Was it she? Scarlet heart, swollen mouth. Was it she?
Was it she, amid the tendrils of chaos, in a bulletproof vest, with a colt 45 pressed to the back of Larry King?s head? was it she, napalm Iraqi, luminous Kurd? was it she who blew out my crotch?
Must retrace steps.
Doves. A flutter. Doves aflutter. Sometime around three. Inside the mansion of a popular American news anchor. Sounds. A stirring. Sounds astirring. A cardiac interruption. Fade to black.
A pair of lips. Creases and reds. Cheeks. Plump and powdered. A scalpel, an operating table. A surgeon extends his hand, bescissored and masked. He snips me, snips me, snips me? snips off my penis.
Pain. Shooting pain. Howls, cries and wails. Black again.
Tonight on the Larry King show, a live special from Baghdad! Larry is being held hostage in a prison camp beside the river Tigris, where a band of fundamentalists are planning to remove his penis and stick a small explosive discharge between his legs. Plus, music from Shania Twain!
Hell. A pink demon sits within. Silent and stubborn. Mesopotamian spittle awakes me. A woman. Her. Her vagina. A prawn cracker with a mouth, a sliver of brain? dribbling blood. Words. Insensate, demure. A shaven-headed Larry King tied to the chair behind me.
?I had a dream, Mr. King. I was being fucked by your butch American army. Your big American cocks were inside my little Kurd vagina. Your monkey man president was sending another missile into my village, a big shiny hardcock missile, to fuck us all??
Did I? Did I see? Did I look down and see that I had a bomb emerging from the bleeding wound were I once had a penis? Did I see two penises in a jar? Did I notice my own was bigger than that of Larry King?
Was it me? Was it me? Was it me who arranged for the missiles to be fired that afternoon? Was it me, with my crotch thrust before the president, who took the orders to wipe out this Iraqi village?
Holy fuck. It was me.
?Now you see what it feels like to have baby! Only you give birth to death? you give birth to war and destruct. Now you see what it feels like to have your son wiped out by missile, now you know the pain of giving birth to chaos?? Ten seconds on the clock. Six seconds. Three seconds. Fuck the president. Fuck America. Fuck war. Fuck?.
Tonight on the Larry King show, a memorial special. We meet the friends and family who spoke to him before a bomb exploded between his legs, and the brave legless soldier who avenged his death. Julia Roberts introduces clips from his finest and funniest shows?
Author's Bio: Mikhail was bazoomed from the ferric folds of Lady Sulsa. Between composing slyly xenophobic anti-American flashes, he always finds time to SALT THE SINUS and marry his 45rd wench.