Bonechapel Gate, E1

London, England

Winter, 1944

The Kenosha Kid

General Delivery

Kenosha, Wisconsin, U.S.A.

Dear Sir:

Did I ever bother you, ever, for anything, in your life?

Yours truly,

Lt. Tyrone Slothrop

General Delivery

Kenosha, Wisc., U.S.A.

few days later

Tyrone Slothrop, Esq.

TDY Abreaction Ward

St. Veronica’s Hospital

Bonechapel Gate, E1

London, England

Dear Mr. Slothrop:

You never did.

The Kenosha Kid

(2) Smartass youth: Aw, I did all them old-fashioned dances, I did the “Charleston,” a-and the “Big Apple,” too!

Old veteran hoofer: Bet you never did the “Kenosha,” kid!

(2.1) S.Y.: Shucks, I did all them dances, I did the “Castle Walk,” and I did the “Lindy,” too!

O.V.H.: Bet you never did the “Kenosha Kid.”

(3) Minor employee: Well, he has been avoiding me, and I thought it might be because of the Slothrop Affair. If he somehow held me responsible—

Superior (haughtily): You! never did the Kenosha Kid think for one instant that you …

(3.1) Superior (incredulously): You? Never! Did the Kenosha Kid think for one instant that you …?

(4) And at the end of the mighty day in which he gave us in fiery letters across the sky all the words we’d ever need, words we today enjoy, and fill our dictionaries with, the meek voice of little Tyrone Slothrop, celebrated ever after in tradition and song, ventured to filter upward to the Kid’s attention: “You never did ‘the,’ Kenosha Kid!”

These changes on the text “You never did the Kenosha Kid” are occupying Slothrop’s awareness as the doctor leans in out of the white overhead to wake him and begin the session. The needle slips without pain into the vein just outboard of the hollow in the crook of his elbow: 10% Sodium Amytal, one cc at a time, as needed.

(5) Maybe you did fool the Philadelphia, rag the Rochester, josh the Joliet. But you never did the Kenosha kid.

(6) (The day of the Ascent and sacrifice. A nation-wide observance. Fats searing, blood dripping and burning to a salty brown…) You did the Charlottesville shoat, check, the Forest Hills foal, check. (Fading now…) The Laredo lamb. Check. Oh-oh. Wait. What’s this, Slothrop? You never did the Kenosha kid. Snap to, Slothrop.

Got a hardon in my fist,

Don’t be pissed,

Re-enlist—

Snap—to, Slothrop!

Jackson, I don’t give a fuck,

Just give me my “ruptured duck!”

Snap—to, Slothrop!

No one here can love or comprehend me,

They just look for someplace else to send… me…

Tap my head and mike my brain,

Stick that needle in my vein,

Slothrop, snap to!

PISCES: We want to talk some more about Boston today, Slothrop. You recall that we were talking last time about the Negroes, in Roxbury. Now we know it’s not all that comfortable for you, but do try, won’t you. Now—where are you, Slothrop? Can you see anything?

Slothrop: Well no, not see exactly…

Roaring in by elevated subway, only in Boston, steel and a carbon shroud over the ancient bricks—