Marty Sherman: I can't believe he's gone again.
M. Alan Pennywhistle:
I only saw him once when he was back this time.
Marty Sherman:
The guy that shot him claimed to be the 'Brother of God' and that Dirk was 'an imposter'. The world is full of crazy people. He's undergoing psychic evaluation to see if he can stand trial. I hope they put the bastard away forever.
Basil LaGargle (Regional Sales Manager, Borders Books):
Yes, there were death threats. We had stepped up security at all the book signings. I don't know what else could have been done short of canceling his appearances.
Marty Sherman:
Dirk was brave. Even though his life was threatened on a daily basis, he insisted on signing the books for his fans.
Zelda Dirkson (mother):
Imagine outliving your son... twice. It's horrible.
Lisa Dirkson-Dean (ex-wife):
I don't believe any of this bullshit.
The following poem is thought to be the last one written by Prof. Dirk Beat during his second life...
One Last Stroll Down The Hallway
Bare feet on worn & soiled carpet
A strip of midnight blue, tight pattern of ochre diamonds
Dancing through the center, pointing ever forward
Vomit stains, piss stains, sweat & blood
Numbered doors to the left & right
The corridor stretches to infinity as the numbers rise
From behind each closed door the sounds of life
Laughter, crying, moans of pain
Human voices in every language
Mixed with the screeching of birds
Howling wolves, frightened horses
Animal sounds of fucking & fighting
At the end of the corridor, a window...
Veiled, trimmed in the same midnight blue
As that stained carpet
I don't know about you
But I have a bucket of ice under my arm
Am searching for my room, number 13,666
The window glows a faint promise
I stumble forward, tiring of this stroll
Passing room after room
The ice is for the beer
I will never drink
-Prof. Dirk Beat
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