Hot-Prowl Rape-OHeaven’s forever. Time trips on and traps you. Time cordons you corporeal. Time circumscribes your surfeit of earthly events. Time immobilizes the immortal and makes them look back.Donna. Me. A long jump: ’83 to ’04, time-trippingly.It had to happen. The fitful laws of physics mandated more of us. Our vibes ran vampiric. They recklessly reconnected. They spun out and sparked in our spiritus mundi and nuclear-napalmed L.A.Donna and me. Lashed to the language that pops on these pages. Allegorized in alliteration and bound back boldfaced like this: Hush-Hush 2000, October 2004 issue. SCANDAL KINGPIN GETCHELL DEAD! FUNERAL BODES AS STONE GASSER! By Gary GetchellYeah, he died of AIDS—but he was no skin-flute hootin’ tutti-frutti! Daniel Arthur Getchell—the skank-scamming, scandal-skimming, scopophile king—was a heroin-hooking junkie with a 40-year monkey on his back. Danny the G. was a mensch. He neighborly noodled out his needles and got malignant microbes back.
