Friday, October 24, 2014

EC 435 / 9 Smartass John
Eso A.B.
Smartass John and Crazy Jane
Scene 8: Truth In Babblement
Translation © Eso A.B.
Synopsis:  Smartass John pleasures himself long enough with the handkerchief of Crazy Jane to see her appear before his eyes. While Jane has been resurrected from the dead, her head is screwed back on her shoulders at an awkward angle. Smartass John cannot resist his old habit and make fun of her. Rozinante, the mare of Smartass John, promises to kick him in the head if he does not wise up. Crazy Jane, too, promises to manhandle and pleasure him in ways, he would find most challenging. (For a more complete perspective on this story, please read blog 427—Introduction.)
The Poet:
Smartass John crumpled the handkerchief
of Crazy Jane in his pocket
until her image appeared
on his brain with a spectacular orgasm.
Smartass John saw his one night stand
standing with both feet in the River Styx.
She was ladling water with a bucket
that had no bottom.
Her brown dress was wet
and stuck to her as
the wet belly of a slug.
Overcome by instant guilt,
Smartass John could not shake the thought
he had done Crazy Jane wrong.
It came to him that
though he was happy to see her
with the help of a handkerchief,
he would prefer to hold her in his arms
and be lifting her skirt instead.
Smartass John:
Forgive me, Jane!
What an idiot I have been.
Will you come to my aid
in my hour of need,
and lay with me on a bed of stones?
I promise to love you
until the end of days.
The Poet:
This was not the only vision though
that Smartass John had.
He was quick to imagine
That if the bottomless pail
had a wire mesh stretched
across its bottom,
then Crazy Jane could
with every swing of her arm
skim a layer of gold from the Styx.
This would bring him to
Princess Unsurpassable
(or is it Unsurmountable?)
in no time.
Suddently, Crazy Jane,
Her fists stuck to her sides,
stood before Smartass John.
Crazy Jane:
I can read your thoughts, Smartass John.
I read nothing good in them.
I may be crazy, but I am not dumb.
Smartass John:
I am not sure what you are talking about.
Everything seems normal to me.
Crazy Jane:
Yes, I know there is gold in the Styx,
But it is not enough to bring
Princess Unsurpassable to you.
You see, Smartass,
The gold comes from sunlight
as it skims the surface of the river
in the mornings and evenings.
It takes a thousands of years
for enough to gather
to put a layer of gold leaf
on the side of a fish.
Moreover, we are competing
With the Mother of the Dead,
who gathers gold to enamel
the backs of the green flies
which cover the corpses
of the honored dead
of the Balts.
Smartass John:
That is not good news.
I believed you were coming
to help me.
Crazy Jane:
Don’t worry, Smartass John,
there are many ways
how to come by gold.
However, before I tell you more,
be so kind and return
to me my father’s,
the Devil’s own boots.
The Poet:
Smartass John then went to Rozinante
and took off her front legs
a pair of well worn boots
made of the skin
of a famous wild boar
who single snoutedly
had defended the wood of the Balts
against smartass Franks.
Smartass John:
I confess, these boots
served me and Rozinante well.
Crazy Jane:
I am pleased to see
you honorable for once.
Shall we continue to play school?
Smartass John:
What school are you talking about?
Crazy Jane:
You are a sorry creep.
Here I stand, for a hundred days
up to my knees in the Styx
shedding endless tears,
punished by the Sun for trusting you,
but you would play games
with the Devil, and try deprive him
of pleasuring my mother
so she rides
a broomstick instead.
Smartass John:
I realizē that I owe the Devil much.
I am hoping that his other pair of boots
Will lead me to the pile of gold he seeks.
Crazy Jane:
Smartass, don’t you realizē
That you are no longer
on that side of the mountain,
but on this one?
You are no longer riding uphill,
but are downhill a long way.
Smarstass, John, grew thoughtful.
Before he could say anything
Rozinante gave a neigh.
Before I kick you in the head,
Smartass John, have you forgot
that you owe Crazy Jane
her head?
The Poet:
Fortunately, the mare
only kicked the Devil’s boots
off her hind legs.
Crazy Jane:
Thank you, Rozinante.
This fool keeps trying to hang himself.
He does not even see
that he is the cause that my head
is screwed back on
at a crazy angle.
I feel right only
when my head lies on a pillow.
Smartass John:
Yes, I was wondering why
you were sleeping
with your face in the pillow.
Crazy Jane:
What’s your rush
to hang yourself?
But if you wish to gather enough gold
to pleasure yourself, my father,
or, for that matter, me,
by the manner you propose,
I am telling you, it
will take a thousand years.
I would have my way with you
much much sooner.

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