Wednesday, May 13, 2009

The Mullach Íde Women’s Auxiliary

Every May civic holiday the Mullach Íde Women’s Auxiliary put on a puppet show in the basement of the Church of the Perpetual Sinner. The assistant to the rector’s assistant, Rolf Moquegua, is in charge of the puppet castle, built from bald timber and scraps of cardboard scavenged from the dustbins behind the Waymart. The man in the hat, the harridan and her sister attend the Mayday celebration, enjoying the colourful costumes and slight-of-hand of the puppeteers, the assistant to the assistant, Rolf Moquegua, ensuring they have a good view of the castle courtyard and the balcony, both of which are fashioned from crate-paper and white bed linen. The following May, after the Catechesis of the Fox, the Mullach Íde Women’s Auxiliary put on a Gastēr-manteia Koldtbord under the auspice of the Sisters of the Above, renting the garden of the Steeple of the Redeemer across from the Waymart.

The rector’s assistant pilfered biscuits from the Friar’s Tuckshop, the pantry friar up in arms over such an unholy act of mortal desecration. The following May, after the Gastēr-manteia Koldtbord, Rolf Moquegua confronted the rector’s assistant, regaling him with recipes for milktoast biscuits and decrying acts of indecency and burglary. The following June, after a Mayday that seemed to go on and on, the rector’s assistant resigned his friary, leaving the sanctity of the Church of the Perpetual Sinner forever.

‘…these are strange times…’ thought the man in the hat, ‘…and getting stranger by the minute…’ added the alms man, his cap turned inside out. ‘…its getting that an honest man can’t get an honest days’ work…’ cursed the man in the hat. ‘…and an honest answer…’ said the alms man, ‘…that, too…’ added the man in the hat, his hat turned outside in. ‘…and that coxswain, he’s a charmer…’ said the alms man damningly. ‘…not a word of a lie…’ added the man in the hat, ‘…and a damn sight uglier…’ said the alms man begrudgingly, as he had held the office of the ugliest townsperson before the coxswain arrived sailing into town. ‘…uglier than a pork chop whore...’ added the man in the hat, ‘…that, too…’ said the alms man, his hat having blown clear off his head fluttering down the street. Both men, at odds with all things even, went their separate ways, the man in the hat toward the Waymart, where he was to meet the harridan’s sister, the alms man in the direction of the Greek Deli, where he’d heard the proprietor was giving away rank olives and two-day-old rolls.

1 comment:

dyanna said...

I like your blog.I'm waiting for your new posts.

About Me

My photo
"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

Blog Archive