a parable on figurative thinking by Zachar Laskewicz


Randy Cox, faded porn star – but more recently male stripper and gigolo – was still deeply in love with his all-suffering beloved and although he knows that she thinks differently to most people. He likes the fact that she is so matter of fact about the other women he sees; knowing he will always return to her. She was so practical in fact that at one time became his producer for awhile until there was a violent disagreement between her and Sandy his director. Randy tried to understand what had happened; Sandy had said he would rather lose his left eye than cast Mr Cox in a more serious role.  She promptly plucked his left eye out with a ben and nearly killed him.
By the end of the day, however, she’d escaped the industry and without her knowledge put into hiding. He took her to the relatively secluded mansion he’d inherited from his recently deceased parents positioned in one of the lesser known suburbs.  As a pretext for hiding from the police who may well be looking for her, he invited her to stay long term with him and help tend the garden his parents had loved so much.  Unfaded, she quickly made it clear that if Randy would be there, why not?
The years went by and the offers for films tapered almost completely off.  Since the director incident anyway he’d been viewed rather strangely. He tried to approach her motives in a discussion: why did you try to kill Saggy Biggins so suddenly? The answer was at best unusual but he’d almost expected it from her: she’d done it because he’d asked her to.

It  was her 50th birthday and also the fifth anniversary as a full-time couple in the mansion.  He wanted to do something special for her.  Since his career was no longer supporting him, he hardly had a bass razoo to spend on a present.  So he imagined what he could offer her that was really special and no else had.  He was intending to propose to her, but he wanted to make the moment very special and although he did have the engagement ring inherited from his mother, he tried to think of what he could offer her that was really special and no one else had and was free?  Finally he came to a decision :
‘Darling, my sweetheart, on this day your birthday and our fifth anniversary as a couple here in Volgen Heights, I present to you my cock, all 22 cms of it; seeing I won’t be using it much for work anymore, if at all, it’s now yours to do with as you please.’
Her reply was succinct and, of course, to the point :
‘Why in God’s name would you like to give me that; I see no functional use for it…’
Although a little offended, especially considering their fabulous love life and his own masculine prowess, he persisted with his argument:
‘Frankly it’s the only thing I’ve got left these days that I know other people will desire. It would give me pleasure to know that it belongs to you and you alone from now on …. and with that, there’s a Proposal I’d liked to make’

Randy had got into the habit of wearing a towel or nothing at all while in the house or the gardens during the Summer; he enjoyed watching his figure walk by the walls of mirrors he’d had installed.  So when he went down on one knee and reached into his pocket for the engagement ring in the pocket of his dressing gown, his day of joy turned into a sudden nightmare.  Unfortunately for poor Randy, she moved quickly. Before he knew it, she had a large knife in hand, grabbed the flaccid member that flopped down to a convenient height from the dressing gown that’s fallen open as he reached for the key, and with a single violent slice hacked his genitals off. 
Things got promptly worse for Randy. He was so shocked by the attack that he didn’t know what to do; scream, beg, or give in to his stupidity: he really should have known better; what he suspected of her was clearly true – she lacked the capacity to think figuratively and that was exactly the reason he had tried to protect her from a world filled with sarcasm, metaphors or in fact any type of symbolic communication.  When he fell to the floor, blood gushing from the enormous wound between his legs, he realized that this was it.  She would of course assume that he had organized plans for his immediate medical care after the necessary penile extraction.  No one rushed in, of course, and he quickly bled to death. His last thought was that at least she’d think that his dieing at home with her at his side was part of the gift.

Because of her experience in pickling cucumber’s she’d grown at the mansion, she knew what she’d do with the bloody piece of flesh she was holding.  She promptly sealed them in a jar where they were pickled and preserved. Being such a lateral thinker she could never understand why he’d given her part of him which in life had brought her so much pleasure but which she couldn’t really use in any useful way in a display jar. Even though she certainly didn’t like looking at it very much, she kept it anyway.
On seeing him dead on the kitchen floor, she shrugged her shoulders and started cleaning up.  She finally buried him at various places in the large garden and noticed immediately how much brighter the geraniums shone in the Spring.

-Zachar Laskewicz
21 June 2016

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May 2008 Nachtschimmen Music-Theatre-Language Nightshades, Ghent (Belgium)
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Last modified:
16 May 2013