Burned Mind, Beginner's Mind

The mechanic's workshop was located under a turgid grey sky in which a few blackbirds swirled languidly.
The interior of the workshop was cool and gritty. Shelves were lined with tubs of engine oil and assorted mechanical fluids.
The mechanic and his assistant wore orange jumpsuits. The mechanic sipped hot coffee and watched calmly as his assistant tinkered tinkered with the underside of a fat, purple Japanese car that belonged to a middle-class hooker, a valued client.
Sometimes she payed with fellatio.
The mechanic would receive his blowjob first whilst his assistant looked on apprehensively. Then it was the turn of the assistant to get sucked off. The mechanic would spectate at a distance and murmur an obscene commentary.

Often after these sessions the mechanic would receive one of his periodic visions, during which he would go blind. The assistant would lead him to a small office with a window obscured by venetian slats. He would guide the mechanic to a desk where a massive ledger book lay open and secure a pen in the mechanic's grasp. The mechanic would then begin scribbling dementedly, a wild stream of thought, his eyes rolled back to their whites.
The visions were often prophecies that would prove false in time. They were inane and irrelevant, often ludicrous. The visions concerned his garbled theories about the universe, the pre-universe, the multi-verse, the Pegadrift, and the metaphysical Bukkake. The ledger was filled with dense, cryptic handwritten text.

Another client that visited the workshop was a self-taught Zen master. He would challenge the mechanic and his assitant to an ad-hoc fist fight whilst outside bleary light bled from the unified field. It was disgraceful and disgusting the mechanic realised as he watched his young assistant receive a string of punches issed with absolutely brutal force, rendering the assitant's cheeks and eyes and mouth a sordid, bloody mess.

The assitant requested time off to visit the mesemeric, Satanic city of Los Angeles. The mechanic denied him this request. The assistant squealed and protested a breach of his human rights. The assistant then requested that the mechanic sodomise him. The mechanic complied with this request.
"OK you moronic man-boy, bend yerself over that desk and prepare for a sharp pain," the mechanic murmured, unbuckling his belt.

One day the Zen master came to the workshop and defecated on the floor. He seemed satisfied with this deed, proud even. The mechanic and his assitant gazed at the shit speculatively.
"I'm never too hard," growled the Zen master. He watched as mechanic and assitant roiled in the turd like fevered animals.
"Bravo," he applauded dryly.