Theres Something Wrong With Sven

Greg Gerke

BlazeVOX [books]
Buffalo, New York

Theres Something Wrong With Sven by Greg Gerke Copyright 2009 Published by BlazeVOX [books] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the publishers written permission, except for brief quotations in reviews. Printed in the United States of America Book design by Geoffrey Gatza

First Edition ISBN 13: 9781935402220 Library of Congress Control Number: 2009920862

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THERES SOMETHING WRONG WITH SVEN I want to tell you about the time I met my ice queen. We were high, high, high in the mountains. I yodeled from peak 824B and she responded with a mirror refracting sun from 977F. Right then I knew we had something special, something lasting that would bowl the whole world over in breadth, zest and divergence of wills. See she wanted the universe to end and I actually didnt. She thought the time was ripe and I insisted it might be better about one-hundred and forty years from now, seeing as us and any children we might have would be dead. Of course Im not forgetting the grandchildren. As Father Wilhelm always used to say, someone has to take the fork in the ass. So the third night together, as ma lady fell into a wearisome sleep I mounted her on my back and made way toward Sutters Ridge and then into Beaver Springs. I did not stop but once to pizzle and check my pulse and as the light broke I knocked on Mums door. Even before she opened it I heard her talking and with the splintery board pulled back she repeated, Theres something wrong with Sven. Sven would be the moth I had kept in a large, room-size jar for many years. In my younger days, when the little guy was just a larva I fed him leaves. Maybe it was captivity or the shock treatment my dead brother administered but his fetish for wool never subsided. As he grew bigger and bigger I threw five sweaters to him at a time. I find nothing extraordinary about a thousand-pound moth, hell Great-Grandpa weighed four times that and required the insertion of two extra hearts to keep ticking until he expired. With the ice queen still lodged on my back and now in the throes of a dream terrible, I sped to Svens room. He seemed kind of bloated and his wings were on the fritz. I must to make oatmeal for your friend, Mum said. Not taking my eyes off Sven, I whispered, She is a tad queer Mum, she doesnt eat oatmeal. Then avocado deluxe. Okay, okay, I said, waving my hand, gathering myself to pray for the flight of Svens soul to heaven. The ice queen moaned and I ran my fingers through her bright red hair while focused on Sven. He opened his maw and I readied a pen to catch his last words. The old man stoically checked himself and softly sputtered, Not worth it. Not worth a clothing factory in Malaysia. Mother crossed herself and ran to the porch to clang the village bell.
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The ice queen woke and I pointed to Sven. Hes gone, I was barely able to say. He was one of the best. Kind but timorous. Amiable but tumorous. Was it Mr. Cancer? the ice queen asked. Im afraid so darling. The distaff side is what did him in. All his mothers sisters went the same way. One by one he told me their troubled histories. I was so moved I gave him the shirt off my back. And so we went on. Mum returned to crocheting now that no one would salivate and sneer in derision. The ice queen stayed on. Come spring we planted a stand of Ponderosa Pines in front of the property. We talked of life and how it should be lived. Sven slowly disintegrated into ash but we kept his room his room. Besides at certain times of day we could use his glass jar as a mirror to shave or pretend the circus was in town. Sven would have wanted it that way.

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THE COMING OF THE STEPPE PEOPLES When they came we were sitting around throwing sticks at other sticks. We enjoyed our times and one of us, Peter the Pirate, would often remark, "Les jeux sont fait" as a Matins and Vespers for our days of utter pleasure. Peter kept a condor and a wife called Tina Marie. Tina Marie also had a wife called Mother Goose. Everybody understood this so no comment needed to pass. The condor might have a few bad days, might accidentally eat up a few packs of Hall's honey-lemon cough drops, but aside from that he flew haste post haste into the wind and never disturbed an ear of corn though he hovered extremely close. First gazing at the Steppe Peoples I could tell they were in no mood for games. They had journeyed a long way, quashed gnats all over their cheeks and breastplates. They wanted soup (heavy on the salt) and hard, hard, hearty brown loaves of bread. We could help with the soupthat much was written in our customs, but the bread would be difficult to come by. Our wives and daughters had tired of the process and the last electric breadmaker in the village had broken in late April. We did have popcorn though, and with our firm assembly of spices and seasonings guaranteed something bordering on ecstasy. But instead, since we couldn't put a stay against it because of our non-violent stance, we watched them round up all the cans of tuna we had and stuffed them in their dusty coats. Therenow can you please leave our one-horse town, you've come and gotten what you wanted. There will be no celebrations, no speech, no drum solos, no exchanging of mythologies. The chief of the Steppe Peoples had a foul aspect on. One side of his upper lip had been bashed in, leaving one grimy, piss-stained fang hanging out, trumping all other aspects. When for a third time he requested a hootenanny, I offered as solace a short poem on trees and wind. A dashing, short limerick, it contained two minor jokes and one major oneall being thoroughly entertaining. The chief said, "Yar, you jat my swelb with dar wreck of woits." "Glad to serve and shiver me timbers," Peter the Pirate piped in. The chief screwed his eyes up, "And bisquith is our ole pal, ole Peter Piper? Huh? Sat tell me. Sat tell me much you machenest with founslow or I'll gouge sem twoit dar eyesers dat Mother Goose." Now Mother Goose, before becoming a wife, had been a raider and she'd seen and tasted blood from most every continent. And this chief of the Steppe Peoples, even though close to seven feet tall, didn't scare her in the least. She hurled a large stone at his kneecap, splitting it apart in a snap. On the ground the chief moaned, "Yard at Mother Goose gomf to bar fark
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my quang." This unfortunanence started the war between us and them. It went on for almost six minutes. Tina Marie and I were seriously injured. Our stashes of barely, toothpaste and camphor were dissolved and Peter's condor began to suffer crippling anxiety attacks and afterward lead a quite hermetic life in which only whole milk that we traded to get from the Poshetes, would assuage. Still we prevailed. The Steppe Peoples left before sundown. In lieu of a trumpeter an old man in a purple kashmir sweater sat on a stump and holding his graying, deformed tuba played their retreating march in C flat. The incident has entered our lore. Many versions of this war exist. Peter the Pirate's affords one-hundred and fourteen pages for every minute of the battle. When asked Mother Goose holds her fist in the air even if her larynx might reappear, she need say not one word. The air is ripe in our country. I can see a new tree growing. Life goes on. Since my legs were cut off Luke Malloy built me a cart to wheel myself from post to post, quinoa stash to quinoa stash. Under the moon, as we eat our gruel, someone inevitably brings up the Steppe Peoples. Our first impulse is to rise, rise, rise. Even me in my cart. Screw our eyes up to the east and howl for the Steppe Peoples to come and try to take us with their bastard codes. But then, sitting just off the beaten path, Peter's condor's wing twitches and we know better. The next could be the last. We invite no one else to our land and we die as one tribe.

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JOLT AND LA PETITE MORT Growing up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin I was at that age when I needed things explained to me. Probably still am. But then I needed more than what was typical for a twelve-year-old. For instance, directions. Yes say them once, but soon enough repeat them and please a third time because my mind would always wander in the middle of the explanation as I thought of the next distraction to slake my need for stimuli in the moments after the instructions were first given and my mind demanded something new to chew on. This is what would normally happen, but that day, it was late May I think, this brainstorm did not occur. The clouds parted, if you will, and I was completely present, for my mother told me about sex. Father always spoke about using good notebooksbig, clean pages and sturdy dependable pens and pencils, none of those thin Paper mate pieces of crap. I sat at the kitchen table getting ready before my teacher, or mother, came in. I held my good pen at the ready. At the top of the page I had written: I. Sex Mother arrived wearing her reading glasses. My eyes squinted because out of her reading chair, she never wore them. She had a plain green shirt on, blue jeans. Odd again. Mother usually had more of a flair for fashion than this. She put a piece of paper on the table and paused. I set my pen to the page to catch her first words. Jake I have a question. At night, have you felt a little something weird going on between your legs? My top lip raised and I thought about this. I even looked down to that region. Mmm. Sometimes. Well its called a penis. Lets get that out of the way. Penis. P-EN-I-S. Penis. I. Sex a. Penis When you get aroused. You know what that means, right? I nodded and I had to admit, just hearing the word I could feel movement. The penis fills with blood and grows, getting hard. At this point you are ready for the sex act. Now this is a semi-important question. When you have felt yourself get aroused before, do you remember what caused it?

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The cause. The words slipped around my head. I thought about the causes that start wars. Recently we had spoke of this in school. Pearl Harbor. The Boston Tea Party. Then I said, Yes I know. And what was it? I nodded and just repeated the words, Yes I know. Jake I want you to tell me. When? Right now please. She opened her hands, Its okay, Im not going to ban your TV watching again, like I did when you called the president a shit face. Really you can trust me. I am your mother. I bobbed up and down in my seat, readying to let out the source of my excitement at night. Okay. Umm. Well there are probably two things. When I saw the beginning of Moonlighting a few months ago there was that scene where(here I paused because I knew I would speak the words Maddie Davis or Cybil Shepherd the actress playing her, I sided with Cybil)Cybil is shown in herbedclothesvery softpink I believe. Yeah that one, that time yeah. And then when slsdjslkslfsdjl. Jake, what? Dslslsdlksdflks Jake please. Okay. Geez. When Lauren is over. She asks about me. How I am doing in school. If Ill play on the basketball team in the fall. You mean Lauren my friend. Yes mom, I dont think we know any other Laurens. Mother shook her head and peered at the ceiling for a moment. This was probably the first of many times that the peer at the ceiling would drive my body into a full on quaking. It was as if a red laser beam launched from the ceiling directly into her eyes giving them a fiery glint of pure mischief. My knee shook under the table and nonchalantly I hit it with my fist a few times to stop. Mother sighed, Is there anything about what Lauren wears? Mom, I think- No Jake dont think, dont analyze. Your father is trying to sell a Mach security system to people in Oconomowoc right now. When he comes back, if he finds out you didnt tell Alright. Jesus. No its not about what she wears okay. Itsits all of her. I get a warm feeling, okay. Its really warm. My mother took her glasses off. I understand Jake really I do. If your father wasnt such a prudewell no matter. And please dont look that word up. She wiped her forehead and put the glasses back on and readjusted them on her nose. So, back to the lesson.
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In between a womans legs there is a vagina. Vagina. V-A-G-IN-A. Vagina. I. Sex a. Penis b. Vagina

The vagina is an opening to a womans whole body. A portal. There is a clitoris, but that is for another day. When a man and woman have an attraction, a mutual arousal, well hopefully mutual, this womans area, the vagina, gets wet. So Jake, sexual intercourse is none other than when a man, with his hard, aroused penis, inserts it into a womans wet vagina. Often the man is lying on top but there are many different ways. At this point I wasnt writing anymore. I think my tongue was hanging out of my mouth, gobs of spittle in my lap. Any questions? mother said. Wa-wa-what happens after the penis is in the vagina? Mmm. Good question. Probably the most important. She wiped her chin and asked me to hold on; she would be back in a moment. It was the longest moment of my life. You can imagine the length of it. I thought it would never end. Mother returned. So Jake. Youll just have to wait a while. Why dont you go up to your room and play with your G.I. Joes or something? But without looking down I knew my pants were at a breaking point. I couldnt go anywhere. I was paralyzed. Mother gave me a queer look and titled her head. Okay Jake Ill leave first. But in the future, no fear. You dont have to be embarrassed of nature. She left and shortly after I ran up to my room and got out the old box of G.I. Joes. I went to setting up an extreme air and sea attack by Cobra on the Joes Base when there was a knock at the door. Hello? I said. Jake. Its Lauren. I thought I began to have a heart attack and I quickly brushed all the plastic toys under my bed. Then I didnt know what to do. Jake, can I please come in? Um. Just a minute. Im The movement was back, almost instantly, almost like it had never really gone away. I sat down on the floor in front of my bed and pulled the comforter off and spread it over the bottom half of my body.
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Okay. Lauren walked in and smiled at me. And dear god I felt a rushing jolt in my body, an extreme rush I sometimes experienced when Al Jarreau, at the beginning of each show, would begin to sing, Some walk by night, Some fly by day Then it was all wet down there. Lauren kept smiling, the most beautiful smile in the world, probably better than Cybil Shepard because she was live. Jake Im here to continue the lesson. My breath started to shorten. Wheresmymom? I think shes cutting out some coupons. Um does she know youre here? Of course Jake. She squatted down in front of me and I smelt an incredible scent of roses. Roses and honey. Roses, honey and sugar. Me and your mother are very, very good friends. We have a trust. Trust, I repeated with trepidation. Lauren let down her long brown hair. At once it fell on her right shoulder. All of it. The whole mass. Jake are you cold? Whats with the blanket? Its nearly June. I hope you arent getting sick. Do you need more warming? Again movement. It was like those stop action clips of Legos being assembled where a structure gets built up higher and higher, taller and taller in no time without any help from the human hand. Lauren took hold of the blanket but I held it in its place. I want to warm you up Jake. Its okay. Your mom said so. Still I couldnt release the blanket. But then Lauren patted my shoulder and again the extreme jolt came followed by the warm rush spreading and spreading. I closed my eyes. My Jake, you have quite a lively little man down there. I opened my eyes slowly. Little man? Just a pet name Jake. Like calling mom mommy. Mommy, I repeated. Lauren smiled. Come into the bed with me Jake. Come. Her small fingers called me. She stood up and with arms outstretched. Come now. I was almost as tall as Lauren when I stood up. Again the movement. I couldnt stop looking at her face. It was like a God or should I say Goddess. A great Goddess. A great white shimmering Goddess. She took off her clothes and again the jolt made me buckle like a wave hit me. My left pants leg was close to completely soaked.

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Lauren smiled again and helped me off with my clothing. By the time everything was off I stuck straight out and brushed what felt like a hairy part of her, I didnt know what, for I was afraid to look down there. Lauren kissed my forehead very softly. Now Jake this (and she reached down to her pants and brought out a small package) is very important. Condom. C-O-N- well your notebook is downstairs. Anyway, condom. Condom. It goes on your penis to protect you and your partner from disease and also stops your semen from going into your partner. Now I know your mother didnt cover this but all the wet stuff that shoots out of your penis is called semen. Kind of a funny name, right? When the semen goes into a womans vagina, sometimes a baby is made. You and I dont want to make a baby now so this will prevent it. Your semen will be caught by the condom. She took it out of the wrapper and put it on me. I thought the jolt would come but as I figured I probably couldnt take that many more I tried to restrain myself and it worked. At that moment my mind was bubbling, like the feeling of getting drunk I would later learn. I kept feeling like yelling The Milwaukee Brewers win the World Series! The Milwaukee Brewers win the World Series! But I couldnt really speak. I knew myself somewhat at that time. And I knew better than to try. I let Lauren do all the talking. She sat on my bed, then reclined over the bottom sheet laden with Superman insignias. I saw some mounds on her chest move back and forth in a deliciously slow motion and not able to help it I made a little noise, Waaa. I climbed onto Lauren, holding my butt into the air so my penis wouldnt touch her legs. Lauren put her lips together and blew a kiss to me. Then she opened her legs and with her fingers parted what looked like another set of lips. Vaginaaah, she said playfully. I quivered. I looked down at my penis that pumped and pumped in an incredible strain, though the jolt didnt follow. I lay on top of Lauren and she kissed me and then I kissed her. Her tongue came into my mouth and after a moment mine came out of hiding and touched hers. Our tongues dancing and dancing. Eventually she reached down to my penis and put me and my ha ha little man inside her and her vagina. So warm, my dear reader, so, so warm. A precious gooey feeling. I then remembered my question about what happened next. But it was already happening. It was sex, wondrous sex. On and on. Sex, Oh God, and Goddess. Sex. Sex. Sex.

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BATTER UP The third basemans wife is 68. When she goes to potlucks with the players wives she is nearly a foot taller than anyone there. The tallest player on the team is only 66. The third baseman is 64 and Alana from Croatia, who received a scholarship to play basketball in the United States, is just his cup of tea. Often in the minor leagues, scratching his ass between pitches at the hot corner, he would fantasize about dating an extremely tall woman. They met at a benefit for children with Muscular Dystrophy in Washington D.C. and began to see each other. Eight months later they were married. In the batting cage one day the third baseman appraises the right fielder about the quality of his sex life with Alana, wondrous legs so long and smooth, anytime he is away from her he shudders in anticipation. The right fielder, not known for his power at the plate, begins to attempt to hit home runs off the sixty-year-old coach throwing batting practice. The right fielder wants to make an impression. The right fielder wants Alana. Just before game time the right fielder asks the third baseman where in the stands his wife sits. I dont think youll miss her, right behind the dugout. The right fielder makes eye contact with Alana and is twice smitten. Leading off the second inning, the third baseman doubles and stands on second. When the right fielder is on deck he wipes his bat with pine tar and peers over to the amazing European beauty just a few feet away. The right fielder begins to make conversation with Alana, asking if she ever made it with someone who won the Gold Glove. She shakes her long finger at him, telling him he should concentrate on the game. When it is his turn to bat (with the third baseman still on second and two out) the right fielder hits a home run off the left field foul pole. He greets the third baseman at home with a high five. As they trot to the dugout, the right fielder wrestles his bat away from the bat boy, clubs the third baseman on the head, jumps into the stands and in a fury takes off his and Alanas clothes. The Commissioner suspends the right fielder for the rest of the season and then offers to reduce it to one month if he shares with him how it was to make it with such a tall woman on top of the dugout.

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BLUEBERRY Bill Macam goes to work on a cloudy day and finds when he opens his lunch at noon to be missing the second blueberry granola bar his wife promised to add after they discussed how one would just not do. He complains to his co-workers and goes back to threading screws, burning with hunger. He doesnt know how he makes it through the day but he does. When he gets home Bill finds his wife in bed with the second blueberry granola bar. She is naked and smoking a cigarette. After Bill, his wife, and the blueberry granola bar enter counseling they come to an agreement that one blueberry granola bar per day should be satisfying enough.

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