virag perfectly logical from his standpoint. fall of man. (harshly， his pupils waxing.) to hell with the pope！ nothing new under the sun. i am the virag who disclosed the sex secrets of monks and maidens. why i left the church of rome. read the priest， the woman and the confessional. penrose. flipperty jippert. (he wriggles.) woman， undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope， offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam. short time after man presents woman with pieces of jungle meat. woman s joy and covers herself with featherskins. man loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam， the stiff one. (he cries.) coactus volui. then giddy woman will run about. strong man grasps woman's wrist. woman squeals， bites， spucks. man， now fierce angry， strikes woman's fat yadgana. (he chases his tail.) piffpaff！ popo！ (he stops， sneezes.) pchp！ (he worries his butt.) prrrrrht！
lynch i hope you gave the good father a penance. nine glorias for shooting a bishop.
zoe (spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.) he couldn't get a connection. only， you know， sensation. a dry rush.
bloom poor man！
zoe (lightly.) only for what happened him.
bloom how？
virag (a diabolic rictus of black luminosity contracting his visage， cranes his scraggy neck forward. he lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.) verfluchte goim！ he had a father， forty fathers. he never existed. pig god！ he had two left feet. he was judas iacchias， a libyan eunuch， the pope's bastard. (he leans out on tortured forepaws， elbows bent rigid， his eye agonising in his flat skullneck and yelps over the mute world.) a son of a whore. apocalypse.
kitty and mary shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from jimmy pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn't swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we all subscribed for the funeral.
philip drunk (gravely.) qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position， philippe？
philip sober (gaily.) c'était le sacré pigeon， philippe.