Eliza Popplewell was so Horny it was beginning to Alarm her. It was not that she hadn't had some recently, or that she'd had too much; and while by Nature and Temperament a Lesbian, on the afternoon of Monday, March 4, 2002, such undirected animal Lust was swelling thru her veins that I doubt she really cared from what her Gratification came. Never had she felt this way, even when on speed or with a Girlfriend in the throes of Sextacy, a mixture of Ecstasy and Viagra with some ephedrine thrown in; nor had the effect been produced by normal methods of aromatherapeutic pheromonal Arousal, of by Voodoo, or by Homeopathy, or by Horny Goat Weed or chocolate or fucking oysters, even. Were this a Children's Story, we'd have her go to see Mr. Toad, and Mistress Goose, who would then direct her to the Wise Old Owl, who would produce for Eliza a boner the size of Florida. But this is meant for the Eyes of Adults Only, and besides, as Brian McCoon was the same day and in a Nearby Northeastern City at work on the song, "Go tell Aunt Roedy . . . (who we of course met in Chapter 2) . . . The Old Grey Goose is Dead," well, it couldn't have happened anyway and besides, it reminds me of an earlier book of mine, also entitled The Old Grey Goose Is Dead, a 700-page account of my draining a fifth of the Canadian Vodka of the same name every day for 37 years, a work rejected by Random House even though it sported a blurb from Jack Butler, so we just won't GO there and remember, this ain't about ME, anyway. So, then, as the Scales fall from our Eyes and we see Eliza furiously rubbing herself up against a telephone pole in Brooklyn Heights, some Remarkable Developments began to take place.

For just as the aforementioned event was Unfolding, a vain homosexual gentleman named Alfred was in a hotel room in Houston sucking off his Karate Instructor while his Wife was at home whining to herself about how Bad she had it (though she had no idea what a Fruit her Man was, she was just pissed that she paid all his bills) and in another city not far from Houston a young woman who we are soon to meet was masturbating, thinking about herself, for she considered herself to be perhaps the most brilliant young woman in America, whilst she held the French in awe, especially Roland Barthes, a dead gay philosopher who got hit by a bus in the early 80s, and Goodness! They'll still be at it in the Upcoming Chapters, too. But anyway, it seemed as if the entire WORLD was having sex or some sort on that day.

One person who wasn't was a man named Cecil (pronounced like the Director) Timmermann, who had just gotten done beating his wife (who later committed suicide, in April) because she refused to believe, as did he, that he, along with of course Georges Braque, had invented Cubism (under the influence of Cezanne, of course) which culminated in a painting he called "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" (they were all Hoors) and that he had just completed a rather large work entitled "Guernica," which was intended as a Protest over the Enron scandal. It was influenced by Goya, but was not Reubens influenced by Michaelangelo? That was HIS fucking point.

And he took the Bridge from the Lower East Side into Brooklyn, caught a gander at Eliza Popplewell Poledancing out there on Henry Street in Broad Daylight, and even though he didn't actually paint very often, he started calling her Dora and asked her back to his Studio, where he took a vacuum cleaner handle to her and before she knew it he was fucking her from behind over a chair while he was holding her out the window by her Long Brown Hair and I'll swear to God when he Blew, she was feeling it in her and thinking This feels like Poprocks! Going off all inside me! Holy shit! But look, it actually wasn't that pretty a picture they were painting together, because they couldn't Stop, and he was giving it to her up the ass while thinking about Klaus Barbie, y'know, THAT guy, because he was really quite the Bisexual, just like MOST people who think they're Painters, and plenty that aren't. But there's another Bisexual dude who lives in the West 60s named Tony Bird, who used to be a musician until he went insane and started thinking he was as big as Zeppelin, but HE thinks about Klaus when he's with Cecil, too, and your Narrator is sure that the correlations between this act and the death of Saint Gerasimos of Jordan is Pretty Fucking Far from Lost on the Reader.

So Cecil started beating up on Eliza a little and she sure liked it, actually, and it didn't kill her, as one will discover, but see, when you're involved in "play" with Cecil your Safe Word is not even a word but a phrase, probum non poenitet, which is Latin for "The Honest Man Does Not Repent" and CECIL knows that that's the Safe Phrase, but THEY don't know it, see? THEY think the Safe Word is "Hazel," which is the title of this stupid TV show from the 50s, that or "Dan Haggerty," that Grizzly Adams coke fiend S&M cocksucker. So as one might imagine, this causes some problems from time to time, but hey, we've ALL got Problems, Eeyore. Theirs are just a little Different.