so now you were rescuing people, someone was assassinating everyone who was a danger to him, someone was out assassinating people by stuffing them in water-filled holes in the earth, so that they would have to tread water till they grew tired and drowned, and you were out removing the caps to these holes, you were out pulling people from the holes, the assassin was putting three people to a hole, and you asked one man after getting him out, "Is there anyone left alive down there?" and he said, "No, the others are dead," and you pulled a woman up by her blond hair out of the water and saw her corpse head, and you were satisfied that the rest were dead, and over the caps that the assassin had placed over the holes, over these green caps was written poetry, and the police was soon to ban these green caps and their poetry, since they had been used to cover over dying and drowning people, it was racist poetry, the poetry on these caps was racist, and when they caught the assassin they confronted him on his racist poetry, and he said, "At least it’s not petty little poetry that preaches to you about the injustices of racism," and they said, "But is not racism unjust," and he said, "Yes it is but poetry is no place to preach about that, if someone is going to say something about race in poetry, I prefer that it be something offensive, otherwise it’s all petty little preaching," and so they banned the assassin’s poetry, and you were given a strange wire connected to a battery for your bravery, and now the wire was on fire, and you could not blow out the fire, the rubber had melted and it was stuck to your skin, just as it started to burn your skin you thrust it into the snow, the moisture activated the battery and you got a series of shocks, the battery was still stuck to your skin, you vainly tried to remove it, it was still giving you electric shocks, and you said to yourself, "Certainly I will be made wild by all this, certainly I will be made insane by all this" . . .