12) Gorilla B.

& I don’t know shit about carrying on, but for nine months, prior to those lethal heart attacks, Mario & I are balding & scalding every koochie May-Lee-tricky-giggle-drippy-peeled-tasty-oranges-oozing-apricot-creases-in-waterlily-perfume-greedy-for-my-deliveries will allow into our baby-making parade. I always hope she isn’t charging them, but can never quite bring myself to ask her if she is. To North Dakotans, this is perverse, disgusting, but who is wise enough to be a judge? Who can tell Johnny Fuckah the history of the universe? Johnny is not from North Dakota. Johnny is in Belize & in Belize, it’s called style, & a man with style walks free like no one else ‘pon Creole nation can.
“Make them boys pass, Mario & him one, Mistah Fuckah.”
Style is Belizean religion. Style gets shimmering twat. Style has an asshole’s grip. Style just won’t let go.
I don’t know shit about the end of this story, mad adventure, business, absolute extreme unending poverty, immigrant hookers, hitting women, adultery, sex like this, a girl this young making the squad.
So now, Mario-body-guard is dead & Gorilla B. wears this wicked look in his eye like I’m-gonna-take-that-bail-you-out-of-prison-gift-back-by-raping-your-wife-like-I-raped-that-pig’s-wife-in-Guatemala-&-made-him-watch-remember?
Oh, I remember...it was time for revenge. I’m not even sure, revenge for what, but Mario tells this massive Guatemalan policeman that Gorilla B., this even more massive Belizean, has gone to policeman’s house to fuck policeman’s wife. Burns-I boys all thinking they’re just here for a beer, but no, it’s way more than that...the Guatemalan cop is off like his house is on fire & the rest is brutal larceny. Gorilla-B.-hider drills the cop as he’s rounding a corner, been waiting with a huge rod of ladystick, beats on the downed man’s knees until they break.
& I don’t know shit about weaponry but ladystick is every Belizean’s favorite ‘cuz it crushes bone & tendon without leaving any outward, visible sign. A man may be beaten to death by ladystick, & no one can tell how, or why he dies, unless they see it happen. The cop is completely disabled & wailing horridly.
Gorilla B. drags his body into the house. “Fucked my Sybil, did ya? Fucking pig! Never thief Rambo-Burns-I!”
Ties his begging, bloody-faced skeleton to a tin chair & severely rapes the terrified woman, slugging that cop jaw any time he catches him closing his eyes, looking away. “Fuck with Rambo! Maybe I kill you both! Burns-I!...”
...ending great experiences, anal sex, cages or snares, animal affairs, recovering, eating sperm, enslavement, reputations, smuggling people or running money or stealing pre-Columbian artifacts for millions and millions of dollars...
He misses border-closing deadline by hours, but Gorilla B. doesn’t give a flying fuck. Charges the F-350 through that locked crossing gate at 45 miles an hour, collapses the entire thing, Guatemalan guards firing machine guns, so David slams himself face-down, freaked out, onto the bed of the truck, doesn’t realize the guards aren’t trying to hit anyone ‘cuz, killing a Belizean who’s inside Belize, will get the guy who did it killed mean-kind style; so David’s new name is now, “Belly-duck,” for being afraid & hitting the deck.
& I don’t know shit about humor, but this story makes Mario & Big Buffalo laugh like mountain monkeys around a pot of Durly’s. So I send our kids & the Mary-Beth-target back to The States this week. But I stay. I’m in no hurry to leave this fuckfest.
...using condoms, picking a partner, reservations, genetic engineering, breaking what the conflict is between these two, deception or jealousy, choosing, doing a guy’s wild sister right there in front of him, group sex...
Gorilla B... Gorilla B. is now pissed at me, his thievery stolen. I know he’s ready to crush my sorry whitie ass, so I have May-Lee-cherry-tart invite him to one of our smutty sessions with her friend, Joy, her Johnny James, herself, Miss-I-moving-into-you-place-Mistah-Fuckah-‘cuz-dumbo-Mary-Beth-donut-gone-bye-bye-&-we-ooie-all-day-all-night-&-doll-girl-Kristi-come-ooie-&-we-ooie-she’s-nice-Kristi-sleep-in-we-bed-you-hug-she-nookies-&-play-with-she-pissy-she-butt-cheeks-you-nose-in-dear-smarty-swirly-hair-you-spitty-spit-she-nudie-ooie-all-night-say-Kristi-Kristi-Kristi-&-licky-she-bulgy-pissy-&-me-licky-F.M.-&-F.M.-can-move-in-with us-I-love-F.M.-&-F.M.-love-I-&-F.M.-love-you-thicky-pokey-bring-she-shiver-pee-pee-in-she-swimmy-swimmy-rubber-wetty-F.M.-love-you-I-say-‘no-F.M.-you-cannot-marry-Mistah-Fuckah-you-my-pissy-wife’-please-Fuckah-please-teeny-stringy-‘kinis-baldy-ooies-polka-dot-panties-yearning-ooie-pickny-wanting-princess-of-all-time-May-Lee.
I get mucho pictures of Gorilla Burns shoving it into May-Lee-trickster-traitor-nightmare-will-be-ended-if-Jupiter-turns-into-a-sun’s friend, Joy, who Gorilla B. doesn’t know is his fiercest enemy’s youngest daughter, all pubed out now, nude & shaved, splayed on the table beneath him.
...repercussions, making decisions, religion or sodomy, police enforcement, weaponry, invisible forces, humor, envy, unity, writing stories, lost wills nor testaments, community building.
Next day I tell him who Joy is & charge him 3000 fucking U.S. for the negatives, ‘cuz solutions only come to those who understand the problem. He gives me the money like a knife in the chest, so I say, “I’ve kept a few photos & don’t try to find out who’s got them. You’ll never guess. & if you fuck with me, they will be delivered.”
& I don’t know shit about noosing a prowling jaguar with latch & leash, yet boldly proclaim, “Your fate, dear Mister Gorilla Burns, is not your choice, but how you respond to Mistah Fuckah, most certainly is.”