yet I content just to eyeball her, ’cos a cat can always dream.

I never see’d such a cute little fuse-box, though, positive I didn’t. Got them quirky lips keep turning up at the corners all the time, and real goo eyes. It seem she vamping the entire ball-room with them zooty looks she keep throwing around. I give half my sweet soul to be that stud she waiting on. If I got this little princess hung on me, I likewise would have my permanent pad in Endsville exact. I plainly would devote myself to this lady-witch total.

She just the teasing type though. True, she working them eye-lids overtime, but it plain to see she not going to hand out love-signs to cat-faces.

I twist with her plenty platters, after that band done died and raved pad-wise. Platters keep going till night is past. She give this yawn presently and tell me she aim to catch Dreamsville in short while. I leave her while she fetch her drag and bug them other dames. They got nothing on her, that plain to see. I kind of step outside, grab this kerb-stone and wait it out.

A real fine night is in the sky. like the whole globe just waiting on something. Clouds is scudding across the moon like nobody's business, while this chill wind raise my mane way over my fuse-box. I kind of holding my breath cos I really flipping. Catch this secretive feeling like I planning a raid or something. Lights is mainly out in them pads now, cos peoples not waiting the entire night out. I get this kick just being there. It’s like nothing can touch me, like I don’t know nobody, got no past, no future, just the present.

My brain catching weird users now, cos I kind of wish I could really get in orbit, not just kick-wise, you undersand, but really riding them stars. It could be highly stimulating way out by yourself in that space-face.

I nearly miss my gentle-heart busting out the door, then, and jerk to life. She heading for this wheel-park where her shiny locomotive be standing solo at the far end. The doll must be loaded. Bread near dripping off her fingers, ’cos this wheel she got look like it cost plenty loaves of bread. Got this stylish bonnet and way out wind-screen. I pick my heels up and chase her can. Kind of tensed up now, ’cos there’s just these two frames in all that wheel-park. Me and her. That’s the entire list.

She nearly at her wheel, just ready to open up, when she eyeball my head. She get these fancy lenses out her drag and nick them to her face. She still look zooty with lenses on and all, though more aloof, you understand.

“What you want?” she address me. “I kind of wondered if you got a lift in mind,” I tell her. “Sorry,” she reply, “I’m sad to say I travel in the other direction.”

Now this blacken me, ’cos I never done told her what direction I live at. She evidently giving me the go-by total.

“Lady, I’m hung on you. I knows you waiting on a cat, but be it wrong to let me lumber you, love-heart?” I say.

“I don’t even like you,” she tell me plainly, and my gentle heart seem to cry. I lay down my head for this broad, yet she not reckon I any place near there.

I get this madmen urge to rush her, kiss them lips, ’cos I know’d her little frame going to haunt my brain longtime. I catch her to me. For one moment I got a handful of furry drag clutched to me. Then she wriggle inside it and slap me down. I not attempting a jam-raid so’s I leave her be. She plainly got the right to beat me off.

She grab her wheel open and get that engine moving mighty fast. Damn near run me down in her hurry to quit the scene.

Nothing but empty air round me now and them scudding clauds seem softly sinful. Night done lost its magic. I got a wild head on me to act this way.

I catch this clinging scent on my hands where I done pawed at her drag. L got to admit it. I'm a freap with women. Keeps seeing them exciting lips tilting at me, and make a wish, that I going to get to this lady-squaw and love her up a storm.

Been a mighty long day. It’s like I ready to goof off a while.

Chapter Fourteen

NEXT a.m. I tells Moms T given work the go-by. She take it I got the nadges and tuck me in with madmen water-bottles and such. I explain to her this be not the case. She think maybe I been jilted out on my can, or that I not dig my mates or something. I don’t bother to clue her in proper yet. I leave it till later to tell her that I going to quit my pad, cos she not take in too much bull at a time. She imagine I get me another job soon. That where she wrong.

I gets to thinking about that gentle gasser I meet last night. She wowed me no end I even throw away my head for some corn from that love-heart right now. Yet no amount of bread going to buy a dicty witch like her. One thing, her Daddy already seem to spread her with wheels and fur drag and all. What more she want? Another thing, she just not the selling type. She got her fuse-box plugged into the right channel there. Saving the jam for her gasserguy. He a mighty lucky cat, I reckons, owning this white witch from way out.

Wish my sister carboned her more, instead of throwing it round so much. And yet last night I been mighty pleased if that lady carboned my sister. It would have been plenty pleasing to snog her a while. That I know. Now ain’t that funny? I got an ill-connected fuse-box on me to throw them clinkers. Cos it seem like the rule I got applied to my sister got to be different from that I got applied to the rest of the race. She got to be a white witch, while the other witch-faces got no need to be. I just screwing myself up over this. I got this bad feeling cos I been softly choked by that lady. I never going to taste them sweet lips. Positive, I ain’t. She strictly a far out dream from Cloud 9.

Life going to be less complicated with no witches present. Yet this could not be. Just imagine, since I was nine I been flipping at lady-heads.

I guess we made like that for some reason. I reckon it be not possible to be entirely groovy lest you got a favourite squaw by you side. I mean I plenty enjoyed such things as football and musics and all, but where they ever going to get you? Half of me tell me I want to get mated legal come future and raise a madmen family and all, yet at least the other half tell me I planning on becoming a beat, living solo, and giving jam the igg.

Meeting that witch somewhat shook me up. If I not come into orbit with her L maybe quit my turf without a brain-user, but it's like I need to hang around in order to eyeball her one more time. It always be a rave to meet a lady who mighty different from the mob. I just done met one, so’s I not quitting the scene till I visited that ball-room again.

Now I plainly got to pass the day someways. I not getting to that coffee-bar again cos I got no particular urge to meet them quaky studs.

I remain in my pad all a.m. but my brain soon become bored, so I move out and glut in this madmen restaurant, where you got your own little trays and all. Now I just pushing my heavy-laden tray along when I do see my iady-gasser. “I recall you fuse-box from way back,” I yell out, causing some square to tip her tray over. Peoples turn round and give with frowns like they highly disapproving citizens.

My lady, about the only one present who not eyeball at me, squat at this table like she never eared nothing. Lucky for me that table got one seat not taken. Zoots! I get in there. Send these madmen knives and forks dying in my man-sized effort to reach her. “You never tell me your handle,’' I say. She trying hard to give me the igg, but then this male she got rave up to (he table looking choked. “Where’s my seat, Pat?” she ask.

Now I know Pat be the handle of the sweet lady who keeping my mind enlivened. Pat bug about her like she looking for another table, but she not catch a spare place. Just then the other two people at our table prepared to leave, so’s her mate grab a chair. How groovy! We got this little table all to ourselves.

Pat were looking a mighty sinuous dame. That she were. “You got your wheel with you to-day?” I ask her. She consent to jive at me then and say, “Daddy, I going to fetch the Law if you carry on so.”

I knows now I never going to win her round. Cos when a witch gone that far against you in front of a turf-mate, it plainly past the point of return. I not going to let her see my feelings caught the nadges. so I play the big deal. “Man, I could plenty handle them goods you got,” I tell her. “Take me in your wheel to Endsville, where I do plainly hope you run out of gas total.”

It’s like that Pat-witch get a real temper on her ’cos she don’t care who see her. She lean at me then and give me this slap in the head. I catch her sleeve but she got these nasty little judo tricks on her, and I soon finds myself on the floor.

Everybody eyeballing me, belly-racking. This waitress-witch move at me and ask Pat the happenings. I not hang around. Truly I did never feel so small as when I craw! out into that street.

She treated me like dirt, just cos I used the wrong approach. But there’s no anger left in me—just sadness, ’cos I loved in vain, and aft that rot.

Chapter Fifteen

NOW it so happen I did quit the nest and bust out on my own account. I were a tramp more than a regular beat, cos I didn’t do no balling with witches and such, nor get to madmen sour apple frolics and the like. In fact T not jived at no-one, except them in the other flats, since I been here.

Most times just march the manor and all. Kind of wished I got a talent for something but that ain’t so. I can rave plenty rhythm on my git-box, but there plainly be half a nation of studs who could claim they do likewise.

Before long time I catch the idea that I residing on cube territory, cos I not seen a gasser since I been here. Got to get my can to some frolic-pad. Lift my tail beyond the pale.

I gets this groovy type cellar going mighty cheap and plays me my git-box there much times.

Now of all the peoples I ever done met I clearly never Going to forget Beat-heart. Now I never see’d this witch with jam eyeballs, you understand. This is not because' she an ugly hag or anything. But it just so happen she not make me flip. But as a gasser she was the most. I loved her like a brother and all. I not know why she act groovy with me, cos her total disposition were blackened. She dig nothing, likewise nobody. It plain to see she had many a hard deal until she shut her fuse-box away from stuff.

I meet her this time I orbiting in the park, I plainly a solo freap with no double in mind when I do eyeball this lady. She curled up on a seat staring at the sky like she waiting for it to fall. Got this butt in her mouth and this bottle at her side,

“Rave on,” I thinks to myself. “Lady Drag from Endsville proper.** She got these madmen boots on and a crazy jumper you going to get the entire population inside.

I move at her and patter, cos I plenty pleased to meet someone who appear way in there. I not got love-signs in mind, you understand, just feels like some bull-jive. It been long since I thrown scat with a dame. Naturally no chick-face ever going to compare with Pat, but this not mean I giving doll-heads the igg for time eternal.

“Heart-face.*' i jive her. '‘You got sour apples on you?” I catch her eyeballs then. It’s like they ain’t real. Just staring way out into space like it's just an empty frame before me. This shake me up. “Lady,” I yell. “Return from Tombsville. I trying to connect you.”

At that she raise this bottle to her lips and soak it up. I got me a real crazy situation, cos she produce this blade then, dead casual-like. It could even have been a mane-rake for all she care.

“Get you gone, clinker,” she say, in this tightened voice box. Wham! No witch ever shown me a blade before when I lumbering her. I going to choke that silly Beatnik up. Who she think she is anyways, high-handing it out like that?

I bang her wrist, knock her blade to the ground, but she belt me with her muck-spreading boot and that’s it. I go scat, catch that mad-witch’s mane and yank her down. But she a master-bundler, cos she get me out flat with her crazy boot stuck in my belly.

I has to see the funny side of it Here be two Beatniks unknown to each other, yet banging each other’s heads for no reason. I voice my brain-user. “Lady, maybe you clue me in bundle-wise? Be it that you dig not my drag or something?”

She breathing fire-balls as she reply, “I told you to quit the scene. That still applies.” “Solo witch, I mean you no harm. I did reckon you was a turf-mate from far out. I guess I been wrong on that.” I tell her.

It’s almost like she talking to herself then. “I going to teach studs a lesson. You ain’t the first to bust in on me. I aiming to have they fuse-boxes total,” she finish.

I pick my feet up and bug her real close-like. “Give me five,” i say. “Then I going to pad off.”

She shake on that. “I never give no-one nothing,” she tell me, and light another butt.

This plainly be the strangest broad I did ever chance to meet, but I been a solo too long. Any gasser better than none. “I just taken a pad on this turf,” I tell her. “Is that so?” she reply. “Big deal,” I jive on. “I been looking for some beats. You even strike me as a fair example of one.” 4Tm in no need of gasser-men,” she reply. “And if your soul yearning for turf-mates, it’s tough for you, ain’t it?”

Now in spite myself she catching my interest. It’s like I got to find out what clinker making that lady tick. I knows I going to get no results hard-talking her so I soften up. “Like you say, it’s plenty tough for me having no turf-mates. Maybe you tell me which direction I got to travel for Beatsville. You know a rave outfit I could hang with?” I ask her.

Her face don’t change. That's what gets me. She never show whether she got the nadges, the belly-racks or the jumps. Them eyeballs just stare at me total dead. I kind of feel sorry for her but how I going to help her?

She just stand there and it’s like something touch my sweet soul. Them eyeballs get me yet. It’s like she’s stranded half-way between Tombsville and Trashville, with no wheel to brine her back.

It weren’t one of them fierce looks, which I plenty seen before. Nor one of them neurotic terror-faces. It strike me whatever despair she got in her, she accepting it like nobody’s business.

It kind of make me graffy to see a lady this way. She plainly past the stage of screw fears and madmen revenge against peoples. Even that clinker she got about breaking stud’s faces seem to be a minor issue with her. Cos she plainly done locked herself away within her, and what other peoples do really bother her none. I guess she hardly with me when she got her boot in my belly. She certainly not afraid of anybody. She a real little wild-cat with her blade and all.

This feeling keep nagging at me that I heading the same way by becoming a lone beat. Maybe when peoples hurt me some, I going to lock myself away likewise. This must never be.

Yet in the case of this mad-witch I know’d she taken the only way out. I recalls something l did learn way back at school, in some crummy Science lesson or something. Saturation point! That were it. When something gets so it can’t take nothing no more.

I bet this lady had such a rough time, the only thing left to her was killing peoples in her brain. Cos everybody got living people in they fuse-boxes. I mean, Moms and my sister and Pat and all keep living in me.

I catch her point. If my brain done killed peoples like hers, I not have got the nadges when my sister act like a witch-seller, or when Pat give me the igg. It plain to see in her fuse-box she got just herself living, solo. She saved herself much sorrow this way. What scare me though, is that I’m tempted to do the same. But, zoots, you as good as dead then, cos how you ever going to get bursts of elation when you can’t feel nothing no more?

She lost so deep in her brain-users she might be permanently gone for all I knows. I leave her on that. I plenty lucky to be still in one piece.

Chapter Sixteen

IT been plenty long till I eyeball that mad-witch again. I been trying to contact her, not for a double or anything, just ’cos I got nothing else to do. Visited that park effort real regular but she plainly given it the go-by for the time.

Then one day I’m moping around, my spirits down in my muck-spreading boots, when I catch her marching the turf. Naturally she see me not, cos she got her usual weird stare on her.

I decides to follow her and make the grade. She gets to this little yard where she deposit some canvases she been working at, and squat on a dust-bin.

I reach the scene. Don’t jive at her or nothing—just stand there smoking a butt. She do eyeball me after short time and I’m mighty pleased to note her face jump in surprise. That’s an improvement, cos that madmen mask showed some signs of life.

We just keep on there, silent, no-one saying nothing. Maybe one hour later she leave the bin and shoot her can out the yard. I follow her. She turn on that, and ask me, “What you want, freap?” You never answered my question from last time,” I tell her. “You know if. any beats exist round the manor?”

“If you want a gang to make you feel like you somebody, you won’t do no better than my sister’s crowd,” she tell me. “Nothing frilly-pant about it. Just a regular mob searching for kicks like little children. When they going to learn kicks is strictly not permanent, strictly not worth having, and strictly deceptive?”

Now she patter so quick I lose the vital meaning, if indeed such a meaning were present. “Where this crowd got their frolic-pad?” I ask her. “Way along here,” she reply, and continue walking.

My spirits come way into orbit at that. Going to meet me some beats, likewise I got this lady to jive groovy at me. Presently she point at this pad and tell me to hang about, cos I certain sure to catch one of the mob shortly. She off at that.

“Zoots, lady. Ear at me,” I yell. I get to her, grab her sleeve and say, “I double you at noon tomorrow down the park.” She don’t say nothing, just rave on her way, like the lone soul she is.

Chapter Seventeen

I REACH that park like I trying to give gloom the go-by. I just kind of hoping she be there and all, though I not really think she will be. Then wham, I eyeball her head out there. Like a high time is surely coming. She making like she not meeting nobody, but I knows different.

I move at the lady and give her five. Her face remain unchanged, but I plainly used to that now. We squat on this seat and light us some butts.

Now I know that if I do try anything jam-wise she have my head for sure. She got that blade on her some place likewise. But as I did have no such bull in mind all were well.

I tell her that I did catch her sister last p.m. and she go for me in a big way. She even tell me the place is open for a leader-stud, cos their previous one got his can in jail. She say there be many a blackened bundle among the stud-faces and their squaws as to the next Chief. It strictly solve the problem if some strangerman take the role.

"‘You got all you want now?” that mad-witch ask me. “Not quite,” I tell her. “I had this love-heart who care for me not one lump of bread This sadden my sweet brain. Lady, you appear to hold the key to indifference. Be it easy to achieve?”

She then patter at me in this tight little voice-box. Get me right! She not crying her heart out to me or playing for sympathy or anything. Cos like I already said, she no longer care. I guess she just dig me more than most and trying to give me the gen.

“Ear at me, brother,” she say. “It take plenty effort to kid yourself you the only living soul.”

I never going to forget what she tell me then, cos it even shake me up. I liked that witch no end, not as a squaw, you understand, but as a gasser.

It appear she done tried to achieve her state of indifference plenty often, but it were mighty hard to give peoples the igg, total. Way back at school she twisted herself up over little things like Christmas.

She pad down with this uncle, cos her Moms and Pops were not present. Now she reckon Christmas plenty, in that she get presents from turf-mates and love-signs under the mistletoe and all Yet back the pad she get nothing. Her uncle this one clinker man, and never ask gassers in to share juice or nothing.

He usually squat by himself soaking it up. The pad were never decorated with holly-twigs or madmen Christmas trees or anything.

Thus the clinker come on my mad-witch that it suit her mood better to give that season the total igg.

Now I not see this. If it been like that with me, I plainly would have had a ball while I could, namely got my kicks with turf-mates and love-hints and such. Given that uncle-man the go-by like he never existed.

But this mad-lady see things different. If it be not possible to get total in there, she rather stay total outside. So first she kill Christmas in her brain, just ’cos it ain’t like the dream she got of it.

She admit to me her trouble were that she aim too high all the time. Never satisfied with half measures, not that chick.

Then she tell me she get a steady double who she give her mane for, but after short time he bust out on her. Tough, true, but peoples been known to get other studs. But ’cos mad-witch set her fuse-box on this one, she give the rest of the manor the igg, though other guys were waiting on her.

“I made it plain to myself I not getting hurt again,” she tell me. “And the only way you going to do this is by giving nothing to nobody. Then they got no part of you they can hurt.”

Even then it seem she fail. Cos she tell me she turn them tear-taps on plenty often, cos she blackened that life ain’t turning out like a dream. She softly choke herself that she have to cut herself off this way, in order to keep together.

“My tear-taps now been out of order two years,” she jive me. “Which prove to me I’ve got what I want.” But it’s a fact that she never belly-racked for two years neither. Cos where there’s no blues there not going to be any balls either.

She keep telling herself she not going to care no more, but then she’d get asked to a frolic-pad and she’d flip at it. Things like that. She manage to stop herself in time but the brain-user were there, Like when she eyeball some rave drag in a shop or something, she plainly picture herself in it. Her brain then tell her she not spreading her bread on such trash and leave it be. But it were most disturbing keep getting these little thoughts on her.

She tell me she now achieved that state where she no longer plan anything. Real sudden-like she stop pattering. “You never can be too careful,” she say to herself. Then at me. “I been plainly jeopardizing my way of life coming here this noon. Cos it were like I wanted someone to talk at. Yeah! I was hoping you be here, and I never supposed to hope nothing no more. Cos if you ain’t been here today I been a might blackened. Stud-face, return to Trashville.”

This sudden change shake me. “Lady,” I tell her. “I never going to let you down or nothing,”

“Don’t you see,” she reply. “The more I believe what you say, the worse I going to feel if you choke me. I even dig you a little, and that going to prove fatal. I clearly not going to catch you again. I given you too much already. Yeah! I’ve given you my time and that’s more than I can afford. Give me five, cube,” she say then, and extend her hand.

“You understand, if I bust out on you now I not catching the nadges over it, but if we do become groovy, somebody strictly going to get hurt.”

She rave her can to different territory then, and leave me smoking my butt like I been given the igg, I catch her point. Cos I getting blackened now that she did leave me that way. Peoples is strictly always hutting other peoples. That a fact. You not got to rely on other folks for your kicks. That I know. Like this beat gang I’m raving with I going to be mighty disappointed if I don’t get to be the leader-stud now, cos some witch-face put the brain-user on me.

Chapter Eighteen

I was mighty pleased to receive this madmen pen-effort from the beat gang. It read thus:

The Frolic Pad

Chelsea,

Endsville.

Gentle gasser,

One of our lady-beats who got the handle, Bumpkin, did clue us in that you make a hip Chief. Daddy, we got to eyeball you plenty before giving you the grade. Meanwhile you welcome to orbit the turf with us. The motto of our gang plainly be,

Search for kicks,

Defy the pricks,

And live in peace.

Groovy love-signs from the mob total.

Later when they bugged me all they want they send me this mighty fine effort.

Gentle gasser,

It be the pleasure of the entire mob to decorate you leader-stud. We giving you honourable title of Big Chief Jive. May you play the true gasser in our madmen search for kicks. We give you five on it tonight at the frolic-pad. Tuning you out now.

Raving gentle love-hints to you, Daddy, and may you live in peace, likewise catch plenty green stuff.

All the beat-hearts from. Cloud 9 salute you.

I fair near hit the stars at such happenings. I way in orbit. Yeah! Lifted near out the Solar System.

Come that evening I strike out for the frolic-pad to get my decoration. When I get to it, the pad be clearly swinging. Zoots! No more dark sevens for me. Going to have me an eternal ball.

I catch the smell of sour apples as I get the door behind me. Some smooth cat done put madmen lanterns and candles way round the floor. Ears at this real cool platter. This band giving with trad from way out. Some guy sending out a groovy-buzz-tone, followed by another stud on a gone liquorice stick. Man, what a wow!

Soon as I enters, the cats form this circle round me. This witch move at me then. “Daddy,” she tell me. “You got absolutely nothing to fear. We going to black you eyeballs out with this scarf, but you not going to get hurt.”

My insides contract at this but I give no sign. The mob move in real fast then and black my view. These cats start chanting while this guy throws his git-box in there. I smell this scented mane under my face, and some witch give me a love-sign. Better were to come. All them chickfaces pass before me and peck my lips. Then all them studs give me five, like it mattered one whole loaf of bread. “We signing you in now,” somebody holler at me, and I feels my hand being passed through this candle flame. Then someone else tip this juice over my fuse-box and jive, “Him who cross your path, Big Chief, got to bundle the entire mob. Lest you fall from grace, you the leader-stud from now on in.”

They remove the scarf then, and I catch the scene again. Nothing like this ever happened to me before. That it didn’t.

Everybody flipping total now. Sour apples is drunk all round. I swing out with them zooty witches like I found Endsville.

Then right in the middle of the frolic I catch a clinker. Get to thinking about Pat with her keen frame and way out wheel. I got me into a fair crowd of gassers but that lady haunt me yet. That ain’t all. I no longer ear that joy-box giving plenty rhythm, cos my brain see my sister-face acting up down the park.

The blues get in my soul and I’m stuck. I plainly going to live it up, though. Grabs this witch and stroke her mane. “You take me to the moon, baby?” I ask her. She laugh on that and get her lips on mine.

I jive corn at her gentle ear-lobes then, but all the time it’s like I’m wishing Pat were present. I catch them lips one more time and place this artistic love-kiss on them. We keep swaying to these madmen platters.

Real sudden-like she tune me out. Starts waving at this big stud who just come in. “He my Daddy,” she tell me, and leave me twisting solo. I straightway eyeball the pad for another wife, but them Beatnik women don’t really hang me up at all. I love their minds, you understand, but I prefer that my squaw be a regular dame more. I dig them muck-spreading boots and men’s shirts for a belly-rack, but it seem kind of queer to rave love-signs at a bundle of stud’s clobber.

I snatch this weirdie, and we grooves to that music. She tell me she got no permanent double and would be mighty honoured to take me off the solo list. I tell her I’ll bear the matter in mind, but right now I’d just as soon not lumber any dame.

Night is gone when we catch the street. We fair near goofed off ourselves.

Got to pile up some Z’s. I hit my pad and that’s it. I reach my slab and start adding Iambs before my head hit the feather bank.

Chapter Nineteen

We did have many a high time together. That we did. Sometimes we’d get these crazy bursts of elation when we defy the Law and all. We’d grab us these broken umbrellas and tear round the turf busting at these dust-bin lids and such. One time we smash these madmen milk-bottles likewise. Tough for us the Law did have our heads. We only get our cans out of jail by raving green stuff at them. We keep having sour apple frolics all the time and marching the turf chanting.

I really having this one high time at first. But that’s naturally before I get to thinking. When I pad down at night and lie on my slab, smoking a butt, I recalls that mad-witch, Beat-heart. Why she not join in the fun? I thinks. This plainly be a crowd of gassers. She get a gentle ride, better than squatting solo down the park.

Now I not seen her since she give me the total go-by. But I kind of hoping to eyeball her head sometime, f becoming plenty groovy with her sister who tell me Beatheart be a tough lady. "She done had a blackened time,’* she tell me. “But her clinker is she give up too soon.”

Now come Summer we has a plainly stimulating time. We do take a wheel to Birdland where we do swim in weed-infested pools and build us madmen country-pads. These pads be made of tree-sized trees. We do squat us there and orbit with plenty tasty foods, sour apples and groovy musics.

Then come the real heat days. We grab green stuff from many sources and catch this locomotive to the coast. Daddy, what a fine time we had there.

Soon as we reach the scene I Hip. That crazy Sun on them little waves is plainly enlivening. Then there’s all them zooty sands, and rock-pools with madmen starfish in and all. We buys us these shrimping nets and lives on health foods which we do cook ourselves.

We got these crazy tents which we do pitch come night fall. All them gentle stars shining at us and highly enhancing them little waves.

One time I take this canoe out solo. Gets me into a crazy situation. I’m having this one great time, bugging them lady-seabirds and such, when wham, I decides to climb the cliff. I gets my canoe in this gentle cove and lifts my can up the mountain. Now I plainly acting the freap, cos I catch this zooty ledge where I do stretch out and take some Z’s.

I been goofing off plenty long just letting that golden Sun lick at my calves and all, when I hears this stereo beating mighty loud at my ear-lobes. Zoots! I look down. Sees my canoe riding way out on them wave-tops. What a corn caper!

I start to climb upwards, but then it’s like Pm slipping. Got my boot on a mud patch or something. I did think I were tuning out total then. Truly I did.

But all be well. Big chief survive the choke. He land on some favourite ledge with a nadgy can. Nothing for it but to lift up the mountain again. This time I climb safely peak-wise. Lie out on that roof like a* beat cat. Got me one crazy walk back. But this softly exalt me, cos it’s like I got new life and all.

Lift my calves and turn my fuse-box tent-wise.

Chapter Twenty

WE exploring them sands one time when we discovers us a madmen cave. This enliven us no end. We get in there and case the joint. Got to get us some boxes and candles, then we have a regular frolic-pad.

This rave smell busting out the cave, like it been a seaweed pad for mighty long. We soon orbit with our git*boxes and horn, like we on Cloud 9 exact.

Days come and go, and we please ourselves total. May* be take a dip come a.m.. then shoot our cans to the cave. Daddy, we found Endsville. But this could not last for me. Cos I got this cube brain which keep sending nadges in my soul. The mood sometimes get me to bust out the cave and squat solo on some rock effort.

What softly blackens me, is the way these little families do belly-rack and sneer at us. You gets this typical Moms with holiday waves in her mane, and what she consider the latest in gay beach-drag, leading small stud with bucket. Small stud willing to be groovy but Moms soon inform him we be dirty Beatniks. “You don’t know where they’ve been, Johnny”.

Pops come after in madmen coloured shirt. It be his pleasure to dig pits in the sand for Johnny. We not grudge him this. What we reckons is, he a freap to pretend it be for Johnny, when he want to dig for himself.

Cos of these softly sneering squares I catch the sands mainly at night. Squat on a rock and bug them stars. World seem so pretty and yet it ain’t. Stars got lies in them. You think you found Endsville, yet some clinker bound to invade the scene.

If it ain’t anything real, it’s some blackened brain-user. Gets to thinking how I’m wasting my time, orbiting kickwise all day. My Moms truly never think I going to become such a stud. She always want me to carbon Dad, who been a gasser from way out.

Why I get this guilty feeling come on me? I done quit my local scene where peoples in general did blacken my views. I the King of a rave outfit. What more I want? Yet it’s like I feel I don’t deserve total freedom, or nothing. Zoots! Now I thinking like a madmen priest. But T can’t give that clinker the igg. It’s like I reckons people got to face up to things, instead of running away all the time, cos that is what I been doing.

I had a ball with this mob, but I plainly see I not going to hang with it for time eternal. Another thing which give me the nadges, be the fact that gentle Moms been raving green stuff on my head, while I been plenty spreading it on sour apples and stuff. This should not be. Maybe I got a soft disposition, but that the way I feel.

Going to give my youth a few months more merriment, then I guess I going to tune out.

Chapter Twenty-One

WE not been here long, when zoots, we catch this madmen mob who plainly rave from Demonsville. It choke our systems to clash with them this way.

We been having a ball one night, when we orbits the sands. Stars look nice. Guys is with their squaws. We got total peace. That what we think.

One of the mob get this brain-user to take a dip. We hit them waves and has a time. Before my brain register the fact, my face catching plenty spray. My enlivened fuse-box reach far out.

We been in some time when we sees these shadowy cats on them sands. Man, we not know them from anywheres. “Big Chief,” my mob tell me. “Rave at their faces and clue us in to the happenings/’ This I proceeds to do.

Before I half there this stud come at me with madmen boots. “Hipster,” he grate at me. “Get you cans off our territory. We the total beat population of this manor.” With that he produce a blade and move at me. I'm shaken up no end. Like I plainly four bars past scared.

My mob at my heels now, and some gasser throw some sand in this stud’s eyeballs. His blade hit the ground. Tough for him. But them other cats is moving in real fast now. Someone fire off this crazy zip-gun. His aim was in there, cos one of my turf-mates get a shot on him.

I feels mighty darkened, and before I knows it,. I’m rushing that cat, not caring if he send me to Tombsville direct. I got a real fury on me, cos I bust his zip-gun like nobody's business, beat him over the head with it.

Lucky for us we got more men in our mob and we do shove them punks fair off the scene.

This turf-mate who catch a shot in him, feeling highly nadgy, but it only been in his arm. We lift him to the cave. One of our witches tear up a shirt and mend him plenty fine, like she a regular nurse from Germsville or something.

We makes us some catapults should the need arise, but we not dig bundles one lump of bread.

It not long before we learns them punk-faces been beating up the entire manor. The Law after their heads, likewise. No wonder peoples did give us the igg. They maybe think we got a similar disposition on us.

One time we marching far out on them cliffs when we do bust in on them. Daddy, they highly goofed. It appear they been hitting the pot, cos they kind of nodding off with these crazy eyeballs and all. They got this little hollow where they been acting like total demons. I catch this smell on the air. It had to be weed, while it appear they been having a jam session likewise. Got no morals nowhere. I’d give not a lump of bread for one of their blackened squaws. They made the hollow into a genuine barrelhouse.

Got no bundling spirit left in them. They too soaked, and goofed on jam and charge, to even give five. We plainly could have battered their silly fuse-boxes total, but we not ride with violence, so we tunes out, leaves them to their own scat.

Chapter Twenty-Two

SUMMER practically dying now. It been a great frolic I reckons. Then one day we got this slow drag busting out the cave, when Tom-cat rave in on us with some dame He a lady’s cat it seem, cos he only had to be standing out front, and he catch a white witch.

I move at her and give her five. Spread the lady with sour apples and lead her to a box. She seem like she graffy at first but soon she pattering real groovy at us. She say she catch bread doing oil-paint signs. Now fancy that.

I recalls Beat-heart when I sees this broad, cos something in her eyes is similar. Yet that ain’t strictly so, cos she ain’t got them dead eyeballs. It like she heading that way but she not reached there yet.

She don’t make me flip or nothing, but I reckons she a mighty fine turf-mate to have. That I do.

Now I never been hung on a beatnik lady. That’s partly what shake me up, cos it’s like I ain’t going to find me After short time that new fuse-box quit the scene; got to catch her Moms or something. One of my stud-faces up and tell me: “Wow, Big Chief, she send my sweet soul flipping. I double her frame-work yet.”

I laugh on that. “Watch it, cat-face,” I reply. “She may be a spy from Demonsville.”

Now next a.m. this cat-head got a mighty darkened disposition on him. I ask him the happenings, but he give out none at first. “Maybe you lady-witch make the scene today,” I tell him. “That I doubt,” he reply. “She got a clinker on her that only have been acquired in Trashville”

“Clue me in,” I prompt him. “Like we did make this double when wham, she bust out on my head. There I were, a solo cat, making sand castles in Dunesville.”

I catch not his meaning but he enlighten me by finishing. “We making headway like a newly oiled wheel, when zoots, she got yellow, leave her Daddy, and hit the trail pad-wise.”

This stud’s jive softly blacken me, cos I been hoping to jive scat at that lady again. It highly unlikely I going to bug her frame now. Everybody I reckon seem to give me the igg. Be it I got some madmen jinx on me or something? It been long I know since I seen my love-heart, Pat, but her image haunt me yet.

Chapter Twenty-three

WE been back the City long time when we catches that lady again. She give her handle as Fenella and tell us she plainly wish to orbit our turf. That cat-face try to make the grade again but he get shot out on his can, I even escorts the broad to a jazz-pad one time, though I give her five that I not going to make with the love-sign.

I never going to forget the a.m. after that. We had this fair old time jiving scat and such and I been really groovy with her. Wished her to Dreamsville and raved pad-wise. Now it take me some time to goof off that night, so's when I do, I deep in there till late next morn. Then wham! My land-lady bust in on me with some message which just come my way.

When I did eyeball it, my gentle brain dug not the happenings. It appear my loving sister-face got herself killed. The blues had me. My brain went wild. I bust out the pad, and caught plenty sour apples which I raved back with me. It take me long to register the fact, cos it's like it ain't real.

I'm highly soaked with juice when this knock sound at my pane. I open up. Fenella hit the sene. I got no time for gasser-ladies right now—offer her the bottle but she tell me it give her the nadges or something.

I not recall much then, except I think I did take her out the turf where we did bug about like nobody's business. Then I acted the freap and nodded off back her pad which raise her land-lady’s eyebrows sky high.

The brain-user hit me keen and sharp. I see it clear I going to return to Moms. I been waiting on tuning the mob out. I plainly got me an enlivened excuse now.

I get my can to the frolic-pad and get the door behind me. “Daddy, you look like you just had a mighty dark seven,” somebody tell me.

“Gentle gassers, I has to inform you that I giving this outfit the go-by.” I reply. “My sister just tuned out on life and I plainly must return to my mournful Moms.”

My mob tell me they mighty sad to hear of such events. “Daddy, wish you to return some day?” they ask me. I tell them I not got a strict schedule but they better not hold the place open for me.

They give me the fareful frolic then. Black out my eyeballs with this crazy scarf, and it’s like before, only there’s no elation in me now, just deep blue tones seething in my soul. Juice is tipped over my mane again and I hear someone say, “Daddy, may you live in total peace. May your path be lit with madmen fire-balls as you do rave to — feels them tear-taps going to leak on me any moment.

Then I’m out in the street, don’t recall much about nothing. These gassers is holding my arms. Guess we making for the locomotive, cos I aiming on reaching Moms this a.m. I catch Fenella at the rail-road. Tune the scene out with plenty good tidings.

Imagine, I never going to eyeball my sister no more. I even feels like praying as I watch Birdland flash by.

Life shakes you up. Truly it does. I mean, one moment you plainly calling your own deal, lumbering life like you got a million years ahead of you, when wham, you catch a clinker. Somebody quit the scene, or maybe you quit the scene somewheres. Anyway just when you thinking everything be permanent and settled and all, the whole damn clobber send you flying.

Beat-heart knew what she doing when she tuned herself out on stuff. Yet I somehow not want to do likewise, cos real sudden-like I feels this warm love for Moms hit my heart. Glad I still got somebody left. Truly I am.

I softly recalls telling Fenella I going to pen her plenty often. But now I’m heading pad-wise I gets to thinking that maybe I won’t do that.

The clinker is, this lady get full marks for being a white witch from way out, but she not enliven my sweet brain. It’s like there ain’t no madmen spark or anything between us. Yet I got this dicty brain-user that maybe she a little hung on me. Cos I see’d that look in her eye when she doubling me. It’s like she could be four bars past infatuated. I only going to raise her hopes by penning her. That I know.

Reckon I got some major trouble on me, cos that lady got a zooty frame, likewise brain. Yet love is funny. Cos you sees them you can’t have and you loses your sweet mind to them; while them who willing to be your squaw, move you not. Guess I never going to know the reason — puking punk that I am.

Chapter Twenty-four

MOMS making with the tear scene as I enters the pad. It tough for her I reckons, but she getting me back now. Big deal!

I move at her and peck her cheek. Just holds her while she cry some more, then she tell me it been plenty long since she eyballed my head.

It follows that now I’m back my pad I needs must catch a job. One thing which enliven my brain is that there be no need for me to enter the Army now, cos that would have screwed me up total.

Moms so glad to have me back, she tell me she continue to spread me with bread so’s I needn’t work. But it’s kind of different now. I got no gang here, nothing to do all day. T plainly got to earn me some green stuff. It strike me I not going to get back in the printing trade easy, after all this delay, so’s I bust in the Labour Exchange,

Some dicty bod ask me why I finally decided to return to an honest day’s work.

Now this what softly blackens me. J noticed it before. Why can’t peoples let you start fresh if you want to?

It been the same with this turf-mate I had He been the graffy type, cos his parents keep bundling and such. It so happen he have this neurotic breakdown or something. Now when he thrown the nadges off, and start out with this one happy smile, plenty ready to give gloom the go-by and get a job, he meet with much opposition. Them boss-men got these nasty little forms you have to fill in all the time, so’s he naturally got to pen in about this graffy time he had.

Soon as the boss-man see that, he question him on it. Ask if he entirely recovered and such. Even wish him luck in the future, and hope it never happen again. Now that boss-man may plainly have reckoned he being mighty kind, but the way I ses it, he might just as well have told him he wished him luck in the future, and that it better never happen again, cos he going to get jilted proper if it do.

My turf-mate naturally keep recalling his graffy time when peoples kept at him so, and before longtime them nadges start hammering at his head again. When peoples take extra trouble over you and all, you plainly being reminded you a clinker.

Likewise you got to have these crazy references behind you all the time. Now this be softly scat. It mean that supposing you get jilted out your first job at age 15, it going to appear on your card for time eternal. Like someone tell me once, “You may well wish to start again, but you can never wipe out your record. It all happened and it got to be written down.” This load of bull shake me up. Positive it do.

Anyways, like I said, this freak ask me why I want a job. I tell him I given idleness the igg. He tell me it going to be mighty difficult, cos employers is going to ask what T been doing the past few years. I see it clearly. I going to have a tough journey back.

Chapter Twenty-five

THEY gets me this job on a building site. Carrying these madmen bricks about and such. It highly blacken me, and I not reckon my mates one lump of bread. They bull-jive me ail the time and belly-rack at my past. "Cos I been a beat, they seem to reckon I had this one glorious vacation in Smutsville. I inform them that ain't so. “Wow, all them chicks to love,” they jive me. I soon get used to their patter. They plainly not believe I never took no squaw jam-wise.

Besides these cubes who jive bull at my ear-lobes all the time, I’m finding the work tough. Ail that lifting I ain't used to. Plenty different to strumming my git-box and squatting on dust-bins and such. I reach my pad at night ready to black out. Hit the feather-bank without glutting. My gentle brain adding lambs like nobody's business. Gets these nadges in my back and all. Sometimes my fuse-box feel like it been bust open. Starts living on this diet of head-ache grapplers.

I been a crummy cat to quit my mob so fast. I got real gassers in there. Daddy, but my brain got two halves to it, cos it’s like I’m softly disappointed things turned out so. I been hoping to catch my regular orbit back the local scene, but things changed. Guess I changed likewise.

Work gets me all choked up, yet being idle bring this guilty brain-user on me. One day I plans on catching my mob again, then it’s like I’m despising them. Then someone throw some bull at my head and I want to quit fast.

The clinker with most peoples is, they got to be at your head all the time. Even when they think they acting nice, they ain’t. Like when folk keep asking you your age all the time, or if you got a nice squaw at you side. It make you kind of bitter if you ain’t got no squaw, cos then you either got to admit it, and feel the freap, or tell madmen lies which get you in a right clobber.

Now I reckons people never get old if they not keep their crazy birthdays up and such But all the time you turf-mates is scheming to send you to Tombsville early.

I eared neighbour-women telling my sweet Moms to take it easy, cos she getting on and such. Why can’t people act how they feel? I mean, I got less than twenty years on me, yet I catch the nadges lifting a few bricks, but just cos I’m young no-one got no sympathy.

I plainly going to forget how many years I got on me, cos I not aiming on growing a paunch and losing my mane. Yet when you in Society this be not possible Every thing you can think of be measured m time You got to rave dates and ages on every crappy bit of red tape in sight.

Chapter Twenty-six

I GIVE that crazy brick-carrying the igg after short time. Moms not too graffy cos she thinks jobs is easier come-by than is actually the case. I tell her I’m aiming on catching the City turf a while, going to take me a vacation with my former gassers.

I hit the scene with high spirits—make for the frolic-pad. When I reach it I see them shutters at the panes. Nobody living there now. Tough! I march the manor all a.m. but it seem my mob moved their cans to other territory. I move into this little park then, when wham, I eyeball Beat-heart’s head. It seems I bust in on an unusual situation, cos some cat appear to be lumbering her. She got her crazy blade on him. This I recalls from way back. Only it were me she give a bundle to before.

This stud plainly the hipster though, cos he seem to be getting the best of Beat-heart. I rave at them, knock that guy off her throat. Zoots! She not as zippy as when I catch her muck-sprading boot. This punk quit the scene at that, aiming mean words at our heads.

Beat-heart got this real pale face on her, and it’s like she got a dose of the nadges or something, cos she breathing mighty heavy. ‘T recalls your head,” I tells her. “May you live in peace for your effort,” she replies and turns away.

It’s like her mind goofed then, cos she keep jiving at herself. “I thought I did kill hope,” she mutter to herself. “But then it’s true I did, in this world anyways. Yet I knows one day, Heaven going to come on Earth. It has to be.” She laugh then, though she got no reason to. “That’s hope though. True it is. That blackened user be my downfall yet. But I getting my gifts one day, then I’ll laugh.”

She scaring me no end, cos it’s like I got a mad-lady before me. She just a crazy turf-mate, I know, but it's so sad to ear her platter, them blue tones start ringing at m again. “Come and see my Moms.” I tell her. But it’s like she hasn’t heard, just mutters on in this pitiful voicebox.

I gets this guilty feeling hit my belly then. I sure hopes Fenella not reach this choke. Cos when I first see’d her, I did think she heading that way. Maybe if I pen her and all it keep her enlivened. Cos these characters soon jock up their fuse-boxes if they left solo too much. Maybe it be best for me that I get mated legal to such a squaw. They both white lady-witches, that I know. I could plainly do worse.

Be it necessary to flip total at a dame? My brain tell me it is, cos there’s them you love like sisters, and Fenella and Beat-heart be in that category. It strictly untrue to mate a sister-broad. That I know.

I quit the scene, cos I ain’t doing no good remaining present. “Noble heart-face,” I yell at her. “The time has come for me to return to my pad.” She don’t say nothing and it only choke me up, so’s I wing off.

Chapter Twenty-seven

THINGS start working out more groovy back the local scene. I even give gloom the go-by. I catch a job in this old stud’s bookshop. It’s kind of nice and quiet there. He tell me if I work the most, it highly possible I get to owning the business some day.

He tell me lots of things which help my disposition no end. Cos when I first get there I’m kind of graffy, looking for bundles all the time.

“Son,” he tell me. “I know you got it against peoples, that I see. But wait till you receive the first blow, then’s the time to hit back. You anticipate trouble all the time.”

“Don’t act dicty with me, noble sir,” I reply. “If you waits for the first blow, it maybe kill you, so’s you ain’t got no chance to hit back.”

He don’t get blackened or anything, just patter on. “Son, you got to learn that life is a gift. You lucky to have it at all. You can’t expect everything to work out just fine all the time.”

I ear at him, though it take time before I gets the message. I’m living this routine existence, mainly four bars past bored, you understand. It seem like I never took a' witch out or nothing. I going to remedy that.

I rave my head at that ball-room. I tell myself that I’m strictly too old for such corn, but I maybe get a bellyrack or two. Everything just like I know’d it ever. The chicks got different drag, you understand, and manes is scruffed plenty new ways. That’s only to be expected. I probably look like an ancient Viking or something in my corduroy pants and leather jacket.

I swing with some zooty dames but no kick is present. I strictly feel like I’ve been piling up the dark sevens. Then I’m just kind of standing aside, eyeballing the goings on, when wham, this enlivened lady move at me. It’s like seeing straight, cos it*s my gentle love-heart Pat. “Maybe she aiming at someone behind me,” I think. But I’m leaning at a wall, so that possibility can be eliminated. “Wow, I’m dreaming, that what it is.” “Anyways I plenty going to enjoy this dream while it lasts.” Yet I clearly recalls dragging up, catching a wheel, and raving green stuff at the door. This ain’t no dream.

“It been plenty long since I last eyeball you,” she tell me. “What’re the happenings?”

I’m all gooey now. Feels this warm glow rising at me. Maybe she just teasing my head, though, going to laugh and give me the igg shortly. But that ain’t so. She appear genuine pleased to catch me.

“I been up the City some seasons,” I tell her. “But I padding down local again now.”

“You going to twist with me?” she say then and it’s like my head made a hole in the ceiling. My gentle soul orbiting them moon men now Her sweet hand got this cool scent on it which exalt me plenty. We gently sway to the musics. This brain-user reach me that I better not kid myself none, so’s I ask her outright what brought about the sudden change. “Maybe you mistook me for your gasser-guy,” I tell her. “He must be out the Army now. I see not his lumbering head on the scene.”

“That follow,” she reply, “Cos he give me the go-by many months back.” She real groovy with me then. It ain’t like she the same broad who knock me down on the floor. We swings the enchanted night away. I got hip now, so’s I ready to quit the scene, but she invite me to her wheel. “Which way you going?” she say.

It’s like Endsville arrived at my feet. I reach open the door, sink on them feather-banks. “Man, you got a classy chassis here,” I tell her. “I’m glad you like it,” she reply “Lady,” I ask her, “you plainly jive you like me not before, yet here I be and we get in there. Do I now possess a new allure, Squaw-face?”

She look real coy then. “Daddy,” she tell me. “I dug you not way back, and yet I keep getting you silly face on my brain. It’s like you hung me up and I never know’d it. Maybe that’s why I bang your head that way.”

She flip that engine into orbit then and we zoom out into them yellow streets. Leaves is all shadowy and mystic, as they rattles in them branch ends.

I ask her if she make a double with me come weekend, and this she agree to do. She say she take me to Brighton in her wheel, and this send me flipping. It’s like she been waiting to see me all this time. Yet before, she seem such a dicty, sinuous lady, who I never going to get to in many moons. We reach my pad then, and I bust out the wheel. Ain’t trying nothing this time, cos I’m still in danger of being slapped down. “Sweet Dreamsville,” I tell her and tune out.

Got a mighty restless disposition on me that night. Don’t goof off till grey light is at my pane. Keep thinking how I going to make with the first love-sign and all.

Chapter Twenty-eight

BEFORE my lids barely done hooded. Moms at the door hollering I going to be late at work if I don’t rave it up. Glut these madmen bread-crumbs and that’s it. Feeding time’s behind me. I reach my crummy work bench and start mending these little bindings.

My old stud ask me what hit me, cos I plainly four bars past flipping. “I meet my love-heart last night.” I tell him, “who I not seen in years.”

“That’s nice to hear,” he reply. “I hope you is planning on mating the lady legal.”

Daddy, she maybe not have me squaw-wise. I just see’d her head, but this not mean she expecting a crazy ring on her finger,” I tell him. I’m lost deep in brain-users then. How zooty it be to marry this lady though. We plainly give gloom the go-by for time eternal. Yet I knows this ain’t strictly so. That’s the clinker with me. When anything nice come my way, I forgets I ever had a blackened deal. Like when I been made leader-stud of my mob. Yet then it didn’t last. Leastways not to the extent where the blues never reach you soul again.

I got to admit it. No-one going to live on Cloud 9 all the time. You got to drag down in order to fly up. I getting quite a keen head on me now. Feels I’m quite the philosopher, like Socrates or one of them madmen.

if I mate this doll-head, I going to plainly get plenty bursts of elation, and high times, when my heart sing like Birdland. But now the time to realize, there still going to be dark sevens, right on till Tombsville come, no matter what gentle diversions hit my path.

Life’s like that. You either got to accept it, or kid your self it ain’t so, or shut youself away like Beat-heart.

The nadges clearly got in my finger-tips, cos I keep sticking the wrong binding on books and all My old stud play the true gasser, cos he just belly-rack and tell me to give love the igg this p.m. or I going to ruin his entire book-shop.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I WAKE up Saturday a.m. to hear the entire population of Birdland making with musics. It’s kind of chilly to take a dip, but there going to be plenty other rave diversions. That I know.

I take this real swift bath which send me tingling, then zoots, I feed my face and bust out front. Squat on that madmen gate till I catch this classy wheel moving at me, It got to be her. Yet it ain’t, I peer through the pane, and clearly eyeball a little old witch with a weird helmet on. Ever been choked.

Before longtime Pat show her head, Daddy, she send me far out. Got this white drag on, and her mane looking real soft and sweet. This ain’t real. I never going to be able to amuse a smooth dame like her all day. This darken my brain somewhat, cos she going to lose interest and that would screw me up.

She hold open the door for me and I catch the seat. “You silent this a.m. cutie,” she tell me,

“It’s just I’m kind of graffy,” I tell her, “It seem funny you got to take me in your wheel, A stud ought to spread a dame more,”

“Don’t you bother your fuse-box none,” she reply. “I prefer it this way. Cos this I know, I ain’t going to run out of gas, or anything quaky like that.”

It seem like no time when we’s down there, ready to fly far out. “Where you want to rave first?” I ask her. We decides to just march the front one time, so’s I grab her arm; got me the most enlivened witch in the manor. This breeze come up cool and soft making us turn our collars up. It strictly stimulating, you understand, and send our blood tingling like nobody’s business. We soon catch this large appetite, and shoot our frames to a zooty little cafe. Breakers is rattling on them pebbles and wind keep whistling under the pier. We gets outside some madmen bacon and eggs, and throws some sour apple juice after it,

Pat tell me she reckon it be real nice to go on the pier then, so this we do. I take her in them crazy bumper cars, and feel like I’m hero of the world or something, just cos I steers clear of these maniacs, We goes on this madmen slide then, where you takes these enlivened little mats up some stairs* raves your can at them, and takes this gentle ride pier-wise.

We real groovy now. Keeps belly-racking at these silly little things and all. I buy her a zooty straw hat, but then I’m scared to rave it on her head, cos it going to ruin that pretty mane she got.

We has these pictures taken, holding these dirty, moulting parrots and has our fortune told likewise,

“You going to have four children,” this wizened gypsyface tell us, “But beware of a dark stranger.” Now ain’t that rich?

We enters this crazy arcade, where you got these madmen machines and all. We has a time raving bread in their crummy slots, and shooting little balls round and such. It not take us long to reach the juke-box, I send these corny platters flipping, cos it’s the words that count with me now, not the beat,

I sort of wishes I could swing with my love-heart, but there’s some crazy notice up, saying that dancing ain’t allowed, and Pat ain’t no Beatnik which, so’s I content myself with tapping my foot. “Lady,” I say after some time, “Let’s take a spray bath, namely catch a speed boat.”

We clamber down these slime-infested steps, and jump aboard this rocking vessel. They got this crazy tarpaulin in there, so’s I yank it fair over our legs, and catch Pat’s gentle hand beneath the clobber. Kick-wise it were the greatest. Boat keep leaving them wave-crests and hitting air. Wham! Whoosh! Spray beating at that tarpaulin now, while we squatting back keeping clear. It make you hold your breath and whip up this enhancing colour in Pat’s cheeks. I clutch her hand tight. Get my head against hers. I knows I going to kiss her before the day is through, but the time ain’t ripe yet.

It’s getting kind of cold after that. Time to feed again. We march the turf looking for a glutting pad. Chips suit me all the time, so chips it is. We squatting by this pane, so’s we get an enlivened view of the peoples passing by. Italians and Indians appear to dominate the scene, while we catches the odd Beatnik or two. We sees some roughlooking studs on motor-bikes, with crazy hats on, trying to do a ton through the main street.

“Love-heart, we groove it down a cellar-club tonight,” I tell her. Pat nod on that.

We enters this genuine frolic-pad where be a jazz band playing, clearly well in orbit. Lights is dim and smoke is in the air. The atmosphere far out. My head spin anew as I swing with my heart. Couples ain’t standing on ceremony here, like way back the local ball-room. Besides there ain’t no room for fancy steps. If you starts twisting here, you plenty make a clinker. Couples is real close, just swaying.

It make my head rock to hold Pat this way. Get my arms round her waist, her mane brushing my cheek. This tantalizing scent insinuate into my soul. Feels her moving beneath my hands, gentle, sinuous. I not given her a lovesign yet. I been waiting on this moment.

I lift her gentle chin with my hand, them alluring lips taunt me yet. It’s like she daring me to peck her. I’m real nervous all of a sudden, cos I never been with a witch who mean so much to me before.

“Enlivened heart-face,” I whisper at her. “Be mine.” With this I lean forward, reach them lively lips and place a love-hint on them. I never recalls tasting anything so soft. Then it’s like my eager lips get back a second time. Then she’s pressing at me. I get this tingle deep down. Electricity pass between us. Our lips like two live wires passing the current. My soul ask no more. I’m total exatled. I been born for this. That I know.

Them dreamy lights wink at us as we wheel pad-wise. I keep bugging her sweet face in the moonlight. She going to be my squaw from now on in. Yeah! We found noble bliss.

I goof off then, get this wild head on me. Going to marry that lady-witch yet. Before I registers the fact she drop me outside my pad. It’s like I’m highly reluctant to leave her side. Daddy, it’s like blasting Endsville with an H-Bomb. But the day is past. It has to be. I give her this loving hint and flee the scene. I enter my pad like it’s Cloud 9 I’m stepping at.

Chapter Thirty

I RISE real early next day, cos I’m seeing my lady again. Maybe we take in a movie or something. I’m jumpy as a kitten and Moms give me this corn approach. “Son, are you in love?”

“Gentle Moms,” I reply. “You is strictly underestimating the wild-cat emotion present. My living soul keep flipping total. I got madmen heart-beats and wild brainusers. Them are the symptoms To put it plainly, I’m hung on a lady-gasser from way, way out.”

Moms done lost my meaning, but she tell me to rave my squaw-face back the pad, cos she plenty dig eyeballing any turf-mates I acquire.

It’s like I’m so restless I can hardly keep my seat in the movies. I got to tell Pat now. Yet it going to sound strictly for the sparrows, if I start raving goo at her, while this madmen cowboy busting shots at some saloon door. Now ain’t that a choke. We sucks at these crazy lollies and all, gets juice dripping fair down our chins We has to laugh.

That blackened movie finally tune out. I practically drag Pat to her wheel, and when she about to start the engine I grab her hand.

“Wait on it,” I tell her. “I got patter of great import. Ear at this Lady, likewise far out witch-woman, a look from your eyes send me way into orbit. Dig you me, loveheart? If such be the case doll-head, will you fly with me total? I asking that you be my lady-wife. I did catch a pretty little ring that enhance your sweet hand no end.”

She bust in on that. “Daddy, cool it. My brain’s in a muddle. I been out with you twice, you recalls, and I dig not the finer points of your mind or nothing. You not even know my second handle yet, cutie.”

“Softly ignore that,” I tell her. “You going to take on my handle come future anyways.”

Then she blacken my soul cos she say, “That’s what I ain’t so sure about. Give me time, Daddy, like give me time.”

“When I eyeball your head next?” I ask her then. “Catch you at the ball-room Tuesday?” she reply, and start the chariot up.

I’m always losing my wild head. Truly I am. It ain’t natural to expect to hear bells ringing after two doubles, yet I knows it got to end that way. “Gentle nod, loveheart,” I tell her, and move into my pad, catch my madmen cradle.

Chapter Thirty-One

I GETS this madmen letter come at me next a.m. I not recall giving no-one my pad-down, but it appear I must have. I pop it open. Bug the contents.

Frolic Pad, Rave Town, Endsville.

Enlivened gasser,

Tidings from the madmen on Cloud 9. It been long since we thrown scat with you, Daddy. We been having these crazy bundles as to who going to step in you place.

You solve plenty by returning. Cat-face, our blasts ain’t none the same when you not present. The gassers is gung ho that you play the coffee-pot again. We reaching at you in cube territory. That we know.

Plenty love-signs from the Mobniks.

They got all these crazy handles written under that. I’m sad to see Fenella not signed her name or nothing. It’s highly plausible she ain’t in circulation no more.

My mind strictly made up. This offer tempt me none.

Cos I got me a dame on the scene, and that puff me up plenty. I gets this crummy note back at them.

The Pad, Lesser London, Squaresville. Raving mobsters,

Wow to every fuse-box. Live in peace. Quit your bundles. I ain’t returning, though I been enlivened to hear from you. I plainly padded down in Squaresville, and that the way it is.

Mournful Moms is all I got. Now that ain’t strictly true. I done met me a broad from Curvesville exact. I got permanent plans in mind. Yeah! I ain’t no loose goose, brothers, cos I going to get my kicks in this manor.

Get your crazy balls and orbit the most. I do hope you find Endsville often. I know now what a wow it is. When I with my squaw I there for plenty long.

Zooty cuties, your Daddy tuning out right now. Signs and hints and belly-racks to the entire clobber.

From Big Chief Jive.

(now, Little Cube-heart.)

I been taking my time on this pen-effort, cos when I look up I sees I going to be late if I don’t rave up a storm.

This mist is in the air. It kind of sting at your face, gets in your eyeballs. Bull! I’m not complaining. I hit this wheel at total velocity. Catches this seat next to an old witch who got a bag spread over her drag. She bug me like she seen a madman. Then I know the reason. This jelly bowl squatting behind, been trying to catch the seat next to her. They plainly been planning on an enlivening jive session. This old witch screw round, rave at her turf-mate over the seat. It plain to see they getting kicks like wow, jiving scat about these witch-women who pad in their manor. Ain’t it pitiful to see dames this way?

Them are fungus-faces from Trashville. That I know. It be not possible to suppose they ever known the thrill of love or anything. Yet maybe they had their jam way back. If such be the case, they clearly not recall them far off times. Daddy, I do plainly hope I never get so dried up, that I not recall my love-heart swinging zooty at the ballroom. And them crazy times I went swinging with the mob and all. Them were the rave events.

Peoples get spoiled when they forgets what Endsville feel like. I reckon that’s what wrong with all them big boss-men and such, who keep threatening with plenty big bundles. Maybe they stll searching for Endsville. I know not why they dig this thing called power. All the power I ever going to require, is what’s needed to catch my love heart to me and mate her legal.

The world can strictly bug about its blackened way, cos it never going to learn the secret. Endsville got a fair narrow path which many is going to miss, cos the truth is mighty corn. I mean I been high on sour apples, and belly-racks, and dames and all before, but them kicks are strictly not permanent. You got to really love a squaw to remain there longtime.

Then the kicks come at you like nobody’s business. Yeah! I got many coloured kicks. There is the blue kicks what make your gentle tear-taps give a little, but it’s a sweet blues cos you is crying for love. Then there is red kicks, when you banging your can at some gutbucket, swinging your hips far into the morning. And the green kicks when you think maybe your squaw going to rave after some hipster, or when you catches another guy popping cool love-signs at her. But you knows you is lucky to have a dame with a build from Curvesville, what all them cats got their eyes on. Best is them blazing white kicks when you got your lips at hers. Stars fall round your silly head, then, and lights pop at you.

The only type kicks I going to avoid is black kicks. I had them before. Believe you me. You gets them when you doing something strictly mean-cat. I got black kicks nadging in my soul when Moms keep raving green stuff at my throat, and I been soaking it up all the time. Likewise them pot-addicts and such. Cos they maybe get a wild time first, but then comes this madmen let-down. Kicks to me, ain’t worth the blackened feeling you going to get later, like when your fuse-box feel it been dragged in the mud and all.

I measures kicks by how long they lasts, and whether they be followed by a good feeling or a bad one. I strictly get good feelings all the time after doubling my squaw. No crazy hangover this ways. It taken me long to dig the path of true gassers, and all that rot, but I’m in there now. I’m gung ho to stay there likewise.

Chapter Thirty-two

COME the evening I catch my heart at the ball-room, it's like I been with her from way back. Groovy times are upon me. I keep at her, “Lady, you thinking of playing the wife, yet?”

She laugh and tell me, “Cutie, I waiting on time, like I just ain’t known you long enough. You maybe jilt me, like what happened before. I see no kick in catching plenty dark sevens over it.”

“Baby,” I reply. “My heart love you for time eternal. Ain’t no clinker about it. You jiving at me like I’m a loose goose or something.”

“Nay,” she tell me, “I knows you the gentle hipster, but I just ain’t too hot for permanency as yet. Heartbeat, may we have a blast together first?”

I sees she ain’t no quick-decision witch, so I lets the matter be. I going to get to her yet.

Real sudden-like this witch move at me, grab my arm. “Daddy,” she say, “It been long since you flip my lid.”

“Cool it, chicken,” I tell her. “You going to get my squaw in a green disposition.” Then it’s like I recalls her face. I had doubles with this witch. Yeah! She that Mimi-cow, who tell me I hail from Smutsville that time. She that crazy stud-hater from way back. “What game she at now?” I thinks.

Pat get in the frolic then. “Heart, I know not your turf mate, but don’t take no time off to clue me in, cos I ain’t highly interested.”

"Pat, this be Mimi; Mimi likewise Pat,” I jive. “Mimi, you got to meet my regular squaw who is going to marry me yet."

Pat blacken this mighty fine effort by belting out, “Now that ain’t strictly true, cat-face. He’s just a great gasser, you understand.”

I can fair see their claws unwinding now, cos Mimi reply, “Wow, what a blast! I been hung on your man far ago. I just going to catch one twist with him.” She grab my hand then, start wagging her can at me.

“What happened?” I ask her. “You maybe got run down by a wheel on your way here or something?”

“Now it ain’t no joking matter,” she tell me, and move at me real close.

I got to bust out of this, or I going to lose my heart for sure. “Ain’t you lumbering no other bull?” I ask her, plainly hoping some stud rave her off me.

“Nothing whose cat-face measure up to yours,” she reply. The twist end on that. “Buy me a juice, Daddy,” she tell me then. “We maybe sit out a while.”

“You silly witch,” I tell her, “I come out on a double already. I ain’t got no treble in mind.”

“You softly choke me, brother,” she say and holler at me so peoples turn round. “You plenty dig making jam with me once, pretty boy. Oh yeah. You was highly gung ho for it.”

I slap her down, bust through the clobber. Got to make out with Pat. She ain’t nowhere on the scene, till wham, I sees this fur drag shooting out the door. She’s heading for an early slab. Giving the frolic the go-by. I catch her up then. “D’you mind walking home?” she say in this icy voice-box. “You ain’t lumbering my wheel no more, tomcat. You got a witch-woman waiting on you back there. She seem like she a coffee-pot from way out. See you next century,” she finish, and kick off.

This choke my brain total. I just kind of stand there. Ain’t going to make no scene or nothing. I don’t feel like getting back inside the frolic again so’s I head pad-wise.

That silly witch, Mimi, bust out the ball-room then. “You is plainly acting the loose goose to-night,” she tell me. “You going to march your hot-head to her pad, cos she just waiting on a sign.”

I tell that crazy doll-head she ain’t getting no corn from me and wing off. Blue tones hit at my belly. I reach this phone-booth and jangle my heart. She ain’t reached home yet I’m told, so naturally I get all froze up she bust her, wheel or something.

I bug about. Don't recall where I’m heading. Before my brain register the fact I’m shooting my frame at this gone barrelhouse. Crazy dames is vamping it up like they reckon they got the total fireworks available. I’m not tempted. Them are witch-hags from way back. Them sorts plenty pretend they the loving chicks, but this only till you given them a fat lump of bread. Then wham, it’s like they reckon you is dirt.

I pour these sour apples at my belly and light up a butt. Some witch-woman move at me and say she be highly delighted if I buy her a juice. I bet she would! I ain’t no freap. Send that lady to Trashville.

I’m fair goofed then, got to find the door, yet I can barely eyeball it through the clobber. All these crazy peoples is standing about all over the place. I trip over some fancy stud’s muck-spreading boot. Give him the bull and tell him he running the risk of getting shot.

It’s real nice to hit the turf outside. This gentle wind enliven my goofy brain. Like I got the urge on me to jangle Pat one more time.

This time it ain’t her Moms who blast at me. It’s the lady in person. Zoots! She tell me she ain’t planning on pattering longtime with a fungus-face from Freap Manor.

“I’m raving round now,” I jive. “Your Moms ain’t getting no Dreamsville this eve till I eyeball your head.” With this I fair near yank them phone wires out the wall and throw that ear-piece to the floor. I make for the railroad and catch this eager locomotive, cos this be the quickest way. Time stands still. Then I’m at her pad. Beating on that crazy pane. Her Moms open up. Got these madmen curlers stuck in her mane, and flannel night drag wiping at the floor.

“What you want?” she ask me.

Now this shake me up, cos I ain’t expecting no Mommy to jive at me. “Be Pat present?” I ask her. “I urgent got to see her. Please gentle lady, dig my dilemma.”

“I got no part in your bundles. You ain’t busting in on us this late. Wait till tomorrow,” she say and close the door at me.

It’s like I got no place to go then, only back to Moms. I got to hand it to my witch. She got a real green streak on her. Yet this must plainly mean she dig me plenty, cos no broad going to choke herself over a nothing-guy. Yet I knows this ain’t strictly true. I guess any dame be liable to bust out on a stud, when they out on a double, and he get caught by another lady-head. So that ain’t no consolation.

I got to really reach Pat’s soul after this. That I know. Start thinking up this crazy little poem to send her and all. It go thus:

Gentle heart, forgive my head,
Cos that witch-face make me see red,
I know’d her way back, long ago,
But now she nothing. That is so.
I love your heart, and yours alone,
From now until you an old crone.
Your madmen beauty never die
For me. Your kisses make me sigh.
You flip my lady, like the most,
You blast my soul, I dig to boast
That you are mine.

Going to rave that at her crazy pad. It better bring pleasing results or the nadges get to my head.

Chapter Thirty-three

I DON’T hear from her for some time, and I ain’t got it in mind to write another poem. Then like a gift from Endsville, she move at my pad this eve. Noble Daddy! My heart give the gung ho.

“Enter,” I tell her. “It been plenty long since I eyeballed your frame. Let’s give gloom the go-by. I been having this one dark seven without you.”

She patter on at me like the sweet angel she is. “ Heartface, I been a living fungus to leave you that way. To think I got green at that jelly bowl. Man, I just see’d her snogging up the bull-heads total. She standing outside this cellar-club, acting like a witch-seller from way back. Daddy, I ain’t taking no more chances on you. I just decided I going to give the solo list the igg for time eternal. I be your loving wife if you still fancy my head.”

“It ain’t your head I fancy, girl,” I tell her. “It’s your gentle frame, likewise soul, likewise every sweet limb you got attached thereon. I got a wild desire to kiss all them freckles you got. Heart, them are bells I hear ringing.”

With this I reach my squaw. It’s good to feel her in my arms again. It’s like she ain’t never been away or nothing. Wow, what a blast! Likewise it seem them blackened things what ever choked me don’t exist no more.

Now’s the time I get this fancy brain-user on me, that I be plenty pleased I done saved the jam for my love heart. If I ever been with a witch before—just for the kick, you understand—I plainly going to feel too dirty for Pat. It’s like my Moms got a point somewheres. Cos Pat has to be a pure, white soul with jam intact. It ain’t nothing to high-hand it to myself about, mind you, cos I never got the urge to visit Smutsville or nothing.

But I kind of feel sad for all them other guys who done told me love not exist. I mean, you either kept your major love-signs for your lady-wife, or you ain’t. And if you ain’t you done lost a whole load of glory you never going to know nothing about.

“You thinking deep,” Pat tell me then.

“Gentle heartbeat, we marry plenty soon,” I reply.

Like I already done said, I knows things ain’t going to be high blast from now on in, but leastways I found all that be possible to make me groove. Cos life’s like that. I don’t waste no more time philosophizing then, cos that can come later. At present, I consider I’m due for a few delirious sevens.

I grab her at me, dig that zooty scent she got on her, and give her this gentle love-hint. It’s better than ever before. My crazy madmen heart-beats bust all records. We just two enlivened souls orbiting Cloud 9. It matter not a lump of bread what happen come future, cos this I know, I found that high time, when my chick caress me, jive sweet love-talk at my head, and flip my lid. Yeah! She hung my soul out to dry in the blazing glory of the enlightened Sun. I had this wow no matter what happens. Her lips is speaking at me now, though no sound be present. That’s highly plausible, cos her lips is moving on mine.

Wham! If anybody looking for me, tell the cat I’m at Starsville Hotel, Utopia Manor, Rainbow’s End.

ABOUT THE BOOK

The Publishers believe that there is a sad lack of books on the market dealing with, youth and written in a language that teenagers can readily understand.

Here, for the first time, is a serious book written about teenagers, by a teenager and in a language that has delighted teenagers in America and Britain. It is written mainly in the now-famous Kookie-talk and, for those ‘Squares from Squaresville’ who may find difficulty in following the dialogue the author has included a Glossary.

“You act like a teaser. What you got to give me the works and then back out for. You did give me zooty love-pecks and then you gone.”

My voice-box just about going to function so I say “You going too far. So’s I kiss you. Take you that to mean I a fallen witch? I had me enough so I bust out.”

“You damn did bust out love-heart. Left me clutching a handful of sand.” He say, “You going to double me again or can’t you take too much love-signs?”

This book presents a picture of teenage society that may shock many adults. But the author is sincere in presenting the problems of young people of today, lost in a society which is unable or unwilling to give young people the help they so desperately need. This is a book which, while presenting an exciting and original story which will enthrall and enlighten many of our young people, will at the same time instruct and inform our adult society regarding the minds of their sons and daughters.

This is an original PEDIGREE BOOK complete and unabridged and published now for the first time in either Great Britain or the United States.

For the BEST in modern reading choose —PEDIGREE BOOKS.