Long ago the Hybrid Man was in an airplane accident, and the only part that survived was the pineal gland of his brain. The esteemed Doctor Houser knew if the brain were to be saved, it would have to be grafted into various animal parts; and so he used the frontal lobes of a spider monkey, the temporal lobes of an orangutan, and various other parts of animal brains to reconstruct the Hybrid Man's mind. Next he implanted the reconstructed brain into the head of a gorilla, attached the head to a now incredibly heterogeneous body, made up mostly of cattle, but using parts from 23 species in all. "The important thing," this doctor said at a press conference, "is that he's still alive."

The Hybrid Man is often taunted by children as he makes his way down the street near the apartment where he lives. Their favorite chant to sing to him goes:

The Hybrid Man is blind in the mind.
The Hybrid Man is blind in the mind.

Of course most child taunting is never as profound as that.

I looked out at the clouds: they were like tissue lit by the sun, living tissue: the womb of the earth, and the sex of the gods . . . I started to vomit, and I could not stand the sight of my vomit. I was vomiting stuff that roaches must vomit. And a knife was held above my head, and descended upon my head . . . I heard ridicule and laughter . . . I had awakened into hell . . . awakened into hell . . . I saw things through a darkened lens, through eyes that stung with blood . . . the tissue was the guts of Kali . . . the laughter was my bitter cup. And the knife was plunged into my crown; it struck my brain and all was black, and all was the eternal shock of the death-moment.

And a demon chased me into a House of Mirrors. I entered a mirror to hide from the demon, and watched him stalk about looking for me. I suddenly realized I was trapped in the mirrors: I could look through them at reality, but I couldn't cross back. I went from mirror to mirror, trying to find a way out, and saw that the demon merely stood guard outside the House of Mirrors, to see that I wouldn't escape. I became a ghost that haunted the House of Mirrors. The demon chased many more into the mirrors, but we could only see one another's reflections, not one another's real image. We became a poltergeist, and demons ourselves in the madness.

And the mirrors distorted sounds. The demons played a terrible, mad music. The mirrors turned harmony to dissonance; all we could hear were dissonant tones and distortion, and screams. We became like animals: we shot our eyes at meat, and our mouths drooled; we saw things human as confusing and frightening; it was easier, being an animal in all this. There was no pleasure except that of satisfied appetite, that of instinct; it became a refuge, to be an animal. To be a man in that condition was unbearable.

And I was put in a theatre and shown movies. Someone said to me, "When the last movie ends, you will die." "When will the last movie end?" I asked.

And I saw a prison deep underground. And in each cell was a single brain. The brains were alone in their cells and could not escape. Some of them hoped to see just where it was they were, just what the prison was, just what was outside the prison; but each brain showed itself movies that tricked it, and each brain was alone in its movie.

And I saw a great fire sweep through the prison, and each brain boiled in its own juices, and each brain tricked itself with the movies, telling itself something wonderful was happening.

Each brain was alone in its cell . . . each brain was awash in bizarre movies . . . each brain was cooked in the fire . . . and all was sickness and death, sickness and death.

And I saw a blizzard of spidery mountain paths. All the paths started plain, but soon splintered off in a thousand directions. Each path was trodden by a single heart with little scampering claws and legs. The hearts were blind and went the wrong way time after time. The higher into the mountains they got the more wrong turns they took, until the maze grew so complex the blind hearts starved, froze, died, died, died. Above the maze flew and eagle with two sets of eyes, who swooped down upon the hearts with his sharp beak and claws.

And there was one entrance to the maze to the east, and one exit to the west. And not a single heart survived the maze, for the maze was too difficult for any; and the eagle had a great appetite for the meat, and ate beyond his appetite.

And the movies my brain showed itself kept coming, kept coming, kept coming. I was in a dream . . . and there was no escape from my dream. A boot stood across my throat, and a thousand hands bound my arms and legs . . . and I was given a bitter cup to drink . . . and more bitter cups after that . . . and there was no escape . . . no escape.

We have to do something about these ants.

At least they're not cockroaches.

Ants are pretty bad.

But they're not disgusting like cockroaches.

What do you mean?

Well, you know, there's just something really disgusting about roaches that ants don't have. I'd even eat an ant.

That's sick.

Here, look. (Letting a few ants walk onto his fingers.)

Don't.

Look. (Eating the ants.)

You've proved your point.

I wouldn't do that with roaches.

I sure hope not.