A Greater Monster
Page 10
The Pirate has a hazy grey glow around him, and the walls seem to recede.
“You need to talk to the head. Yeah,” Pirate Elk says. “Yeah, I’ll send you there later. We’ll dig up a gift for you. You gotta keep the beat going. That makes sense.”
“What do you mean, dig up a gift? What’s the head?”
“Who’s The Head. It’s hard to say who anyone is. He might not be there, but if you’re dead set on immolation … at least he can help you light the match. You’ll need to be deferential when you meet him, or he won’t give you answers.”
“Look, I don’t need you being cryptic ’n shit,” I say. “The whole goddamn goddamn is cryptic. What the fuck are you talking about?”
SMACK!
“Ow!” More surprised than hurt. My face smashed against the cabinet, his bony hand wrapped around my head. Strange, the wood tastes like gravy.
“What did I tell you about rudeness?”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Pirate Elk lets me go. “All right.”
“I’m just frustrated. And scared.”
“I would suppose you’re attached to living.” He turns and walks past the bar toward the wall with three doors in it, his feet clattering like bowling pins rolling down a set of stairs.
“I never told you my name, by the by,” he says as he opens one of the doors and the other two open simultaneously—standing in the doorways: more of them, two more skeletal creatures, one shorter and black and the other taller and carrot orange, with thicker bones. Both hold various drums, and Pirate Elk has returned with an armload of drums, too. Sure. Why not? There’s one skeleton, why not three? And they have a band.
To my left, Carrot Bones sets down two rawhide-stretched drums that rock back and forth like the halves of a disturbingly large coconut. Black Elk moves over to my right with … got to be bongos. Is that a cowbell? Yeah, that’s a cowbell around his neck. Opposite me, Pirate Elk sets up two drums with spangled grey sides and clear tops about twice the size of the bongos and half that of the kettle or tympani drums … oh, that would be a snare and—a bit larger—tom drum? I come up, and we all sit down facing each other. In front of me have appeared three rough-hewn logs strapped together: small, medium, and large. They’re hollowed out with two square holes in the upper face of each. Pirate Elk tosses me two mallets that look like matchsticks with tips wrapped in elastic bands.
He raises one bony hand above his drums.
“My name is—” BAM “—Mister Bones B. Com,” BAM BAM, and he hits his drums several times as if to underscore his name.
The three of them: together, together, thrum thrum, pound pound pound pound pound poundpoundpound fasterfasterfasterfaster building building building, rolling rolling thunder unstoppable, it’s a summoning, a drummoning. Gentle fade.
Bongo beats drop. Slapbapbappity boo slapbapbappity bam slapbapbappitybippity bam.
They turn to look at me.
Okay.
Tap the logs.
Bink dink dinkity dink dink bink dink dinkity dink dink.
Meh.
They begin again, the drummoning, the pounding, faster fasterfaster fasterfasterfaster, together: their skeletal hands are drum sticks, back and forth, back and forth, building building then fading to Carrot Bones on the kettle drums, the undersea drums: Bdoom doomdoom boom Bdoom doomdoom boom.
They turn to look at me again.
Dink dank dink dank dink dank dink dank donk dink donk dank donk dank donkdank donkdank donkdank CTANG! Sticks flying out of my hands. Oh crapass.
The drummoning begins again. All right, all right. I got it now. It’s a three-note wooden xylophone. I got this. Pick up the sticks. Faster faster faster all together they pound pound pound pound pound, I feel it vibrating, I have felt this before, I know drums. How? I have felt drums in my body before. Another life. I can do this. Chill, chill. Just go with it. Don’t try too hard.
The bongos jam it, hit it, get it, dig it, snap—the friendly rhythm. Black Elk on tom goes powpowpowpow, the leader, a confident assertion.
I’m the melody. Nothing fancy. Just find the line.
dun TAHdunTAH dun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdunTAH
dun TAHdunTAH dun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdunTAH
dun TAHdunTAH dun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdunTAH
dun TAHdunTAH dun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdun TAHdunTAH
lightly lightly lightly they join
A shaker chimes in: shshshshshwush shwushshwush
Bones and cowbell, rims and edges,
pricks that tickle, trip tap tapping me,
jingle and jangle me,
mirrors and complements.
Oh yes, hit me, hit me, do it, hit me, break me.
Mmmhh yeah go there, slap it, snap it pop it break it.
The skins, the skins, the skins.
Hold back, restrain it, jingling tip-tapping.
Beat it snip snap pop boot pow bang bangledeep
a stutter stop wham bam,
heads bouncing,
fingers tapping,
palms smacking,
happy dance
shoulder snipsnap snop
squick squeak flap bap
shuck and jive
slippedy doo-whop doo-whop bam.
Climb and drop, climb and drop,
hip hop happy
walk the dog
eyes closed
head bop.
Little kid dance around up and down and around,
two by two by two by two by three by four,
off the walls, off the floor, against the roof,
lapping up layers of giggling drums,
collective woodpeckers that seek the insect.
Up top and over.
Get down, get down, get down.
Lead then follow then lead then follow.
Take this shit and fuck it up.
Now!
I’m tweaking and infectious,
projectile ambidextrous,
affecting and bisecting
having sex for breakfast.
We’re rocking and rolling the beats fantastic
the drums elastic
and superspastic
thumps gymnastic
beatnik boombastic
swings orgiastic.
A Krackatoa come back
aural aphrodisiac
strike stroke rapsnap
drunken pyromaniac fleet to the feet to the toes to the heat,
the barking fire burns unquenchable beats.
Take the lead!
Give the lead go go go!
Oh fuck yeah.
Shift!
Improvise
with the wrist
action.
Pum-pum-pum.
A tasty confection
sweet jam
cool trip
fall down
all fall,
bongos enter
in support,
bongo madness
in my heart,
snare sharp
electric cackle.
Goddamn yeah.
But but but but wicked now.
Rumble tumble bumble be
lying on the mystic nails
carried by the points of sound,
married, carried, starry-eared,
bony carpal rigid jaw
crosshatch scratch scratch,
trills and thumps,
tang and whistle,
sounds that smell
symphony.
Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, yes!
Whoa-hot jive jazz freak-out.
Tempest vortex
all gone
smacking beats madly
joy joy joy joy.
Fingers clink like tap shoes,
like rain on the roof,
spider webs in sunlight,
rhythms to forget
only sound
hard sound.
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
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nbsp; Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Mad joyjoyjoy
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!!!!
I’m outside. How’d I get here? Got my helmet on. My sea-snake legs protrude where my feet should be. What’s this in my arms, sliding down?—wrap it hard against my chest—it’s a thick-mouthed, rough terracotta jug with a large black skull and crossed drumsticks painted on the side. Under that, it reads The Head … supposed to find The Head. Uggh—my own head. Throbbing. The sound of my legs rubbing together is sandpaper.
The ground is unyielding. A polished agate surface brawling in shades of amber and cream that mirrors the sky. Too close, so close … feeling folded up inside, a blanket in wartime. I come to a field of apricot jellyflowers as if the agate land was a giant planter surrounding this garden. Seen these plants before. I wade through—jellyflowers up to my knees—clutching my jug.
In front of me: The Head. Literally, a monumental head. More than twice my height, wide as my arm span. Those ears—taller than me. That nose—I could fit in his nostril. The irises of his eyes are purple and clouded with cataracts, his lips bruised and fat. The Head doesn’t appear to have a body, but he looks … The Head looks male. And bloated and saggy.
I inch forward. “Huh … hello, great Head.”
“I PREFER TO BE CALLED NEIL.”
“Okay. Neil, I—”
“I’M A GREAT HEAD!” Neil thunders.
I get down on my knees and hold the jug forward, my eyes on the orange spotted jellyflowers. “I’ve come to beg for your help,” faintly.
“WELL, COMEVER HERE AND POUR THAT IN MY GADAMN MOUTH.”
I hesitate, move closer. I pull the cork from the jug; he juts out his lower lip—his breath crawls up my suit leg, all across my body I can smell the stench of ambergris and run-over skunk with a squeeze of lime. Whale vomit with a twist. I dump the contents into Neil’s mouth, his enormous teeth brown and yellow and riddled with cavities. He gulps it like a bulldog at a water bowl.
“FUCHING FUCH,” he gargles, rocks side to side after downing it. “MMMMMMUHCHH,” coughing spittle over his inflated lips. “BLEERGH.” Blinkety blink blink blink blink … settling down, quieting.
Neil doesn’t speak, his brow relaxing. Even the dull light burns my eyes. This head is going to be a dead end.
Finally: “ACH. GOOD STUFF. GOOD STUFF. LEAVE THE BOTTLE. I WILL HELP YOU. YOUR PROBLEM. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”
My name.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“Do you have to know my name?”
“YES.”
“Why? Why do I need a name?”
“FOR SOMEONE WHO WANTS ANSWERS YOU SURE DON’T ANSWER GADDAMN QUESTIONS. NAMES SMELL LIKE DEATH, AND I NEED TO SNIFF YOURS OUT. NOW, IF YOU DON’T TELL ME YOUR NAME I’LL KILL YOU.”
“I can run.”
“I CAN ROLL. WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING NAME?”
Okay, I know this answer. It’s like … the symbol attached to me. Could I draw it? “I don’t know. How does a name come about? I should know this, but … I can’t seem to … I don’t know.”
“IT’S WHAT OTHERS CALL YOU.”
“There is no one else to call me anything.”
The head begins rocking side to side again.
“YOU’RE POSITIVELY STARTING TO PISS ME OFF. TELL ME WHAT YOU WANNA BE CALLED OR I’LL CALL YOU CRAPDADDY.”
Name, name, my name. A word said too many times sounds weird … stops making sense. I must’ve said my name too many times. “I have absolutely no memory of my name,” I finally tell him.
“HAS ANYONE EVER CALLED YOU ANYTHING AT ALL THAT YOU CAN RECALL.”
Someone. Someone called me man. The last man?
“How about Last Man.”
“VERY GOOD. YOU ARE DUH MAN.”
There is a loud belch and steam surges from under his chin and out of his mouth, streaming upward as if he were sitting in the palm of a many-fingered hand. He inhales deeply and pulls tendrils into his nostrils.
“THE HELMET.”
I nod.
“CERTAINLY. SHOW ME YOUR HEAD MORE CLOSELY. STEP CLOSER.”
I hesitate again. I touch my neck and click the lock. I pull off the helmet. A rush of air hits my face like a rug burn.
My face feels lopsided. The bump is an angry red fist.
“STAND CLOSER,” he booms.
A step closer. The earth’s exhalation mingles with his stagnant breath. Feel giddy.
“AH, OF COURSE. YOU HAVE SEEN IMPOSSIBLE THINGS, HAVE YOU NOT?”
“Yeah.” Head swimming. So beefy, his pores are so big I use one as a handhold.
“YOU ARE ON A QUEST, LASTMAN. FOR A MEANING AND A REASON.”
“But I’m not … wings of light.”
“YES. YES, YOU WILL FLY TO HER, A BUUUURD GIRL FOR THE TREATUHMENT. YOU TELL HER YOU LOVE HER, AND SHE WILL HELP YOU FIND YOUR ANSWER. I SUGGEST YOU SEEK A PLACE WHERE A BUUUURD GIRL MIGHT BE CONTAINED, SUCH AS A CIRCUS.”
“Okay. But how do I find that?”
“I WILL ROLL ON YOU AND CRUSH YOU PAINFULLY FLAT THEN I’LL EAT YOU. ANY MORE QUESTIONS?”
I’m not breathing, my body is aching, I’m seeing spots, red and blue and red and blue popping and
… adjust the red crumbrela it weighs almost nothin, tricky to balance center posts on my shoulders. Baby Joeys cart creaks under the weight a my self plus the crumbrela.
fuckin new town, Baby Joey says. hello chubby little redcheeked infant in diapers at my side in the small but sturdy cart, just a smudge a blond hair on the top is head. you ready to meet the pubes Tender? crusty shits a the upper crust little crusty pubes, Baby Joey says.
tryin to recollect what are we doin but nothin comes to mind, shitty pubes.
just in time too cuz we been pretty dry for a while, you member that last town we found? was abandoned, soze here we are an we gotta make the most of it no matter how dis taste full, you know theres not much I hate moren dare ugly mugs so hideously pale like a plastic sheet, Baby Joey says.
you pretty pale youself Baby Joey, I say.
what? fuck you shrivel lips I got color look Im sorta peachy, Baby Joey says. he holds out a small hand to show me, little webs tween the fingies. never you mind you just dun know, their skins like theyve never even ever been touched by anythin but processed air you know? bloted corpses, fuck it thats our sucker we need the H O two got no choice better we display for em than be em for fucks sake, they get what? an hour reckreation a day? their gonna collect em up an we take em, its gonna be a real spectacle, Baby Joey says.
hello Anofulees ahead a us pullin the cart n content to scuttle forward diggin is eight clawed feet in the dirt wavin is vicious black mandibles around never noticed but Anofulees got nah hair on is body mines long n pretty n yello color split in three thick braided tails, n yello color. the Zirk trams camped out behind us the grey shield so curved n pretty. Baby Joey whips Anofulees hard black body who dont seem to notice. the whips just a show. Anofulees drags our cart forward thru the lush grass heavy n radiatant the wheels slidin more than rotatin he pushes the tall grass aside with is mandibles n tramples it unders feet he snakes thru the grass we bumpin behind. Baby Joey grips the sides a the cart as hard as he can which isn very hard because he a baby, good thing the bumps are mild otherwise heed likely fly outta the cart land on is noggin possibly dentin it fgood.
I shall suck none a their dried up sacks! shouts from Baby Joeys mouth over the swishin a the cart.
Baby Joey, although yer grips weak yer wills iron. Anofulees feet swish thumped swish thumped thru the grass until we pull up on a bluff overlookin a nonstop marsh with a river runnin thru. Anofulees stops n begins scrapin is legs with is mandibles. Baby Joey inhales deep, I do too, the airs thick n salty. the bluff drops down under a bouffant a grass the swamp a bright bright orange crust with cracks
spread cross the surface like when I punch a rock, suddenlike a fire lights up in the middle.
you gotta unnerstan you gotta know the lay a the lan before you negotiate, we set up here by the marsh thataway we need a scape we jus slide cross it an they cant follow, swat I call the slide rule, Baby Joey says. he says words quiet don no what. Anofulees looks up with grass danglin from is jaws. motherfuckers gonna pay yeah dale pay dey cum tah see the freaks perform, see thing about me that makes me a better leader than the incorporus a this here city I got no sexual interest not blinded by the teeruhnee a beauty don need tuh dominate or succeed at all tuh prove my maleness or attain or impress Im a fuckin baby for fucks sake all I desire is survival I don give a fuck what I look like Im a baby for fucks left nut aint no impress on me like I said, by my tiny fucks nutsack what do I care? I like comfort comfort an survival, Baby Joey says.
Baby Joey whips Anofulees with the whip again a few more times before Anofulees notices n we jerk off, the crumbrela sways over my head n falls off my shoulder posts n thuds down around us n Anofulees he bangs is head gainst it. watch it Hooks you coulda decapped Anoph there, Baby Joey says.
oop. sorry boss, I say liftin it back up so the two beams that hold up the top a the crumbrela sit back in the slots a my shoulder pads. we move thru a blue forest squishin clear jelly flowers as we go, Anofulees chomps n scoops swipin a couple in is mouth with is mandibles. we come upta group lot a peeps in red outfits with nullheads circlin round one sap in a purple cape sittin on a metal cart which rolls with them as they sweep thru the field a plants, they walk ahead a us, us sittin in the cart watchin them move the plants carefully aside until they all stop. the purple cape sap kneels in front a plant that looks like a crispy black skeleton, he lays is hands on the black bush n the peeps begin to mumble n the sound builds under our red crumbrela as the plant shrinks thickens changes color til it disappears in the other plants. the purple sap gets up n the redsuits bow. see hear watcha got is a highly advanced civilizashun obvious eh highly, Baby Joey says, his little chubby hand pokes up finger points, they worship that chumbum they call the Engineer, he is like their Ganesh eh witout the Engineer theyd starve in a jif, god appears to be a cook yah top a the food chain ball n chain.
after long time they get up n move on. hello there Baby Joey. he snaps the whip n we follow them, come up to wall, door lifts up n they go thru, the metal cart leads, we up it. Bang on it Tender, Baby Joey says. I put down the crumbrela get out the cart lift the crumbrela edge n pull down the crutch to prop it n then I go out from under it n then I walk to door n BANG BANG BANG BANG. a window slides open a redsuit looks out behind a shield wall.