Some Peculiar Ways of Love
‘Love is the best medicine’ – who would disagree with this famous statement? Nothing changes our moods, effectively reduces stress, bolsters the ego, relieves backache, or lifts our self-esteem better than a good ol’ love.
After hours of indescribable pleasure, where each breath obeyed to my rhythm and tempo, I crawled to the couch near the window, frightened that I’d have to repeat it all over again. I knelt to check on my penis. Its crumpled blue skin aroused my suspicion – the end was near. I sighed and promised myself to save its precious life. At that moment, on the floor, I found a piece of stained paper – a photo of Margaret Thatcher. I smoothed the surface, lifted it closer to my eyes, and whispered, “Wherever life takes me, I know you’ll follow me! The keeper of my secrets and sexual adventures, the old elite of rare stimulation!”
I was ready to confess all my sins of the day to Margaret’s picture when the door swung open, and my ex-wife entered the room as some kind of farcical empress. Either from anger or envy, but the first thing she did (when she noticed that I was sitting on the floor with a photo of Margaret) was the jump of an angry leopard: she snatched a precious friend from my weakened hands, then violently tore the adorable image into tiny pieces; twice.
I couldn’t move, perhaps from the inevitable pursuit of my ex-wife or from the dark figure of Alex Raphael, who stood behind her. He carried a dead peacock on his shoulder. I groaned, thinking, ‘What is an angel like me doing in this paradise of sinners?’
I stood up to greet my enemies (with a warlike attitude) who had just burst in, but only a bubbling sob escaped my lips. Or maybe it was a final goodbye: 1) to Margaret – the secret aid of my lonely nights in Rsa; 2) to my bus trips – the chanting movements of female hips during the morning ride to the museum; 3) to my sad but peaceful past – the dreams about the double door vaginas, slender waists, and larger breasts.
Suddenly, the room became as chilly as if it had been moved into the open air of February. Martha settled down on the bedside table, and Alex laid the unconscious peacock on the bed next to the sleeping Ms. Glorious, who still didn’t move.
“Dead?” I asked.
“Not yet. Sobekneferu is a regular visitor. She should be used to the speed of life in the American West.”
“Sobe?” I coughed in shock, “K… Nefe… Ru?”
“It is one word, actually. Quite astonishing creature! I won her in poker,” Alex Raphael grinned.
Martha looked at me sarcastically; she knew my latest obsession with Sobekneferu – the secret love of my life.
“Here she is – your lovffffe! Delivered to the door,” Martha laughed and whistled at the end. That whistle woke up Ms. Glorius from a dreamless nap. Her face was as red as her hair – she looked worn out. Despite that, she threw herself over Alex’s body and started to sniff all over his chest like a hunting dog. Alex found himself totally helpless, looking at her goddess-carved shape of white jade with two ripe red cherries. He instinctively began to respond… I managed to pull out a half-dead bird from under the voluptuous movements of two lovers.
I ran out of Hamilton’s chambers and rushed to the stairs. Sensing a chase behind my back, I turned sharply. Sobekneferu’s feathers left red streaks on Martha’s wrathful face. I shouted desperately, “For Lovfffffe!” and repeated the turn twice. Without hesitation, I continued my wild escape from the West Madness down the stairs to the gates of freedom, but an iron grip paused my motion.
“Are you trying to steal the symbol of our strength and beauty? She is Screw Quarter’s favorite party animal!” The Sheriff asked.
With a submissive expression on my face, I explained: “The opposite! I am trying to revive your symbol from the Land of Dead using the latest medical technologies.”
The Sheriff suspiciously glanced at Martha’s bleeding cheeks and said, “Ms. Downhill Tasty asked about you, Martha. She needs help in the kitchen. Or do you want to follow Doctor Harmless to Warrior Farm?”
“I just wanted to save your symbol from the mouth of this hungry, dirty lion. Don’t be fooled by his innocent words!” Martha decided to play a victim.
Seeing the spark of a question in the Sheriff’s eyes, I snapped: “This is a lie! I love Sobekneferu regardless of its shape in the real world.”
The Sheriff grabbed me by the shorts, took my hands from the still deranged bird, and threw me into the room under the stairs.
“Get some sleep, Doctor. You’ve done enough here!”
I accepted my destiny, pleased with gentleness in the Sheriff’s voice. Then, I adjusted my eyes to the gloom of the room, observing the space around me. Between a grey kimono in thin silk and a blinking phone, snored Armadillo Jack. He was attached to the wall by a chain and seemed profoundly satisfied by the world around him. I stroked Armadillo’s hair, listening to my neurotic racquet-beating heart, and mumbled: “Sweet dreams, madame Jack… You can’t even imagine how happy I am to see you. You are the most beautiful beast with a mobile phone!”
Perhaps you won’t believe me, but I felt how the strange strong force started to grow inside of me – rejuvenating, healing, beautiful as a ray of the sun playing on the tail of a peacock. I was truly an avalanche, a brave snowball falling from the mountains, a cyclopean beast of science, the master of medical voodoo… I was the King of the world, the one that was much bigger than the American West, Screw Quarter, or Gunung Kinabalu. I grabbed the phone and dialed my mother.
Next post – Day 20. The Gossips
Photo of Mr. Harmless – by Anna Koldunova