The juke box was playing something by Fats Domino. It stank.

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Filene had discovered sex as it should be discovered, and had found it was not as frightening as she had believed. After Cheech had disappeared she took up with Tarzan, and when Tarzan contracted a serious case of breaking and entering, she moved on to a blonde boy named Speed, who had come from Pittsburgh and knew all sorts of new ways to dance, and have fun in the bushes. She was arrested for indecent exposure in Central Park with Speed and her mother and father beat her severely, and she left home. She took thirty-five dollars from her mother's purse and got as far as she could on a bus. When her money ran out, she worked for a time as a waitress in a roadside diner, until she had enough money to get to an Aunt's home in Boise, Idaho. The Aunt tried to send her back, but Filene would not go, and the family said they did not want her back. Six months later Filene met a young man who sold health insurance, and they were married the following June. Her picture in bridal veil was run in The Idaho Statesman. She clipped the picture and sent it to her parents, with the words drop DEAD scrawled across the face in red marking crayon.

snapping his fingers in time to the wild beat of the jazz band

 

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He went on and on, talking about the half-woman half-baby inside, Lola the monkey-faced girl, and all the rest of them. “Okay now, here’s the prices. For adults, it’s just fifty cents, that’s half a dollar, the splittin’ of a buck! You can go in now, stay as long as you want, come out when you’re ready. For kids, it’s twenty-five cents and…

“Gus, Gus hold up sellin’ any more of those fifty cent tickets, hold it up Gus! Okay now! It’s bargain day at Coney Island. For the next two minutes, whoever gets over to Gus and gives him a quarter, that’s just twenty-five cents, gets in for kiddies’ prices. No matter how old you are it’s just a quarter.” There was a dash and a clogging, and Gus was swamped. Dozens of people fell for the carny dodge and put down their quarter … which was the regular admission price.

On the stage, a dingy podium-affair at the rear of the canvas tent, a group of unhappy looking people sat in straight-back chairs. The monkey-faced girl, Lola, was dressed in a pair of Arabian pantaloons, of some substance intended to imitate muslin. She wore a halter, and she was knitting. Her face was that of an orangutan. Round, prognathous jaw, beady inset eyes, and hair completely covering her skin. She was a creature who had happened to be born resembling an ape, and rather than marriage and a home, this was her life.

She rubbed up against him, and began to moan low and throaty. “Ohh, Honey,” she whispered, close to him, pressing her body against his, “c’mon back here for a minute, before we go up. I think my roommate’s still awake.”

She kept rubbing, and he hesitated only a moment as he followed her insistent dragging. They moved back toward the underside of the stairway. “Your roommate?” he said in confusion, following her mostly because she was a girl in heat and she was dragging him, “You didn’t mention any roo—”

Hugo came out from the under-stair, the tire chain wrapped around his hand. The chain caught the man just across the right cheekbone, laying it wetly bare, to the bone. He was only able to drop a half-moan from his mouth before it filled with blood, and he dropped heavily to the tile of the hallway. His splintered face gleamed up faintly in the reflected light from the block party outside.

“Drag him!” Theresa snapped, kicking against the man’s legs.

rubbing each other, rocking to the music from The Clovers in the juke

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Sunday night pickup. Just out of the jailbait class. And raring to romp.

They ate their spaghetti in relative silence. She liked Fats Domino. She did not like the movie they had seen—wasn't that Jayne Mansfield just too cheap in them tight red dresses why hell I'd never wear a dress like that. True, thought Rusty, all too damned true. She did not like New York mugginess. She did like Rusty. She would not at all mind the idea of going to a hotel with him.

I've had some friends with real kinky habits

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this dynamite novel of the emergent days of rock and roll will turn you around at least three times. No spaceships, no robots, just a nice kid from Louisville with a voice like an angel and an invisible monkey named Success riding him straight to hell... The gritty rockabilly novel that drops the word on Stag Preston in the legendary, formative years of rock & roll, Spider Kiss will suck your socks off. This electrifying novel of the early days of rock & roll takes no prisoners as it runs an eye over the nice kid from Louisville with a voice straight outta heaven...and the demon Success on his back...and follows him down, down, down into a velvet-lined hell where nobody's grass is greener.