She Meets Pepi Poppers
There’s something of the sybarite about her. She plays the lute too loud and with reckless abandon — popping strings here and there and singing haltingly about fucking.
Yeah, and she eats too many moon pies in one sitting and washes them down with half a dozen milkshakes.
My god, woman! Even the Village People thought twice about doing the shake.
This is appalling and I’m whining in a Terry Thomas sort of way: I say, old chap…
You have such a limited vocabulary, and no head for figures.
May I call you Pepi?
At half past four in the afternoon? Rather!
You have a passion for rotters —
Take thy clyster pipe, syringe, and love me!
You’re being very sentimental. I will. Off we go!
“All the virtues—loyalty, patriotism, courage, honesty, faith, compassion, you name it—are just social constructs, patches to cover the naked barbarism that is at our core…”
— Lawrence Wright / The End of October