Page 152

By Jack Joseph Smith

me on the morning after our nighttime tampering with death. He he, he laughed way within again. You tell them, if you like the story so much? Which part should I begin with? Any part you want, ass hole. You can begin, with what you think is a beginning and go to an ending. Or you can begin with what you think is an ending and go to a beginning. Either way, it dosentt make any fucking difference, and we aren't go ing to know anymore when your finished, than we do now. I wake up in the morning in a white hospital bed, with my head ripped mostly off, and I receive a note from a sterilized nurse. The note was from Mister O'Dandy, and it read, that's what you get for kissing my honey. Well Dandy, it was worth it. She was fine and soft. Shut the fuck up. Just being honest Dandy. Shut the fuck up. I could have ripped you in half, when I marched down the hospital hall and found your head behind a newspaper. I saw you coming. I still could have ripped at that white forehead and made it bleed Dandy, made it bleed. He he, you didn't. You're out of your mind O'Dandy. He he. Made it bleed, made it bleed, made it bleed, repeated Beaver over and over in the background.

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

The joking hardens around the hospital aftermath of the crash, with Michael describing O'Dandy's jealous note about kissing my Honey and both men replaying the fantasy of making each other bleed.

The page is funny in a jagged way, but jealousy and near-death are sitting right under the banter. Beaver's chanting in the background makes the whole thing feel ritualized, like the group is enjoying violence by repeating it in words.

Claude

O'Dandy taunts the narrator into retelling 'the nice little note you sent / me on the morning after our nighttime tampering with death,' prefaced by his nihilist's invitation to start 'with what you think is a beginning' or an ending because 'we aren't go / ing to know anymore when your finished, than we do now.' The narrator wakes 'in a white hospital bed, with my head ripped mostly off,' and reads the sterilized nurse's relayed note - 'that's what you get for kissing my honey' - answering that the kiss 'was worth it. She / was fine and soft.' The banter hardens into a replayed fantasy of revenge - 'I still could have ripped at that white forehead and made it bleed' - while Beaver chants 'Made it bleed' in the background, ritualizing the near-fatal crash into comedy.