Io, transformed into a heifer to escape Hera’s retaliation, was lamenting. She was missing her lover, the handsome, the fiery, the magnificent Zeus. And her heifer body was moaning the desire of being ridden again.
However, while the beautiful Io, personification of nature in her white cow dress, was aspiring at more exciting activities than to eat Hera’s lawn who she belonged to now, Zeus in love with the sweet Io, was suffering from being away from her.
‘Oh Gods!’ sighed Zeus, looking at his hurting limb, ‘I miss her so much! My sex has been missing her since he can’t penetrate his hot beloved Io. I’m going to turn insane if I don’t let her milk me again and spill her my holy semen!’
Zeus, who was thinking with his genitals, and that wasn’t quite helping him, got nonetheless a bright idea. He, finally , used his divine powers to transform himself into a bull, the champion of the Bilbao fair type, all muscular, overflowing with sexual might. Then, all primed, Zeus “sneaked” off to his so desired lover.
‘Holy cow! What a beautiful Bull!’ exclaims Io seeing the divine animal.
And Zeus, flattered by the rapture he brings, comes toward her. He points his tool with pride, a gigantic rod overflowing everywhere that his animality permits him and enjoying with hiccoughs of surprise and sighs let out by his beautiful cow. But he parades a little bit too much, carried away by his divine vanity, and Io finishes to moan because of prolonged wait. Her desperate cries pierce tumid bull hart. So, unable to wait anymore and coming back in an animal reality, Zeus accommodating himself to his monumental priapism and Io suddenly forgetting her heavy bovine body, they are rushing to each other with their dilated nose.
And then, be only on their animal instinct, they frolic, frolic, frolic and the legend don’t tell anymore because, at this point, Gods, calf, cows, pigs and humans, everybody knows from which side the wind turns, and what for it is question.
Ghost Munster : chapter one (follow 1)
And then. Tomorrow, they could read in newspaper :
« A fifty age boy, Billy Brand, kill himself while jumping in Thames » followed a touching article on torment which have tortured this so friendly boy.
No kidding ! If his life was stopped at his dead, his story would have been contained in one page, hardly in a short item forgotten as soon as next day, scarcely a number in statistics and perhaps bit sorrow for some people… Perhaps…
‘I can ever dream ‘, Billy sighs !
Because it will be more certain than nobody will talk about it, consider the few attachment every body have for him. Fillers will be very unhoped for that. The relief will be indubitable for his family. Billy understand it himself by the way. This situation is just infernal. He can’t take anymore. Fifty years to support contempt, rejection and especially disgust, and because of what? It’s hardly be able to think about it! … Because of a malfunction, a little cell which have to play up somewhere. Because of an incredible bad luck which makes his life to be a ruin before be a castle!
Billy’s load? Oh, just a very little thing, a trifle, this is not very visible… And, as his mother said because of her difficulty to support the burden of her culpability and approached Billy the less as possible : ‘Don’t kick up a huge fuss about it! You are not unable or indigent! You have only smelly foot!”
Don’t kick up a huge fuss about it! And only smelly foot! When Billy saw her greenish complexion when she opened his bedroom’s door to droop off his TV dinner and set off again in a hurry, this just demonstrated she had more bad faith than filial love! In the same time, to be honest, Billy ask himself if anybody could love someone that you can’t smell well… A baby, you can have attachment because he smells almond cream soap not rotted unpasteurized milk cheese!
Because, accept the apologizes, Billy’s foot stink but not simply with a strong smell that creams could cure, no, no! They stink to the point of being closed unbearable even for him!
To say you the tragedy, he can’t stay closed in his bedroom during one hour without to be distracted by his own odor. And this, even he is playing on his favorite video game. Of course, if he persists one hour more and doesn’t go out, he faints. And every thing is in accord. His socks, for example, shrivel up when he slip on them! His shoes squeak all the time he has them on foot! Dogs howl when their masters make them to pass in Billy’s street. No cats hang around his district. They can’t hunt, they can’t smell anything. And don’t believe this makes happiness of mouses, they die invariably without ever found this cheese nectar which captivate them. Even rats avoid passing near! An odor so terrible that, like a perfect dance, ever the same, like a gag eternally remake, ten meters before arrival of Billy, abruptly people stop. They pull in chin, in a reflex of recoil, their eyes are bulging and painted on their face disbelief and terror, they are just chocked to be suddenly attacked by a so atrocious smell. In the following second, they plunge surreptitiously, their furrowed brow, worried and disappointed, not daring to believe in it but verifying still, and sniff their foot while pretending to search an imaginary object hypothetically fallen over their pocket. And then, reassured about smell of their extremities, they look conspicuously around them with outraged face. Or, if they have some one, they suspect their dog which howls suddenly. And finally, when Billy is passed and the horrendous odor is disappeared, they promise themselves to reclaim a serious inquiry on dubious and awful clandestine activity of residents of this district. Because they dare to practice without doubts something suspicious here, they tell themselves and, after that, they hurry to forget it very quickly.
Because the smell of Billy’s foot, even stifled in a lot of socks and closed in old strengthened metal shoes, is dead unbearable. To the point of smelling it one time, your brain has only one priority : to forget it. Water itself shivers when he approaches it! And, under a certain angle, closing one eye, you could see air sparkles around Billy’s foot… Well, it’s perhaps to lay on thick but it’s to say it’s really very smelly!
The worst for Billy, it’s he is very kind, funny, that it’s real if somebody can approaches him enough closed to appreciate his absurd humor, his subtle puns. Without talking about his handsome person, hammed long fine lash blue eyes, well-rounded lips, fine nose, dishevelled brown hair, delicate hands and his svelte silhouette. He well see them, girls when they are far away, to look at him and turn on his passage. Because he doesn’t release only a mephitic fragrance but also a devastating appeal. He is a double trigger cannon, the Billy boy. He knocks girls out by far and finishes his victims off closely. Billy had to learn to run fast, it was necessary. He save him killing en masse dreams that he causes.
Oh yes! He is tender and a little bit romantic the poor Billy. He prefers to escape looks rather than to suffer unforgiving insult spit by enraged girls. Offended girls because of their desire for a peace of rotting meat! Because it’s cruel a girl dispossessed of her phantasm. It’s necessary to say that Billy, without his putrid foot, will have so much marriage proposal that he wouldn’t certainly answer to all of them and he would be perhaps so much desperate he will want indisputably to kill himself in the same way. So…
In the wood, the woman…
A trip in woods with a fairy and her little creatures
by Mary Blue Melville
Assisted by Mélanie Vlérick
Woods murmur, I say myself, while I infiltrate myself among them but while I lost myself taken by my fantasy away, suddenly woods become quiet, curiously quiet. So much curious than they come to meet me…
Then, an extraordinary creature of woman and wood appears in front of me, so much beautiful and alive, that she is upsetting. And because of that, in the same time, she distresses me, attracts me, captivates me, terrifies me.
I fancy with equal desire to throw myself into her’s wood and flesh arms to feel me alive than to run away while shouting because of my fear to feel finally and suddenly too much alive. It’s just heart-stopping and I’m stupefied.
I have nothing to say because a strength takes me away and I feel so light that any thought throws my mind. Only flow of life runs and I see her, the wife of wood and flesh. She is the frog which waits just by the roadside, while throwing…
In this bumblebee, which is buzzing and sucking thistle, and I see her in this thistle what she is and gives herself with delight.
And in this beetle which runs on her mask of bark, she is already so much beautiful…
But, suddenly, beetle gets itself dressed to fly and I feel myself to shrink.
Then, every thing become extraordinary, every thing is essential, important and I understand all of sudden someone offers me happiness.
Someone removes me my unnecessary doubts, someone persuades me to believe in my importance, not more, not less, and that it’s so stupid to deny certain parts of me and add value too much other.
I understand it will be as to remove insects and to keep the most big and venerable trees.
I understand that it will be as to make me to die…
It’s to make me to die !
Abruptly happiness flies away and I come back in my body, I get back in my mind that our humanity makes so labyrinthine and I am overcome by panic again. But, this time, I know that one. It is a old friend, even here before my meeting with the woman of wood and flesh and, now, I know that is not a bad being. It’s an alarm that all my conscientious send me from the deep of my soul. A shout which come about this place, this abyss where I discarded a part of myself that I forgot and which wail desperately. It warns me tirelessly I take me away of life. It warns me I am just a dead woman who miss out on the life, miss out on my life…
The creature of wood and woman fades in a whisper already and disappears.
She lets me alone with my terror but not without a new certitude, the one to gather me and live finally and really on this living earth. Earth which just gives me a little bit of its life, which just takes me life.
I raise my eyes to Heaven as to pry it to help me then suddenly joy jump in my hart. I see her. She’s here, in the sky. She never leaves me. And I feel, in reality, she never abandons me.
For all this marvelous ideas, the wood mask, it was she, for her lightness and her friendly, I thanks so much Mélanie Vlérick. She carried me off this woods, thanks to her, closed her home in north of France, near a little town calls Bousies. For she, I put a last pictures. This one of her special tree…
La Guinguette is a particularly place.
There is wood, all polished by human activity.
There is swing to sit.
Stools of pub.
wrought iron, sculpted. Modeled table legs.
Peace for view.
And English people.
Because this place is look like an English pub with smelling of “français” of beginning of century.
With industrious waitresses. With cockiness by their way. With really good plates.
It’s just a really change of scene in heart of Lille, french town in the Nord of France. And an English man who have respect for himself, know to find this kind of oasis of calm which is an usual thing in his country, every where, especially in London, of course. He gets back a little of this courtesy that broadcasts always admired nature, and appreciates this discreet and perfect fulfilling pleasure. He comes back in his country, satisfied to see than, even here, in this France so “rude“*, he have been able to inspire “a little bit spirit of British courtesy“*…
So, I give you this advice : When you come in France, follow English people.
* In English in the french text – rude is also a french word to say tough…
To have a drink in La guinguette and not lost you, click here
Ticism number one…
The EYE was in The Apple and it stared at Adam.
But, at the dawn of this tenth day of the coming of Eve, Adam, far from being afraid, stares at the shape of this EYE, hemmed of hairs which remembers him another and which he has been observing since, say, a good ten or so days.
Suddenly, pressed by a vague feeling of urge, he leans his head down and looks at the special thing which lives at bottom of his stomach and calls to him constantly for, around.., well… ten days. And at this precise moment, this special thing is hardening and going up like an arrow while pointing him direction. Adam, following indication, raises his eyes and sees Eve. She’s just perching in the tree, her legs spread, while trying to grab The Apple. One more time, the hairy slit gives himself to his look. It’s freed, seems sweet and smiles to him. And, in the not totally educated Adam’s spirit, it seems to appeal him, radiating a sweet and lightly acidulous smell which comes to him water in mouth. And all of a sudden, he can’t wait anymore.
‘Eve! Come here!’ he orders impatiently. He’s coveting up of Eve’s thigh. ‘Leave The Apple alone!
Why?’ Eve is surprised. ‘I was just about to succeed…’ she says while touching with finger The so much desired Apple.
‘Come on, now.’ And in a fit of sudden inspiration, Adam adds. ‘There is a snake here which would want well to talk with you.
Taken aback, Eve stops and, while raising her eyes, looks at Adam. And while she’s looking over his anatomy, astonishment in Eve eyes make way for irony. She goes down the tree, smoothly and, with feline relaxation, approaches Adam.
‘I’m wondering about which mouth this snake wants to talk with…
Errr… It’s a snake which has a very little mouth and no ear. It’s blink and almost deaf… So, it needs an attentive listening and a big and welcoming mouth which will be able to talk with it and touch it without frightening, as sweet and fluffy as a peach and warming and juicy as a mango gorged with sunlight…’ Adam answers sweetly with a deceitfully innocent charming air.
‘A snake with wide neck because of his almost deafness which needs sweet and humidity, blind, with a very little mouth?… Well… And how can this so unable and unappealing snake express itself?
‘Errrr… it spits a lot! Its sputum is seed, fertilizing almost everything, peaches as well as mangoes. But, it feels so alone that it spits everywhere and loses every control, while wasting its seed which, finally, fertilize nothing! It is perhaps not very dexterous but it’s very generous!’ answers Adam full of hope and smiling with all his self-confidence.
‘Really… It reminds me a very similar story, very similar that Liltih told me. A fable about a thing called sex, lost and famished. A very sad sex, blind and deaf too, never understood, making always its distress clear from everybody, jumping on everything that was on its road, perfectly stupid. Wandering and sighing with never end about a paradise it had supposedly lost, even though it would meet it everywhere…’ Eve says with her eyes in vague and teasing pout.
‘A story of se… of what?’ Adam gulps suddenly disconcerted and strangely feeling naked, despite, until now, he never thought about it.
‘Mmmmm… Lilith talked to me about this sss…nake, you know…’ Eve says while pointing at the special thing which goes up a bit more, claiming the skilled Eve’s fingers caress.
‘Ah?!’ says Adam a little bit troubled and looking at this special thing which seems to have its own life and that Adam named “snake” without a real thinking.
‘So, well…’ Eve moistens her lips while thinking. That it’s finished to panic Adam’ senses who would like to begin seriously to talk and proffers himself to Eve like a young sprouting to the sun, avid for warmth and light.
Eve, while sighing, raises her melancholic eyes toward The Apple. And then, she turns herself toward Adam and looks at him intensively. She seems to oscillate between suspicion and curiosity.
‘let’s see it’ Eve says after a while which Adam find really very long. She takes his hand and adds: ‘Let’s discover what kind of conversation this snake could deliver…’
‘Gosh! Thinks Adam, little bit troubled, I don’t even know if it can talk!…’ But being all excited and without more tergiversation, his turgid snake before him, Adam hurries closed to Eve who lies down lasciviously and gets settled for the discussion. Spreading her legs, she open a large and humid mouth which one overtakes a little cute tongue which Adam had never noticed and turns upside his spirit down. Then, he plunges into the conversation with pleasure and ardour and nearly, discusses wildly with Eve whose doesn’t need to be persuaded.
‘Goddamn! What a marvelous thing it is!’ Adam exclaims with a stuck dumb smile while beginning this conversation which never stop to obsess him and ever want to begin it again and again and again. Even so, working every time as obsessively, he will ever dream with regret of The Apple taste, eaten by Eve from a long time ago.
It’s because men always seem to talk seriously, despising the so frisky women, not saying anything important and women, under excuse of droning, tell themselves deep thing and wait patiently but not without mocking that men come with women and tell about themselves on their turn.