I spend the rest of the day squeezing the sick djinn back to the tiny oil lamp. He wails and moans in pain, as I keep trying, the bones in his body cracks loudly then he coughs up blood. I realize, it isn't going to work.
"I wish you would go to hell!" I tell him tiredly, catching my breath.
And he says: "I dreamt about woods. Every tree was a year from my life. I was shocked, how big the forest was. I was lost, and walked for hours. Then night came. I knew, I’ll never get out of there. So I chopped out the most beautiful years of my life, and made a fire. Moving close to the flames, I wasn't cold nor afraid of the dark anymore."
"Oh, shut up!" I sigh.
*
Eventually, I gave up trying to post back the genie. I leave him laying in my bed, drinking his chamomile tea. Still, the new magic lamp arrives. I realize, that with a fully functional djinn I could solve this whole situation. I unpackage the lamp excitedly. It looks same as the other. So I rub it with a worried look on my face, afraid that this will too puke out another cancerous ghost.
Smoke rises from the lamp. It fills the room, then the whole house. The sick djinn in the bedroom begins to cough louder. And when the dark mist clears, there stands my brand new jinnee, with blue skin, wearing a brown trench coat. A weird smile widens on his hairy face.
He looks quite healthy, which of course encourages me. I'm already thinking about my first wish. I know, if I would cure my first djinn, I could wish three from him too, so totally, I would have five more wishes. Therefore I order my new djinn: "I want you to cure the genie in the other room!"
But nothing happens. My new ghost just lounges there, sending me kisses, then he opens his coat. He's nude under it. His erect penis points directly at me.
"If you rub my magic lamp, you can wish anything you like!" He winks at me, licking his lips. That puts the lid on it! A pervert djinn!
"I want eternal life…" I keep trying, with a shaky voice, but then, the ghost begins to slide his foreskin back and forth on his blue shaft. I gave up.
*
My life turns to hell. Everywhere I go, I run into the pervert genie. He's winking from the kitchen corner, licking his dark, purple lips, staring me through the keyhole, when I lock myself into the bathroom. Showing me dirty photos about himself, laying on a sofa, wearing only women's stockings, his legs are spread, sticking the magic lamp up in his ass. But soon, he realises, I'm just a waste of time. He begins to molest the sick djinn in the bed – sliding his hands under the blanket, telling the ghost, he can cure his cancer, if he rubs his magic lamp between his legs. But no use, the cancerous djinn just stares into the nothing, like he doesn't care about anything anymore. So I became the pervert's primary target again.
No matter, where I hide, he finds me – he drags me out from the closet, pulls me out from under the bed. I run out of the good hiding places very fast. In my final despair, I try to hide in the sick djinn's magic lamp. I know it's a stupid idea, but hearing the pervert djinn's moans and groans getting closer tells me, I figure that it's worth a try.
First, my leg dusappears in the oil lamp. My flesh turns into dark mist in front of my very own eyes. The smoke floats in the room for a while, and the lamp slurps it. Then this happens with all the other parts of my body. Like an ink-drop in the water, I wreathe, then sink into the depths of the old lamp.
*
Hearing the whispers of the wind, I wake up in a forest. Sunshine glitters between the branches, warming up my skin. Fallen leaves crackle as I stand up. But soon, I realise they aren't leaves at all but money – there are banknotes everywhere. They line up on the limbs of the trees too, swaying back and forth in the wind, some fell off, and drifts to the ground.
The forest is composed of money trees, just like the one I was asking for. I begin to pick them up, not believing my luck, filling my pocket with cash. I am rich. I run to one of the trees, and begin to shake it's trunk, showering in money.
*
I'm wandering up and down in the woods with my clothes stuffed with cash. Banknotes crack inside my pants, as I walk. I just traipse for miles and for hours, like a lonely forest ghost, trying to find a way out of the lamp, without any luck. Soon, nightfall slurps up the shadows of the trees, and it becomes clear, that I have to spend the night in this wilderness. It's not a very pleasant thought. I'm both thirsty and hungry – but I can't find a creek nor any berries. Now and again, I hear movement behind some money bushes, but can't get a glimpse at the animals.
The air gets cold, and the sun disappears behind the trees. I'm hitting some stones together, trying to set alight a mound of money. I struggle with this for an hour, hurting my hand, before finally a spark bites into the paper. The money burns away too fast, I have to throw new and new handful of cash into the yellow flames. My belly keeps rumbling, so I try to take the edge off my appetite with some banknotes. It's a bad idea. The dry paper makes me more thirsty.
I curse myself for crawling into the lamp and for wanting a money tree. I look up to the dark sky, searching for stars, but I can only see some sparking gold coins. And I hear movement again from the bushes.
There must be animals around, and I'm going to kill one, I decide, then I fall asleep.
Waking up in the morning, I begin to search for shaft or anything, I can use for hunting. Seeking trough the fallen money-leaves my fingers hitch into a massive, heavy wood handle. Raising it from the papers, it turns out to be an axe. Maybe a lumberjack left it here. Maybe there are other people in this world. Or maybe it belonged to my djinn, who knows. I don't have any energy to think.
*
Tripping along in the thick woods, money branches slap me in the face, as I try to make a way with my axe trough some bushes. I come across a damaged, fallen over sports car. It has crushed like a concertina when it wrecked into a giant money tree, I assume, long time ago. Everything is dusty inside, as I search the vehicle for water or food. But not finding anything, I continue my journey, and after a few minutes, I come upon a clearing. My eyes go wide, when I glimpse the swimming pool. It's gigantic, about 30 metres long and 6 metres wide – like the one I always wanted. The only flaw is the stale water in it – it's a dark, smelly puddle, looks like it wasn't changed for a long, long time ago. But still, it's water for the thirsty. I run over, kneeling down to the white tile I drink, knowing, that I'm surely going to feel sick after this rotten water. Suddenly, I hear a noise. Looking up I see a deer in the other side of the pool. It leans over the water, drinking. My fingers dance on the handle of the axe, sizing up my chances. Maybe if I come round, I could surprise it from behind. I never hunted before.
*
There's something wrong about this deer. I'm trying to be as quiet as possible, but I move rather clumsily, making a lot of noise. The animal raises it's head, and repeatedly sways it from left to right, but still, it doesn't run away. When I got closer, and it turns towards me, I realize why the animal didn't escaped. The deer is blind. Only two silver coins gleam where it's eyes should be. This encourages me, so I jump forward, raising the axe, and I hit the animal in the head. It staggers, but doesn't fall. The deer springs to my left, trying to escape, but I hit it again, so hard, that the weapon sticks in it's back. The deer takes a few steps forward then back, and finally, it collapses next to the swimming pool.
Looking at the defeated animal, I'm proud of myself. Pulling out my axe, I begin to chop up the carcass. I can almost feel the taste of the meat. But as I cut into it's body, and pull out it's insides, only wet pieces of money streams out of the wound. Widening the hole, I dig deeper, but still, there's nothing in the animal apart from cash. I'm about to curse the skies, when my stomach begins to hurt. I puke out the rotten water.
*
When I glimpse the giant blue penis stretching to the clouds; I can't believe my eyes. I blame the thirst, the hunger and the rotten water for this hallucination. But the pulsating prick won't disappear. Getting closer, I see it grows out of the ground, like the other trees, but it's almost like a m
ammoth compared to them. A vein throbs in it's side, the cockhead touches the sky. A harsh, masculine odor fills the air. And I can think only about one thing: Meat! Finally, meat!
In the next moment, I'm swinging my axe, like I was cutting a tree, the blade slams into the penis-trunk. A wound appears, blood oozes down to the ground, another bang, and it spurts on me, but I keep going, until I cut a small piece of meat out of it.
Meat! Real meat! I run, and begin to search for rocks. Sparks. Flames. Using the axe as prod, I cook the flesh. Night falls. As I take bite after bite out of the food, coin-eyed deer stick their heads out of the bushes, listening, as I chew. And the sky begins to thunder.
*
It is going to rain. I drop my food and take off my shirt immediately, ready to have a shower. I stand there, opening my mouth wide, waiting for the heavenly fluid to run down on my throat. The blind deer around me gets nervous, and they try to find a shelter under a tree. And then, the rain begins to fall: sharp pieces of metal knock against my forehead. Like tiny asteroids, silver coins pour on me, so hard, that they cut my skin. I scream and run toward the giant penis, which stands a bit slantwise since I chopped a piece out of it. Until I get there, the moneybullets keep hitting my back.
Silvery sounds fill the night, harmonizing with the crying of the deers.
*
Waking up in the morning, I realize, I can't move. The erection of the giant penis has ended – shrunk, it lays on it's side, like a giant blue snail. And on me, pressing me into the ground, squeezing out the life off my body. I bet it brought down a big mount of trees too. I try to crawl out, but it is too heavy. If it gets hard again, I can loose free – it's my only option. But I have no idea when that is going to happen. I squirm from left to right, trying to stimulate the dick with my whole body, but without any effect. Of course, I'm too little, to induce a sky-high hard on. So I wait. And wait some more. The minutes go slow, the hours follow. Sometimes, the waves of panic washes away my thoughts; other times, deadly calm settles upon me. When half a day passes, I begin to worry. A new, frightening idea crosses my head. What if I made it impotent with my axe?
*
I have read once, that a normal guy has about eleven erections a day, not counting the hard ons he has during sleep. Considering that almost a day passed without any movement, it is safe to say: this prick became impotent.
I'm running out of air. Just to wet my dry throat, I'm licking the salty sweat on the skin of the penis, but of course, it just makes me even more thirsty. I know I haven't got much time left. I'm gonna die here, under a fat blue penis, in the middle of a forest, where money grows on trees, and coins rain from the sky. It is very disappointing. I didn't imagine richness to be like this. But if this is the case, I try my best to prepare myself for death. Organize some stuff in the skull-attic. What a mess. Spiderweb covers everything. Old junk everywhere, the decayed relics of childhood, ladders that cannot reach the moon, rockets made of cardboard boxes, broken legged rocking horses gaze the distance with their painted eyes. Colors oozing out from the coloring books. The crystal lens of first love. Maybe this is the time, when I should realize, I was rich all the time. But when you are laying under a gigantic penis, these are just junk. So is money. I would sell the face of my first love just for a sniff of fresh air.
I have no more time to think about this – I notice my hands turning into dark smoke. After a few seconds, my whole body becomes black mist, that flies out from the gigantic penis, out, to the fresh air, leaving the cursed forest far behind.
*
Crawling out from the lamp, my cells begin to cling together again, and I tap myself, hardly believing I have a body. My saviours, the two djinns are just standing there, waiting for me to come to my senses. Then the pervert djinn says: "Look, who's here! The djinn! Tell him your wish!"
The bald, cancerous guy looks at me, with hoping eyes, and he tells me: "I order you, to cure me from cancer!"
The pervert djinn also doesn't hold his wish any longer, opening his coat, showing me his flacid blue prick, with a small wound on it's side, he tells: "I want you, to make this hard again!"
How wonderful. I became a djinn, and now I have to find a cure for cancer and impotence. I will definitely give a bad rating for the seller on the online auction site. Tears spring into my eyes, and I begin to whine like some kind of peevish child: "And what about my wish?"
The two ghosts ask me to follow them. In the place of the next room, there is a giant swimming pool. Our reflections are shaking on the surface of the clean, blue water. I drop to my knees, and begin to drink – swallowing the cool liquid, like crazy. I wash my face, and gulp some more – laughing bubbles into the water. And I couldn't care less, that a dead deer is floating in the middle of the pool.
CUCKOO CUNT
A FLYING BULLET has been chasing the cowboy since he was born. The day he arrived in this world, his father got drunk and shot into the air with his old, measly colt. And the cartridge began its long journey, drilling caverns into the clouds, flying over the yawning deserts, passing around the whole planet, never slowing down, waiting for the moment, to meet the kid, who since became a man, and kill him.
Now and then, it got close enough, so the cowboy could hear it's whooshing sound. At times like this, the man panicked and started to search for a good hiding place – rushing and crouching behind the counter in the saloon, digging himself into the hot sand out in the desert. And once, when he was banging a fat bitch in the whorehouse, he just shrunk in fear, and crawled up into the burly woman. He stayed there for a couple of weeks.
"Oh shit girl, you got knocked up?" the other sluts laughed when they visited the fat bitch in her room, who now couldn't leave her bed because of her heavy distended womb. And when she explained, that she, in fact, is now carrying her former client in her belly, the madam lost her temper, and said: "At least, ask for rent or something! Jesus!"
"Well. I have met a few weirdo’s,” a prostitute told the fat woman. "There was one, who only got turned on, if I putted a man's clothes on, and he could challenged me with a duel. Imagine us, standing in the rotten sunrise, with hands on our holsters, and I'm about to shit myself, realizing, that he’s really going to kill me. But, instead of his gun, he eventually takes out his cock, and starts to fire. Crazy men, I tell ya. The masked bandit didn't want to take off his disguise, not even in bed. I had to suck the barrel of his gun instead of his dick, but he was moaning, like I was playing with the real thing. If you ask me, I think he himself couldn't tell apart which was which anymore. So, I have seen many creeps in this hellhole, but this… This is something new, even for me."
The fat bitch didn't care what the others said; she began to like this client more and more. At nights, she was fondling her round belly, and sang sweet lullabies for him. This made the cowboy fall asleep. One time like this, he was dreaming about his father: he saw him sitting in his old rocking chair, with an empty bottle of whiskey between his yellow fingers, struggling with a hangover.
"Don't be afraid, son, that bullet doesn't chase you anymore," cawed the old man on his rusty voice. "I was out in the yard, when I heard its whooshing sound. So I stood in its way, catching it, closing it into my chest. Here it is now, in this fucking cage, I'll show you!" then he unbuttoned his smudgy shirt, revealing his hollow chest. Buttons lined on that too. He also undid them, and pulled aside his colorless skin, his old meat, showing his ribcage. And there, in the place of his heart, floated a bullet, flying back and forth, like a frightened little canary.
"It can only escape, when I die. Till then, you are safe, son.” said the old man, buttoning up his chest.
This dream encouraged the cowboy, so he crawled out from the fat bitch in the morning. The whore couldn't be happier, when she gave birth to him. She wanted to pull the man on to her breasts, but the cowboy refused, got dressed, and walked out of the room, leaving some money on the nightstand.
From that day, he couldn't brush off the fat whore. She was dogging in his f
ootsteps, every time the cowboy was drinking in the saloon, the woman paddled to his table on her pillar-like legs, begging him to come home. The drunken cowboy yelled: "For fuck's sake, leave me alone, you're not my mother!"
This of course made the fat woman cry. She was shouting: "I was the one, who carried you inside my body!"
"Listen to your mama!" laughed the other cowboys from the next table, which made the man's face turn all red. He didn't want this embarrassing scene to go on, so he finished his drink, and went back to the whorehouse on the side of the fat bitch. There, the woman blanketed him, kissing his forehead, singing the same old lullabies that putted the cowboy into a deep sleep again.
In his dream, he saw his father in the same old rocking chair, shaking the empty bottle over his face, trying to get out the last whiskey drips. Then, all of a sudden, he drops the glass and clutches his chest, his face going all violet-colored as he dies. A bloody hole appears on his shirt, as the bullet flies out from its cage.
In the morning, the fat bitch discovers, that her belly is bloated again.
"Gotcha!" She cheers and claps her enormous hands. Then she takes out some yarn and a needle from the nightstand, and sews her hole.
Moaning and snuffling sounds fill the dark in the whorehouse, the sounds of hungry rats. A cuckoo clock hiccups on the wall, distant shootings coming from the streets. In the saloon, people order new skulls – throwing away the old ones, they have drank out the dreams from. The cowboy is roaming in the giant desert in the fat whore's womb. With every step, his feet subside into the warm sand. He listens, looking for the whooshing sound of the bullet, but all he can hear, are the singing cactuses: they echo tune-fragments of old lullabies.
Walking along, he glimpses a small fishing boat between the dunes. Stepping closer, he realizes, that isn't a real boat at all, it's an open coffin, and the sitting fisher in it is his dead father. His skin is all white, the eyes are lightless, and a hole yawns on his chest. The smell of death and alcohol surrounds him; his stiff fingers are holding a fishing rod.
Tumour-Djinn Page 2