FICTION

We are going to go with THE CRIPPLE because that was the original work of fiction we wished to produce back in what must have been the summer of 1987.  The purpose for writing it has evolved of course, most probably back then we wanted to be recognized as a brilliant writer and go on to live out a comfortable life afterwards, and probably just as likely we were not thinking of any life afterwards at all or only in the most flippant way; there seems to be a defect or at least a big gap (in thinking) between what people believe life to be and what it actually is, or more likely this habit of imagining a time and place when all problems go away and will not include dying.  This is also probably much like the lion who lies around 20 hours a day and when he needs to eat gets all grumpy and mean and goes running down a smaller animal and.. well.. what is significant is he probably isn't thinking about nourishing his body or how many calories he's going to be consuming.. it's just a waking irritation so great he cannot avoid taking it out on the first available punk bitch around.. whatever is handy.. (at paw).. and holy christ.. once the eating begins.. you don't want to get between him and the butt hole he's consuming.. if nobody else notices the lion isn't interested in any finer cuts of meat.. he isn't going for the "rump roast," or the "loins," per se.. (the lesser lions have to be satisfied gnawing through all that muscle and tendon.. he's like a dog that likes to eat cat shit out of a little box rather than those crunchy and dry hard dog treats you got special because they are so good for his teeth.. nobody's thinking in terms of wanting to eat what somebody else just ate and put through some phase of digestion.. mainly it just seems like the thing to do at the time.

Fortunately mankind is at the top of this whole intellectual curiosity and has learned to be rational about what he does.

Chapter One - the dance of dirty tricks
 

'YOU WON'T LIVE TO SEE THE END of her lying I'm afraid.. boy.'

'Nevertheless, she's hijacked my life.'

'Yes.  And not much to do about it one can suppose; still.. there seems always to be always something to do about something.'

'Yes.'

'Do you suppose she is genuinely conscious of her lying?  As anyone can be made conscious I mean.'

'Oh yes.  Certain.  But just as certain is the belief in any myth.. and the myth of good most of all.  And though I wouldn't presume to lecture you of all people, my father, this thing of the road to hell, (being paved with good intention), we might put an end to that one tonight if we accomplish nothing at all.'

'I might agree; I usually do.'

'And praise her for the finest of intention.'

'Perhaps not go that far.'

'Hahahahaha.'

'No, no, you're right again; she's got more than her share to be happy about and just not too happy.'

'We can never allow that.'

'You might help me with the myth of right now, if that might give you a purpose.. if "God Himself," can't "make straight what's crooked," dot dot dot...'

'I'd say be the master of the dot dot dot!  Hahaha.  And be quick about it.. there are fortunes to be had and unbridled fortunes after that.'

'Ah, the stomach is clamoring again..  I hate to break up such a fine meditation with such a vulgar necessity.'

'The very crime of the creator.. you are not feeling right, I am to guess?'

'I think you've seen to that.'

'Then what is it?'

(pause)

'Well, it must be this business of justice all over the place.. yes.. it is tedious.. there is so much of it; we can fear the universe be unbalanced by the load and fling itself off into the furthest reaches of unaccountability.'

'Ah, I thought I'd steered you far away from politics to make a good boy of you.'

'But never too good.'

'No.'

'Can't we draw the kids onto another topic?'

'And what should that be?'

'Well.. we certainly can't name it straight off like that you old fool; you know the thing has to be their idea entirely.. can't we succeed in making this a bit more entertaining for ourselves?'

'Would that be just?  Are we to say there aren't enough birds in the sky?'

'Ah, the brilliant Jew and his great silos of wheat.. saving the world from death.. and dribbling it to slavery; I have to say you've done it again!  And hats off, (!), of course; it's so good to know one's place.'

'And out again, don't forget.'

'Yes, that was the crown.. the absolute cherry on top.. the Jewel.. and of the Nile of all places!  Just as the story goes.. it's rare to see a thing fit an occasion.'

'Well, that pretty well defines the place for the day.'

'I'd say that myself!'

***

'IN REAL CONSIDERATION OF THE BARREN woman, then.. or at least the childless girl.. the question is of having no judgement against, or any understanding really of, the insatiable vagina beyond that of any normal man.. given to study it at all, if the question is rather to invite one in and to let it loose in one's home... even if these words sound disparaging to a whole population of unfortunate people, both male and female.. if such a thing can be kept light, in light of the darkness in any real understanding of the issue.. (beyond the issuing forth of the baby's head, I'd say); it's a rare man indeed that could remain ignorant of that much.. at least while it's happening.'

'Well that's a rare mouthful.. indeed.. and it doesn't help matters that it's all fantasy up until that moment.'

'I am thinking it was all the result of an unfortunate "potty training," debacle.'

'She said this?'

'Oh, no.. no no.. how could she?  No.  Even if we could recall such a thing, how would there be words?'

'Well, I don't see the connection at all.'

'I am thinking of the universal "justice-seeking," passion in all its forms, whether issued forth from the universe itself of some personification of it.. (a "God," of course).. what's the first thing a toddler screams out, (beyond, "NO!"), once it's learned to say "no," more than "this is not fair," when a brother receives some unexpected, undeserved gift that does not extend in any way to the screamer?  I am saying for all the insistence nobody gets what they deserve it must be in fact the opposite is true.'

'As usual?'

'The opposite is perceived true, just as its own opposite, the real meat of the thing is talking about it afterwards.'

'I still don't get what you are after.'

'Well, any talk of "poop," sends her out for a cigarette.. of the words not allowed in the house, you'd think "cunt," would be among them.. but no, "cunt," is perfectly fine.. "fart," on the other hand.. any reference to "wiping," or being relieved by a comfortable shit.. no.. "cunt," or menstruation.. (you know the latest craze has some reference to vampires needing to taste blood).. every horror and atrocity under the sun is free game.. just don't bring feces into the picture.'

'Understandable.'

'Oh certainly!  I am absolutely in love with the monster.'

'And all this is somehow connected to her being childless.'

'Well, not in the usual sense of course.  But these kids, you know, insisting all about us stretching to the ends of the universe is the result of a conscious thought...'

'Yes, the wrong one.'

'Yes, you'd think, but there might really be something to this particular flight to fancy.'

'Like all the rest.'

'But I have gotten her interested in her own butthole.. I have to say that.. I've gotten her to say the word, in reference to my eating something off it.. she seemed almost excited to have discovered a bit of my humor.. to use on me.. she might even be somewhat innately aware of the male fascination with his own butthole.. but she is a vault of secrets.'

'Well, good for her, I'd say, and you too.'

'Oh, yes.'

'To the insatiable vagina then...'

'Forever.'

'Barren.'

'Yes, to date.. but.. well.. we can't ignore the boldest of men being turned to rather limp and melting pats of butter by the mere mention of the "rape fantasy," can we?'

'You're just all over the place today; aren't you?"

'I am saying there is some value to pushing the unwilling into motherhood.. akin to that of forcing a good man into government office.. I'd say she's taken a hard look at poop and wants no part of it..'

'Same, same.'

'That's just the woman you want for the job.. and these flashes of lightening.. they make a man close his eyes and wish for more.'

'Greater.'

'Immaculate moments.'

'And it's the man's job to name everything?'

'She will not.'

'Certainly.. she will laugh with derision and scorn, disdain.. and go out for a cigarette.'

'But you..'

'Affixed beyond all sense, (common or otherwise), it is a tailspin now.. my attention is hijacked.. there is no though of overpowering the villain.. no hope of victory.. just consequence.'

'Just.. you say.. "Just," or just?'

'Just.'

'And...'

'What can any man say.. to anything..'

'"Welcome?"'

'"I'll point you to the bathroom."'

'And "the beauty no one ever need see," I may be beginning to see.'

'Most clods point immediately to the bedroom and most cunts go blindly along..'

'But you say the bath.'

'Most certainly.  And it's not so off topic.. the unavoidable consequence.. put her in the bath but for your own convenience, scrub her tenderly.. pat her dry.. stand her up.. sprinkle her with powder perhaps.. hold her down like a terrified cur if you have to.. and..'

'Don't be harsh.'

'Just be ready.'

'Who was talking about the orgasm, (for a woman), being some kind of ecstatic wish-for-death experience, or something like that?'

'I'd say we had our own troubles naming things.'

'Quite right, yes.'

'I'll ask her about it sometime though.. certainly interesting.. that would explain the loss of interest once the baby is born.. maybe even the expulsion from the garden.. but with some a deeper longing for it..'

'Far beyond you or me.'

'And that's why I consult you.. it's all tilling fields and sweat and brambles after that.'

'And what is more than that; electric light bulbs and motorcars?  No.  For it is such that the tree is known by its fruit.. and every tree is good for food except for this one and that one.. (I don't know where that came from or where it's going)..'

'Just.'

***

'WELL, I WOULDN'T SAY SHE came in like a herd of locust or anything so suffocating as all that, eating everything in sight, choking the air, blocking the sun and of course stinking like nothing ever smelt.. more like a bulldozer.. with a back-hoe just behind.. turned over every block of cement ever put down it seems.. no stopping it.. she might have left a couple trees behind but even that is up to question now.'

'Dust lives not.'

'Yes and the rubble is almost cleared away and swept up and every matter settled...'

'Almost?'

'She is still asleep.'