And the morally destitute brownback yelled cut since he loved to yell cut and he had always fantasised about instructing someone abruptly to cut something and being obeyed instantly. The problems is, with fantasy as with most things, it tends to run into well-groomed forests of priapic middle fingers. Which is why his earnest shouts of ‘cut.’, repeated and begged and repeated and implored, went unheeded, and the people on the other side of the glass went on doing what they were doing and what none of them seemed particularly to want to be doing. It is absolutely credible, and a thesis worthy of examination, that the people on the other side simply could not hear him, through the glass or against some other more alien impediment, but the aural barriers his cuts ricocheted off of were ultimately no excuse for the refusal of persons and actions to be flattened by the yell from the other side, no excuse for their staunch denial of any obligation to submit to any authority of eyes avian or godly too squeamish to play in the mud, the mud and clay on their side.
The five men all suffered of localized acromegaly in their only unpaired extremity. Clothes and logically sequenced words oppressed them alike, so both had been mechanistically shed before the brownback had even entered the well-lit room. And the five men took turns coming in the small-breasted girl’s ass, taking great care not to pull out too much of the previous man’s come but also taking great pleasure in mixing the whole concoction thoroughly, uniforming the texture and cementing their offering to the girl’s darker altar. And after they had all paid their dues the second man felt he had more to give, so he pulled the girl up by her hair, propped her on her knees, slapped her lucid to ensure she maintained the desired position and came once more in an hungry mouth dutifully pried wide open by the powerful pairs of index fingers and middle fingers of the fourth man, who now realized he had wanted to do the same and was jealous of the second man for thinking it up first, for upwards thinking. And at this the other three men fretted for they worried the come might slip out of the girl’s ass when she assumed verticality, but the girl was no fool so she immediately corked up her asshole by inserting her middle finger and her ring finger into the playful, dangerous opening. And then the girl glanced straight at the browncoat and displayed proudly the second man’s come in her mouth and she spat it upwards and some of it landed on her face and some of it landed back in her mouth and this made her smile and she swallowed the come that had landed back in her mouth. And the smiling girl remained on her knees and she drove her knees apart as far as her knees would go and she stood as high as her knees would allow and she arched her back and she popped her ass back and started agitating the two fingers that kept it sealed, for she was waiting for its contents to mature and age gracefully, and when she decided the potion had been well stirred she squatted and she became tight and contracted and she finally gave manly birth to a bubbly spew of liquefied pearl. And she had propelled it all over the clean well-lit wooden floor so she stood on all fours and chased all the stragglers with her keen tongue and licked them back into centrality off the clean wooden floor. And once all the come had been made comfortable once more in a single stout puddle in the center of the well-lit wooden room she took care to inject a certain basic symmetry into arranging the corpuscles of excrement floating around in the puddle. And once all the corpuscles had been assigned their rightful places, dark bloodcrusted swans on a frozen lake, the mother’s mouth descended into the puddle and blew life into it and the waves and the bubbles and the geysers were hectic and the serene self-sufficiency was no more. And after the girl had blown bubbles in the cumpuddle, she lapped most of it up and spat it back out and there was something missing since the corpuscles of shit were now wedged between the girl’s small teeth. And so the girl lapped up the new, deformed cumpuddle and ejected it and repeated the recreation of landscape several times, but still the corpuscles would not return. So she plugged her longest fingers into her ass and extracted a school of larger coprologic beads and split them into smaller spheres and spread them equally and fairly across the surface of the sixth incarnation of the cumpuddle.
and you dislike and are silently put off by the cumpuddle because it is dead and cold and cut off from the bodies, oh the warm body one more warm body, that birthed it and is simply labile ooze whereas simply swallowing fresh warm squirts is an unbroken act and at one with sex and it is sex and not image and the come is not yet independent of its mother its giver a life in fucking deed
And the five men became frustrated with being sent to the tool-shed during the girl’s picnic and they surrounded the girl once more and almost simultaneously managed to start pissing on her from all sides. And the ablutions christened her breasts and her back and her openings and her hands and her ears and her nose and her mouth. But the mouth was greedy and would not share with the others more than was strictly necessary to maintain respectability and kept the auriferous magic for its own thirst and ambition. And although it achieved impressive neatness and functionality on the black-on-white, the logistics of the Nuova Trevi were complex, for each human corner of the piss pentagram ended up being inundated with the offerings of those opposite him when inevitably these offerings flowed slowly to his feet, and this disgusted some of the five men, and the third man almost vomited but restrained himself since he knew without knowing that the browncoat was watching. And after the girl had had her fill and would drink no more for fear of falling pregnant, she cradled the lonely promontory of come amid the warm erosion of the urine and baptized it in piss again and again through her fingers so it would grow immune to the piss. And she dived in the warm streams and swam beneath their movement looking for fish of blue and gold and emerged for air and climbed onto the surface once more using the five men’s members as ladder. She finally vacuefied the proud space previously borne by the cumpuddle with her mouth and forgot to play with it and swallowed it. And then she smiled unto the five men and suffered them to come unto her. And the five men regained their vestments and would have no more of the girl, but she locked the door and strengthened the glass and walked to the fourth man. And the girl kneeled in front of the fourth man and lost her greedy hand in his jeans and extracted his member from the darkness of the zipperspace and told him she was looking for her soulmate and the sun broke through her face and into his. And the fifth man slapped the girl backed into the centre of the well-lit room and the second man washed her face in the still-warm steams once more and the third man picked the girl up kissed her, he kissed her long and muddy and craven. And the fourth man kissed the first man and the girl received as capacious hostess three men in her undertow, and one in the misty bordello where no one particularly wanted to be but such was life, and as the last man, who was also the first man, was about to sequester her powers of speech she repeated unto him that she was looking for her soulmate. And he nodded in suave recognition and plugged her mute and the brownback nodded in recognition also. And the girl spread her thighs and secured her feet behind her head and spat on the second man and scratched her thighs and scratched her nascent stomach with lean nails harbouring mud and pink love on the inside, and she scratched them with a diamond ring she had found hidden behind the small ears of the fifth man. And the browncoat has seen it all before in other rooms of other woods and other girls, but all of them equally and equably well-lit rooms. And his ‘cut.’s had grown friends with their impotence and each cut paints the five men’s sorrow but unlike brownback they have work to do.
And the brownback knew his work was done when he forgot what his work had been, and he left the five men and the girl of the well-lit wooden room to their sacrifices and their odes to the fat, improbable survival of of Venus.
And he stepped into the wilderness of mirrours and saw himself in each man’s face and saw himself in each woman’s mouth, and wanted to see his self melt into pleasure in women’s mouth as they lifed his name, but it was not written, not thus, and the women’s mouth did not live his name, and he was not there to liquefy. And he was not theirs to liquefy. And no one said. And some of the lifeless mirroured, the
mirroured grey and coughing, tried to pull the browncoat in with them by availing themselves of his bucket of blood, but the blood was misplaced and too bright and not lived in and the mirroured remained silent and hungered and grew of the sleep. And they had no power over him. Nor the browncoat over them.
And the Führer led the dance. And the fingerpainting onto the surface of the glass did not wake up the girl or determine the five men to branch into a fist, but the pictured dancers, flattened, were pretty and joyful and jumped when they were told to jump and their life floated above the steam of the warm streams like a stream of sleeping mice leaving their townspeople at night. And the music picked up and the five men grunted and frowned and fucked her ass harder, and the devil leads the dance.
And the brownback’s companion dared to toss a lit candle through the glass on the other side and into the warm streams of piss. And they lit up and the five men who were steeped in them lit up also and they convulsed and they were twirling leaves in the streams’ combustion. And only the girl, who had availed herself of the drink of lifewater when the drink had been the five men’s to give, stood now tall and walked among the flames as one of their own. And the five men paled and lost their lines and their colors turned lighter and then darker and they were smaller and smaller and louder and louder until the fire was tired of their shrivelled screaming and kissed their mouth. And the companion accused them all, all of them, even the cinders of the five men, of moral dwarfism, and he said the five men had been mental microbes and the girl was an intellectual pygmy, and this rabble was unfit to consort with the imagery of gold and perpetuation, and their sterility would burn long after the wind had carried their charred corpses to emaciated coyotes and ravens of posterity. And the brownback tried his luck one more iteration and yelled ‘cut.’ as far as his lungs would carry him but yet again there was no discernible effect of retaliation and he dropped his head down in defeat but found defeat deceptive and placed his head back in its rightful place. And the girl laughed at the companion, as all girls laughed at the companion, and she walked up to the glass on the other side, and the companion walked up to the glass on the other side also, and she held her hand out against the glass where she suspected the glass could have been, and the companion held out his hand against the girl’s hand, their hands separated only by a thin sheet or waft of glass or air. And companion questioned the credentials of the entirety of womankind and the girl said woman was king and they stared their arguments deep into each other, boring and drilling and excavating and trying to replace the old fossilised arguments they located, artefacts closed in their ancient surface to right or reason, replace them with current logical chains and corrected viewpoints and deeper understandings and balances. But the old ones would not budge, and the companion and the girl closed up but left their palms open against the other’s palm, and since this stance was of the utmost significance or progress to either and both, the girl smashed the glass on the other side and caught a long limb of glass in mid-fall and placed it, anatomically correct, in her used up carotid. And as the girl with the glass in her neck fell at the companion’s feet, separated from the companion’s feet by the remnants of the wall of glass, the companion’s feet moved back, and back again, and took the companion far away from the well-lit wooden room with the wall of glass at its centre.
And as always browncoat had to take the back door and brave the fire escape, for the air in the well-lit wooden room had become suffused with microscopic, anatomically corrected shards of glass and was hardly breathable; and browncoat sought well-vascularised leaves that were not born with a destiny of ash within them, leaves that could grow old and boring as parachuting churches and wormfood and cluttered sewage and worse, bookmarks. But the five men had been the finest driest leaves he had it in him to encounter and embolden, and they had withered, and nature was not a metaphor never was never a good metaphor and he hadn’t it in him to drop the inklet and finish this sentence. His sentence. Why did he have a sentence, such a stern sentence, when he had never in his life made any cuts, never could cut anyone even if he wanted to. Hednevercutaman, not once, can you believe it.
Chapter vii