We eventually did produce a musical with Cold War panache and flavor, if nuclear annihilation is your cup of radiation tea, but today in East Berlin things began to fall apart faster than a cheapo Sears Roebuck suit off the rack. We had the agents swap places and were ready to wrap up the circus when all hell broke loose.
Not a good day to have the KGB prowling around. Unknown to us until Horst Scheiss ran up to us screaming and screeching! It seems the ventriloquist dummies and marionettes had been shooting up good Marseille heroin, no doubt purchased in the French sector from a sleazy waterfront pervert wearing a purple fez beanie copter. All five were nodding off in the Dog Face Womans tent. Needle tracks ran up and down their arms while they puffed hungrily on long stemmed Chinese fortune cookie opium pipes while the Turkish belly dancers pranced around topless playing Broadway show tunes with their finger cymbals.
Worse yet, the hand puppets were banging the puppet crew, while Punch and Judy were snorting cocaine and swearing in front of the children who sat silently afraid to move a muscle!
Even the Siamese Twins were there eating bricks of hashish shot from gigantic Pez dispensers that made their heads spin out of control in opposite directions as they recited Sanskrit poetry about camels in heat mounting Lawrence of Arabia.
The jugglers were in the next tent tossing around shrunken heads of Evangelical missionaries obtained from the Pygmies from the Congo and Jehovah Witnesses they found in a steamer trunk of the notoriously queer Samoan strongman who kept a midget on a leash for a pet.
The mimes were turning tricks for the carnival barkers with more tattoos than teeth yellowed by nicotine. The mimes were all lined up in a row, sexual dominoes ready to fall into Fellatio’s Inferno. (Leopoldo Fellatio was a writer for the Vatican but was beheaded when he referred to it as the Vatican’t.) The trouble with mimes is that they are so quiet you never know if they had an orgasm or not.
The clowns were crazed on methamphetamines trying to fuck the merry go round horses going up and down to organ music renditions of The King and I, while the cone headed human pincushion man hammers nails into his head while inhaling DDT and roach killer in a spray can while exposing himself to the group of Dominican nuns in wheelchairs, all victims of a hit and run by a drunken school bus driver who thought they were bowling pins and his bus was a big ball.
His average was 250...after he knocked down all the nuns, he knew he had the high score for pedestrian bowling... a record that would stand for a decade until an Amtrak jumped the tracks in downtown Chicago into St. Vincent’s Church during a First Communion of Hungarian immigrant children whose parents slaughtered cows at the stockyards for a living.
The East German secret police and Soviet KGB agents who only had sex on Lenin’s birthday discovered the debauchery just as we did. Things took a turn for the worse when one of the sex crazed mimes was found having sex with an inflatable Karl Marx doll!
That was it….the East German authorities came down on us faster than a blow job by a J. Edgar Hoover vacuum cleaner. We were all rounded up, the patrons were hustled back to their one room apartments, while we were taken to the former Hermann Goering Ministry of Justice where you are guaranteed a fair trial followed by death by firing squad.
A young man’s need for respect and his search for love enables him to be coerced into becoming an undercover cop. Follow this man to see how others see him and try to understand why the job he becomes obsessed with and his quest for love, tear him ap
Books 1 & 2 of Never Leave Your Monastery, both in one volume. This Collector's Edition features the ORIGINAL ART of the Author, over 25 hand-drawn illustrations.
Although available elsewhere; the author urges you
Maria, raised in the Mafia and educated by the gangs of New York, is hunting the man who killed her Akalina, and she will kill anyone who gets in her way.
