The A.F.R. raid on Antitoi Entertainent — "There are maybe about six or…"
There are maybe about six or nine A.F.R. here in the drafty back room, silent as ever, seated with motionless wheels, flannel blankets obscuring an absence of the legs, also of course flannel-shirted, masked in synthetic-blend heraldic-flag irises with flaming transperçant stems at the chin and slits for eyes and round utter holes for mouths—all except for one particular of the A.F.R., in an unpretentious sportcoat and tie and the worst mask of all, a plain yellow polyresin circle with an obscenely simple smily-face in thin black lines
Context
"Flannel blankets obscuring an absence of the legs": concealment of what isn't there — the U.H.I.D. problem restated as ordnance. The rank-and-file wear Québec's flag as a face; the leader wears the samizdat's own emblem, "the worst mask of all," and moments later his is "the yellow empty smiling chewing face" eating a dead man's supper through the mouth-hole.