MICK--BELTLOOSE, belly bursting over open trousers, navel hairy like a zombie'sbloated eye--having just gluttoned himself, at his Satanic Majesty'srequest, on a beggar's banquet, was contemplating a bowel purge in orderto be capable of ingesting and imbibing more, but really would have muchpreferred a little soothing music, like, say, Eric Burdon and theAnimals, when Satan burst in and said, "Yo! if you're the Prince of Popturn the Stones into bread!""Man, I can't live on bread alone .. . but on every bird who comes to suck my cock." At which point ayellow-feathered floozy came to sup at his lap.
Satan broughtslick Mick to a deep valley, wherein resided all the lingams of theearth (the pulsing and the loving, the loose and the limpid), and shewedhim all the various yonis (the veteran and virgin, the pink and thepurple, the bare and the hairy, the blushing and the bloody, the rosyand the randy, the bleached and the yeasty, the sleeping and thespelunking, the engaged and the empty). "I'll give you all this pussyand the attendant glory. They belong to me (the clitoris a tag ofcaptivity), and I bestow them as I please."
M: Damn, S'tan. Pretty 'pressive! (Come a little closer now.) I sing about my own thing/ and place the wick 'bove everything. I wrote that. Middle school.
He took Mick to Sausalito, and put the wonder kid in the denizens ofMuir Woods and said, "All right, somersault down this brambly path andlet's see what happens. 'Cuz it is written, "A Rolling Stone gathers nomoss," and "How does it feel?"
M: You mean ruin my cool cape? No way!
"Awright, how'dyou like a guarantee you'll be grossing more bread and bagging amore beautiful bird in '96 just sitting on your shrivelled duff than youdo shaking it all the time in '69?"
M: Ooo! Where do I sign?
