At The Paris Gay
Pride 3
by Albert Russo
I still cant get over this.
First of all, I dont even know what a slut looks
like, essept for an old tart Id vaguely seen in a
movie maybe three hundred years ago in a previous
life!
Then, all of a sudden,
squeezed in the middle of that carnival of
setchual clowns, I began to hate my uncle - who
didnt deserve to be one, but you dont choose your
family. He was stroking my head coz he saw how
hurt I was from the insults. And I screamed:
“Dont you touch me!” He jumped like a
kangaroo, though upwards only, not sideways or
any other ways, on account of the crowd
surrounding us. It looked like the fact of
touching my hair nearly lectrocuted him. A pity
it didnt work, coz thats what I wished him at
that moment and I wasnt going to cry, believe you
me. It was bile, that awful yellow stuff, not
tears, which was blinding me, I was so furious.
As for Mister Homestead Alberic, he didnt know
where to put himself, especially since, under the
circumstances, he could hardly move, and me
neither, so that we remained glued to each other,
whether I liked it or not, if you can see the
picture.
Even though he couldnt do
anything about it, and without any warning, I
uddered another loud screech, frightening the
daylights - which were getting kinda hot and
sleazy by now - out of my uncle: “Dont come
near me, dont come near me!” I yelled.
And suddenly, as if giving
me the cue, the words of Jacques Brels song, “Ne
me quitte pas, ne me quitte pas,”
meaning 'Dont leave me, dont leave me,' started
ringing in my head, out of the blue, which I
needed like a hole in the skullduggery.
I will never be able to
understand this, but sometimes, as in the above
case, a tune which I dont particularly care for
plays itself right behind my ears, and theres no
way to stop it. Youd think someone just slipped a
CD inside of my head, just to spite me. What the
dick, is what I says! Now dont be vulgar,
everyone knows I was refurring to Charlie
Dickenson, the one who wrote about Oliver Twitter.
Its like with computers
that suddenly go berserk due to hackers viruses,
only with the brain theres no surefire cure.
According to Firmin-the-vermin, my moms repulsive
beau, Unky Berky is a very high-risk case, due to
his homey-, bike- and heathersetchual antesticles,
which of course, put together, attract an
unconscious number of bugger-all sicknesses.
Anyway, that's what Firmin claimed when he was
still my mother's unlawful husband, partner
swapping behind her back, and mine too, for that
matter.
As we were heading towards
the métro, Unky Berky wheezed and sneezed in his
unucs voice - I just cant stand all the yous and
the sick itches contained in 'eunuch' -, coz that's
the way he 'talks' when he feels guilty.
From
the GOSH ZAPINETTE! series (15 episodes in all)
3/9//21 Excerpted from Zapinette in Gay Paree, by
Albert Russo.
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