/lit/ - Literature

PICKLEMAS, PART THE FORST
T'was the night before Picklemas;
(hark) all did go shout,
"for we demand our pickles, Lord,
that you put them in our mouth,"
and Lo' I did rise from my country estates
and moved with sublimity to the chancellery gates
I said, "whom ought amongst you
wouldst suck the first pickle
from my very own fingers,
stand, aye, not like the fickle!"

Lo' did spring forth t'ward the front of my House
young Master Ghentry with a wide open mouth
and his Ma Ma sprung beside he with one hand at his arm
saying, "Lord, Master Ghentry hath come from the farm
where he be made by labor a strapping great giant,
see: his limbs be like steel, see: his mind be as pliant,
surely then thus," so the pretty Ma spake,
"thou willst feed he one pickle 'fore dusk doth abate?"

And I threw myself promptly from the wide open door
with a smile and my face and fine pickles in store
and the first I did pop into anyones face
was that of young Master Ghentry, then his Ma Ma, in haste!

Lo' I had done well as I skipped all around
plopping pickle in mouth to great satisfied sounds
and whenst once had been pushed hark a crunchy crunch noise
from the slavering jaws of a hundred 'so boys,
and the fine smell of vinegar didst on my fingertips linger
like the smell of a pickle jar in the fair month of Septimber,

Lo' the mob did disperse with their mock forks and all
and saluted me Lord whilst I stood 'top a stool
with one hand, aye, touching with clenched fist my heart
singing praises to Jesus, aye, and to Allah.

Bless your cotton stocks, my love,
pull them tight up to your thighs
let the garter band that holds
them firm bring water to your eyes,
next turn around and lift your frock
so that your backsides bare
i see you've intelligently recalled
to dress in girdled underwear
so that your cheeks and well exposed
whilst your little belly's held in tight
and i think with this matching frock
a sudden gust will send a fright
that clasps your buttocks with the
icy grip of old Jack Frost all right(!)
aye, love, we'll walk along along the river front
you'll be sure to walk with care
and hold your little nose up high
aye, be proud of what you wear,
my love, don't worry that the icy gust has turned your inner thighs to frozen mutton
just relish how much warm you feel when my hand runs up your bottom
and just think of how much proud you'll be when father gets the call
that his darling dainty daughter here has just dropped out of school
and that she's taken up with scallywags and ruffians and such
and that she's waltzing up and down the promenade showing off her stuff
to all the envoys from the Oil States and grand visitors from France
and how she doesn't give a damn to go right low in lurid dance
for the love of half the bloody city, eh? and half the gentry all the more,
oh well, when priapus comes calling, eh, you can hardly shut the door.*
*because his cock is too big 'to' shut the door

The man grabbed at my cloak, "please," he implored, his face wet with water, "please.. you must touch my bell," and he held aloft a small copper bell.

I tore my cloak from his hand, "peasant, get thee away with all frivolity and pomp."

He bit the edge of his hand and began whimpering, he fell to his knees, tears followed, "you don't understand," he said, "it is not pomp nor frivolity but life itself.."

"Paltry accolades?" I barked, bulging my eyes incredulously to shame him, I snorted at his expression and turned to leave.

"NO THEY WILL KILL ME!" he shouted.

I had only taken one step, I did not take another.

I turned back, "who will kill you?" I asked in softer tones.

The man made another whimpering noise, "I cannot say," the words fell from his lips.

I raised my cane as if to strike him.

The man whimpered again, "the priests..." he said, "the censors..." he said, "the controllers of our very tubes!" and he pointed to his stomach.

There was a clank as the metal end of my cane returned to the stone tiling at my feet.

"The controllers of your tubes?" I did not understand what this meant, "and," I looked around, "they will kill you unless I wrap upon your copper bell?"

The man, now prostrate completely, whimpered in confirmation, "it- it is a mark to show that you were pleased and did like unto my person in- in approval of my conduct unto all," he sputtered and stuttered.

"But," said I, "I did not find your performance to be very good."

His head shot upward to meet my gaze, his now fierce and angry, "you lie!" he seethed through clenched teeth, "I saw you laugh," he hissed.

I sighed in disgust, "no, sir, I was laughing 'at' you, not 'with' you, your performance.. the juggling of herrings was so pathetic and sad I could not help but laugh at you, and then in displeasure for the performances of Dryden and such which are surely abused in the grave by such humdrummery."

"But you still laughed," he hissed.

I made a louder noise in disgust and sucked at my teeth and gazed around to make sure nobody was watching and then I said, "very well, if it be ll so important to you, sir, I will wrap upon your bell even as I do not like your performance in the least, if it spare you from your dread, then raise aloft your copper bell and upon it I shall wrap my knuckle."

Ding.

No sonoer had I done so that I awoke in the gutter, my fine clothes gone, the servants about me replaced with roaring mad men, my pretty wife now a stinking whore, my groin in pain from veneral diseases and a small imp was dancing around going toot toot on a flute. I tried to speak but my cadence was all gone, I asked the imp - as best I could - "what, who, huh?" and the imp grinned,

"Sir," it said, "you proven yourself to be without discernment! Live now with the consequence!"

And I put my hands to my face and cried out - as best I could - "no!"
"And that is my story," I said, offering 'my' copper bell to the fellow before me.
/fin

Well, we had done it.

The table of and the in boardroom of G.C.L.R. Inc. and Subsidiaries now boasted a full cheeseboard of foreigners, the physically handicapped and even women and such like, and homosexuals, bisexuals and two transvestites - the latter being myself and the trusted VP Mr. Stevens, and the refreshments were being served by unpaid children.

"Well," I exclaimed, "Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous! We can finally now begin to get to grips with the pressing realities that effect everyone in society and the role that G.C.L.R. Inc. and Subsidiaries will endeavor to fulfill in a growing and ever changing and ever diverse marketplace!" and I showed my teeth.

What followed next was surely ghastly. From the mouth of everybody in good order came the most unwelcome suggestions on how to reorder the company and give people things that they needed, and so on, with an almost Fordist undertone to the whole affair. And so I fired them all and replaced them with same versions of their diversity criterions but having made sure that their IQ points were at least 50 points lower than in the beginning and that virtually none of them spoke a common language, so that any kind of coordinated communication was impossible.

"Well," I exclaimed, "Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous!"

A fly made its way around the boardroom. It landed on one of their faces.

I sat with fixed grin and wild eyes.

"Suggestions," I said to them, "on how to improve the company and such and such, if you would be so kind."

Mr. Stevens fiddled with his blouse nervously had had begun to sweat under his wig. He was convinced that they would be exactly the same as the last lot.

And they were.

Although their Fordism had now been transmuted by degrees into plain old pump and dump; suggestions of simply selling off the company assets and going on holiday with the proceeds and another had begun to explain that he or she was badly in need to go to the toilet, none of them really seemed to possess any sort of grasp at all on where they were or what they were doing now that they were here or even how they arrived here in spangled suits and such like.