The Wild Fruits - William S. Burroughs

Kim recruits a band of flamboyant and picturesque outlaws called The Wild Fruits

There’s the crying one, who breaks into tears at the sight of his opponent.

«What d' the matter, somebody take your lollipop?

Oh señor I’m sorry for you…

«And the priest, who goes into a gunfight giving his adversary the last rites.

And the blind gun, who zeroes in with bat squeaks

Kim trains his men to identify themselves with death.

He takes some rookie guns

out to a dead horse.

Rotting in the sun, eviscerated by vultures.

Kim points to the horse, steaming there in the noonday heat

«Alright — roll in it.»

«What?!»

«Roll in it.

Get the stink of death into your chaps and your boots and your

guns and your hair…»

Well, most of us puked at first.

But we got used to it — and vultures followed

us around hopefully.

We always ride into town with the wind behind us.

The townspeople gag and wretch

«My God!

What’s that stink?»

«It's the stink of death, citizens…»

And I think, personally, the whole planet stinks of death.

What are we going to

do about it?

Well, all this may have happened many times before in this whole

universe.

Here we are trillions of years ago in Galaxy X. Rally has been

organised to protest the use of black holes as an energy source.

A bit late as it turned out.

«Closing time, Gentlemen.»

Brion Gysin has a bedtime story: It seems that trillions of years ago a giant

flicked grease from his fingers.

One of these gobs of grease is our universe,

on its way to the floor