Inside of the box
I sat in the bedroom, surrounded by the piles of ‘HOW TO’ books, trying to make sense of the sophisticated writing of Alphonso Beard. Unfortunately, even my university degree couldn’t help me to understand his tips. I fell asleep, exhausted from reading, with my eyes swollen from the constant tension. I heard the arrival of Mrs. Sweet Hellfire, who went upstairs and started to bang impatiently on my bedroom door, craving sexual services. I put some earplugs in and hid my head under the pillow.
At 4 am, I plucked up the courage and went to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Because I could no longer share my worries with Margaret Thatcher’s photo, I was forced to talk to my own reflection in the mirror. That man inside of the mirror on the wall wasn’t me, or maybe he was me – partly – but the one I’ve tried to keep locked away for years. He was dressed in crumpled pajamas and looked dissatisfied and weak. I hated him.
“I’ll rejoice every second you are with me, Bullet, and that will be most of the time, day and night. Our life is so short,” said a voice behind my back.
“We’ve got different visions on life and marriage, Mrs. Sweet Hellfire. Sometimes I need to be alone, and probably more often than you’d be expecting,” I sighed and prepared for the worst.
My wife came closer, placed a silver feather under my chin and started to move it down to my belly, intent on erecting my unwilling-to-work ‘antenna.’ I glanced down at her green mouth, full of poisonous saliva, and I knew that if I’d died tonight, then the words on my grave would state: “He couldn’t manage it…”
I didn’t die. At 6 am sharp, I was standing at the door of the Meeting Hall, waiting to be invited to the mysterious Board Meeting. The door opened, and two guards unceremoniously dragged me inside. The walls in the hall were made of limestone, with six dramatic arches springing from enormous masonry piers. The mosaic floor was made of strips of yellow and blue marble. Each side provided access to the roof above with the help of the spiral stairs.
One of the guards put an empty brown card box above my head, tied my hands behind my back, and pulled me towards the stairs. I shouted that I could walk by myself, but they held me fast. After the 6th floor, I lost count…
I woke up because my body – utterly exhausted from the nights with Mrs. Sweet Hellfire and constant food collisions with seven housekeepers – was pierced to the floor by unbearable pain. Something wet and heavy fell on the box; the guards laughed. One of them said it was “Bubbly,” the local bird that had abnormally big droppings. He removed the dirty card box from my head. I looked around. We were standing on the roof of a building with the centrally located Information Desk. Behind the desk sat an old lady who asked the guards something in the local language.
Satisfied with the response, she pressed a red button and ordered them to strip me off and replace the dirty box with a clean one. The guards followed her orders with pleasure. I wanted to ask the lady in charge how long we had to wait and what exactly we were waiting for, but the guards started to talk, and their strange conversation stopped me from any inquiries.
“He’s not too bad-looking, or, at least, he wouldn’t be if we’d put some clothes on him again.”
“You don’t understand a thing… this is the latest fashion outside of Gunung Kinabalu – brisk and spicy. Look, the horrifying face of snake-haired erection is aimed directly at you, Jellywobble,” The man laughed.
“Don’t be absurd, Medusa.”
“Ah, I sometimes envy all those outside freedoms we, guards, don’t have. Don’t you, Jellywobble? Deep down, all we want is to be naked.”
“Only as a metaphor.”
“I’m telling you; fuck is in the air.”
“Maybe, but the Board is a true challenge. I hope Mr. Harmless is flexible enough.”
“I remember my night with a previous doctor. It was so opaque, so boring… I didn’t understand it at all. You know how I adore all tips in the ‘How To perform Infinite Sex’ book, but he just didn’t get it, that pure, uncluttered idea of shifting positions upside down.”
“Some people are not prepared to face your reality, Medusa.”
“Yeah… We are living in a scary time, Jellywobble.”
“What we need is war because then the men from Beluga Clan would visit us more often and finish our daily suffering.”
“The rumors go that they are all castrated; that’s why they are fighting.”
“Noooo! You just destroyed all my hopes, Mr. Medusa! I must visit a teahouse room immediately; I feel so broken.” The old lady behind the Information Desk added.
A hatch in the floor opened at that moment, and a familiar voice ordered: “Drop the doctor, we are ready!”
Two guards, Medusa and Jellywobble, pushed me down into the hatch. Someone lifted the box from my head. It was the fifth Mrs. Vegas – a gentle soul from Rsa, full of frantic tricks in the field of tantric love.
“Mrs. Delight, what are you doing here?!” I was shocked.
“Shh… I’m here to help you. I’m the next wife of Alphonso Beard. Our wedding is tomorrow,” Mrs. Vegas whispered.
“How are you going to help me?”
“I’m on the Board. I’m going to save your miserable life, Mr. Harmless, but you must promise me something.”
She put the box on my head again, leaving me shaking in the shadows of my fear. I made a promise to help, but I was the one who needed it the most.
Next post – We deserve better…