Heartland Film Noir Classic Starring Peter Lorre ctd. I fell upon her like a madman, with my buck knife wildly, swining lethal in the moonlight wildy at her naked bosom a dealy steel eraser for the ravages of art, when you came out of the darkness, an angel in black leather, a big black leather duster, that billowed out behind you, your voice a rasping, screeching, hoarse from calling bingo, beer, cigars. and calling bingo, screeching horror into the darkness where Sable Staci lay and bled. We traded blows near midnight, half an hour past the stroke of midnight, over the cooling corpse of the love we both adored, and when the last blow had landed, I ran into the moonlight, chased by the wailing, screeching, of a hatred newly born. And he'll be here with me always that bug-eyed face, still sneering, sneering at me while I'm walking walking backward ever wandering in a southerly direction, walking towards the radio that is plugged into Armageddon, broadcasting all the answers to the questions Why and How. Till then I wander, and perhps, if I ever met you, met you leaning idly on a slot machine in Vegas, Maybe I will ask you if it's still the wait that kills you, and if you still have the woes we carried up to Grimsby years ago. And if you're worried about the dreaming on the dark side of creation, then you need to talk to Lorre the brilliant Peter Lorre for in his face: the Answers to all your hopeless searching tattooed on the breast of Creation taunting, laughing, maddening, the Sneering, Bug-eyed face. The face of Peter Lorre. fin.
vol.1 no.3 Fall 1999