SRθ: Grim Inquiries (2023-2024)

Sit.29: The Lecture

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The mouse ran up the clock,
hickory dick, it stopped
the mouse wondered why it was doing this again
and there it hung, tick tock

the mouse wondered why, it pondered some more
what started it on this quest?
what told it this clock was ever for climbing?
or that climbing this clock was best?

and as it stood pondering, the mouse soon recalled
that it was still on the clock's side-
not high 'nough to climb up the rest, so tall,
nor low enough now to slide

The mouse's heart quickened, it knew it was gone
if any air took to its paws
so it clawed and clawed upwards, a desperate hope
that mobility shouldn't be lost

it started to cry, "I knew not of danger,
when starting to run up this clock!
I no longer pray, nor remember my purpose!
and all I wish now is to stop!"

but it was too late now, the mouse soon realized
and falling would soon have its way
the air would become its new venue for being
today was its very last day

so with its last hair of sliver of moment
it touched with its toes on the wall
the surface became its new source of momentum
and answered the void's lonely call.

* * *

I found myself a seat at the big, oak-side table of mahogany surface and walnut polish. The whole thing was cleared-off, and cleaned so sparkling as to shine impossibly hard at me. Like a gleaming example of why I was lesser than him in funds and in status, and always would be.
The Heathen saw me do so, and sat down near me at the end, where The Old Lord would presumably sit in days past. He said, "Aye, I waxed this thing myself. T'was hard work, but your girlfriend helped, hahaha."
The Mystic, looking cute, pulled a chair and sat down close to him, and gave him a kiss on the lips.
"Oh, yeah. We HAD to clean it off after what WE got up to," she bragged.
I was disgusted. "Oh, Christ, don't tell me you two snogged while I was unawake."
The Heathen raised his elbows to the table, and rested his chin in his clasped hands. "Oh, but we did. Several times, and it was marvellous. Your lovely friend here knows so many things, for one so small and young." He waited for me to scream at him, but I held my tongue. Then he laughed again, noticing me for bitter. "For the first time in my life, finally a woman gave herself to me willingly... without stealing anything from me in return. Not a single hand out of place without being asked for, nothing jabbed into my sternum of point and silver to make me comply. And then I, of course, was supposed to do the same back to them, wasn't I? It was the way we played our game." He sighed, and his shoulders rose and fell with it. "But since I've arrived in this town, I've had nothing but whining and manipulation from you people. All of you play my game, whether you know it or not – and all of you like to lose. So I've been winning, I suppose, as a way to teach you all a lesson – but what do you do when someone else wins a game you barely know how to play? Do you rest up, practice, and retrial another day? Or do you simply quit, like half the disloyal goons and barbarians who've taken my boats of mead as some form of escape from me? Ungrateful buffoons, I think."
I shook my head in disgust. "You're so fucking backwards, you know. You think it's a game, but they were all just afraid of you... afraid of being cast out to the wolves and bears by you. Afraid of being denied citizenship in the only place they could call home. That's the only reason they let you in – it wasn't because they loved you, and they were never playing any kind of game. Only you and yer twisted kin would think love and sex were anything other than an expression of fond feelings t'ward one another-"
"Oh, spare me," he frowned, and narrowed his eyes at me. "Fat talk for such a small young man. Or should I say woman? You should really make up your mind some time, you know, or else I'll have to make it up for you... one position or another. Then again, I believe all can take a fat, glistening cock in the mouth, can't they? You should watch your mouth before I end up finishing in it."
I actually gagged. "Oh my GOD, is that your pillow talk? Christ, no wonder you need a knife to get played with. Only a gullible speck such as her would dare touch you if you weren't the uncrowned king of this place."
He slammed the table. "That's ENOUGH! You'd think with all I've DONE for you people, the COMEDY, the THEATRE, the DRINK-"
I shouted back, "GOD, SHUT UP with all that, ya FILTHY Heathen! Yer the fuckin' problem in this town, not its God-given solution! You've wasted our taxes away from us, you've pillaged our coffers, and with what you've earned ye could've fixed the place spyrus in no time flat! But what did ye do but piss it away and store it fer hoard an' later, eh? An' now ye'ntend to run off with our funds, and piss away in the wind like a bad fucking JOKE?!" I panted, out of breath, but still steaming with anger.
He was taken aback. "So you've guessed my plan, interesting. The Mystic said you were smart, but I assumed that meant in bed."
My gut dropped. "We haven't done that, actually," I confessed.
He was delighted. "Oh, so then I've taken something of yours, have I? That gives me no end of pleasure, I assure you. This is completely fucking joyous for me to know, I want you to understand that."
"Ughhh," I moaned, and held my head in my hands. "Christ, could you not at least BRAG about your conquests? Aye, for once it was consensual, aye'll give ye that... poor dumb-headed maiden she is, seems enamored with yer stupid glory. But the people of our town were in no such agreement to yer plans against them, first to liquor them up and then to lick them up later... but I suppose that usually works for you without anyone figuring you out after."
He was shocked again, but grinned even though he was sheepish. "Ahaha... yeah. I suppose that was my plan. And I have done this before, but people usually never catch on... least of all someone like you, a local imbecile with a fatherhood listed behind you of several, unattended babes. You're the village idiot, you know that? You truly are, and yet you think you're its ghastly mascot – and worse, you think you measure up to its real one. For poor fucking shame, Reaper. I'm dead serious."
I snapped. "OH, YA FAT ODIOUS PIECE OF MOUTH-DROOLING, BACKWATER SHYIT!! YA THINK YE CAN JUST WALTZ IN AN' FUCK ALL OUR LIVES UP AN' FUCK ALL OUR WIVES DOWN?! NOT TO MENTION THE CHILDREN, SMALL AND DAMNED THEY ARE FOR YOUR INFLUENCE UPON THEM! HAVE YOU GOT NO SHAME, MAN?!"
He sneered, and shrugged. His Mystic shrugged with him, apparently in complete and utter agreement. It was naught but a racket to them.
"Awrright, well I'VE got NEWS for ye-" I slammed my hands on the table, and stood up to lean on it and to point at him. "YOU'RE AS GOOD AS DEAD IN THE FUCKEN' GROUND, YOU 'EAR ME? YOU'RE GODDAMNED WORM-FOOD, AND WHEN I GET MY SC-"
"Scythe?" he interrupted calmly. "Honey, get my new letter-opener."
I froze mid-outburst. "Honey? That's casual talk for today's meetin'."
I watched in confusion as The Mystic walked for a pantry, unlocked it with her gold-looking key, and reached in to pull out my scythe. And what else was inside, but all the town's gold. Sacks and bags of it, tied up neatly with thin rope, secure as could be – sitting on a small wooden cart of tiny wheels, ready to be loaded in the break of day, in front of all its actual, true owners. Brought onto a boat to be whisked out to sea, and never to be seen again. The Mystic locked it back up, and put my implement on the table.
The Heathen picked it up to hold and look at. "Fine instrument, honestly. Excellent construction. You should consider selling it, really. Here you go, now. Enjoy this small mercy of mine: I shan't deprive you of your livelihood."
He slid the scythe across to me, scratching the table badly, leaving a terrible scrape across its gleaming surface. But on his face, he didn't care – he was never coming back.
"I don't understand," I said, and sat back down cautiously. I couldn't stand anymore... I was still dazed.
The Mystic cooed, "You should rest, you're weak from the poison I gave you." She was dastardly, too. "And you should really watch your cup when you're drinking from it."
I thought back to our action plan at the pub, and her eyeing my drink. "That figures," I rolled my eyes.
She snuggled into her Heathen. "I told you I could handle him, because I already was. Him and I have been sharing a bed since he arrived, and I've just been playing along with his charade to try and make you jealous. And it worked wonderfully!" She sat back to 'erself and leaned over the table to stretch her back and arms, like she had at the pub. Here, she could barely reach me if she climbed on top of it. "Aaahh," she sighed. "Honestly, if it worked any better, I'd say you were drunk yourself. When the theatre's on stage, you can see it so well... but the second it's on grass, you're suddenly blind to it?" She rolled herself back in. "God, as if anyone could be so fuckin' naÏve. But here you are, aren't you? The one place you've been afraid to pretend you own."
"Though I suppose, since I won't be around, this house will need some dusting... the table will probably need more waxing, too, by the time we find our way out." The Heathen grinned with malice. "You can have it, if you want... you'll just have to buff it out. You can get out of that miserable little hole where your would-be wife was deflowered by me. You can even be The Next Lord, if you want – you're the only one that cares about this stinking town, anyway."
"There's more to this place than you know," I said while glaring. "More to all places, in fact. Not that you'd care."
"Oh, I doubt that now," he laughed. "You've been eating from the ranch, I take it? Then you've got no idea how much rot has claimed the other farms here. Haven't you been paying attention? There's not going to be any more shows because there's nothing left here to EAT!" He raised his arms in boast, letting the air ring with his voice.
"So there was never a wager, then?" I mused, though inside I was pouting.
He laughed. "I'll wager you this – if you don't die from starvation by the end of the year, and you send me a letter asking nicely, I'll send you a commemorative mug."
"So, why?" I asked The Mystic, ignoring him. "Why do all this? Why do this to your father, who stood up at night defending you with his blade?!"
The Mystic rolled her eyes. "Christ, again, so gullible. I only asked the man to jiggle the lock so my father would sleep too late, and be too tired to stop me from seeing him in the morning. You'd be amazed what a little terror can do to someone's sleeping schedule."
"And why keep me captive, here? Poisoned but alive?"
"So we could gloat, honestly. It's fun! We just wanted you to think you were the hero again, one last time, before we took everything away from you. Not your common-wife, of course, we know you don't really care about her. But your money, so your town rots away. That's what you care about, right? Your little dinner show?"
I leaned back in my chair, and looked at the ceiling, and tapped the table's surface. They practically bounced off of it, the massive, opulent fucking thing. "So you're not actually interested in me, then? Just him? You want someone twice your age, not someone closer to it?"
The Mystic scoffed. "As if age had anything to do with it! I don't love you, Reaper, I never did. My first love was The Author, and he left me with a gruelling babe and not a drop of his income from all the festivals and parties in his honor. All the town loves to cheer for The Actress, a girl who plays me in name for a fucking pretension, but none holler for my name, for me, the girl the raven is ACTUALLY supposed to BE. Do you have any idea how that FEELS? To be left with nothing but burdens while your beauty is celebrated by EFFIGY, to another's glory? Christ, I don't think I've EVER been hurt so bad as by you and your so-called 'FRIENDS', a bunch of scourous bards who waste about on other people's lives for a lark, and commemorate them to stupid fantasy and pointless ribbon-play. You fucked me, and THEN you used me even more. As if you're any different from 'The Heathen', as you so betteringly call him."
I squinted. "I'm not the one who fucked you??"
"BUT YOU WERE ABOUT TO!" she blurted. "And I was more... talking about your friend. The cripple. Fucking scag, that one. Scabby little freckled mess gave me the ugliest baby I could've hoped for, and I hope to God it's doesn't hop on one leg when it's older."
I turned my head to the door slowly, almost on a swivel, realizing that The Mystic wasn't just immature, she was actually kind of crazy. That leg was broken by bonds, not by blood. She should have known that if she knew him as well as he knew her. Something wasn't adding up about her mental state – I needed out of this situation, and fast.
She continued, undeterred by my avoidance. "So I struck a deal with our fine fat friend here-"
"Hey," he yelped.
"Our HEFTY friend here, your supposed mortal foe. He's agreed to take me along, to greener, richer, pastures, so I can leave my whining infant behind for my useless father, and my piss-poor life for the rest of you cunts."
I gaped at her, in awe at her ploy and audacity. But mostly, I was just hurt, and betrayed, and stupefied at her misleading. She was my friend, at least – or so I believed.
"Honestly," she went on, clearly enjoying herself. "Did you think I trusted you after what you did to The Artist? You left her alone, out of cowardice, to fend herself and her growing child. In freezing cold, to pack firewood by herself, and earn her own keep out of scratch. She nearly starved, if not for my father. Did you think I wanted that mistake made for me, as well? That I was excited to be next in line for your baby-making parade? So I could be left broken, sad, heart-wounded and alone with all the others who loved you? People who probably wanted more than anything for you just to FIGHT and beg to stay with them? But you never did, did you? Because here you are, instead of far away, back in Africa... where you belong." She stared at me, and there was a far-off look in her eye like she'd won.
And I said, "Right fuckin' bold of ye, isn't that? Don't you belong back on Turtle Island yerself?"
She shrugged. "I suppose I'm half-belonging to this world, and the next... but only for my temperament and skills. You, on the other hand, are as ape and brute as the next moor on any slaving ship."
And with that, she stood up, like a princess who'd been snubbed, and took her knight in sweating armor with her to the master bedroom, so they could further consummate their greed and racist vanity. I was ashamed to see myself in the same room as either of them.