William S. Burroughs＋Kurt Cobain／THE "PRIEST" THEY CALLED HIM [Tim Kerr] rec.1992, release 1993
Design and Layout : Steve Connell
James Grauerholz (prod), Thor Lindsay (exec prod)
1992/09/25, Lawrence (Kansas)
William S. Burroughs (vo)
1992/11/??, Seatle
Kurt Cobain (g)
01. The "Priest" They Called Him
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中身は、短篇集EXTERMINATOR!（おぼえていないときもある）収録の短編The "Priest" They Called Him（人呼んで「神父」）がまるごと入っている。
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"Fight tuberculosis, folks." Christmas Eve an old junkie selling Christmas seals on North Park Street, the "Priest" they called him. "Fight tuberculosis, folks."
People hurried by grey shadows on a distant wall It was getting late and no money to score he turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife. Cab stopped just ahead under a streetlight boy got out with a suitcase thin kid in prep school clothes familiar face the Priest told himself watching from the doorway reminds me of something a long time ago the boy there with his overcoat unbuttoned reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare. The cab drove way and turned the corner. The boy went inside a building hummm yes maybe ; the suitcase was there in the doorway the boy nowhere in sight gone to get the keys most likely have to move fast. He picked up the suitcase and started for the corner made it glanced down at the case didn't look like the case the boy had or any boy would have the Priest couldn't put his finger on what was so old about the case, old and dirty poor quality leather and heavy better see what's inside he turned into Lincoln Park found an empty place and opened the case. Two severed human legs that belonged to a young man with dark skin shiny black leg hairs glittered in the dim street light. The legs had been forced into the case and he had to use his knee on the back of the case to shove them out.
"Legs yet" he said and walked quickly away with the case might bring a few dollars to score.
The buyer sniffed suspiciously. "Kinda funny smell about it…is this Mexican leather?"
He shrugged.
"Well, some joker didn't cure it." The buyer looked at the case with cold disfavor.
"Not even right sure he killed it whatever it is three is the best I can do and it hurts but since this is Christmas and you're the Priest." $$$ he slipped three notes under the table into the Priest's dirty hand.
The Priest faded into the street shadows seedy and furtive three cents didn't buy a bag nothing less than a nickel say remember that old auntie croaker told me not to come back unless I paid him the three cents I owe isn't that a fruit for you blow your stack about three lousy cents.
The doctor was not pleased to see him. "Now what do you want? I told you…" The Priest laid three bills on the table. The doctor put the money in his pocket and started to scream. "I've had toubles! The people have been around! I may lose my licence!"
The Priest just sat there eyes old and heavy with years of junk on the doctor's face.
"I can't write you a prescription!" The doctor jerked open a drawer and slid an ampule across the table. "That's all I have in the office!" The doctor stood up. "Take it and get out!" he screamed hysterical. The Priest's expression did not change and the doctor added in quieter tones: "After all I'm a professional man and I shouldn't be bothered by people like you."
"Is that all you have for me? One lousy quarter g? Couldn't you lend me a nickel?"
"Get out! Get out! I'll call the police I tell you!"
"All right doctor. I'm going now."
Christ it was cold and far to walk rooming house a shabby street room on the top floor these stairs /cough/ the Priest there pulling himself up along the banister he went into the bathroom yellow wall panels toilet dripping and got his works from under the washbasin wrapped in brown paper back to his room get every drop in the dropper he rolled up his sleeve. Then he heard a groan from next door room 18 a Mexican kid lived there the Priest had passed him on the stairs and saw the kid was hooked but he never spoke because he didn't want any juvenile connections bad news in any language and the Priest had had enough bad news in his life heard the groan again a groan he could feel no mistaking that groan and what it meant. maybe he had an accident or something any case I can't enjoy my priestly medications with that sound coming through the wall thin walls you understand the Priest put down his dropper cold hall and knocked on the door of room 18.
"Quién es?"
"It's the Preist, kid. I live next door."
He could hear someone hobbling across the floor a bolt slid the boy stood there in his underwear shorts eyes black with pain. He started to fall. The Priest helped him over to the bed.
"What's wrong, son?"
"It's my legs, señor…cramps…and now I am without medicine."
The Priest could see the cramps like knots of wood there in the young lean legs dark shiny black leg hairs.
"Three years ago I have damaged myself in a bicycle race it was then that the cramps start and…"
And he has the leg cramps back with compound junk interest. The old Priest stood there feeling the boy groan. He inclined his head as if in prayer went back and got his dropper.
"It's just a quarter g kid."
"I do not require much, señor."
The boy was sleeping when the Priest left room 18. He went back to his room and sat down on the bed. Then it hit him like heavy silent snow, all the grey junk yesterdays. He sat there received the immaculate fix and since he was himself a priest there was no need to call one.
from William S. Burroughs （1973） The "Priest" They Called Him. IN : EXTERMINATOR!. Viking, NYC.
（赤字は朗読での改変）
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句読点のない箇所が多く、読みにくいと思うが、それは原文がそうなのだ。
和訳は次回。
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