| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
| ***BIO*** Delphine Lecompte: i'm 23,i'm an expat,i was born and raised in london,but i fell in love with a flemish singer/songwriter and i moved to dreary belgium. i stack milk bottles for a living. |
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| © 2006 zygoteinmycoffee Ink. |
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| only daddy can break your heart |
| by Delphine Lecompte |
| i'm sitting on a dusty draining board in the kitchen of a disused russian
submarine,there's a fibre russian cook standing in the corner,he's wistfully staring into his skillet,there are flemish coins,rusty safety pins,and yellow candy wrappers in it,i like it here,it's hot,murky,noisy,narrow,slippery,and lonely in here,a bit like hell then,not that i've ever been there,but i have visions of it at night,when kinky clerics sit on my face for too long,anyway,i received a letter from my father this morning: "my dearest wretch, how are you? still miserable i should hope?! still writing slanderous stories about your dear old dad? still not getting them published anywhere? still rubbing your insatiable crotch against the parched thighs of eighty something fishermen? still coiling your venomous tongue around the big bad boners of cracked north french taxidermists? still hating me cos i once or twice or thrice shoved star wars figurines up your naughty little orifices? still hating me cos i once or twice or thrice mistook you for your mother and set you on fire? still hating me cos i once or twice or thrice shot your favourite pets and made you eat them? i skinned and roasted and seasoned them first,your obese dalmatian i even grilled and caramelised,the goldfish i even anointed with lemon juice,and then cooked on a plank in the fireplace,i seared your vile red cat so delicately,i even sprinkled very expensive armenian vinegar on your broiled budgie,get over it already! i'm in milwaukee, milwaukee is dreary but the women are docile and they all have pudgy calves, i'm a sucker for pudgy calves. Last night i fucked a sturdy one-eyed redhead, she said her name was 'hope', 'funny name for a blind dog' i sneered, hope blushed, i ripped off her turkoise eyepatch, i plunged my finger into the sticky vortex, with my other hand i frantically scratched at her healthy eyeball, hope collapsed on the cold pink floor of the motel room, the motel was called 'sunset woes', i gently took off hope's ridiculous white boots, i impatiently peeled off her too tight blue jeans, i devoured her cheap lilac knickers, i scowled at her cunt, although it was shaven, it looked old and calculating, i hummed 'amazing grace' because there was so little grace in that sorry red heap on the floor, i left the motel room and went to the lobby, i asked the retarded canadian owner if he could lend me a hammer, 'a hammer.. why do you need a hammer? i once lent my hammer to a german sci-fi writer who had a bad squint and the word 'lebensraum' tattooed on his forehead, he was staying here with a thin shifty slavonic slut,she was always barefoot and whistling leonard cohen songs, one moonless night he shot her, i never got my hammer back, the cops said they needed it, you'd think they could have bought me a..', 'NEVERMIND' i hooted and went back to my motel room, hope was standing by the sink, she was stark naked, i rolled my eyes and sat myself on the bed, she came over to me and shoved her bitter sordid minge in my face, i tentatively licked, it tasted alright, i licked more boldly, i licked till dawn. kind regards, your daddy who does not feel guilty about having arsefucked you once, twice, thrice, but probably more, when you weren't even old enough to properly pronounce the word 'domesticity'",i tear up the letter and drop the pieces in the skillet,the illiterate rentboy enters the kitchen,"i knew i'd find you here","well now that you've found me,what have you got to say?","not much,it's snowing outside","i don't care",christopher and i have been living in this submarine for eleven days now,but they're already invading our new hiding place,they: the bent cops,the crooked johns,the cracked heels,the surrogate grandfathers,the sleazy peasants,the ruthless clergymen etc etc,we leave the kitchen and enter the room for espionage activities,we look through the periscope and watch our enemies,there are so many of them,"bloody tourists" christopher mutters and then groans like a pregnant performing seal who'd rather give birth than give those fat bored bastards another embarrassing trick. |
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| Jan. 2006 |
| 57 |
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| Now available from THIEVES JARGON PRESS |