Clewliest: A Short Story
“Oh, Mrs. Kerns! How are you today?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working this time of day, dear?” said Mrs. Kerns.
“The library is closed today, so I thought maybe I could get some rest.”
“I knocked on your door for a reason, dear. You know how much my life depends on the rent, don’t you?”
“Right! Yes. I’m sorry, Mrs. Kerns. I’m not paid yet. I’ll get your rent pretty soon, I promise.”
“Okay, fine! Get some rest, dear. You look horrible,” said Mrs. Kerns turning to walk downstairs. “You’re the best landlady, Mrs. Kerns!” cried Laurent. Also the dumbest, he thought.
Laurent went back to what he was doing. He sniffed what was left on the table in one go. Completely stoned he picked up his diary to put his uncoloured thoughts into words, to give them shape on a piece of paper if possible.
Why work when one can find a stupid landlady? Why not steal things and call it a loan? One reason I don’t like work is that I can’t take this powder of magic while I’m doing my job, because people aren’t open-minded enough about the existence of such substance and the fact that it could make the definite indefinite. It matters not how one can fix the plumb. I can drink from the rainbow, anyway. And the trees wish to sacrifice the birds for my breakfast…
Pain is beautiful if interpreted wisely. This hunger I’m feeling is a pain in a sense, though there is no beauty in it but pain—an irritating sensation which mankind always tries to avoid as much as possible. Why? Because one cannot interpret it wisely when one has lost the mind. For the pain looks the mind in the eyes and cry, “Here I am! You must be fucked now! Do something about it! Make me go away!” The mind, confused and shocked, reacts unwisely, “All right… What should I do? Bloody hell! You’re so horrible, O’ Pain! Guide me, tell me. How can a humble, legless creature run when chased by a demon like you?” Pain walks in circle, disappointed. “You can’t. Either you have to find a way to unleash me; to make me go, or I’ll grow old living with you, and become weaker. Although I’ll always be with you, in sorrow and joy, not so hurtful I will be. Part of you I’ll become. Thus, feed me with your fears.”
For the supper perhaps I’ll go into the wild and hunt. Tasty it shall be. No. Fulfilling it must be. I’d rather eat the walls around me than walk into the wild. Not that I fear its creatures.
There he enters into a pub. Crowded. The noises arise, or perhaps he thinks they do. Maybe the cat was alive before the box was opened. Changes, from one state to another blocks his way with a wall that goes high among the clouds. He then tries to make his way through the wall. He becomes part of the wall.
“Hah! Look who’s here! You all right?” says the bartender. “Here to pay your debts?”
“Ah! Give me a scotch. Neat.”
While he was drinking a man runs into him from the back, almost pushing him. A few drops slip from his glass. “Bollocks! You blind?”
“One needs no eyes to be able to see. I’m sorry. Let me buy you a drink,” the man replies politely. Laurent, angry though he was, liked the bastard.
“Neat scotch for my fella here,” demands the bastard. Laurent was studying him carefully, wondering how peculiar the man was. Average height, brown skin, and no hair at all. No eyebrows, no facial hair, and completely bald. He spoke with a deep voice coming from the depths of his soul.
“Who is it I have the pleasure of meeting?” says he, wanting to shake hands.
“Laurent,” replies he, avoiding to shake hands.
“Let’s call this incident the meeting of two little bastards, dear Laurent.”
The bald bastard was quite charming in making good conversations. It didn’t take long for Laurent to be amused by his charismatic nature. In fact, Laurent enjoyed the bastard’s sense of philosophy.
“I’m going for a robbery. Are you game?” suggests the bald bastard. “It forms every imaginary thing; makes one’s life a bliss. It is the creator of all good and evil.” He points at a few women, and says, “It is mind I’m going to steal.”
Laurent wondered if the man introduced himself. “What name will they remember the thief by?”
“Edwin,” whispers the bastard before disappearing.
Laurent turns around, and realises that Edwin is using his charms on three women. They seem to enjoy the bastard’s company. He points at Laurent to get the ladies’ attention on him. “Please join us,” he hears the bald man saying. Laurent hesitates at first, but then decides to put his glass on the bar and walk towards them.
“Ladies, here’s the Laurent I was talking about,” says the man with faceless smile. Laurent shakes hands with them, noticing Edwin’s eyes of a demon.
A brief introduction was made before Laurent would find himself attracted to one of the women. She was the most beautiful among them.
“What do you do, Kate?” says Laurent.
“I’m a student of law,” replies Kate.
“That’s nice. Does that also make you a feminist?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant, but yes, I’m a feminist.”
“Where do you think your rights are violated the most as a woman?”
“Where a man forgets the nature of a conversation. You tell me. What do you do?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a librarian.”
That murdered a wonderful discussion. Indeed, Laurent was a partner in crime.
When they were madly drunk, Edwin suggests going to a hotel. So they did.
They spent the night at a hotel, fucking like never-satiated feasting gods. Of course Edwin paid for the hotel, because Laurent can hardly afford a meal. The women were gone by the morning except Kate. She was having breakfast with them.
After they ate a good deal of sausage and eggs and cheese toasts, Edwin goes to the bathroom. He produces a silver straight razor from his pocket to shave off small patches of beard that grew on his face overnight.
“I’m sorry about last night,” says Laurent.
“That’s all right,” says Kate.
“I should go to work now,” says Laurent, leaving the hotel.
Edwin hears the main door closing. He puts the straight razor on the counter, and jumps out of the bathroom.
“He said he should go to work,” says Kate happily.
“Well then. I’m glad you’re still here,” says Edwin. He feels the heavyweight lust of Kate’s gaze on him. She can’t help but get a tingling feeling on the back of her neck just by looking into Edwin’s eyes. He is waiting for her to make the move she has contemplated. She then leaps towards him violently, grabbing his balls, pressing her lips on his. He welcomes the gesture by sucking her tongue in.
Their lust finally comes to an end after one hour of crawling on the bed. When their nerves were calm and quiet, she fancied taking a shower, and he a drink.
In the bathroom she stands in front of the mirror. A shiny silver on the counter catches her eyes. She picks it up. An insane laughter burst out of her soul. Madness is seeded into her mind. She brings the straight razor to her throat. She is reluctant yet successful to make one smooth motion from one side of her throat to the other.
…And that was when I asked the wind to bring me the finest wine from the falling river. Then perhaps, I could joyfully melt into the infinity. Then perhaps, limitlessness could withdraw my limited powers. Limited? Is human soul limited after all? To what degree? In which directions? My life is limited. So should be my powers. How then, a limited frame of existence could be of any value? Assuming it has a value, how much is the value that my mere existence holds? In what unit? By what device of evaluation?
But I care not, for the big cat is calling me. Therefore, I will transcend my being. I will become whole if I kill the big cat. And only then, my veins will be filled with the limited blood of an unlimited existence.
I will accept the flying wolves. They are good gifts brought to me by the roaring river. I will make good use of them before I step into existence darkly…
I asked the bastard for an explanation, but all he gave me seemed to be a load of rubbish.
Laurent: Could you please explain to me what the fuck happened yesterday?
Edwin: After you were gone I couldn’t but give her the pleasure she desired. Then she went to take a shower. And then I found her on the bathroom floor with her throat cut open.
To be continued…