On tip-toe nose but not cheek nor mouth smudged to the left or the right it does not matter arms straight as 2×4 pine like a toy soldier in the Nutcracker meditating among Humpty-Dumpty Little Bo Peep Batman The Riddler One Flew East and One Flew West, Heidegger French, insane alone pensive betrayed lost stolen transformed but not on a spaceship or believing he was Jesus Christ as you would expect you boring conventional moron having auto-eroticized under the covers last night, spoke—first slow, then medium slow then medium fast then fast like a toy rocket ship popped by a 10-year-old boy soon intent on fucking fucking fucking and fucking then fucking some more:
“I would not, bastard-cunt bitch-nose bitch-cunt. Nor will niacin cure like fish oil me. Give me coffee. All I asked was a coffee cup. Now they cum—tee-hee—cum like maple syrup upon a whore’s bosom chest dripping white like gray glue on some bitch-cunt’s left breast right breast the mom God damn it.”
Heidegger, being not blind like a Dublin street, released his nose and examined the glass, thick, not opaque and reinforced with crisscrossed wire like concertina wire on a German-Nazi beach on Normandy Paris France.
“Bitch-cunt, what be the difference between a Nazi and a swastika, cunt-face drawl.”
Now, two fisted, like tin drum sticks at 90 degrees and perpendicular to his skinny emaciated elbows for Heidegger had fast now for 41 days and 41 nights, one day and one night longer than Jesus Christ Himself, the rower of all tug boats and the master Buddha disguised.
Now like turbine engines and fork lifts pow-pow alternating like AC-DC currents he pounded the glass:
“Mercy! Mercy! The Quality of Mercy is not strained. It dropeth like the gentle dew!”
Pom-pom pow-pow! Pom-pom pow pow! Puh-puh puh-pow pom! Pah-pah pow!
Heidegger launched cruise missiles and drone bombs with each pow attacking and beheading and transmogrifying into wooden prosthetics in the mountains of Afghan and Tibet.
“Blue the mountains. Dead all the infidels with God on their side with God on our side how could it?”
The nurse, busted like Beyoncé, though not churning dead spread two thighs then spread like pinking shears at the Super Bowl for perverted husbands to drool upon kissing black nigger TV screens…………………………….
“Mortal sin. Thus sayist it fondue.”
The nurse’s feet, like Nurse Ratched’s, thumped in cadence with a battalion marching at Fort Dix before shipped to Guadalcanal and flame-throwers bitching the breasts of animal nips and niggers in caves.
“Now, Heidegger. There, there, Heidegger. Now a shot if you don’t calm down. There, there, Heidegger.”
A bastard black man gray nigger in a blue uniform sports jacket and gray slack polyester pants bearing a hypodermic like an Indian would scalping a tomahawk.
A crowd of bastard men in white and black heads. Heidegger’s pants stripped.
Thuck! Thump! The perfect spot on the perfect ass, and Heidegger wobbled, wet like an Italian noodle, onto the rubber pad beneath.