THE FILL IN THE END
BY ELENA AIELLO
*
| As we said before, it's an easy thing. But you insist on making the
easy more difficult. Many have decided you prefer the difficult because
you're a selfish bitch. It's really simple. It really is. You can have
one
or the other. One or the other. We could complicate it.
We could say you could always have something else if you'd wish. Something
neither this nor that - neither niether. But we won't complicate.
The last thing we need is complication. Let's not think of anything besides
one
or the other. Admit that you're a selfish bitch, will
you? Once you admit this, will you then try not being one, for once? Listen,
realize there's a situation here. A situation in which you can feast
on
one thing one day, and on another day you can suck on another
thing. There's real possibility here. Real potential. But sadly, you're
a glutton, one that's about-to-burst. You're like a rotted keg of steaming
lard. Can you say that once outloud? A rotted keg of steaming lard.
Slower this time. Good. Can you picture it? Does saying it help you see
it? Make sure you see it clearly. Say it again, even slower this time.
A _____ rot ____ ted ____ keg _____ of ______ stea _______ ming _____
lard. Make sure that's what you see in the mirror. Make sure that's
what you see when you wonder what others see when they see you. Once more,
quickly. A rotted keg of steaming lard. Did you know that the Ratman,
a servant who'd be considered blessed in certain far-off regions of the
world, introduces into you an off-smelling plasma? And did you know he
does it through the raw, distended gap that once was your navel? Haven't
you ever noticed that cork in your belly? Yes, he introduces it into
you through a hole you've never even noticed had become one. The Ratman
is considered blessed in other regions: devouts drop coins at his feet,
they pay to touch his cheek, and before they touch his cheek (as though
it were the finest cheek they've ever touched), they soak their
roachshell fingertips in rosewater to soften and disguise scents that might
offend the Sacred Ratman. Now, here, despite being refueled by a
man who'd be considered a healer if he just crosssed an ocean and a mountain
range and one or two deserts, who instead stays with you and uncorks your
belly and pumps you full of this steaming, plasmalike lard (for insignificant
pay), despite all this, when offered one or the other - WHEN
OFFERED ONE OR THE OTHER - you insist on both, even as the
Venerable Ratman keeps this goo flowing into your nasty-ass keg of lard.
You insist on both, not over the course of the heinously protracted work
week, but now, this minute, without further ado. Ahora mismo motherfucker,
I think was the way you phrased it. We do not accept such demands, we do
not bow to them, no, especially not when they involve an about-to-burst
keg of stanky lard like yourself, especially not when they're delievered
in expletives and languages we don't quite understand. We do not accept
such statements, especially when you intend to choose both now instead
of both over the course of a heinously protracted work week. When we call
this work week heinously protracted we do so in the voice of a snickering
mole. This voice sounds like what you'd expect from a blindeyed, needlenosed,
ass-stinking bitch of the subterranean like yourself. Do you realize the
choice to choose both merits a punishment far worse than anything
we can fathom? Actually, we do dream of a specialized inquisition, a final
gambit of slow cruelties: death by slimy snail; death by heat lamp; death
by black pepper; death by disappointment; death by blue sky; death by busy
signal; death by magnet; death by word association. But listen, we're more
into making you realize you can feast on ONE and then
let it subside over a few days, allow yourself to float upon its gentle
current, ride its lingering delight, then, when you begin to crave the
next step, when you feel real desire
for THE OTHER,
then you can savor that snack too. Instead you want both now. You
want both now like the assmonger you are. Both now is the stab in
stomach.
Both now is the melodramatic dagger. Choose both now
and you'll paralyze the air. Listen, don't call us when you can't breathe.
We'll be busy doing research for whoever needs us. You know hard feelings
don't originate in hardheartedness. Once we needed each other; we did,
didn't we? We have proof, or if you prefer, evidence. Once we talked you
down when you threatened to jump from the curb. We recorded the call. Once
we welcomed your calls. We wouldn't be doing this, we wouldn't be persuading
you to choose differently, if it weren't for the evidence. You know the
meaning of the word ersatz? It is the German word for substitute.
Choosing both is like preferring substitutes for butter, clothing,
and life itself. We know you know how incomplete substitutes are. Once
you were the genuine thing of life. Now you choose both. Don't you
see the mistake you've made. You've got us so worked up, we don't even
know what we're saying anymore. I guess that's why you think you can choose
both. We have one word for that kind of reasoning, but it's one of
those words that can't be spelled. You can only mark the foundation for
a long empty space above it. You can only end that mark with a shitload
of exclamation points: each a return that begins it all again so it can
end in another return. Fill in the end. Write clearly. Do not worry. Put
your head down when you're done.
__________________!!!!!!!!!!!! * |
B R A V E S O U L S R E C E I V E
|
Sabbra Cadabra: The World's
Greatest
Black Sabbath Cover Band