The Crying of Lot 49

by Thomas Pynchon

HI! MY NAME IS Arnold Snarb! AND I’M LOOKIN’ FOR A GOOD TIME

Oh, no, Oedipa thought, not a fag joint,

Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.

“I love you, ma,” he said. “Love the dolphins,” she advised him.

“How’s it going?” the cop inquired. “Just marv,” said Oedipa. “I’ll let you know if it’s hopeless.”

Then you’d have this big, God, maybe a couple hundred million chorus saying ‘rich, chocolaty goodness’ together, and it would all be the same voice.”