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Naked Lunch is a novel by American writer William S. Burroughs, originally published in 1959. The book is structured as a series of loosely connected vignettes. Burroughs stated that the chapters are intended to be read in any order. wikipedia

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WSB reads 23 random sentences from Naked Lunch

1 The con dick does a little dance step.

2 Over the hills and far away to Blue Grass…. Across the bone meal of lawn to the frozen pond where suspended goldfish wait for the spring Squaw Man.

3 Carl slipped him a wadded banknote… and the doctor faded into the grey twilight, seedy and furtive as an old junky.

4 Junkies sitting on the courthouse steps, waiting on The Man. Red Necks in black stetsons and faded Levis tie a Nigra boy to an old iron lamppost and cover him with burning gasoline…. The junkies rush over and draw the flesh smoke deep into their aching lungs…. They really got relief….

5 “So I don’t have the twenty eggs in my pocket. I tell you it’s jellied consomme, One little whoops and a push.” The Sailor looked at his nails as if he were studying a chart. “You know I always deliver.”

6 Mark drop on one knee, pulling Johnny across his back by one arm. He stand up and throw him six feet onto the bed. Johnny land on his back and bounce. Mark jump up and grab Johnny’s ankles, throw his legs over his head. Mark’s lips are drawn back in a tight snarl. “All right, Johnny boy.” He contracts his body, slow and steady as an oiled machine, push his cock up Johnny’s ass. Johnny give a great sigh, squirming in ecstasy. Mark hitches his hands behind Johnny’s shoulders, pulling him down onto his cock which is buried to the hilt in Johnny’s ass. Great whistles through his teeth. Johnny screams like a bird. Mark is rubbing his face against Johnny’s, snarl gone, face innocent and boyish as his whole liquid being spurt into Johnny’s quivering body.

7 “The Green Door, Carl?”

8 Everyone looks like a drug addict….

9 P.L.: “Wait!… Come in, my boy. Sit down…. Have a cigar…. Have a drink.”

10 There was a jar of K.Y. on a glass shelf. Carl felt ashamed as if his mother had laid out a handkerchief for him. Some coy little message stitched on like: “If I was a cunt we could open a dry goods store.”

11 The boy cuts himself down with a switch-blade, chases a screaming fag down the midway. The faggot dives through the glass of a penny arcade peep-show and rims a grinning Negro. Fadeout.

12 P.L.: “Now look, kid, let’s put it this way. The French have dispossessed you of your birthright.”

13 Behind them, through open doors, tables and booths and bars, and kitchens and baths, copulating couples on rows of brass beds, crisscross of a thousand hammocks, junkies tying up for a shot, opium smokers, hashish smokers, people eating talking bathing back into a haze of smoke and steam.

14 “No! No!” screams the D.S.

15 Walking down by the tracks in his red sweater met Sammy the Dock Keeper’s son with two Mexicans.

16 Over the hills and far away to Blue Grass…. Across the bone meal of lawn to the frozen pond where suspended goldfish wait for the spring Squaw Man.

17 A year later in Tangier I heard she was dead. B E N W A Y

18 Police bullet in the alley… Broken wings of Icarus, screams of a burning boy inhaled by the old junky… eyes empty as a vast plain… ( vulture wings husk in the dry air).

19 “Noooooooooo.”

20 So when I come back he hands me a package and says, “That’s fifteen dollars…. Be careful.”

21 Salvador Hassan O’Leary, alias The Shoe Store Kid, alias Wrong Way Marv, alias After Birth Leary, alias Slunky Pete, alias Placenta Juan, alias K. Y. Ahmed, alias El Chinche, alias El Culito, etc., etc. for fifteen solid pages of dossier, first tangled with the law in NYC where he was traveling with a character known to the Brooklyn police as Blubber Wilson, who hustled his goof ball money shaking down fetishists in shoe stores. Has-san was charged some third degree extortion and conspiracy to impersonate a police officer. He had learnt the shakeman’s Number One rule: D.T.— Ditch Tin — which corresponds to the pilot’s KFS — Keep Flying Speed…. As The Vigilante puts it: “If you get a rumble, kid, ditch your piece of tin if you have to swallow it.” So they didn’t bust him with a queer badge. Hassan testified against Wilson, who drew Pen Indef. (longest term possible under New York law for a mis-demeanor conviction. Nominally an indefinite sentence, it means three years in Riker’s Island). Hassan’s case was nolle prossed. “I’d have drawn a nickel,” Hassan said, “if I hadn’t met a decent cop.” Hassan met a de-cent cop every time he took a fall. His dossier contains three pages of monikers indicating his proclivity for cooperating with the law, “playing ball” the cops call it. Others call it something else: Ab the Fuzz Lover, Finky Marv, The Crooning Hebe, Ali the Stool, Wrongo Sal, The Wailing Spic, The Sheeny Soprano, The Bronx Opera House, The Copper’s Djinn, The Answering Service, The Squeaking Syrian, The Cooing Cocksucker, The Musical Fruit, The Wrong Ass Hole, The Fairy Fink, Leary the Nark, The Lilting Leprechaun… Grassy Gert.