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Back Black Ambrosia Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. CoverImage
  2. Introduction by Grady Hendrix
  3. Acknowledgments
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. About the Author
  46. About the Cover

“So Earl opens the car door, you know, to per­suade her out, and she attacks him. She gives out with this yell, this—God A’mighty—it was like a cat in heat screamin’ at night, you know? And Earl backs off and she jumps on him.

“I couldn’t believe what I was seein’. It was dark, but the car door was open, and that old Pontiac’s got good interiors. Old Earl Foster, he was down on his back and that girl was like on his chest, humpin’—humpin’ up and down and old Earl was a gurglin’, his arms and legs wavin’ at first, then weaker, and she’s slurpin’, man, she’s fuckin’ slurpin’, and drinkin’ . . . God! . . . drinkin’ his blood. Finally Earl give this sigh and that’s the end, and I’m just sittin’ at that picnic table not knowin’ what to do, Jesus Christ, we pick up some scum from the beach and it’s a friggin’ . . .

“I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there quiet like. I thought maybe when she was finished with old Earl Foster, she’d come on after me, so I just sat there, barely breathin’, prayin’ that the battery in the Pontiac would hold.

“Then she just rolls off him, with her eyes closed. Old Earl’s neck is a mess of . . . Jesus, it was all tore up, and she’s got this look on her face, like—God—like she’d just gotten laid, all peaceful and smiley, and she turns back to him, cold and dead and turnin’ blue, and she strokes his cheek.

“Jesus, this makes me want to puke. She stroked his cheek, then hitched herself up and kissed him on his, his whatchacallit, his temple, and then she kinda snuggled into him and went to sleep.

“When I heard her start to snore, I snuck over and got Earl Foster’s keys out of his pocket, shakin’ all the time. I can tell you, nobody ever got sober faster in their life. So I got his keys without touchin’ him more than I had to, and she’s snorin’, and got his blood smeared all over her nose and cheeks and stuff. And I got straight the hell out.”

5

5

I shall never forget the dreams of that night. They were not dreams in the ordinary sense—with story lines and extraordinary experiences, or lifelike scenes all jumbled and confusing. That night my dreams were all sensations and feelings. Every positive emo­tion and pleasurable sensation I had ever had was magnified thousands of times and repeated in an endless performance all night long. The dance of life was choreographed to the most fascinating music—music that has never been heard on this earth before—fantastic music that spoke of friends and companions, shared secrets, trust.