Chapter 7: Humanitarian Rape (Honest Adolph Volume 2)

Senator Bubble’s day had finally arrived.

But most of all, it was America’s day!

Wait… did I get that one the right way around?

‘Freakin’ straight on, Bubble!’ Alan roared.

Bubble cleared his throat.

He cleared his bowels, and then his throat again.

Well, might as well make an effort, huh?

‘Alright, everybody!’ Bubble roared.


Aeons and endless universes away, Otis bowed his head and scribbled like buggery.


‘For the last flamin’ time!’ the shameless pen-waver bawled. ‘It is your word against his! What the hell do you expect me to do?

‘Unless you’ve got some evidence the boy fucked with you, what the hell am I supposed to do? ‘‘Oh, by the way, Mr Judge, this Miss Willow girl says Benny Pilder (of all the goddamn unlikely people in the world, for Chrissakes!) might just have got fucking dicky with it, and y’know, maybe just, like maybe just, on the off chance, you could maybe see if there’s some truth in the story?’’’


‘Fuckin’ brown sugar,’ Cassie moanie-moaned, bobbing her head in runny-shit-ridden-ecstacy.

‘Fuckin’ brown as fuck, and goes down like a bomb.’


Let me tell you all!

Marcus is the boss!


‘Bitch! You for real? I ain’t sayin’ it’s not true. I’m just sayin’ who the fuck knows either way! Don’t you shake that fist at me, girl!

‘FFS… why do these bitches always get rowdy like this? It’s nothing personal; we just don’t have the resources to go investing speculative rape claims, of all things! I mean, who the fuck knows what’s true and what’s false?

‘Boys will be boys, they get a bit rough and shit gets messed up; I mean, it could be true, for all I  know. And if so, well hey, it’s a bit rough on you girl, I can imagine you must be pretty butthurt about it.

‘But this is the laws of economics. If we started prosecuting shit like this all the time, we wouldn’t have time for the really important stuff.

‘Anyway, it was your party that bombed that poor old bitch in Lebanon that the flamin’ Jew Ziomedia are kickin’ up shit about. Don’t you talk to me about that shit. Poor old lady probably hadn’t done shit to us here in the US, she didn’t deserve that.

‘So don’t you ever talk to me about sexism? I don’t even know what I’m going to say to you? I’m not going to say anything yet, in case you folks use it against me.

‘The police have no power in this country. And you have the damn cheek to call me an abuser of power? In this country, the politicos run the whole damn show.

‘By this point in history, I’d rather be a whining Jew or a goddamn nigger than a police boss. Just shut your…

‘Ah, forget it. I’m about done with this shit!’


Shall I read it aloud? Well, why not. Cassie, this is for you. I do hope you enjoy indulging in the white heterosexual lifestyle. In the next several months, the last of my dwindling savings will have been squandered on the medicine that is keeping me alive.

Then it will be food stamps.

Then the diagnosis.

And then…

Well, you will appreciate this little charming ditty, nonetheless.

Let me do my best to put it in character.

I hesitate to say I am ‘whited up.’

Now that… is surely none of my business.


In due course, I shall be pale enough, God knows.

I must confess to a qualm or two.

I am hardly amid my best heart’s ease at my callous dispatching of la belle cassie de cette belle maison.

But you will, perhaps, understand that reasons of the heart are not to be likened to reasons of state.

In any case, let us commence!


Alright, everybody! Now, for what it’s worth, I’ve come here pretty well prepared. I haven’t got any wingmen, that’s one thing for sure! I mean, we have a great party.

You know what, I just love our party.

I think it’s just the best.

Do you know what I’m saying?

This party. This nation.

Do you love the Republican Party?

Do you love Ameeericaaaaaaaa?

Wooooo! No shit!

Well guess what, people?

For what it’s worth, you’re not alone.

You know what?

I love America too.


Saul Friedman spat in fury.

‘It’s true! So it’s frickin’ true after all! Dickie fuckin’ Klindel and his boys have been coachin’ this bitch to get more of a, more of a frickin,’ frickin’ persona about ‘im!

‘Fuck this guy! Fuck this guy to fuckety-fuckety-fuckety-fuck-fuckers…’


If you were here, Cassie.

If you were actually here.

It might be easier.


‘Who am I to judge?’ Cassie bawled. ‘Who am I to judge? That’s what he actually told her!’

The priest she had cornered on the corner outside the police station squirmed with repugnance; a repugnance, however, that was not entirely untainted and unadulterated with some shadow of compassion and sympathy, however inauthentic and ineffably guilty such a poor admixture of better feeling may have been.

‘Woman is under the authority of man,’ the priest pronounced. ‘Only the Lord alone can tell why some few unworthy men overstep due boundaries in their guardianship of the precious sex.’

Speechless with fury, Willow pelted down the street towards the river.


‘Well hey there, our cheap-ass lil Friday special!’ Sally grunted. ‘Go and tell that Jew imbecile he oughta quieten down and quit making a fuss! Oh and yes, before you ask, you can tell from me that yes, he is indeed a Jew imbecile, and if he doesn’t like it, he knows where the fuckin’ door is!’

Jim stepped up cautiously to Saul. ‘Mr Saul,’ Jim murmured. ‘Hm! Say what?’ Saul roared, although he was already mellowing a little. ‘Mr Saul,’ Jim repeated, his knees trembling. ‘Hm! What is it? C’mon, spit it out, son!’ murmured Saul, a ghost of a smile trembling around the corner of his lips by now.

‘Mr Saul,’ said Jim. ‘Sally says that you are a Jew imbecile, and, and that, and that…’

‘Ohhh, for Chrissakes!’ spat Saul, too taken aback to really be angry.

‘And, and, and that, and that Mr Saul oughta quieten down and quit makin’ a fuss, because, because yes, Mr Saul is indeed a Jew imbecile, and if Mr Saul doesn’t like it, Mr Saul knows where the… where the… stupid door is.’

Immediately Jim’s heart sank in his chest. He burst into tears. He lied! He lied! Purely in order to spare Mr Saul’s feelings. But all that didn’t matter. He told a lie! He lied! He lied! He lied!

‘Hm. Is that so. Well, Mrs Sally Cameron can get fucked. I’m finishing this drink, and I ain’t leavin’ for shit! You can tell her that from me too? A’rite?’

All of a sudden, Saul realized that the whole time he had been saying this, Jim had been quivering in fear and guilt.

‘Ah, c’mon son!’ Saul groaned. ‘I ain’t sore at you, Jim. C’mon, uncle Saul is just fuckin’ butthurt that yer, yer frickin’ Sister Sal has been comin’ out, I mean, she’s been comin’ out with this fuckin’…

‘I lied!’ wailed Jim, running full pelt behind the bar, onto the staircase, up and up, God knows where.

Saul frowned and toyed with his Fraulein Mercer. The cinammon tasted of raw crap.

It wasn’t like that in the student bar a few decade back; that’s one thing for frickin’ sure, Adi son!

Sal walked by with a brush.

Saul didn’t see.

‘He lied? He lied?’ breathed Saul, a wondrous slumber grasping his soul, every thread by gleaming thread.

‘But isn’t that exactly what you’d expect her to say?’


‘So you sent her packing?’

‘Yeah! She was a tough one, though! I mean, they all are!’

‘Good call, dude! I mean, last year the number of failed rape prosecutions was just unreal. It’s a flaming waste of everyone’s time.

‘I mean, every man’s bitch and her sister is accusing men of rape these days! Anyone would think rape was some kind of, y’know, actual commonplace thing? I mean, most men know you don’t do that shit!

‘You look at 20th century stats, and you mean, it’s flamin’ unreal! You seriously telling me all these men were guilty? I mean, it’s just an awful historical injustice.

‘How awful all these, y’know, stupid drunk student kids and all those folks had to be shamed and ridiculed like that. It’s literally worse than slavery.

‘As far as I’m concerned, unless you actually take the bitch by the throat and shove your fuckin’ dick up her bleedin’ ass, how in the flaming fuck can that shit actually be rape? Oh, c’mon! Ohhh, please!


My love is like

A black, black dick

That’s newly sprung in NYC

My love is like an Otis Spengler


Hey! Shut the fuck up, a’right? Fuck that guy! There already way too many niggers on TV! I know we’re all fucked off our asses on heroin, but there’s nothing worse than a blue-eyed bitch that literally hates her own race!


‘So anyway, yeah! Things change, yeah?’

The monthly monitor was over.

‘They sure do change. They sure do,’ muttered Palmer Miller.

‘Well, keep it up.’

Palmer shook his head.

‘Uh… what?’

The green-eyed and greener still graduate kid dropped his tablet in horror, his eyes wide with horror.

‘You heard. This job is not for me.’

Benny Turpin gaped in horror.

‘No, no, c’mon dude! I mean, look at this shit I just wrote, I’ve given you so much, I mean the stats, they are just…’

‘Did you hear me the first time!’ Palmer Miller roared.

Benny’s specs flew off his face as he doubled back in horror. His loins blazed with fury as an ever-spreading patch of raw piss lurched across his hindquarters, hungry as the see, feel and callous as the drones of princes.

The police boss choked in fury.

‘I just had a girl in here who has been raped! Do you hear me? She was fuckin’ raped?

‘And because, and all because of flaming, stinkin’ pen pushers like you, I had to send the poor lady away and tell her there was nothin’ doin’! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?!’

Benny burst into tears. ‘They will burn my ass if you resign. They told me if another guy…’

Incandescent with fury, Palmer Miller threw the empty bottle of Super Dew.

As unerring a shot as ever!

‘Ooooowwwwww! Fuck saaaaaakes, duuuuuude,’ moaned the arrogant little quality-dweeb, who look more repugnantly pathetic than he ever had.’

‘Haul your flaming ass out of here, boy. Right now! The Amber Hornet is only just reaching full thermometer, and by hellfire am I gonna have one damn fine lap-chasin’, boy!

‘Now get the hell out and let me attend to my proper business, by God! Alright?

‘No buts, son! You’ll damn well regret this shit, alright?’

Author: Wallace's Books