“What kinds of sons of bitches are you, both fuckin’ the little bastard at the same time?” Even with just the flash, the ice-colored eyes going back and forth between Red and Rufus looked like they had bulbs on inside. The way he held me, my arm was rubbing against his cartridge belt. “Shit!” With the jerk, his blue cap had gone crooked on all the nigger-tight, ash-pale hair. He looked awful angry. “You are two low motherfuckers!”

I opened my mouth wide and let my tongue slop back and forth over my lower lip. Spit and shit ran down my chin.

The policeman looked down at me, frowned, and said, “Jesus Christ …!”

“I tell you, Whitey,” Red said, a little warily, “I think the cock-sucker’s still hungry.”

Suddenly the policeman shoved me. I fell back into the brush. “What’d you do to him?” The policeman raised his flashlight to move it back and forth between the two garbagemen. “What kind of little freak is this?”

Bits of light slid on the leaves beside my face, caught on the side of Red’s torn pants—I could see a stretch of hairy, freckled shin as the light shifted—and I could see the shadow each hair made. I looked up at Rufus; the flashlight turned the torn, greasy tanktop, which had been green out under the dock lights, gray. His shoulder gleamed with sweat. So did Red’s grinning, spotted jaw.

Then the light swung down, so that for a moment, with it in my eyes, I couldn’t see.

On my back, I lifted my legs up in the air, reached between them, opened up Chico’s tear, and dug into my asshole with my fingers. There was still a lot of shit on my other hand, so I put it in my mouth and started to eat.

“Jesus,” the policeman said. “Is the little fucker crazy?”

Rufus’s low, rumbling chuckle grew and fell. “That boy just need his pussy pumped a little more, Whitey. You see how he tryin’ to do himself like that?”

I stuck my tongue out between my fingers. I rocked harder and tried to get my hand up far enough to reach that spot the nigger’s cock had made feel so good.

The light stayed on me.

The policeman said: “He’s fuckin’ crazy …!”

“But he got a sweet ass,” Rufus said.

“Shut up, nigger,” the policeman said.

Still sucking, still digging, I raised my head.

Behind the flashlight, I could see the policeman’s other hand hooked to the bullet belt by his thumb. He dropped it to scratch himself between the legs. His hand sort of stayed there a little too long, started to raise again, then went back. He had on a wedding ring, I remember. And his hands were very short and wide.