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Short stories

Ass

He’s gone too far she says, the world is in ruin and he’s away she says. I listen. Crying she collapses on the sofa. His head’s u. She stops wipes away tears and swears. I make coffee. She tells me about his plans and how he’s forsaken all the plans. I drink the coffee and listen. He’s so stubborn she says, the world is in ruin and he’s so far up his. She pauses and sips the coffee. I want to know more. She tells me. I ask her how. She tells me. Nothing is left to the imagination. I listen. Make more coffee. what do you think about that she says and I try to tell her but she stops me. I leave for home. It rains. I enter the house. My wife tries to talk to me but I ignore her. I lock myself in the small room. The spare room. Too small to be used. A room without windows but with a door that could be called a window that locks from the inside not the outside. I undress. I admire myself. I find a wart and a boil and a scar, no, two scars, three scars. The third scar being the product of the mugging. Not a mugging. I had nothing to mug. Just a beating. Two fascists. They laughed and beat me.  I sit down on the cold wooden floor and collect the left foot in the left hand and then the right hand collects the right foot. The right foot looks a lot like the left foot. They are twins. Oh, wait. No. The right foot is swollen. A car ran over it the other day. The driver called me a cunt and told me to get out of the way. My poor right foot. But still the right foot and the left foot are yes brother and sister. I run the eyes up and down the left leg. I do the same with the right leg. I touch the left knee. I do the same with the right knee. They feel the same. But they are not the same. The right has a scab. I remove part of the scab. I stop and remember why I am here. She said he achieved the desired position rather quickly. I can’t help myself. I am conceited. I pluck a hair from the left leg. Pain. I do the same to the right leg. The same pain. I am confused. I think about using the telephone and asking her for guidance. I don’t need her I tell myself.  I stand. I hold the scrotum in the left hand. I weigh the scrotum in the left hand. I release the scrotum. I hold the scrotum in the right hand. I weigh the scrotum in right hand. The scrotum weighs the same I compute.  I am illiterate at math. My mind says fourxfour is three hundred and five. It feels the same in the left hand and in the right hand. I am possessed with ambidexterity. I have always known this about I. This was not something new. That the scrotum weighs hardly anything is new to me. I always thought the scrotum would weigh the amount of a thousand bastards. Only twice have I achieved the act of bastardizing bastards. I will not talk of past loves. With the right hand I squeeze the scrotum until I cough. I find this very funny. I laugh. I hardly laugh. I release the scrotum and cup the scrotum with the left hand. I squeeze. It feels the same. I squeeze until I cough. I release the scrotum and laugh. The penis is uncircumcised. I pull back the foreskin with the left hand until it looks circumcised. The foreskin rolls back. I feel warmth within. I hold the penis in the right hand, tightly. Uncircumcised circumcised uncircumcised circumcised uncircumcised circumcised uncircumcised circumcised. I enjoy this game. Uncircumcised circumcised uncircumcised circumcised uncircumcised circumcised uncircumcised circumcised.  The penis is erect. A faint smell attracts the nose. I inhale the smell. I can smell I. I release the hard penis. I watch it wither. I balance the withered penis in the palm of the left hand. I have the urge to urinate. I think about urinating. A bead of piss appears like magic like the dove the rabbit the woman cut in half. I remove the left hand. The penis flops against the scrotum. The bead falls. It splashes on the right foot. The dreaded right foot. I will not piss. I will allow the bladder to bloat and impinge upon the thoughts. Thoughts. Fears more like. I hear her voice. She is shouting. He is a coward. He is vain. He only thinks of himself. I need to shit.  A fart informs me of this need. I turn the body and inhale the fart. For breakfast I had poached eggs. . I straighten the back. With the left hand I rub the right nipple. The scrotum tightens. With the right hand I rub the left nipple. The scrotum tightens. The penis stirs. With the right hand and with the left hand I rub the supernumerary nipple. Glandular tissue: yes. Nipple: yes. Areola fat tissue: yes. Hair patch: no. I have no hair on the chest. I have hair on the head, above the eyes, in the ears, between the nose, on the top lip, under the arms, in the armpit, on the arms, on the legs, around and on the scrotum, in and around the anus. The scrotum tightens. The penis stirs. I stop rubbing the supernumerary nipple with the right hand and with the left hand. The scrotum releases. The penis withers once more. I lift up the right arm above the head. I ran the left hand across the chest and slip it under the right armpit. I hold it there for three seconds: one two three. I remove the left hand and bring it down the right arm. I hold the left hand under the nose. I inhale. Why I am I doing? I final goodbye. You’re just like him she said. I agreed. You’re not she said. I nodded. I knew she said, you’re all the same she said. No I said. She laughed. A mocking laugh. I left. I had a plan. My wife wanted to know where I had been and I shrugged and ascended the stairs to the sound of my wife begging me to return. I open the mouth and stick out the tongue. I drag the tongue across the left hand. The left hand tastes of salt. I lift up the left arm above the head. I run the right hand across the chest and slip it under the left armpit. I hold it there for three seconds: one two three. I remove the right hand and bring it down the left arm. I hold the right hand under the nose. I inhale. The right hand smells of sweat. A foul reek. I open the mouth and stick out the tongue. I drag the tongue across the right hand. The right hand tastes of salt. I open the mouth and place the right hand into the mouth. I bite down on the right hand until the pain is too much. I release the right hand. I close the mouth and look at the bite marks on the right hand. The mouth is filled with vile spit. I collect the vile spit in the mouth into a ball of sorts and I spit. There’s a knock on the door. Come out says my wife, I need to see you says my wife. They have been talking. There something in the knocking, in the voice. I walk over to the wall where the ball of spit landed. I turn around and press the back against the wall. I feel the spit. It is cold but still wet. With the help of the lubrication, I slip down the wall. I open the legs and bring up the knees. I press vigorously into the wall with the back. The head I force down between the rising knees.  I open the mouth. The open lips go around the flaccid penis. The flaccid penis enters my mouth. I can taste urine. Empiricism stops me from biting the flaccid penis. I suck. I feel warmth within. The penis hardens. I suck. The penis grows down the throat. I choke. I fight for air. My wife bangs on the door. Come out she shouts, you stubborn bastard she shouts. I release the hard penis. I choke. Cough. Retch. What an awful thing to do. Awful. And the hard penis is covered in spit. Disgusting. Still, I feel warmth within. I see behind the eyes and in between the ears the last fuck I fucked. Beads of sweat are congregating on the brow, behind the ears, between the nose, on top lip, in the armpits, the area between the scrotum and anus, around the anus. With the left forefinger I touch the anus. I push the left forefinger through the sphincters. Open the door she shouts. I push the left forefinger through the sphincters. Police sirens fill the air.  I feel strangely good and warm within. My scrotum tightens. My penis stirs, again. My dear penis. The air around me is permeated with the smell of the shit. The smell does not remind me of the poached eggs I had for breakfast. I rub the right hand over the body and collect the beads of sweat. I spit on the right hand. The right hand is dripping in sweat and spit. It is warm. I force the right hand up into the anus. I can feel the tips of the fingers opening up the intestines.  The right arm is all the way up into the anus and is followed almost by the right shoulder. Come out she shouts. I pull out the shoulder, the right arm and while the anus is gaping, I achieve the unachievable. I inhale robustly and the head is sucked up into the anus. Ah, yes.

Larry Caomhánach

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