That evening after dinner Joanna produced some mescaline. “You ever tried this stuff?”

“No.”

“Want to try some?”

“All right.”

Joanna had some paints and brushes and paper spread on the table. Then I remembered she was an art collector. And that she had bought some of my paintings. We had been drinking Heine-kens most of the evening, but were still sober.

“This is very powerful stuff.” “What does it do?”

“It gives you a strange kind of high. You might get sick. When you vomit you get higher but I prefer not to vomit so we take a little baking soda along with it. I guess the main thing about mescaline is that it makes you feel terror.”

“I’ve felt that without any help at all.”

I began painting. Joanna turned the stereo on. It was very strange music, but I liked it. I looked around and Joanna was gone. I didn’t care. I painted a man who had just committed suicide, he had hung himself from the rafters with a rope. I used many yellows, the dead man was so bright and pretty. Then something said, “Hank ...”
It was right behind me. I leaped out of my chair, “JESUS CHRIST! OH, JESUS SHIT CHRIST!”

Tiny icy bubbles ran from my wrists to my shoulders and down my back. I shivered and trembled. I looked around. Joanna was standing there.

“Never do that to me again,” I told her. “Never sneak up on me like that or I’ll kill you!” “Hank, I just went to get some cigarettes.”

“Look at this painting.”

“Oh, it’s great,” she said, “I really love it!”

“It’s the mescaline, I guess.”

“Yes, it is.”

“All right, give me a smoke, lady.” Joanna laughed and lit us up two.

I began painting again. This time I really did it: A huge, green wolf fucking a redhead, her red hair flowing back while the green wolf slammed it to her through lifted legs. She was helpless and submissive. The wolf sawed away and overhead the night burned, it was outdoors, and long-armed stars and the moon watched them. It was hot, hot, and full of color.

“Hank . . .”

I leaped up. And turned. It was Joanna behind me. I got her by the throat. “I told you, goddamn you, not to sneak up . . .”