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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
WSB reads 23 random sentences from Naked Lunch
1 The doctor seemed embarrassed…. He fidgeted and coughed… and fumbled with papers….
2 “Don’t look so frightened, young man. Just a professional joke. To say treatment is symptomatic means there is none, except to make the patient feel as comfortable as possible. And that is precisely what we attempt to do in these cases.” Once again Carl felt the impact of that cold interest on his face. “That is to say reassurance when reassurance is necessary… and, of course, suitable outlets with other individuals of similar tendencies. No isolation is indicated… the condition is no more directly contagious than cancer. Cancer, my Brst love,” the doctor’s voice receded. He seemed actually to have gone away through an invisible door leaving his empty body sitting there at the desk.
3 ” ‘There’s only one thing to do. I’m going to call the police,’ says a strong-minded, outspoken old thing; and she clump across the floor on her low heels and calls the fuzz.”
4 It was a beautiful Indian Summer day. I knew I didn’t have much chance, but any chance is better than none, better than being a subject for experiments with ST (6) or whatever the initials are.
5 “O.K., but I can’t take you in to the guy, you understand.”
6 “And all them junkies sitting around in the lotus posture spitting on the ground and waiting on The Man.
7 Miguel took the nail file.
8 “Do you suggest there is something illegitimate in this operation?”
10 A green Hare exploded in Carl’s brain. He saw Hans’ lean brown body — twisting towards him, quick breath on his shoulder. The Hare went out. Some huge insect was squirming in his hand.
11 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).
12 “Two thirds of one percent. I won’t budge from that figure; not even for my bumpkins.”
13 “Well, might as well kiss and make up. There’s nothing mean or petty about me.”
14 “I guess this is all we need. Come on, you.”
15 “A quart of PG and a hundred nembies.”
16 A funeral passes through the market. Black coffin — Arabic inscriptions in filigreed silver — carried by four pallbearers. Procession of mourners singing the funeral song… Clem and Jody fall in beside them carrying coffin, the corpse of a hog bursts out of it…. The hog is dressed in a jellaba, a keif pipe juts from its mouth, one hoof holds a packet of feelthy pictures, a mezuzzoth hangs about its neck…. Inscribed on the coffin: “This was the noblest Arab of them all.”
17 In the control room the Technician mixes a bicarbonate of soda and belches into his hand: “God damned tenor’s a brown artist1” he mutters sourly. “Mikel rumph,” the shout ends in a belch. “Cut that swish fart off the air and give him his purple slip. He’s through as of right now…. Put in that sex-changed Liz athlete…. She’s a fulltime tenor at least…. Costume? How in the fuck should I know? I’m no dress designer swish from the costume department! What’s that? The entire costume department occluded as a security risk? What am I, an octopus? Let’s see… How about an Indian routine? Pocahontas or Hia-watha?… No, that’s not right. Some citizen cracks wise about giving it back to the Indians…. A Civil War uniform, the coat North and the pants South like it show they got together again? She can come on like Buffalo Bill or Paul Revere or that citizen wouldn’t give up the shit, I mean the ship, or a G.I. or a Dough-boy or the Unknown Soldier…. That’s the best deal. …Cover her with a monument, that way nobody has to look at her….”
18 So I guess he is still sitting there in his 1920 Spanish villa outside Tanger eating that raw opium full of shit and stones and straw… the whole lot for fear he might lose something….
19 The Pitchman stirs uneasily: “Take over here will you, kid? Gotta see a man about a monkey.”
20 The Sailor was polishing his nails on the lapels of his glen plaid suit. He whistled a little tune through his shiny, yellow teeth.
21 They are drinking Victory Punch, compounded of paregoric, Spanish Fly, heavy black rum, Napoleon brandy and canned heat. The punch is served from a great, hollow, gold baboon, crouched in snarling terror, snapping at a spear in his side. You twist the baboon’s balls and punch runs out his cock. From time to time hot hors-d’oeuvres pop out the baboon’s ass with a loud farting noise. When this happens the Huntsmen roar with bestial laughter, and the fags shriek and twitch.
22 TECHNICIAN (starting back): “Too much!! No! Just look square, you dig, like a nice popcorn John….”
23 (Alternative: A. J. whips out a bottle of ketchup and douses the haute cuisine. )