Part 39 (1/2)
THE UNION MAKES US STRONG.
”I say,” said an Englishman, ”I thought he was a monster, and he's only Toad of Toad Hall...with Rat...and Tinker Bell...and Wendy...and Bottom ...”
”That's who you you are,” said Hagbard, ”if you can call that any kind of a f.u.c.king ident.i.ty.” are,” said Hagbard, ”if you can call that any kind of a f.u.c.king ident.i.ty.”
”I think it's time you went up on stage and made our little announcement,” said the woman. ”I think everyone is ready for that.”
”I'll send Dillinger in to you.”
”Goody!”
”It's not true, you know. That was the other guy, Sullivan.”
”I wasn't thinking about that. I don't care if it's no bigger than my little finger. It's just the idea of f.u.c.king with John Dillinger John Dillinger. If that doesn't put me over, nothing will.”
Hagbard stood up and laughed. ”You're starting to look and sound like Mavis again. I think you're slipping, Super-b.i.t.c.h.”
The American Medical a.s.sociation had left the stage, and Clark Kent and His Supermen were playing as Hagbard, accompanied by George, Harry, Otto, and Malaclypse, made his way down their own hill and up to the crest of the hill where the stage was erected. The journey took a half-hour as they picked their way through groups of people engaged in Mongolian cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k, sitting Za-Zen, or just listening to the music. At the stage Hagbard took out a gold card, which he showed to a group of marshals guarding the area from intrusion. ”I have an announcement to make,” he said firmly. The marshals allowed him to climb on stage, and told him to wait till the Supermen had finished their set.
As soon as Pearson saw Hagbard he motioned his men to stop playing. A murmur arose from the audience. ”Well, all right, Hagbard,” said Robert Pearson, ”I was wondering if you were ever going to show up.” He walked over to the side of the stage where Hagbard and his group were standing.
”Good evening, Waterhouse,” said Pearson. ”How's my gal, Stella?”
”Where the f.u.c.k do you get get off calling her your girl?” said Waterhouse, his tone containing nothing but menace. off calling her your girl?” said Waterhouse, his tone containing nothing but menace.
”The acid only opens your eyes, George. It doesn't work miracles.”
And it shall come to pa.s.s, that whosoever call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.
”Wonder what the h.e.l.l is in that suitcase,” Dillinger murmured.
”I'll open it,” Saul said. ”We'll all have to take the antidote anyway, after this. I have a supply out in the car.” And he leaned forward, parted Carmel's stiff blue hands, and tugged tugged the suitcase free. Barney, Dillinger, and Markoff Chaney crowded close to look as he snapped the lock and lifted the top. the suitcase free. Barney, Dillinger, and Markoff Chaney crowded close to look as he snapped the lock and lifted the top.
”I'll be d.a.m.ned and double d.a.m.ned,” Barney Muldoon said in a small, hollow voice.
”Hagbard has been putting us on all along,” Simon says dreamily. (It doesn't matter in the First Bardo.) ”Those n.a.z.is have been dead for thirty years, period. He just brought us here to put us on a Trip. Nothing is coming out of the lake. I'm hallucinating everything.”
”Something is happening,” Mary Lou insisted vehemently. ”It's got nothing to do with the lake-that's a red herring to distract us from the real battle between your Hagbard and those crazy musicians up there. If I wasn't tripping my head would work better, d.a.m.n it. It's got something to do with sound waves. The sound waves are turning solid in the air. Whatever it is, the rest of us aren't supposed to understand it. This lake thing is just to give us something we can understand, or almost understand.” Her black face was intense with intelligence battling against the ocean of undigestible information pouring in through all of her senses.
”Dad!” Simon cried, weeping happily. ”Tell me the Word. You must know now. What is the Word?” Simon cried, weeping happily. ”Tell me the Word. You must know now. What is the Word?”
”Kether,” said Tim Moon blissfully.
”Kether? That's all? Just Cabalism?” Simon shook his head. ”It can't be that simple.”
”Kether,” Tim Moon repeats firmly. ”Right here in the middle of Malkuth. As above, so below.”
I see the throne of the world. One single chair twenty-three feet off the ground, studded with seventeen rubies, and brooding over it the serpent swallowing its tail, the Rosy Cross, and the Eye.
”Who was that nice man?” Mary Lou asked.
”My father,” Simon said, really weeping now. ”And I may never see him again. Mourning never ends.”
And then I understood why Hagbard had given us the acid-why the Weather Underground and Morituri used it constantly-because I started to die, I literally felt myself dwindling to a point and approaching absolute zero. I was so s.h.i.+t-scared I grabbed Simon's hand and said ”help” in a weak voice, and if he had said ”Admit you're a cop first, then I'll help,” I sure as h.e.l.l would have told him everything, blurted it all out, but he just smiled, squeezed my hand gently, and murmured, ”It's alive!” ”It's alive!”-and it was, the point was giving off light and energy, my light and my energy but G.o.d's also, and it wasn't frightening because it was alive and growing. The word ”omnidirectional halo” came to me from somewhere (was it Hagbard talking to Dillinger?), and I looked, holy Key-rizt, Dillinger split in two as I watched. That was the answer to one question: There were two Dillingers, twins, in addition to the fake Dillinger who got shot at the Biograph, 0 = 2, I thought, feeling some abstract eternal answer there, along with the answer to some of the questions that had bugged so many writers about Dillinger's criminal career (like why some witnesses claimed he was in Miami on that day in 1934 when other witnesses claimed he was robbing a bank and killing a bank guard in East Chicago, and why Hagbard had said something about him being in Las Vegas when I could see him right here in Ingolstadt), but it was all moving, moving, a single point, but everything coming out of it was moving, a star with swords and wands projecting outward as rays, a crown that was also a cup and a whirling disc, a pure white brilliance that said ”I am Ptah, come to take you from Memphis to heaven,” but I only remembered the cops who beat Daddy up in Memphis and made him swear when he got back that he'd never go south again (and how did that tie in with why I became a cop?), and Ptah became Zeus, Iacchus, Wotan, and it didn't matter, all were distant and indifferent and cold, not G.o.ds of humanity but G.o.ds above humanity, G.o.ds of the void, brilliant as the diamond but cold as the diamond, the three whirling in the point until they became a turning swastika, then the face of the doctor who gave me the abortion that time I got knocked up by Ha.s.san i Sabbah X, saying, ”You have killed the Son of G.o.d in your womb, black woman,” and I started to weep again, Simon holding my hand and repeating, ”It's alive,” ”It's alive,” but I felt that it was dying and I had somehow killed it. I was Otto Waterhouse in reverse: I wanted to castrate Simon, to castrate all white men, but I wouldn't; I would go on castrating black men-the Nightmare Life-in-Death am I. but I felt that it was dying and I had somehow killed it. I was Otto Waterhouse in reverse: I wanted to castrate Simon, to castrate all white men, but I wouldn't; I would go on castrating black men-the Nightmare Life-in-Death am I.
”It's alive, baby,” Simon repeated, ”it's alive. And I love you, baby, even if you are a cop.”
(”The whole lake is alive,” alive,” the vibe man with the Fillet of Soul was trying to explain to the rest of that group, ”one big spiral rising and turning, like the DNA molecule, but with a hawk's head at the top ...”) the vibe man with the Fillet of Soul was trying to explain to the rest of that group, ”one big spiral rising and turning, like the DNA molecule, but with a hawk's head at the top ...”) ”Good evening, Waterhouse,” said Pearson. ”How's my gal, Stella?”
”Where the f.u.c.k do you get off calling her your your girl?” said Waterhouse, his tone containing nothing but menace. girl?” said Waterhouse, his tone containing nothing but menace.
”Cool it brother,” said Pearson reasonably.
”Don't hand me that brother s.h.i.+t. I asked you a question.”
”You and your question come out of a weak, limp bag,” said Pearson.
Hagbard said, ”Robert only f.u.c.ks white women, Otto. I'm sure he's never laid Stella Maris.”
”Don't be too too sure,” said Pearson. sure,” said Pearson.
”Don't play with Otto, Robert,” said Hagbard. ”He specializes in killing black men. In fact, he's only just killed his first white man, and he's not at all sure he enjoyed it.”
”I never knew what killing was before,” said Waterhouse. ”I was crazy all those years, and I enjoyed what I did because I didn't know what I was doing. After I killed Flanagan I understood what I'd been doing all along, and it was like I killed all the others all over again.” His cheeks were wet, and he turned away.
Pearson stood looking at him for a moment, then said softly, ”Wow. Come on, Hagbard. Let's get you on stage.” They walked out to the microphone together. A few people in the audience had begun clapping rhythmically for more music. Most, though, had been waiting silently, happily, for whatever might happen next.
What happened was that Robert Pearson said to them, ”Brothers and sisters, this is Freeman Hagbard Celine, my ace, and the heaviest dude on the planet Earth. Listen while he runs it down to you what's happening.”
He stepped aside and deferentially ushered Hagbard to the microphone.
Into the silence Hagbard said, ”My name, as Clark Kent just told you, is Hagbard Celine ...”
(In Mad Dog, Texas, John Dillinger and Jim Cartwright looked up from the chess board as the radio music stopped and an announcer's voice said, ”We interrupt this show to bring you a special message from Was.h.i.+ngton.” John moved a knight and said softly, ”Checkmate. That'll be the President, I bet. I hope to h.e.l.l my brother finds that missing pimp before things get much worse.” Cartwright surveyed the board dismally. ”Checkmate,” he agreed finally. ”I hope your other brother, and Hagbard, are handling things right in Ingolstadt,” he added, as they both turned, with a reflex acquired from TV watching, and looked at the radio ...) Being a woman is bad enough, but being a black woman is even worse. I always feel split in two, a divided lion (I'm thinking like Simon) with a hole in the middle (and that's all men are interested in, the hole in the middle), but the acid was making the split into a conscious agony and then was healing it, I was a whole Lion, ready to devour my enemies: I understood my father and why he felt he finally had to stand up to the whites even if it killed him. A knight moved across a wasteland, the desert around Las Vegas, but it was laid out in squares like a chess board; he raised a fiery wand, crying ”Black Power,” and it was Ha.s.san i Sabbah, my lover, my enemy, a Black Christ and yet also a baboon with a crazy grin, all blue pearl gray like s.e.m.e.n, inside every woman there's an angry man trying to get out, a man-woman with the eyes of an owl, and the joy came over me as my c.l.i.t got hot and grew into a p.e.n.i.s; I was my father; I was afraid of nothing; I could destroy the world without caring, with one angry flash of my eye, like s.h.i.+va, MY p.e.n.i.s IS THE INVISIBLE STAR RUBY AND MEN CONSPIRE TO MAKE ME HIDE IT; THAT'S WHY I MUST TAKE THEIRS. I am two-faced, always deceiving, like all women; deception is our only defense, I understand it more clearly as the wisdom of my insanity increases, and the musky smell of has.h.i.+sh coming from the Plastic Canoe trailer is like me, a female plant with male strength, they are nailing me to the cross (literally) but the cross is inside a spinning wheel of flame, oh Holy Moses, I'm finding Buddha not Eris in my pineal gland, the third eye is opening, I am the earth beneath your feet, I am Billie Freshette, I am legion, there are millions of me, a plague of locusts to devour your White Male Technology, ”My name is Hagbard Celine” he is saying, they sold heroin in my grammar school (that's the way a Chicago black gets educated), Simon is still trying to bring me through it saying now ”Death shall have no dominion,” and I try to believe Love shall have the dominion but first I must spend my hate to the last penny, they made me kill my baby, I really am going to go crazy because I have the hots again and want Simon's lance in my cup but I also know the real G.o.d is beyond G.o.d and the real Illuminati is beyond the Illuminati, there's a secret society behind the secret society: The Illuminati we're fighting are puppets of another Illuminati and so are we.
MY NAME IS HAGBARD CELINE, AND THE CARNIVAL IS OVER. REMOVE YOUR MASKS ALL PLAYERS.
”That's a funny thing for Toad of Toad Hall to say,” muttered Fission Chips to n.o.body in particular. But the voice came booming back MY NAME IS HAGBARD CELINE. PLEASE DON'T PANIC WHEN YOU HEAR WHAT I'VE GOT TO SAY TO YOU MY NAME IS HAGBARD CELINE. PLEASE DON'T PANIC WHEN YOU HEAR WHAT I'VE GOT TO SAY TO YOU and Chips saw that it wasn't Toad of Toad Hall or even the sinister Saint Toad but just a well-dressed wop with two faces, one smiling and one frowning in wrath. ”You know,” 00005 said aloud, ”I do believe there was a f.u.c.king and Chips saw that it wasn't Toad of Toad Hall or even the sinister Saint Toad but just a well-dressed wop with two faces, one smiling and one frowning in wrath. ”You know,” 00005 said aloud, ”I do believe there was a f.u.c.king drug drug in that water.” in that water.”
MY NAME IS HAGBARD CELINE. PLEASE DON'T PANIC WHEN YOU HEAR WHAT I HAVE TO SAY TO YOU. PAY CLOSE ATTENTION. I HAVE COME TO TELL YOU THAT YOUR LIVES ARE IN GRAVE DANGER. AT THIS MOMENT AN ARMY IS MARCHING AROUND THE Sh.o.r.e OF LAKE TOTENKOPF FOR THE PURPOSE OF Ma.s.sACRING ALL THE PEOPLE ATTENDING THIS FESTIVAL.
”Jesus,” said George, ”this is never going to work. He's putting it so badly. They'll never believe him. They'll laugh at him. Three-quarters of them don't even understand English.”
”Is that how it sounds to you?” said Malaclypse. ”As if he's speaking in English? It also sounds to me as if he's saying everything in a flat, direct way. But I hear him speaking in the Greek dialect of Athens in the fifth century B.C.E.”
”What do you mean?”
”He's actually talking in Norwegian or Italian, whichever language he knows best. He's using what I call the Pentecost Gimmick. It's described in the Acts of the Apostles as the gift of tongues. After the death of Jesus the Apostles were sitting together on the feast of Pentecost, when tongues of fire appeared over their heads. Then they went out and preached to a crowd of people from many different countries, and each person heard the sermons in his own language and in the form most likely to persuade him. They made tens of thousands of converts to Christianity that way. I was the one who laid the trick on them, though they never knew that.”
”Speaking in tongues!” said George in wonderment. ”They used to preach about it in Bible cla.s.s: 'And it shall come to pa.s.s in the last days, saith G.o.d, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream dreams.'”