Tom-Tom, exspurt in such circus anomalies, bless her 
, Tom-Tom then did proceed to explain the gynephenomenon to her sponsee, explain the ABCs/sex biological ed of it, coolly, calmly, clearheaded/clinically, ol’ pro Tom-Tom, reeling in the fish by playing the dispassionate tutor, she might just as well have been explaining to a child why the sun comes up in the morning and the moon rises at night — he knew it was exciting for Tom2 to be schooling Ree Witherspoon suchwise.
Jerzy snorted adderoxys off the base of his thumb whilst pondering a mystery right up there with the pyramids and Stonedhenge. Namely, Where the fuck did somebody find FORTY chicks who could squirt? I mean, just the logistics of getting em all in one place at one time… they couldn’t have been paid much, probably some weren’t paid nuthin at all… doing it for the love of the art I guess, you know, like, the love of the game. Jerzy himself never had the luck to fuck a squirter not even a diet squirt & wondered why, because he’d consorted with a fair amount of kinky ladies. So it did seem all the moreso to be no mean feat, tho he surmised that if your job was casting porn you were likely to have a file with 1000s of names, contact #’s and preferences — a Who’s Who of who swallows, creampies, facials, fists, who DPs, grannies, shemales, ladyboys, gangbangs & BDSMs, who pisses, fatties, dwarfs&midgets, who racials, rape-o’s, monster cocks, tortures, toilets, who old mans, & who so on & so on & so forth. Jerzy further surmised that if you were responsible for finding talent (not backroomcastingcouch sort of walk-in talent), you could probably do goo diligence & round up a squirtsquad.
But still—
Forty of em!
Sheesh. . . . . . . ….
Reeyonna was uncomprehending and shocked, oblivious that Tom-Tom & her half-brother were getting off on watching her trip. Suffice to say that by now the cretinous, kneeling, whitetrash white-thrash’d blond was drenched. Jerzy was in the speedball sweetspot. He even jacked a little over his trousers making sure his sister wasn’t looking. He went on an extended fantasy, like, the cops arrive on Mulholland but the others disperse & only White Girl is arrested. She’s a runaway. The police call her parents who live in Utah. Super Mormons. Morm & dad fly in to bail her out, they’re not really understanding what was her crime, & a cop starts to tell them what she was doing at the time of the arrest but decides that a picture’s worth 1000 words. & Jerzy imagines himself gathered with the snickering cops on the other side of a huge 2-way mirror watching Morm & Dad look on as Tina & her Amazon sistuhs firehose their precious baby——————Reeyonna now saying she heard about something like this, but never actually saw it — Jerzy saw the wheels beginning to turn, Tom-Tom’s strategy already working, the brilliance of it being that half the battle was getting ReeRee to start talking about the pervy shit instead of just walking away in repulsion — ReeRee said a friend said Larry Fishburne’s daughter did it in a movie, squirted, & then Reeyonna’s eyes mesmerically wandered back to the screen and she said, “This is so completely gross!”
Jerzy, sinuses burning, took in the lovely pastoral scene, his ½sis still glued to the set in spite of herself, even tho the rest of her body was simultaneously trying to back itself out of the room&out the door, Tom-Tom’s eyes goo’d to ½sis, & glazed over too; he was afraid he might do a little gushing himself.
. .
Bristol Farms over on Beverly Boulevard & Doheny was always very good to him.
He sat in his car & got em like sitting ducks: Lily Collins… Jon Cryer… Alyson Hannigan… Tyler Perry (with bodyguards).
He drove back to his spot on Burton Way and parked.
Walked to Sprinkles for cupcakes.
Wandered into Gagosian. . ….
Oh!
. . . . . large fotos on the walls snapped by a Jap named Sugimoto — b&w pre-tsunami seascapes— + pics of empty movie theaters. (All you saw were seats & screens, also pre-tsunami.) It was spooky, especially the seascapes, because when Jerzy looked all he could see in his head was the tsunami porn he watched on youtube after that shit went down, it really did a number on him, he was high in his room for 2 wks watching that 10-story blackwater tube of water breaching the sea wall, trapped japs fluttering like moths in sealed tombs of swept away cars. The big wave still gave him the creeps. One of the things that he still thought of at least one time a day was the people on the roofs of five-story buildings, which is exactly where he would have gone, he knew himself, he’d have totally thought “I’ll be safe on the roof of this 5-story building” but when the camera came back the building was underwater & gone. That always hit him in the gut because he knew that kind of denial/fantasy life/poor planning — an erroneous feeling the story will have a happy ending, of overall safety stemming from the childish view that reality can be regulated by thought/wish/need, that everything that happens is all a big dream he can choose to wake up from whenever he desires — Jerzy knew this feeling he carried around in daily life was nothing but a terrible bullshit weakness in character, a spineless character flaw born of pathological lassitude/inertia that would prevent him from ever becoming an adult, from becoming a man, from taking responsibility for his actions, he knew that he was missing whatever that thing is that fully grown men had, probably the same trait that would allow him w/o compunction to turn in friends & family if the fascists ever took over. He felt the familiar twinge at the end of this train of thought, & felt queasy.