18th April 08:46
Murder on the Seine (wise holy charge priest women)
something about each other. Having lost the original since then and
reconstructed it from memory with a few embellishments, I now impart
to you wise people the finished product.
The wise old lady in the painting is a former prostitute turned nun.
The elegant dame next to her is her daughter, a famous singer turned
axe murderer. They are standing wistfully in a monastery overlooking
the Seine, looking out the window with longing.
Twoscore years back, when the mother was a blooming maiden, she
witnessed an accidental death of her parents as a pair of gendarmes
employed a chemical spray to calm them during a family altercation.
With no means of supporting herself the young lady walked the streets,
eventually conceiving a daughter as a result of an ecstatic experience
that featured a gallant French lawyer, an Iranian oil sheik, a golden
retriever, a harpsichord, a robed priest, a castrato and dozens of
other vermin. As her appeal to the Parisian jet set decreased due to
her pregnancy she turned to other methods of sustenance: mugging
passerbys with a net and a jacknife, hijacking airplanes and
automobiles, hanging around with the Parisian gangsters and indulging
their enormous (and enormously perverted) ***ual appetites. When her
child was born she placed her into a plastic bag, tied the neck three
times around and cast the bag into the nearest dumpster. She then
joined a monastery to regain her composure and evade the law.
The bag hit the chest of an impotent Parisian senator named
Jean-Baptiste, who happened to be inside the dumpster that very moment
as a result of a fugue experience that had him conceive of himself as
a giant plague-ridden rat. Upon seeing the babe's noble features he
returned to his human body and carried the basket back home, where his
lovely ******* spouse was wasting away with longing and synthetic
cocaine. Under their loving guidance and tutelage the daughter
blossomed into a magnificent young woman with radiant eyes and long
floating dark tresses, while her rare talents and preternatural
splendor made her the youthful favorite of the Parisian elite.
When she found out that her ‘mommy' wasn't her mommy at all, she stole
into the bedroom one night and ***ually mutilated both her adopted
parents, leaving their mangled bodies dangling from a ceiling on a
steel cable attached to a lit stove. She then quietly slipped out of
the house and found her way to the Grand Opera, where she continued
dazzling elite audiences with her unmatched elegance and theatrical
skill. A heart-rending romance with an Algerian terrorist instilled in
her heart a murderous fury for all things capitalist, and one day she
fled the Grand Opera with a tomahawk and an unquenchable bloodlust,
never to walk among high society again.
As these women are now looking into each other's eyes, the past forty
years are flashing before them. All the love, all the hope, all the
caring, all the psychopathic rage of their lives compress themselves
into a single moment, passing like an electric charge between them and
filling the room with light. They are calculating, yearning, assaying,
waiting for the next motion. Their minds are cauldrons of love and
hatred coming to a quick boil.
This story will end as happily as it has started. In not more than a
second, the wise old lady and her beautiful daughter will complete a
feline maneuver of giving a soul-rending shriek, leaping as high as
the ceiling and lunging their long polished fingernails into each
other's eyes. Their lifeless bodies will fall to the floor,
considering in their final moments the infinite outcomes that would
have been possible had something, somewhere, sometime had given their
lives a different purpose. The nuns, upon finding their bodies, will
proclaim the monastery the domain of the Devil and spend the rest of
their lives as holy beggars, frightening all the Parisian vampires
with graphic recounts of what had happened on this tragic day.
20th April 01:28
Murder on the Seine
Zinger 1: You mean fossilized and studied by people in labcoats?
Zinger 2: Resembled yours? Oh dear. Have you lost it again? I told you
not to play poker with unstable med students.
Zinger 3: Be careful to learn from the example set by the "wooley mamoth",
lest your penis become extinct.