Tea at Trimalchio's XXXIV

with Paul Kavanagh



work in progress #7

..and went back to bed. Lucy always kept a Barely Legal, Shaven Haven Magazine just incase a trick needed the loo. The magazine was a part of the con. There's always a con. The trick on the loo undoubtedly would peruse the magazine. He would look over those young nubile girls, naked, exposed, coquettish, and inevitably pull on his john thomas. And by the time he climbed back into the bed he was near to that final pop. Lucy knew all the tricks. Sleeping, supine, mouth agape, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The animals, they came in, they came in by two by two. Into the open mouth of the Ark. Old Noah was snoring head filled with wine and the animals, they came in, they came in by two by two. Shem, Ham, and Japheth were singing:
Hal-le-lu-jah!


The animals went in two by two, hurrah! hurrah! Elephant and the kangaroo, the wasp, the ant and the bumble bee, the great hippopotamus, the monkey, the little pig thought he was going to heaven. "This Ark is the symbol of the Christ who will walk the streets!" exclaimed an elephant.

(Lucy Applebright is dressed in conservative apparel, hair immaculate, with only a hint of makeup, sits modestly upon a chair, she holds her handbag closely to her person. Could she be? She could! Lucy Applebright resembles the Iron Lady. She sings, her voice is so judygarland sweet.)

Days and nights I think only of you
Alone on a bed of broken dreams


(Suddenly Lucy Applebright is no longer dressed, she is naked, naked except for a strap-on dildoe. Her face is plastered with makeup. The dildo is flopping up and down. It is around twelve inches. She croaks, her voice is torture on the ears)                       

Open up open wide open and sing aloud
The Lord is coming to town!


22 November, 9.32 a.m, more tears, the young priest leaps into the air, an incongruous act, an act of madness, a caveat to an attempted suicide and screams loudly, crazily, foolishly. "Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!" All the shoppers bewildered, fearful turn and eye the young priest. Seeing the eyes upon him calm him. He smiled and hurried makes his way to the door.

Elephant and the kangaroo, the wasp, the ant and the bumble bee, the great hippopotamus, the monkey, the little pig walked slowly into the blackness of the mouth of the Ark.

"Now, what time of day is it?" asked Ark wiping sleep off his face. "You are so wasted from drinking booze and sleeping in bed all afternoon that you don't even remember how to ask for what you really want to know," moaned Lucy. "By the moon and the seven stars," said Ark. Maybe he was still sleeping, maybe he was conversing with somebody in his dream, Lucy was perturbed, plus her body ached, it had been a busy night. "Come on, out of the bed," cried Lucy. "Let copulation thrive!" shouted Ark. With this emanation Lucy clobbered poor Ark. Up he shot with a cry, "I am a villain!" "What the bugger?" spat Lucy. "I had a terrible dream," said Ark. "Last night I had some spare time," said Lucy, "and I was thinking about that lady that wrote that children's book." "Where's the wine?" asked Ark. Lucy pointed to the sink. In the sink was a half bottle of red wine. Ark languidly crawled out of the bed. Before he could reach the bottle Lucy was already naked and secure in the bed. Ark care not for the bed. He opened the bottle and sighed. "You were saying." "Yes," said Lucy sleepily, "last night I had some spare time so I wrote a children's story, I mean if that lady can make millions why can't I?" Ark swigged from the bottle. "It's on the table," said Lucy, her eyes shut tight. "Read it while I sleep." Ark searched lazily the table. Yes, there it was Lucy's children's story that would make her £7 billion.

Colhounn was a big man, the biggest man in the city. He was so big he was homeless. Because Colhounn was big and homeless he was a voracious eater. A pound of tripe Colhounn consumed in a day.

        The children after school mocked poor Colhounn, they called him names, spat sit balls at him, they mocked his size, mocked him because he was homeless, mocked him because he consumed a pound of tripe in a day.

Once Colhounn was in love, a girl with long blond hair once stirred Colhounn to swoon, caused his heart to flutter, caused his melancholy to dissipate. The girl with the long blond hair was called Mary.

    Colhounn and Mary would take long walks and consume a pound of tripe. These were Colhounn's happiness days.

    But happy days don't last forever.

    The children seeing Colhounn happy teased him, they threw rocks at him, they urinated upon him, they smeared his face with shit while he slept.

    Mary couldn't stand the torment and so she hung herself.

    Colhounn could not be helped, doctors tried to console him, a butcher gave him free tripe, a chef cooked the tripe, a waiter served the tripe, but Colhounn could not eat. A policeman said he would arrest the children, but they were out of reach of the law.

    Colhounn drank day and night.

The heart of Colhounn was broken and could be seen all over the pavement where he slept. The pieces were brown and hard. A dog came along and consumed the broken pieces of Colhounn's heart.

Where once there was a heart there was now a black hole. Colhounn free of his heart decided he could do whatever he pleased.

A back street is as good as a forest.

Colhounn was a big man, and had big arms. And so with those big arms he carried off the children that mocked day in and day out and in a back street he sodomized the children, he fed the children glass, and finally he flayed the little brutes.


It was a terrible nightmare, Lucy was drowning in books, lots and lots of books, but all the same book, Lucy tried to fight the cascade but the rapids carried her under and the books overwhelmed her. "Don't you try to step on my toes," said one of the books. "I won't!" cried Lucy.



© Paul Kavanagh 2008

[Image: Something Awful]

image ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paul Kavanagh was born in England 1971. His novel, everybody is interested in pigeons, will be published by 40FT Books soon.