- Spirit! Ghost! They finally got their way! Some damned hippies slipped me LSD!
“I'm not a hallucination!” I'm Coyote! “He makes a howl and begins to grow, becoming big and ugly, with sharp long fangs and claws.
- No! Please do not! Lord, I can't do anything about it: as President, I began to go crazy! I thought it would make me strong, but I am completely helpless! I'm already starting to think about leaving politics and just writing books and giving interviews. You can make good money on the media ... But for now, it seems as if some unseen forces are completely controlling me!
“I am one of these invisible forces!” Coyote barks. He grabs the President by the throat and lifts him above the floor. “If you don't do what I say, I will again become like you and go for a walk across America, making you look like such a moron that I have never seen!”
The president shudders.
“I will do whatever you want, just say it!”
- Stop the war.
The president is laughing. Coyote lowers him to the floor.
“And that's all you want?” Of course I'll do it! Anyway, I was going to withdraw troops from there. They are of no use, and bombing does not help. I don't think even the Big Bomb would give any result. I don't know what went wrong there - it seems that the whole world has gone mad!
- Well, I know. These hippies constantly come and get me.
- And you too? So why do you want the war to end? Are you going to make a deal with me?
- I'm Coyote. I have the power to change things. If I can make you stop the war, the hippies will not just stop getting me - they will change.
- Change? But how?
“It's easier than a lung for me.” I have my strength, and their heads are so clogged with all sorts of spirits and gods of mass production that they will have no choice but to change - all I need is a little push.
- What are these spirits and gods of mass production? I do not understand.
- What you call mass media is television and all that jazz.
The President runs his hand through his thick stubble.
- Yes, television and other media have great power. I know it.
- So, the deal is concluded?
- Sure!
The president holds out his hand, Coyote slams it with his paw.
A rush to me sitting on the bus with a puzzled look.
“You mean that it was Coyote who ended the war in Vietnam?”
“Well, yes, I told you,” the Indian answers.
“And then what happened to the hippies - their transformation into yuppies - was also the work of Coyote?”
- Exactly. You know what happens when Coyote changes things - they get out of his control and the unexpected happens.
I shake my head. All this sounds too fantastic to believe.
“What has Coyote been doing lately?”
“Aren't you watching the news?” In the world over the past few years there has been a hell of a lot of changes. The world is becoming more and more strange. First, they elected a movie star as president - how do you like it? And then they had a president who acted like a movie star! Hollywood takes power over the world. And the Internet generally put everything upside down. And since things went this way, everything goes back to Coyote.
(My mind momentarily resembles a television stuck between channels; then ...)
An influx of not-so-well-designed cartoon-like scenery in a modern style depicting a deserted road. On the way to the sound of "techno" a car rushes, looking the same as all cars look today, foreign and American - unless it is much larger. No one is driving. The car goes to Coyote's house, next to which a brand new satellite dish is installed.
Transition to the interior of the house: Coyote sits, lounging in front of an ultra-modern home theater, with a remote control in his hand, watching all the television and cable channels that his antenna can get. He cannot find anything that he would like to see, and simply switches channels.
“Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to exchange my antique pickup truck for all this shit,” he says.
Outside, a car-enhanced electronic beep comes through the speaker.
Coyote goes out to see what it is and sees this overly large, generalized modern car idling, without a driver, without passengers.
“A car that drives by itself,” Coyote says. - However!
The car publishes a series of metal creaks, its separate parts move apart, separate from each other, and finally it transforms into five Japanese-style robots, each with a built-in calculator and a case for documents.
“I'm sorry, sir,” says Robot No. 1 with a distinct Hollywood accent. “Is that you Coyote?”
- Uh, yes.
- Very well. My partners and I have been scanning the area for a long time in search of you.
From robots No. 2-5, video cameras, microphones and one radar antenna grow. All this rotates in different directions, emitting sound signals, and then retracts.
- Uh, great. And what do you want from me?
Robots number 2–5 surround Coyote, who turns around, looking suspiciously at them.
“We represent a Large International Corporation,” says Robot No. 1. “We have a business conversation for you.”
All robots extend their arms with cases forward and rotate them horizontally. Cases open, revealing inside the terminals of laptop computers. Screens flash, diagrams start to flicker on them.
“Our Corporation has contributions to a wide variety of enterprises around the globe - and soon, hopefully, beyond,” says Robot No. 1. “These include real estate, mining, construction, high-tech industries ... as well as the entertainment industry.”
“Yeah,” says Coyote.
- Mostly we would like to negotiate with you on behalf of one of our enterprises producing animated films.
Coyote shakes his head.
- Will not work. Somehow I already tried to make a deal with them, many years ago - nothing worked. Ask Mouse.
- We own Mouse, and for a long time. It was he who told us about you.
“I hope he didn't lie to you ...”
- No. What he said seemed very interesting to us. About your ability to bring about change, about your esoteric connection with this major continent ...
- What about why the studio did not want to have anything to do with me?
“Ah, Coyote, times have changed since then.” Now is the twenty-first century. Communication technologies have become more differentiated ... And this, in particular, is our problem.
- The problem?
- That's it. Modern media and the Internet have accelerated not only the process of transmitting information, but also the process of creating myths. Being engaged in our business, releasing products, we are constantly creating new mythologies, new gods, new realities. This can be very destructive. This undermines the size of our profits.
“And you think I can do something about it?”
“Your power to bring about the changes that Mouse told us about - you could use it to remove those facets of reality that we consider destructive.”
Coyote laughs. All five robots pull numerous touch devices to it, their computer screens are covered with rows of question marks.
- What's funny here? - asks robot number 1.
“That doesn't work like that,” says Coyote, clutching his sides to keep from laughing. “Every time I change something, the unexpected happens as a result.” I can't control it, and no one can.
“Our research and development department will do this, Coyote.” This failure can be fixed.
Coyote just laughs even louder.
- I beg you, listen! We can offer you not only money - we can also offer you a share in some of the greatest deals in history. Here, look at our screens!
Coyote gazes from side to side, trying to look at five screens at once; his head begins to spin. One picture after another flashes on the screens: cartoons with coyote published in the form of books, coyote toys for children, coyote underwear, coyote amusement
parks, coyote cooperative houses, coyote shopping malls ...
- Stop, stop! Coyote shouts, staggering like a drunk. - What does all this mean?
- These are the possible results of your cooperation with us.
- Wait a minute! All these amusement parks, cooperatives and supermarkets - where are you going to place all this?
“Well, right here.” Through you, we will get rights to all this virgin territory. There are so many opportunities for us here, the mass of natural raw materials - there is even radioactive; we are unpleasant to see that all this land remains unused and does not bring us any profit.
“Get out of here!” Says Coyote.
“But we agree to give you a share in the profits!”
“I've already heard all this before, and always the thing ends with the same thing - the more they give me, the more I have for it!”
- So you refuse to even negotiate with us?
- Rest assured.
Robots no. 2–5 emit several beeps.
“Yes,” says Robot No. 1. “We have no choice but to implement plan B.”
- Plan b "? - asks Coyote.
Robots are transformed, acquiring a new form, and then are combined into one giant Megarobot.
“Plan B,” says Megarobot in a booming voice, passed through amplifiers, “provides for the possibility of capturing you and your property by force.” This is vital to maintaining our profits and saving the global economy. We have no choice.
“An old song,” says Coyote.
Megarobot raises both hands, draws his hands inward and launches two rockets into the sky. Laser beams shoot out of his eyes, barely passing Coyote. Then he spits up napalm and pours them all around.
- No! Coyote roars. He invokes his power over change and creates a thundercloud and tornado, both of which are several times larger than the Megarobot.
A thundercloud and tornado rush to Megarobot and knock him down. They close its chains with water and lightning, break the armor with streams of sand, and then, thanks to the radioactive elements contained in the streams of dust and dirt, they melt it into a large rock massif resembling the outlines of a robot.
Surf to me and the Indian in the Greyhound.
- So, it all ended? I ask, enchanted, but barely holding back so as not to nod. - The story of Coyote brought to our time. Well, now Coyote retired?
The Indian is laughing.
- Damn it, no! Coyote is alive and well, and ...
I am falling asleep.
Influx to my dream. I am waiting at a bus stop in the middle of the desert, painted in the style of my own Coyote comics. Coyote comes up with a big suitcase in his hands and sits down next to me.
“Are you Coyote?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers.
“So what happened after you defeated Megarobot?”
- Well, I began to think about the fact that he ... or they - ah, don't give a damn! - what did they say about how the media and the Internet accelerate the creation of myths, gods and realities. And I realized that this is really my business. Of course, I cannot do this on their own or on anyone else's terms; but this is exactly what I should do - only in my own way.
- In your own way?
“Well, yes - doing your usual trickster games, causing changes and letting the unforeseen happen - and so no one tries to control it.”
- And how do you plan to achieve this?
“Lighter than that, man!” I'm about to infiltrate corporations that own the communications and entertainment industry on the World Wide Web! I will start my own business to create mythologies, gods and realities!
- Wow! This will really change the world! And where are you going?
“Where else?” To Hollywood, of course!
A rush to me waking up on the bus. The Indian is no longer around. The only thing left in his seat is a small piece of wool.
The bus enters the Hollywood parking lot of the Greyhounds, which, despite all its mythical reputation, is small and does not make much of an impression. Staggering, I get out and squint my eyes in the blinding light of the South California sun. I see almost nothing in front of me and I don't know where to go and what to do next.
For a moment, it seems to me that I see a coyote running across the street.
Then a blinding flash of light occurs. I'm scared - have I really been dragging myself so far into Hollywood just to be banged here. What is a world war? The terrorists? Foreign? Or domestic? However, it hardly matters if you have already been sprayed ...
Vision returns to me. Now the faded old Hollywood looks like a vibrant, colorful cartoon. Passers-by, prostitutes, bus passengers - all turned into figures from the cartoon.
I look at myself.
I am also a figure from the cartoon.
An eerie laugh is heard, reminding me of the laugh of a long-time Indian. I turn around and see ... Coyote!
This cartoon Coyote - in a three-piece suit, sunglasses and with a cigar in his mouth.
“Hi boy,” he says. - How do you like it here? And this is just the beginning! There is still a lot of work ahead. We will need good cartoon draftsmen. Would you like to get settled?
I say yes ".
And this is happening now, in the present present tense. This is no longer the ticking-wacking time of white people, but rather a cross between the time of the Indians and the Einstein space-time, where the past and future are happening right now. Myth and dream are born right in front of my eyes when I draw them. I contribute to the coyotes a new, improved myth-technology trickster business.
The image dissolves, but not in darkness - it dissolves in light.
Jeffrey ford
Piquant detective number 3
On the cloudy-eyed, whiskey-soaked side of midnight, when even the shadows have shadows, and ghosts die from loneliness only to return back with pale, sticky memories of their former selves, when the chicks are cocked, and the roosters are cocked , and all the ladies who did not have time to get into the ladies by the time the world is already swamped with sleep, beat bleached hairstyles, like hairy hives buzzing with biting cognac thoughts full of revenge, lust and greed, until the lipstick runs out with a trickle of blood, and mascara mixingwith tears, she does not draw lines of cemetery poetry on powdery-masks (woeful elegy, which should be read with the first rays of the sun, which may never rise), after dirty money passed from hand to hand, and with crossed fingers promises were whispered and spread apart, leading to Mephistopheles' bilingual French kiss, Rent Johnson, square jaw holder, pinstripe double-breasted suit and existential ailment, private investigator, sniff “why?” cheating, “how?” traitorWell, "who?" will put the beaten egg to the fact that the good will not become bad, and the bad is even worse, like a knife in the kidneys, or a sandwich with teeth for the grandmother, or a pair of concrete galoshes for the poor man who has landed in a losing streak, busy in this the moment of the search for Sammy Anol, the King of the Lizards, the gnome-strong fellow and the infamous killer with the eyes of a snake and a pair of six-foot iguanas in the basement of his house - with teeth, needles and blood colder than the beer in the basement of "Dive, Swan!", Cleansing the flesh with the corpses of his victims no worse than two green-scaled vertical vacuum cleaners "Xsure, ”he revealed through his own flesh and his unique upturned nose, the gates of moist pulp framed by the hairs that belonged to Beauty Winter - Anol's current girlfriend, descending into her bowels, trodden by many cavers, inside and out, like one of those perplexed ghosts that were caught between the parish with the care and the springs of the bed in the basement dwelling overlooking Pig-Chop Lane, flooded with the blue neon glow of the Pabst advertisement on the other side, a half-witted version of Boogie woogie-gornista squeakedpp “B”) ”when he caught Sammy's double-barreled gaze reflected in Miss Beauty's glass eye in the doorway, forcing him to snap a pistol from his holster on his ankle and shoot it out through his left shoulder, making a hole in the penny heart of the Lizard King, ending at the same time both him and her, so the first sound
he heard as a ghost was the choking, impassive sob of Winter.
James morrow
Favorable eggs
Cornelius father Dennis Monaghan from Charleston Parish (Connie for friends) puts down a foam chalice, turns away from the corrugated cardboard altar and walks up to two women standing near a plastic font. The font has six sides, faces and is encrusted with images of saints. It looks like a giant nut, carved for some obscure, but undoubtedly holy purpose - but its most impressive feature is portability. Hardly a month passes without Connie carrying this vessel through the city to bring it into some miserable shack and grant immortality to a newborn whose parents are too weak to leave home.
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