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Mystery Play

Mystery Play

Ratings: (0)|Views: 34|Likes:
Published by Willem de Phoops
An old-time mystery play written for radio
An old-time mystery play written for radio

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Published by: Willem de Phoops on Aug 30, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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   d-y yy pyk  k    v   .  C  C :cast of characters
• P. Horace Jimson - Philanderer and serial philan
thropist; believer in the anthropic principle; enjoys being in the
C  C
• A doorbell - more of a buzzer; but not worn on thewrist. The doorbellbuzzer rests magisterially on the wall. IT ISNOT, for example, one of those buzzers in the palm of your
• A psychic medium who is also a prostitute• A Jesuit oil baron• Proxima Centauri• Me with my shirt off • A half-dozen or so common laborersThe Cast is assembled around Jacqueline du Pré’s twitching body.She ain’t dead yet. The year is 1977.The mystery to start with is what to do with her. Jimson, who leads the Cast of Characters, says make off with herviolin. Jimson gets uppity; starts to act like he’s in charge. Jimson is black.The other characters start to take umbrage.Me with my shirt off says, ‘It’s getting hot in here’, and wants totake his shirt off. And it is getting hot in here: it just rained out and mybody is getting all sticky. Notice I didn’t say
One of the facts of the matter is that the psychic prostitute tries tointuit whether or not she is dead. Not she herself, but du Pré.
Du Pré is twitching, but we don’t know whether she is dead yet.The Jesuit oil baron observes that given sufficient time her body willdecompose into its constituent elements and become crude oil.
The mystery deepens when I reveal some of my bathroom habits.For one, I have developed what is called proctalgia fugax. Not surehow I got it. I’ll be drifting off into sleep at about 1 a.m. And suddenly myasshole will seize up. It’ll feel like somebody’s got his knee pressed deeplyinside my asshole. It’s a hell of a thing. Sometimes it feels like you have toshit. But then you go into the bathroom, sit down, and squeeze. And noth
ing happens. No happy paste comes out.Sometimes I have been sorely tempted to probe with my thumb uparound in there. I feel if I could just hit the pressure point, like acupunc
ture, I could release all the karmic energy that has no doubt built up inthere. But it is not meant to be. I don’t want to stick my thumb up my assbecause it is hard to clean off. You can rinse your hand at the sink forcountless minutes, and then discover after snifng that it still smells.That’s one thing.Another is that my dick leaks all the time now. There’s no stopping itreally. After any pissing is done, my dick will up and leak two to ten min
utes later. If I sit down, for example, there’s a squirt. My prostate is shot.Too many years of jerking off. I got a swollen testicle already. It’s got noth
ing to do with it, but gives you a general indication of my health. Every
thing between my legs is shot. My prostate swells up to the size of a goiterwhen I have a — rare — hard-on. Usually that happens when early in themorning I am awakened to the sound of a jackhammer at a constructionsite. As I soon as I am conscious of it, however, it recedes, fades at the fast
est speed eeing blood will allow.Another thing that happens is that I jerk off a lot. Not because I amaroused. Psychologically, I have not been aroused in years. In fact, it is justas John le Carré says of Alec Guinness: I am asexual. Nevertheless, I do itout of spite.Somewhere along the line, I think, I acquired the notion that a dickmust be exercised like a muscle. And then when it was clear that was notthe case, I believed that the brain cells that give rise to arousal must beexercised like muscle. Today, I jerk off like a boxer might punch himself inthe face in a hateful moment staring in the mirror after a losing streak. I

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