piece of paper to Partment. It read:
CIRCLE YES OR NO:
1) Do you hate society and societies of all kinds? YES NO
2) Do you think people should be free to live naturally, like
the wild, impulsive, spiritually enlightened animals
they are? YES NO
3) Do you think alcohol and drugs are an important part of
a healthy diet? YES NO
4) Do you wear black on the outside because black is how
you feel on the inside? YES NO
5) Would you like to see the civilized world brought back to
the golden age? YES NO
6) Can you afford to pay weekly dues of thirty dollars?
(cute girls exempt) YES NO
Partment tilted his head like a curious dog. “I don’t usually wear
black,” he said, calmer now. The leader put his arm around
Partment’s neck in a friendly gesture of solidarity. Partment could
smell the acrid musk of his armpit.
“Don’t worry, brother. You only need seventy percent to pass.”
He handed him a warm beer. The grizzled old man now looked
around at the uncivilized refuse strewn about the garden and found
himself feeling something like admiration.
Now these, thesewere potential psychopaths. And totally
dedicated to degeneracy, not like the upwardly-mobile mendicants
he had shown up with or the wishy-washy halfwayers who had
abandoned him. What he needed was a new army. Was this some
kind of sign? Did he really have a choice?
“Let’s get out of here,” one of the bums said, “These people
smell.”
“Yes,” said Partment, “They smell like victory. You go back to
your crib, snuggle bunnies. I’m staying where the wild things are.”
The anarchists cheered their swelling ranks. Partment was
anointed with beer. The no-longer-very-homeless shuffled out,
leaving him soggy and alone with his new association.
“They were too meek,” Partment admitted.
“You can’t move mountains without tearing things up a little,”
the leader declared.
“Just between you and me,” Partment said to him, “I’m going to
ABYSSINIA
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