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From Romania to France via America Novels „ La Traverse du Styx (Crossing the Styx) |
FLUSH GAME OR THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO HENRY MILLER NUMBER 1 NUMBER 2 HENRY JUNE VOICE Setting, lighting, costumes, choreography, makeup: out of
this world. Flush chamber, funky toilet shaped throne on a pyramidal
platform, chain hanging out from "nowhere," star clock with
mysterious symbols but no hands, and triptych hovering over the throne. An encounter of the fourth kind is heard in the dark.
The star clock flashes in crescendo, then stops. The chain begins to flash.
Number 2 dances with feigned enthusiasm. NUMBER 2: Beyond
time, beyond kissing assÉ NUMBER 1: I
flush souls into flesh—in lumps! (Number 1 pulls the chain, which makes a toilet flush
sound. The chain stops flashing, the chamber begins to flash.) NUMBER 1: The
flush is in full spinÉ NUMBER 2: No
purpose may seemÉ NUMBER 1: But
no bull! NUMBER 2: Number
1's triptych to allÉ NUMBER 1: Value
Thy Flesh! (ŅValue Thy Flesh!Ó is flashed on the triptych. The
clock and the chamber cease to flash. Number 2 stops dancing.) NUMBER 2: Boredom
is the damnation of the Universe. (Pause.) NUMBER 2: What
do we do now, Number 1? NUMBER 1: Infinity
of things. Take your pick. NUMBER 2: Infinite
choices, infinite pick. NUMBER 1: We
can teleport ourselves to Lucifer Nova and see what they're up to. NUMBER 2: It's
not as fun as it used to be. NUMBER 1: True.
We can enjoy a celestial feast catered by folk-dancing hermaphrodites. NUMBER 2: It
gives me celestial farts. NUMBER 1: Tell
me about it! We can go on a search-and-kick-ass mission throughout the
Universe. NUMBER 2: Once
we kicked a terrestrial on the cross and earth has never been the same since. NUMBER 1: I
don't want to hear about it! What about crashing a flying saucer on the White
House lawn and see what theyÕll make out of it? Weather balloon or swamp gas? NUMBER 2: We've
been better entertained. NUMBER 1: I
suppose. What if I turn into a steroid-pumping stud and you into a naughty
housewife? NUMBER 2: We
were—a flush ago. I was the sluty housewife. NUMBER 1: Was
it fun? NUMBER 2: No
comment. NUMBER 1: You're
queer today. Nothing pleases you. NUMBER 2: I
want something new for a change. NUMBER 1: How
about being the stud? NUMBER 2: I
was—two flushes ago. NUMBER 1: What
exactly are you up to? NUMBER 2: A
cosmic premiere. NUMBER 1: Have
we overlooked a premiere? I thought we'd exhausted them all. NUMBER 2: Not
exactly. For instance weÕve never indulged ourselves in a flush game. NUMBER 1: Never
heard of it. NUMBER 2: You
know—from no beginning and no end, which is to say beyond time and
kissing ass—the souls Number 1 has been flushing from thy celestial
throne have never had a say about their fate. It's been like sentencing them
for a crime they never committed. NUMBER 1: Are
you insinuating they've been flushed against their will? NUMBER 2: Taking
into consideration the apathy and suicide rate throughout the
universe—yes. NUMBER 1: How
many babies have you seen protesting their birth? NUMBER 2: They
all cry, Number 1. NUMBER 1: But
it's absurd to give a suckling a choice since it has no concept of life. As you
know, every soul undergoes absolute amnesia during the act of birth. NUMBER 2: So
much the better. The game works best when the subjects have no past life
memory, but free will. I mean sucklingless subjects who can think and speak
for themselves, free of interference of any kind. All we have to do is tell
them what lifeÕs like and what to expect. YouÕll give them the best scenario;
IÕll give them the worst, provided they both are within the realm of
possibility. You want them flushed; I want them to stay where they
are—forever! NUMBER 1: ItÕs
against the Universal Flush Codex to grant a soul eternal elusive wandering. NUMBER 2: You
can always make an exception, Number 1. NUMBER 1: I
can't afford one in a universe where exceptions to the rule become the rule!
We can still play the game. But they must go down regardless. NUMBER 2: ItÕs
no fun. NUMBER 1: We
can play it for the sake of the experiment. NUMBER 2: ItÕs
not the same. NUMBER 1: I
suppose youÕd like an incentive of some sort. Okay, youÕll flush them
yourself. NUMBER 2: I
will!? NUMBER 1: Only
if you win the game. NUMBER 2: (Bowing
ceremoniously.) Thank you, Number 1! (Yearningly
stretches hand toward the chain.) ItÕs
such an extraordinary celestial honor. NUMBER 1: One
time only. In a universe where exceptions to the rule... Shall we begin? NUMBER 2: Yes,
Number 1. Do I get to pick the bodies? Please let me pick the bodies! NUMBER 1: If
that excites you-- NUMBER 2: I
prefer the human type. NUMBER 1: Any
type but human! Life on earth is the least appealing in the universe. It puts
me at great disadvantage. NUMBER 2: We
may as well go for the celestial farts and folk dancing. (Pause.) NUMBER 1: Okay.
I hate to cancel a cosmic premiere. It's not something we enjoy from one
flush to another. NUMBER 2: We
cannot afford to be bored. NUMBER 1: True.
(NUMBER 1 snaps fingers. The star clock and the chain
begin to flash.) NUMBER 1: I
suppose I can pick the place of birth. NUMBER 2: As
you wish, Number 1. (Number 1 pulls the chain. The chain stops flashing.
The toilet flush is followed by a brief flashing of the chamber. The clock
ceases to flash.) NUMBER 1: Two
souls have temporarily been committed to random human flesh. NUMBER 2: I
assume they have clothes on. The game works best without distractions, if I
may. NUMBER 1: I'll
see what I can do. Absolute amnesia is now erasing past lives' memory. They
merely possess the faculties of speech and reason of modern day Americans
along with their natural gender differences, of course. Here they
come—Henry and June. Let's put on the game masks and give them a few
earthly minutes to acquaint themselves. (Number 1 puts on the mask of comedy. Number 2 puts on
the mask of tragedy. Henry and June rush out of the flush chamber like
panicked aborigines. They stumble into each other, making angry sounds.
Number 1's attempt to cover them up is both humorous and sexy.) NUMBER 2: Are
they supposed to be born in North America or in the Amazon? NUMBER 1: IÕm
working on it. (Number 1 snaps fingers. Henry and June walk normally.
Lost and confused, they stumble into each other once again.) |