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confirm some old
suspicions of mine … between ourselves, a moral aberration is always the offspring
of unconfessable aberrations, onlythat can explain your
“whims” … along with, of course, why an active woman like me scares
you … and as for your arrogant, contemplative “exile”, it’s
clear as day now: banished by the collective consciousness that never tolerates
weaklings, you had to live out in the country; in our ecologist’s favour, however,
it will be remembered that he didn’t wheel in pollution as his reason for leaving,
thus imitating those master swindlers who – to better hide their real motives
– let fools grasp their own despicable conclusions from what looks obvious, a
perfect game to play as it happens: it leaves everyone happy – while the first,
playful lot enjoys its trick in silence, the other, noisy lot celebrates its shrewd
judgement; but that’s not the case with you: a swindler but not a master, what
should have stayed hidden ended up obvious too, it backfired, as this was your only
possible “destiny”: to live in a hideaway with someone of your kind …
Lucifer and his rabid dog … that could be turned into a film … ha ha hah
… one of the them closing the little gaps in the hedge, the other standing guard
until night arrives, both of them doing their utmost to secure their private sphere, and
then afterwards, on the quiet … mutually … between scratching and licking
… elaborating with their little muzzles their clandestine orgies … ha ha hah
… ha ha hah … ha ha hah … it makes me sick!’ her words hailed
down on me, picking up more with a steady hand, she flung reason in my face again and
stabbed me with sharp spines, I held back my slobber, but my teeth were clacking, for
that reason alone I started punching holes in the haemorrhagic discourse of my cerebral
stroke, ‘yes, me, who’s been led astray, yes, me, the enraged individualist,
me, the enemy of the people, me, the irrationalist, corrupted me, with my epilepsy,
delirium and madness, passionate me …’ ‘burn me, O Fiery Mouth!
… ha ha hah …’ ‘… me, the convulsing wick, me, the spark
of confusion, me, inflamed matter, me, perpetual heat, me, the destroying flame
…’ ‘transformme into your glowing embers! … ha
ha hah …’ ‘me, the experienced handler of my trident, me, who cooks up
a giant pot of sulphur, me, always licking my lips at children’s sweet flesh
…’ ‘oh sweet and violent fire! … ha ha hah …’
‘me, the cyst, the sore, the canker, the ulcer, the tumour, the wound, the
body’s cancer, me, all this without any irony and much more, but I don’t
hide my own appetites behind the hunger of the people; and know this too, that I
don’t give a shit for all your blather, and it’s only my good hygiene that
keeps me from wiping my arse on your humanism; I already said I have a different life, a
different weight, you dwarf of a woman, you just can’t get that into your
head’ I said, pouring my bile into the blood of my words, feeling I’d
knocked a bone or two of hers awry, I’d hit home about the disguise, not to speak
of the pre-emptive rejection of her humanism, but her agility was just amazing, seeing
that there wasn’t room for more words in this fight the dwarf, although she was
annoyed, quickly grabbed the tail end of my rocket and simultaneously – with an
eloquent cock of her hips – started inciting me to fight, saying ‘a little
boy, magnificent in all he does … you old fascist!’, she pronounced her
sentence in two clearly distinct tones, and where the first implied a forced mockery,
with a feral bit of evil curled round it, the second implied a final seriousness, with a
wisp of hurt coiled round it, and so I, although shaking, started to advance more
confidently, and get my breath back without her noticing, and since I was recovering the
calm of each word (all of them still nervous inside), I risked saying ‘just one
question: do you know