Salvador Dali The Great Masturbator painting

one thing, more in search of thrills than profits, he had dealt drugs to a refined list of entertainment-industry clients, mostly cocaine and meth and Ecstasy.More likely than not, tougher men than pretty-boy Reynerd had decided that he was poaching in their fields. With a bullet in the head, he’d been enough, and he often skipped lunch. Now, after busy hours of useful enterprise, he was famished.Nevertheless, he tarried long enough to serve chaos. The six children were a temptation that he could not resist.All were six to eight years old. Some were better dressed for the [203] rain and the cold than others were, but all remained unflaggingly exuberant, dancing-playing-chasing in the nasty night, as though they were storm petrels born to wet wind and turbulent skies.discouraged from further competition.Corky had needed Reynerd dead.Chaos had obliged.No more, no less.Time to move on.Time, in fact, for dinner. Aside from a candy bar in the car and a double latte at the mall, he had eaten nothing since breakfast.On good days filled with worthwhile endeavors, his work provided nourishment