A Million Versions of Right (25 page)

I wanted to cry but I’d run dry. The implications of what I was being told were too much to comprehend.

“You’ll be interested to know that it’s not just you, Jack. All men in the District appear to have been affected.”

“You’ve given them
all
menstruation?” I couldn’t contain the dirty smirk that grew on my face.

“It’s best not to look at it from that perspective. What I’ve done is successfully
remove
menstruation from the female population. I’ve found it pays to look at these things from a positive angle, bright side of life and all that.”

“What about you Max, are you bleeding?”

“Oh lord no!” His response was immediate. He actually made me feel foolish for having thought otherwise. “I don’t drink water and even if I had consumed the water, I assume I’m too old to suffer from menstruation.”

“Lucky you,” I muttered, my heart not really in it.

Max directed the chair I was strapped in toward a wall where a large television was mounted. “I’ve been pouring through the surveillance footage and  edited the pertinent bits together. It has a surprising narrative thrust. Would you like to see it?”

He had already dimmed the lights and started the presentation before I had a chance to say anything. I watched.

It all commenced with a simple, heartfelt message that read:
To Charlotte. You are my muse and an astounding timekeeper. Where others have failed spectacularly, you have only failed mildly. Giv ‘em all hell, sweetheart
. This was followed by a slow fade-in to a shot of the District at night, deserted and undoubtedly beguiling. Sinead O’Conner’s ‘Nothing Compares’ spilled from wall mounted speakers and the montage began. Still after still of nervous looking barbers filled the screen; some were hunched over in what looked like cramps. Menstrually induced I assumed. This was followed by video footage of Glen from Hairtastic for Men, pacing back and forth with tears streaming down his face. He had scrawled ‘I’m not pretty’ all over his shop mirrors with red lipstick. It was interesting to note that there were three spelling variations on the word ‘pretty’ and none were correct. More stills followed. Rubbish bags overflowing with blood-stained aprons sat in alleyways. Vomit lined gutters and storefronts. Countless shots displayed men involved in heated slap fights. The screen went black and a poorly drawn and animated old man entered from the right. A speech bubble appeared above his head with “what do we ‘ave ‘ere?” written in comic sans. This segment of the presentation focused on women. Women were populating the District in large numbers. They looked undeniably happy. The men on the other hand appeared decidedly uncomfortable. The District had slid into chaos. It was a strange kind of chaos. Everything about the District had been turned on its head but I honestly couldn’t tell if they were worse off because of it. The screen went dark and the music faded out. I sat in silence for some time before eventually remembering to ask, “Can you remove this thing from inside my dick now?”

* * * * *

After my first menstrual cycle passed, I began to venture out into the District alone. I had to keep wearing my knee costume because it was likely the District still wanted me dead. It probably would have been safer to stay with Max or move somewhere far away but I had to see it all with my own eyes. I couldn’t deny my feelings of hatred toward the District for the lack of trust and faith they had shown in me. At the same time, nostalgia tickled my body. The better part of my life had been spent devouring every nuance of the District and I couldn’t write that off so easily. It still owned a part of my heart. The fact it had all become so corrupted filled me with genuine melancholy. The residents as individuals no longer meant anything to me but the District as a whole was still infused with magic and I mourned the pain it must have been feeling.

I still expected to see the District plastered with posters calling for my death but most of them had been torn down. I was surprised to find some graffiti – the first I’d ever seen in the District – outside Peter’s Peatery which read
BRING BACK JACK
. It wasn’t enough to get me out of the costume but it was a nice change from the bloodlust previously exhibited.

The streets weren’t overly populated but there really were a lot of women around. My initial instinct was to feel uncomfortable. I immediately reprimanded myself for the latent misogyny I was feeling. It was weird as hell though. It’s not something we ever spoke about but women weren’t something we really paid attention to in the District. Looking around now, I honestly couldn’t tell you if they’d always been there or if it was a new development. If what Max had said was true, these women only came after the woebegone. Barbers, as a whole, are virginal creatures at heart. Most of my barberial acquaintances abstained from the physical act of intercourse. Styling hair was sexual enough for them and at the time I completely understood that. Looking now at all the women I was suddenly filled with a previously unknown lust. My penis stirred without the aid of tears for the first time since my university days. There really were some remarkable looking ladies about. I contemplated fondling myself, assuming the bulky costume I was wearing would mask any suspect activity but I thought better of it. That wasn’t why I was here.

Most of my old haunts were closed, each adorned with hastily written signs promising they’d be back in business as soon as possible. I wondered if they accepted their menstruation yet or whether they were stubbornly attributing it to mysterious penile dysfunctions. If it weren’t for Max I seriously doubt I’d be willing to believe it. Thinking about Max my mind tweaked.

If it weren’t for Max NONE of this shit would’ve happened. If it weren’t for Max I’d still be enjoying my old life without the need to hide inside a giant fucking knee. If it weren’t for Max I’d be stagnating in a cloistered existence
. I hated him and I loved him.

* * * * *

I didn’t even notice that my relationship with Max had blossomed into romance until I absentmindedly pecked him on the cheek one night before retiring to bed. He was quietly watching the surveillance footage. In the glow of the screens he looked fierce and strong, like a tiger. I leant in and pressed my lips to him, the tip of my tongue ran trails up his wrinkled skin. Having broken his concentration he looked at me, right in the eyes. A knowing grin filled his face, followed by a slight nod. In bed that night I couldn’t extract him from my thoughts even though I tried. I really, really tried.

My growing feelings toward Max were confused by the fact I found him extremely unattractive. I longed to wrap my arms around him yet the thought made me slightly queasy. I was undoubtedly heterosexual yet found myself pining for another male many times my senior. The very concept of fucking him withered my dick into a flap of empty skin but I still wanted to. I slept poorly that night and conceded that I should alert Max to my quandary.

* * * * *

“So, uh… Max. I don’t really know how to say this but…”

Max held a rigid finger to my lips, vanquishing my words. “You don’t need to say a word, Jack. I know how you feel. You’ve been feeling this way for quite some time yet you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.” He was smiling like my favourite grandfather.

I lowered his finger. “That’s not it, Max. Yes, I have these feelings toward you but…”

Once more he held his finger to my mouth. “I know, Jack. You find me intensely unattractive and couldn’t possibly bring yourself to engage in sexual congress. I doubt it would even be physically possible for you. I do have a solution though.”

My eyes bulged like a squashed fish. “You do?”

“I most certainly do. Remember Charlotte?” I nodded. “Do you find her attractive in any way?”

I cast my mind back to Charlotte with her red bouffant, pale skin and wart cluster nose. The dank of the sewer warmly embracing her. “Yeah, from what I recall she wasn’t half bad.”

Max grinned. “What if I were to tell you that by rogering her you could pleasure me?”

My eyebrow cocked. The idea was grotesque but it did intrigue me. “What the hell are you on about?”

“My daughter and I share an unusual connection. It’s purely involuntary but whenever Charlotte engages in intimacy I feel what she feels coursing through my body. She’s kind of my orgasmic proxy.”

I gulped down the saliva that had accumulated during Max’s revelation. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Oh indeed I am, Jack. If you’re willing, I’ll arrange a meeting between Charlotte and yourself for this evening. You don’t have to worry about Charlotte. She’s quite taken with you physically.”

I thought about it for a while, refusing to respond immediately. The image of Charlotte’s pallid body writhing around on top of mine had me feeling admittedly randy. The fact that I would be sexually gratifying Max without actually having to fuck him was pretty enticing too.

“Let’s do it,” I said with a nod. Max clapped his hands together and rubbed himself suggestively. It was fairly unpleasant.

* * * * *

Max had arranged for Charlotte and me to meet in the sewers that evening. I was given a crudely drawn map that led me just beyond the sewer town of Drippings and into a facsimile of a park. It was depressingly dank but the moss coverage was impressive. The whole park was bathed in an eerie red light, the source of which I couldn’t discern. Sitting on a bench within the shadows of a spindly moss mound sat Charlotte; her skin was virtually glowing in the darkness.

She stood politely, beckoning me with a hand tipped in red nail polish. It would have been less disturbing had it been her own but I obeyed. I sat beside her and watched as she threw the hand over her shoulder. “For good luck,” she whispered before taking me in her arms and wrestling me to the damp ground below. Her bouffant nuzzled my face like a loving cat and then… pure pleasure…

…Max bit his bottom lip and shuddered in ecstasy.

…Somewhere in Chile, a man began devouring his own lips.

I felt pretty damn good when I emerged from the sewer. My post-coital face remained ever present. I caught sight of Max who was sleeping soundly in his chair, naked as you can get before you start stripping skin. I gave him a kiss and flicked my tongue over his nipple. It was disgusting.

My tongue roused Max from his sleep. I jumped back apologetically and was greeted with an understanding smile.

“How was it?” yawned Max.

“Good,” I responded self-consciously.

“My question was a mere formality,” he said with an uncontained smile. “I know how good it was,
believe
me. I haven’t experienced an orgasm of that magnitude for some time. I didn’t even know I still had it in me.” He stroked his dick in a congratulatory fashion. I dry-wretched in response. Having noticed my involuntary reaction, Max quickly covered himself with a blanket. “It must have fallen off when I was sleeping. I’m sorry for that, Jack. Not a pretty sight I know.”

The correct response would have been for me to assure him it was fine. That his nudity was beautiful. Instead I nodded and with a scrunched up face mouthed, “Yeah.” He clearly understood and bore no ill-will.

“Will you two gelatinous dynamos be meeting up again?”

I sincerely hoped so but intending to remain coy, I responded with a high pitch, elongated “maybeeee” that took 15 minutes to say. By the time I’d finished Max had fallen back to sleep.

* * * * *

Using Charlotte as our willing conduit, Max and I continued developing our strange relationship for the next few months. Truth be told, I didn’t really think much about the District in this time. I was experiencing regular menstruation and although not happy about it, I was kinda getting used to it. I pretty much stayed within the confines of my bed during these times and Max knew better than to sass me.

Max was still monitoring the surveillance footage fed from the District but it wasn’t the all-consuming obsession it had been. He kept handing me reports on the progress and I wasn’t too surprised to find that the District wasn’t doing too well. Perhaps my proximity to the instigator of the male menstruation meant that I had an easier time than most.

“They all look so lost,” I said to Max while staring at the footage.

“It’s not at all surprising,” replied Max, “You’re in a rather privileged position really. You know as much as there is to know at this point. These people are caught within the grip of something they don’t understand.”