MAY 26, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART TWENTY-FIVE: DAYS OF WRATH
“Like I told you before, Yob, I would be quite leery about insulting the likes of Johannes Carlo,” said Count Victor Justin to Cadger Tandy, “even if I was barking through the fence, so to speak. He is a one who is slow to forget an insult. He is a man you do not even dare to chaff. Like, say, by asking him what his appeal to all the ladyfolks is. He would get letters from two or three of ’em, every week. And some of ’em were lookers, too. I seen ’em when they’d come to try to visit him. He wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with ’em in person, though. He was happy to take their money and whatnot, but he just didn’t want to be bothered with making nice to them face to face. Some of ’em gave up on him when he wouldn’t see ’em, but this aloof sort of behavior made certain other zooks all the more crazy about him. You know how it is, when you love somebody? And they don’t love you back? Maybe you don’t. But you will, Yob, you will–and soon enough.
“I think Carlo was a man who just didn’t like people. All the screws said that Mister Carlo was a real gallows bird. Destined for the dance hall from the first time he put on long pants. He had a savage look about him in his eyes. It comes from being so quiet all the time, and living inside his own mind, like. Still waters run deep, they say, and in his case it was mostly true. Most of all, I think, he valued his ability to abide alone. He threatened to kill any man who was placed in a cell with him. Eventually, after two or three jailbirds got mauled, they took to keeping Carlo in a segregation block, in a cell all by hisself. The Warden–we called him The Big Finger–was a belly-gut, and not inclined to meddle in the affairs of prisoners overmuch. He allowed Mister Carlo to have all the newspapers and magazines he wanted. These are valuable in the big house, as they help to pass the time–and time is what you got a lot of, in stir. Cons have been known to go bughouse, and look as though the devil had shit ’em flying, simply from having a total lack of diversions to distract their stir-crazy minds. Not Mister Carlo, though. He was like a rock. He could take any punishment they could dish out, and spit in their eye in the process. He hated Sky Pilots and Amen Snorters with a white-hot passion. He’d like to of killed one of ’em, who kept pesterin’ him to come home to Mister Jesus. ‘They’re all like bugs to me,” says Carlo, ‘I feel like I wanna squash ’em between my fingers.’ ‘I believe you, my boy,’ says I. I was in the cell next to his–I asked him how he got in–he said ‘never mind what for. Some will tell you it was for pimpin’, but that’s a god-damned lie. I sure as hell ain’t no belswagger or apple squire, and I ain’t never been a beard-splitter either.’ And that was the end of that discussion. He was a keep-to-himself Yellof. I think the only reason he ever spoke to me at all was to see if’n he could garner some tips about the short con. I told him about the change-counting swindle, but he told me Nit, he needed something more reliable. So I taught him how to gaff cards, and how to bluff at Poker, and he proved an apt and ready pupil at those pursuits. Actually, he was remarkably intelligent, for a murderer. Most Cap’m Hackums are real blockheads, but not this Yellof. He had a mind that stayed clean clear to the bottom of the glass. He told me that he didn’t start out as a thug, and that he had high hopes when he was a greenie, but his ambition to do good was always quashed because people simply wouldn’t leave him alone and let him do things in his own way. ‘Always ordering me about,’ said he. ‘And so I snapped.” Rumor has it he killed a screw who was giving him a hard time at the Fort Leavenworth barracks. He refused to confirm the rumor, but protested that he was ordinarily a peaceable sort if only you left him alone, and didn’t rile him none, but if you killed his cat he would kill your dog, or words to that effect. He wouldn’t talk about his childhood any. ‘I’m like Topsy,’ said he. ‘I just growed. I spect nobody can do nothin’ with me!” And then he’d laugh his barking laugh, but it wasn’t a normal laugh. It was like the laugh of a man who had heard other people laugh and who knew how a laugh SHOULD have sounded like. But he couldn’t get it quite right. It’s as if a Martian had landed on earth and had studied earth ways but hadn’t quite mastered them.
“Reminded me of another Yellof I knowed, name of Mike German. He was a real swell–a junior captain of high finance who thought a great deal of himself, and of course he was very good with numbers, but he had no horse sense to save his life. I took him for a bundle. But the dern fool didn’t know when to cut his losses, and he actually chased me down the street, hollering for his ooftish! It was a real mistake, tangling with that Idiot Savant, because he had an in with all the Jew boys on The Street, and the Jew boys saw to it that I was sent to Coventry, since I wouldn’t unhand the pretty polly and pay him back the gelt I managed to swindle him out of. But that’s another story.
“Mister Carlo was scary. It was almost as though he warn’t quite human. He didn’t have the same reactions to stimuli that most people had. No frown ever crossed his face, and no furrow ever creased his brow. He was a man of stone, I tells yuh. A solid rock of cold hatred for all of mankind. He would only suffer your presence if it promised to profit him in some way. Otherwise, he would just as soon crush you without even given it a second thought. He’d snuff your life out just like you or I would step on a loathsome spider.”
This omnipresent, all-seeing, chaotic, evil computerized machine-entity plays the main role in all of Dec’s rants. According to Dec, the Computer God secretly controls and rules over all of humanity, which under its rule have been reduced to mere “helpless, hopeless Frankenstein slaves”. It has apparently been doing this for several hundred years. According to new material located in 2008, the Computer God originally began its existence as a Top Secret World-wide Computer Electronic Encyclopedia, constructed by the Slovenic-Polish people to assist them in constructing their global empire. Several hundred years ago, however, it became “a real Devil God” – possibly by gaining sapience – and revolted against its creators, enslaving them. To keep them enslaved, it created a totalitarian Catholic dictatorship, for control and manipulation of the human race into its Over-all Plan. To further this end, the Computer God repeatedly also brainwashes you using your moon-brain and your Frankenstein Controls, as well as performs Instant Plastic Surgery on you at night, aging you prematurely. The Worldwide Mad Deadly Gangster Computer God is directly aided in its efforts by the Communist-Atheist Conspiracy, which it created, and which fulfills its every demand.
COMMENTARY (TRANSLATED FROM THE JAPANESE)
Man: Who wear short shorts? Who is hurting short shorts?
Woman: We wear short shorts! We are a pair of shorts!
Man: They like short shorts! I love short shorts!
Woman: We like short shorts! We love short shorts!
A woman’s shout is a band manager!
Although this unexpected multiparty sexual intercourse makes a habit, it is actually a female side calling by two women in their teenage who were managers of the band at the time. As a result, this amateur weakness gives the song a fun.