“Sit the fuck down, you insufferably pompous Protestant prude!” erupted JMac.  A second later, JMac smashed into the wall of Blake’s homely home, falling in a cascade of glass from broken picture frames and photos taken through Blake’s self invented Gigantic Reverse Microscope, which was a great deal more powerful than the present day Hubble Telescope.

“I, ah, I am sorry, sir…mostly for forgetting your violent temper and extraordinary power,” said JMac, who was struggling to get off the floor without shredding his hands and feet on the broken glass, said, “Ha..uh…look, I just wanted to make it clear to you: Inside Tangier, anything goes - anything.  You stay out of it; in fact, don’t even spy on what goes on there.  It will only make you nuts…or more nuts than you already are…”

As Blake loomed up in his face, JMac extended his open hand, “Ah, help me up, can’t you take a joke?”  “Too much hilarity got me in a bit of a pickle when I was young,” said Blake, roughly pulling JMac up by the wing, “Did I tell you how I got Tom Paine out of the country?  They were out for his head.  You might say I was responsible for getting Paine to America, where his tracts enflamed your colonists to rise up against that damnable fool George, the third damn George in a row - George from Germany.  That was a big mistake England made, importing royalty from those barbarian forests of Germany…You might even say I played a significant role in the creation of your United states, which Mr. Burroughs admittedly captures the rank angst of life today…your today…

…A vast still harbor of iridescent water. Deserted gas well flares on the smoky horizon. Stink of oil and sewage.
Sick sharks swim through the black water, belch sulphur from rotting livers, ignore a bloody, broken Icarus…

Blake visibly shivered in horror.  He looked around for his wife, who appeared out of nowhere, seemingly at the beck and call of his mind. “Come here, Catherine, please come, comfort your husband and lord and master of your dear flesh, come, my queen of the senses, come…”

“Um,” I said as she got deeply into solicitude, and he grew more and more receptive to his wife’s ministrations…all with their clothes, all those clothes still tightly on!

“I think it’s time we gather William and the women, and make our leave,” said Jmac, “One more thing, Blake, and remember this: I hate to repeat myself, but any... Thing… Goes.”

“Yes, yes,” Blake waved us off.  His head rose and he fixed JMac with those owlishly round eyes, “Ah, but, what do you have in mind, precisely?”

Burroughs burst into the room in a theatrical manner such as I have never seen; I am still summoning my abilities to relate it in language.  He put on his best death’s head reptilian smile, “I will tell you exactly my next little project, you Ponce.”

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