A Million Versions of Right (28 page)

“Heya, Jack. How was your day, hun?”

His arms tried to close around me but I shrugged out of the embrace. Max looked a little hurt.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

I stared him in the eyes, feeling as if tears would stream any minute.

“You haven’t been honest with me, Max.”

“How do you mean? Honesty is a virtue, Jack; one that I abide by.”

Maintaining eye contact was emotionally draining so I began pacing around the room with my arms folded tightly at my chest.

“What was it you told me before all this menstruation bullshit began?” I asked.

Max shrugged. “That’s a very broad question, my dear. I told you many things.”

“Well think back, Max. Think back to the hair. What did you tell me about the hair?”

I began to stare at him once more, noticing a little flicker of guilt glazing his eyes.

“You told me that every male who consumes the woebegone would lose their hair. Why hasn’t anyone lost their hair, Max?” I was crying now but my penis didn’t stir.

“Oh Jack, I never said that they’d definitely lose their hair. It was an educated guess on my part based on preliminary trials.”

“So you destroyed my life based on a guess?” I was yelling now.

“No, no, Jack. Please don’t suggest I have destroyed your life. As I’ve already told you, I’m sorry you were ostracised from the District. It wasn’t my intention.”

“What exactly was your intention, huh?”

As I said these words Max also broke into tears. He lurched about with desperate hands, imploring me for sympathetic affection. I avoided him coldly.

“Spit it out, Max!” I screamed.

“I’M SORRY!!!” he responded, falling to his knees and rolling into a bunny balance stance. “It’s all my fault!”

“Spill it, you bastard,” I said, my tears drying, replaced by simmering rage.

“I shouldn’t have involved you, Jack. I was passing through the District on an unrelated matter. I saw you waltzing about. You looked so comfortable. I was smitten instantly. I followed you into a barbershop, just to watch you. You were taking down notes and just consumed. I admired the drive I saw in your eyes and I longed to reach out to you there and then. I became flustered and knocked over a comb jar by accident. Fearing reprisal, I ran, smashed my way through the storefront window and fled. I never would have assumed my little accident would garner such a reaction from the District and especially you. I wanted to approach you and introduce myself but I was cowardly. Instead I began knocking over more and more jars, hoping you’d follow me and you did, Jack!”

"So you were just using the District to get to me?” My voice contained a strange calm.

“It’s not as simple as that! I became infatuated. My capacity for reason eroded and there was only you.” He rolled out of his bunny balance and remained on his back, staring toward the ceiling.

“What about this whole woebegone thing? Would you have spiked the water if I hadn’t been here?”

“Oh yes, Jack, you must believe me. My intention was always to administer the woebegone. Had I not met you I certainly wouldn’t have chosen such an inappropriate location. I mean there were virtually no females here!”

“And the hair loss? You knew it wouldn’t happen all along didn’t you?”

“It was the only lie I could think of at the time. It was such a stupid lie that I assumed you were never convinced. I assumed you only went along with it to be with me. I mean seriously, Jack, the most rudimentary historical investigation would reveal that men had hair right from the beginning.”

I was seated now. Letting Max’s words blow like tumbleweeds through my head. He struggled up on all fours and began crawling pathetically toward me, puckering his lips the whole time. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and gave him a kiss.

“You know something, Max?” I asked when our lips separated.

“Yes, Jack?”

“You’re a real cunt.”

POWER BLINK

His name was Stephan and he called his new manoeuvre the ‘Power Blink’…

* * * * *

“Come here, Patrick, I believe I have perfected something rather special.”

Patrick glanced at Stephan, stood up and carefully pitter-pattered toward him, paying particular attention to the sway of his hips.

“What is it, Stephan? I’ve grown immensely weary of your demonstrations.”

“Shush now, Patrick. This is extra ordinary. I have a conviction, I am convinced, I can assure you… this will blow your fucking socks off, Patrick.”

“Oh good lord! Must you insist on populating your every last utterance with such excessive melodrama? Show me this little fancy of yours and let me get back to the cultivation of my hips.”

Stephan flashed a knowing grin. “Okay, brace yourself now, Patrick. No need for the snark.”

Patrick rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, momentarily losing his retinas.

“Serves you right you haughty shit,” said Stephan as he gestured toward a prepared chair. “Sit! Sit!”

Patrick sat with an emotive thud, testing the limits of the chair’s durability. Stephan scampered out of the room for a few seconds, which felt like hours to Patrick’s exasperated mind. When Stephan returned he was wearing only a belt stretched a few notches too tight.

“Very attractive, Stephan,” said Patrick with disgusted sarcasm.

The flabbier portions of Stephan’s anatomy hung in a particularly unpleasant fashion. The restriction of the belt caused a gorge of blood to stiffen his penis quite dramatically. Patrick responded unfavourably, clearly uncomfortable with the display.

“Please do something to avert my gaze from your sickly region, Stephan. I’m not sure I can take this.”

“Awfully sorry, Patrick. I’ll grant you it seems a tad dramatic but in order for my demonstration to be conveyed with appropriate gravitas I must perform in nothing spare this belt.”

“Just get it over with!” said Patrick, hypnotised by Stephan’s throbbing, bobbing member.

Stephan entered a stance approximating that of a Sumo wrestler preparing for combat. With arms akimbo he strained to the point of defecation as his body cultivated the necessary ingredients for the blink to birth. When the time was right, Stephan’s eyelids gracefully dropped, sending out a wave of gentle breeze accompanied by a flatulent sound. The breeze caressed Patrick’s forehead before dissipating into the glorious ether. Patrick sat in his chair dazed, trying to process and assimilate what he had just witnessed. Stephan fell back against the wall, exhausted as a womb at a midwives party. A heavy silence ensued while Patrick gathered his thoughts and impressions.

“My word, Stephan, that was exhilarating! How on earth are you able to do that?”

Stephan was roused back to reality as the depleted energy slowly started to refill.

“You see, Patrick (
panting, breathing
) I call it (
wheezing, coughing
) – I call it the ‘Power Blink’. It certainly isn’t (
coughing, panting, breathing, wheezing)
easy.”

“How did you develop it?” asked Patrick still stunned.

Stephan took several deep breaths, stabilising himself enough to talk with his usual drama and exuberance.

“It was quite by accident. It was a rosy morning – if rosy can be adequately used to describe the various hues etched into my mind’s eye. I was awake in bed, consumed in my own warmth and comfort. The sun was shining vividly through the window and a giant cock bird was singing the most enchanting tunes. The night before having been a mild one, I left my window slightly ajar. The cock bird swooped into my room and flew about this way and that. My eyes carefully tracked its each and every movement. Then, as if drawn to me like a magpie to silver, the cock bird landed on my heaving chest and stared hard into my sleepy eyes. A stare as intense I’ve never seen. The cock bird took an exaggerated breath, its lungs inflating its slick chest to alarming levels…”

“Then what?” asked Patrick, entranced by Stephan’s poetic recollections.

“Ah yes, Patrick, then what indeed! I’ll tell you what happened next. This little cock bird, this feathered enchantress, spat in my face. A plume of glittery dust enveloped me and I inhaled deep lungfulls. Before I had comprehended this strange occurrence, the cock bird fluttered away, leaving me with dusty lungs and halcyon recollection.”

Stephan sat pensively, constantly searching for and immediately losing the right words, while Patrick’s childlike impatience chipped away at his outward resilience.

“And how does this lead to your magnificent blink, Stephan? I simply
must
hear the meat of your story.”

Stephan’s pensive silence persisted – all possible vocalisation became lost in introspective whimsy. This caused Patrick to flail his arms about in what would later be called ‘an entirely uncivil display’. Such was the extent of Patrick’s flail that his limp hand collided with a nearby doorframe – mild bleeding ensued.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! STEPHAN, I AM WOUNDED!!!! HELP ME! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS REMOTELY DECENT – HELP ME!!!”

Patrick began to sob wretchedly as he nursed the small cut on his hand. The cries snapped Stephan out of his introspection and he quickly took stock of his good friend’s situation – he felt a great deal of worry.

“Oh Patrick, you poor devil, I can most certainly see droplets of crimson blood.”

Stephan began to hyperventilate as empathy overwhelmed him. Patrick continued to howl uncontrollably, his injured hand held up for the world to see.

“Why, Lord? Why have you deemed it necessary to afflict me with such pain?”

He fell back in despair as the howling became melancholy weeping.

“How can I help you, Patrick? Please let me know.”

Through a thick veil of tears Patrick looked up at Stephan, paying particular attention to the tight belt and exposed penis.

“For one thing, Stephan, you can take that fucking belt off and cover your shame. In my condition I should not be subjected to such a damaging display of nonchalance.”

Stephan glanced down at his exposed genitalia and felt a hot flush of embarrassment.

“Of course, Patrick, I will clothe myself post haste. Don’t move. I’ll be back.”

* * * * *

When Stephan returned he was wearing four sweet potatoes. His genitals were still clearly exposed but it was better than nothing.

“Whilst dressing myself I came up with a solution to your horrible situation,” said Stephan, “and I really think you should hear me out…”

 “NO!” interjected Patrick. “Its okay, Stephan, I have already formed a solution. After my tears have adequately subsided I will call Monsieur Vladimir and have a band-aid installed. He is the
only
one who can help me now.”

“Good Lord, Patrick! That was my
exact
solution” said Stephan with genuine surprise.

They fell about laughing, until Patrick remembered the pain he was in, which caused him to stop immediately.

“I’ll make a call to Monsieur Vladimir after lunch. I need some time to regain control of my emotional state.”