What I do know is that a silent scream will send us all to bed tonight and Burroughs shares our nightmares. Not even Hassan-i Sabbah can do it without apomorphine.
Chris Kelso, illo. Shane Swank, Burroughs & Scotland: Dethroning the Ancients: The Commitment of Exile [Amazon, Local Library]
I lost my head and once again behaved like a madman. As a matter of fact, I was literally mad with rage. I screamed and yelled like the men of Soror, showing my fury as they did by hurling myself against the bars, biting them, foaming at the mouth, grinding my teeth, behaving in short in a thoroughly bestial fashion.
“This is our land!” he screamed. “It is not your land! I’ve got two big guns, and you ain’t got none. I’ll blow your head off, if you don’t fuck off! This land was made for only me!” He was singing. Angry. Having the time of his life.
It was a snake, cold of eye, its tongue flickering, its fangs dripping with poison. It hissed, and a drop of poison from its mouth dripped onto Loki’s face, making his eyes burn. Loki screamed and contorted, writhing and twisting in pain. He tried to get out of the way, to move his head from beneath the poison. The bonds that had once been the entrails of his own son held him tightly.
Infected by the malignant frenzy of the orator, the audience would groan and sob and scream in an orgy of uninhibited passion. And these orgies were so enjoyable that most of those who had experienced them eagerly came back for more.
Rudy stops assaulting the Guy Nobody Knows for a second to take in what Pastor Baker has just said. “That’s right!” Rudy calls back. “We’re here to take the power back!” “Blessed be the Lord, my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight!” Pastor Baker screams.
Harmon Cooper, Dear NSA: A Collection of Politically Incorrect Short Stories [Amazon, Local Library]