Eating the Moon

by Mark David Campbell

  “It is not you they do not like. It is me,” Nando says sorrowfully. “They call me a copa fish.”

  “What’s a copa fish?”

  “It is an ugly fish that feeds off the bottom, and nobody eats it because it tastes bad. Some of the women use it to fertilize their potato patch.”

  My mouth hangs open with shock. “Well, you are a lot more beautiful, and I’ll bet you taste a lot better than those two sour parrots.” Calling someone a parrot is like saying they are only feathers with no brains.

  Nando forces a smile.

  A few moments later Kizo and Luca enter the plaza. They have their arms over each other’s shoulders. Luca is gripping a grog gourd, and they are both staggering. Kizo, as usual, is dressed in his conquistador’s helmet and gold and silver breastplate. Luca is wearing a red loincloth, his body is intricately painted, head to toe, in a red geometric snake design outlined in black, and he’s got numerous red feathers tied in his hair. Luca makes a whooping cry and waves the grog gourd high in the air, and Nando and I wave back. I glance down at my little bunch of green feathers attached to the belt around my waist that keeps going askew. How can Kizo and Luca be so damn sexy while I look like a big green chicken?

  “Hey, Kiddo,” Luca calls up to me. “Let’s get this party started.”

  “Yes.” Nando looks at me and smiles. “It is time for a celebration.”

  I nod. Then I notice that Nando is still wearing only his plain white loincloth and grass sandals. “Well, hurry up. Get dressed for the party!”

  Suddenly there is an earsplitting cry from directly overhead, and Nando and I, along with everyone in the plaza, look up toward our rooftop. There, painted entirely black, standing on the edge of the roof with both arms extended in the air, is Pico. The men in the plaza cheer, and Pico waves his arms back and forth as he makes loud monkey cries.

  “Pico’s going to kill himself up there.”

  “He is not Pico.” Nando shrugs. “He is now the Monkey King.”

  “And I suppose you’re the one who painted him black?”

  Nando smiles and nods.

  “All the same, he’s going to be a dead Monkey King if he falls.” I signal for Pico to climb down. “Pico!”

  He scurries along the roof with the agility of a real monkey and swings onto the patio from an exposed roof beam, then leaps into my arms, wrapping his legs around my waist, almost sending both of us toppling over the edge. I grab his bum and hold him tightly.

  “Now come on.” I turn to Nando. “Pico and I are ready. Get dressed.”

  A look of panic shoots across Nando’s face. “I do not… I mean, I cannot….” Then he stares at his feet. “Please do not ask me why.” He turns and hurries inside our cottage.

  Pico unwraps his legs and stands.

  “Wait!” I turn to follow him, but Pico holds my arm firmly. He waves his free hand back and forth in front of my face and pulls me toward the steps. I reluctantly follow Pico down into the plaza and join the festivities, without Nando.

  Throughout the night, I eat, drink, dance, and play along with the men. Sometime in the night, during a pause while we are lounging together in a sweaty pile on the pyramid mound, I feel someone on the step below me grab my leg and begin stroking it. I look down and see Mazu, his eyes seductively at half-mast and his lips fully pursed. I immediately think of the way he treats Nando, and my stomach churns. Stretching my arm up over my head to the fruit basket on the step above me, I grab a large slice of papaya. As Mazu slithers upward, ready to run his tongue along my inner thigh, I shove the piece of papaya into his open mouth. “Why not suck on this, Mazu.”

  He jerks his head up in surprise and glares at me, the papaya hanging out of his mouth, while I slide away from his clutches.

  It’s almost dawn when Lalli, who is lying on his back resting his head on my thigh, hands me a large polished stone dildo and smiles. I take the dildo, reach down between his legs, and slowly insert it into him while he moans with pleasure. I then shift forward and engulf his cock. Just as his balls and leg muscles tense, he pushes my head away and reaches for a gourd. With a roar, he shoots into it. Suddenly, a young man appears from nowhere, grabs the gourd, and runs off.

  Lalli then rolls over, grips my thighs, and buries his face in my crotch. I lean back and stare up at the mango-colored horizon, and it’s not long before I climax in his mouth. Instantly, a gourd appears, and Lalli spits into it. Whoever is holding the gourd disappears with it, but I’m too far gone to care about what’s going on with the sperm. Lalli worms his way up and lies on top of me. Among the heap of warm, slippery bodies, I float in my afterglow.

  “HOW WAS that?” Guy said to Richard.

  “Fine, but I still don’t understand why they’re collecting cum in gourds.”

  “Primitive artificial insemination!” Guy blurted out. “Kyle and Dzil and the other women are practicing seeding rituals on the other side of the pyramid mound.”

  “Ahhh!” Richard held his mouth open. “I didn’t get that part. I was beginning to wonder when and how men and women have sex.”

  “They don’t!” Guy bobbed his hands emphatically. “Man, for a smart person you can be a little slow sometimes. They must have loved you during story time in kindergarten.”

  “And what do the heterosexuals do, then?” Richard asked, ignoring the jab.

  “As I told you, the few that are hopelessly hetero live in the shadows, much like it is for queers here.” Guy flicked his hand like he was shooing a fly.

  “And so on the island, the tables are turned? The homosexuals occupy center stage while the heteros are pushed out?”

  “Exactly!” Guy said.

  “Interesting. Even though you express a lot of antagonism towards heterosexuals, you covet the same stereotypical model of the hetero lifestyle: stable partnership, babies, and family.”

  “Look, I don’t hate heteros. I hate their privilege. They run around and pop out unwanted kids all the time with little more concern than a poke and a squirt.”

  “I think most children are wanted, don’t you?”

  “Doc, if every child was wanted, you wouldn’t have a client base.”

  “Sad but true.” Richard took a slow breath. His expression was compassionate. “Did you feel unwanted?”

  “I was an accident,” Guy said, shaking his head. “I was mostly ignored.” Guy paused for a moment and bit the corner of his lip. “But Luca was abandoned—just thrown away like trash. All he wanted was to be wanted by someone, by anyone.” Guy looked to the floor. “But the damage had already been done, and he could never let anyone in.”

  “So who are you really angry at?”

  “Good question, Doc.” Guy tapped his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “I guess the answer is myself.” He cocked his head to one side. “Your turn. So who are you really angry at?”

  “You don’t miss a beat, do you?” Richard tossed his head and shrugged. “Same answer as you.” He glanced at his watch. “Our time is up.”

  Guy stood.

  “Mr. Palmer, before you leave.” Richard’s face was stern. “As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, I’ve decided to follow your advice.”

  Guy paused and raised one eyebrow but didn’t respond.

  “My ex-girlfriend is a good person. She deserves passion, and so do I,” Richard said with a cockeyed smile. “It’s time I close the textbooks and figure out what I really want and need.”

  Guy bowed his head graciously. “And so your adventure begins.”

  Chapter 12: Pico’s World

  GUY WALKED up to the nurses’ station with the cups of coffee balanced in one hand. In his other hand, he held a yellow plastic net bag filled with coin-shaped chocolates covered in gold foil. Armando and his colleague, Linda, were standing behind the counter reading the computer screen.

  Armando looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Palmer.”

  Guy didn’t respond. He reached over the counter and handed the bag to Armando.

 
“Are these for us?”

  Guy nodded.

  “Ohh,” Linda squealed, “I love these little chocolate coins.”

  “Thank you.” Armando looked surprised. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Nothing.” Guy smiled. “Just something to brighten up your day.”

  “Who needs an occasion for chocolate?” Linda took one, peeled off the gold foil, and popped it into her mouth. “Oh well, there goes my diet,” she said through chocolate-covered teeth.

  “Don’t worry.” Guy nodded sincerely. “In many societies, your big rump would be considered very sexually attractive.”

  Armando sputtered out a laugh. Linda stopped chewing and glared at Guy. Just as she was about to speak, Armando patted her forearm and rolled his eyes. She scowled.

  Armando turned back to Guy and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Palmer. That was very thoughtful.”

  Guy grinned, turned, and walked down the hall humming a little tune. He entered the studio without knocking, placed Richard’s coffee on the desk, and sat down on the sofa.

  “Thanks.” Richard got up, picked up his coffee, and moved over to the swivel chair. “Why don’t you tell me a bit more about growing up.”

  Guy made a low growl in the back of his throat. “Okay, we’re back to playing ‘The Shrink and The Looney’ this morning.” He blew out a breath of air. “There’s not much more to tell.” Guy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “As I told you, my parents were always in the store.” Guy popped off his coffee lid and took a sip. “Yuck, forgot the sugar. I either hung out there after school, helping with this and that, or stayed up in my room pretending to study.” Guy cocked his head.

  Richard looked at Guy with an expression that seemed to say “Go on.”

  Guy inhaled slowly and continued in a low, serious voice, “There were times I felt like I was part of the inventory in my parents’ store.” Guy reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of sugar, tore it open, and poured it into his coffee. “Same old story, I guess. My dad never taught me to throw a ball, and my mom was only concerned that I did well in school.”

  Richard’s left eye twitched.

  Guy smiled coyly. “I see we do share some common experiences after all.”

  Richard shifted backward automatically and cleared his throat. “Did you have any childhood friends?”

  Guy pulled a bent swizzle stick out of his pocket, stirred his coffee, then licked the swizzle stick clean and put it back into his pocket. “Not many.” He took a large gulp of coffee. “That’s better. I was mostly a loner. Like I told you, sometimes I was bullied, but mostly I was ignored.”

  Richard sat motionless, listening.

  “When I was little, there was Jennifer,” Guy continued. “Her mother was a teacher, so my mother held her in high esteem. She had had German measles or something when she was pregnant with Jennifer, and well, let’s just say Jennifer was a ‘slow child.’ Or at least that was the polite term. Folks in my town acted like she was dirty and contagious. Anyways, Jennifer lived next door for a number of years, and so on Saturdays while my mom was in the store, Jennifer’s mom minded me.”

  Guy paused for a moment. “Jennifer was older than me, but she had been held back in school. We hung out together in an obscure corner of the schoolyard during recess—the ‘faggot’ and the ‘retard.’ We certainly got called that often enough, long before either one of us knew what those names really meant.”

  Guy pushed himself up with his hands from where he had sunk into the sofa, resettling in a more upright position. Then he stared at the far wall like he was looking off into the distance and began to talk slowly.

  IT’S DARK, and we are lazing on the benches and pillows in the cottage, watching the torchlight make strange shadows along the walls.

  “See, it’s a dog,” I say as I clasp my hands together and hold them up to the light, casting a shadow on the far wall.

  “A dog?” Nando says, and I remember there are no dogs on the island.

  “Well, it’s an animal, anyways.”

  Nando holds his hands up into the light and makes a shadow. “What’s this?”

  “A parrot.”

  “A parrot? It’s a jaguar,” Nando says. “See his eye and ears?”

  “Looks like a parrot to me.” I wink at Pico. “What do you think, Pico? Is it a parrot?”

  Pico nods.

  Nando lowers his hands. “You two have no imagination.”

  “Sure we do.” I snort. “We see a parrot.”

  Pico giggles.

  “Listen, I have a story you have not heard yet,” Nando says. “This story is Pico’s favorite, but I will tell it to you in English.”

  “How will Pico understand?”

  “Oh, do not worry. He has heard it so many times it does not matter what language I tell it in. He understands.” Nando leans back, props a pillow under his head, and begins to tell his tale.

  “A long, long time ago there existed a great jaguar. His coat was spotted brown and gold on a shiny black mat. His body was muscular and lean. His movements were flowing and seductive. He was an animal of such exquisite beauty that everyone called him Lord Jaguar. Everyday Lord Jaguar patrolled the jungle, allowing all to see and enjoy his magnificence. But Lord Jaguar was not content.

  “‘Oh, poor me.’” Nando switches to a low, comical voice, elongating his vowels, and Pico squeals with delight. “‘I am so superb that no other animal in the forest can compare to me. I give such pleasure, but who is worthy to please me? Who? No one.’”

  Returning to his narrative voice, Nando continues. “One day while Lord Jaguar was patrolling his jungle, carefully allowing the light and shadow to flow along his splendid coat, he became hungry. In a banana tree, Lord Jaguar saw a little monkey. The monkey had a big head and long skinny arms and legs. Parts of the monkey’s skinny body, his back and tail, were covered with tufts of brown fur, while others parts, his face and belly, were almost bare. His movements, like his chatter, were nervous and jerky. Lord Jaguar, with a grand sweeping gesture, snatched the little monkey from the banana tree and pinned him to the ground.

  “‘Ugly little monkey,’” Nando says in a commanding voice. “‘You are most fortunate, for I have chosen to eat you today.’

  “‘Oh’”—Nando changes to a high squeaky voice—“‘it is a great honor for a pitiful beast like me to be eaten by such an exquisite creature like you. But first, before you eat me, allow me to show my gratitude.’

  “‘I am Lord Jaguar. What could such a miserable beast like you do to show me gratitude?’

  “‘It is true, I am an ugly monkey, but as all the animals in the forest know, monkeys are very clever at making sex.’”

  Pico makes a long, squealing laugh.

  “‘Ha, ha, ha,’ roared Lord Jaguar. ‘You wish to make sex with me, little monkey? Oh, you amuse me so much that I will almost regret eating you, but I am hungry.’”

  Pico bursts into a loud hollow laugh, the way he does when he’s anticipating something fun, and as laughter is contagious, I begin to laugh along with him. Nando grins widely, obviously pleased, and continues speaking in the voices of his characters.

  “‘Oh please, please, Lord Jaguar, please eat me, but first let me show you how monkeys make sex.’

  “Lord Jaguar continued to laugh. ‘Yes, my ridiculous little monkey, you can show me. Then I will eat you.’

  “‘Oh, thank you, Lord Jaguar. You are truly superb. Now please face the other way.’

  “‘Okay, but I will hold your tail so you cannot escape.’

  “And Lord Jaguar, holding tightly on to the monkey’s tail, turned his backside to him. First the little monkey licked his finger and slowly inserted it into Lord Jaguar’s ass and began moving it in and out slowly.

  “‘How is this?’ asked the little monkey.

  “‘It is pleasant enough, but a superb beast like me expects much more pleasure than this.’

  “Then the little monkey removed his finger and mounted Lord Jagua
r. He inserted his long, skinny penis into Lord Jaguar’s ass and began to move in and out a little faster.

  “‘How is this?’ asked the little monkey.

  “‘Oh, it is pleasant enough, but a superb beast like me wants much more pleasure than this.’

  “So the little monkey removed his penis from Lord Jaguar’s ass. He reached up to the nearby banana tree and ripped off the largest green banana he could find. He inserted it into Lord Jaguar’s ass and began moving it in and out very quickly.

  “‘How is this?’ asked the little monkey.

  “‘Oh, it is very pleasant. A superb beast like me demands pleasure like this. Harder, harder, do not stop.’”

  Nando makes a fist and gyrates his arm back and forth vigorously. Pico jumps to his feet, thrusts his hips back and forth, and makes monkey noises.

  “The little monkey pumped Lord Jaguar with the banana with all his force until Lord Jaguar came with an enormous roar, releasing his hold on the monkey’s tail, and the monkey escaped.”

  Pico’s accompanying monkey chatters become a high-pitched squeal. He leaps on top of me, and we fall off the platform bench to the floor, tossing and rolling.

  Nando, barely able to continue for laughing, rises to his feet and spreads his arms wide. “And from that day on, the Jaguar always keeps to the shadows, careful not to show too much of his beauty, while the clever little monkeys sit up in the trees and laugh.”

  Pico climbs off me and screeches wildly, hopping and leaping around the room like a monkey. With a loud monkey cry, he bounds out the door and disappears. I sit upright, and Nando reaches out his hand and pulls me to my feet. I spring up into his waiting arms, and he embraces me. Then he gently pushes me backward onto the platform bench. I let myself fall, expecting him to fall with me. Instead he releases his embrace, reaches down, grabs my two ankles, and pulls them up over my head. Next, he smoothly slides onto the bench on his knees and presses his chest against my upturned bum, pinning me on my back like a turtle. He holds me fast, his beaming face hovering inches above mine.