Another corridor
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask sits in another corridor, looks up at the ceiling. There is a blemish, a mark where the decorator casually ignored a mistake, an error, leaving the blemish for all to see. Perhaps thinking few would stand in the corridor with enough time to look about and notice the blemish.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask feels like the blemish. Something forgotten in a corridor where no one was expected to wait. It is understood there is no blemish in being true to nature: a lifetime of pretence, of denying nature had been changed. The nettle was grasped, the moment was seized, the chance was taken by standing up and saying this is who I am. The nerves were overcome. Indeed, it was not done with ease, it was done at great cost but the price was paid: I am who I am. It was received with acceptance, this corner of society is not bigoted with senseless aggression against the other, whomsoever the other may be. And the moment was enjoyed. The full sense of relief flooding the emotions with joy. And the moment, it passed. And firstly the passersby who had stopped at the commotion continued on their path. Then the acquaintances returned to their work. And finally the family returned to their lives. And it felt like not a damn thing had changed.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask feels like a blemish.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask in the corridor is not a blemish, but does feel like a blemish. Like the crab, it is not enough to simply be crabwise, it is necessary to strive out for more. To take a new risk, to seek a new thrill to be able to feel again like the moment of that great revelation. To feel that relief flooding the emotions with joy. But such moments do not repeat.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask thinks of ways to cover that blemish, to fill that void. Dangerous, darker, deeper, dirtier desires hidden from society: desires to be adopted, to be embraced, to be announced, and once more to feel that moment of great revelation.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask always makes up adventures to star in, little stories from the news, little events heard in passing, little events to make a lonely life seem interesting. Today's adventure is grim, as dark as the corridor, as forgotten as the blemish. The narrator in the tale is sitting in a chair in a corridor, waiting, waiting, and more waiting, gradually becoming aware of a ticking sound. Like a clock marking the time. But it is not a clock, it is a beautiful young man walking steadily along the long corridor pulling a strange contraption. A sort of wagon, a table with straps on wheels. The young man stops, holds out a hand. There is a step on the side of the table, padded rests for knees, padded rest for the head. The narrator steps onto the table, and is tied in place with a naked arse in the air, face facing the wall, arse for everyone to see. Then comes more tick tock tick tocking, many crisp shoes tapping out their approach. Then comes the sound of the unzipping, men, many men and some women with strapons preparing to anally rape the narrator with the arse in the air. But the pain does not come, it is a fantasy.
The tannoy announces: THE CRAB AND THE FOX WILL COMMENCE SHORTLY, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE COURTYARD.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask sighs and walks to the external door at the end of the corridor. In the centre of the courtyard is the remains of a monument, or perhaps a covered well. A few figures have gathered in the shadows of the doorway leading into the corridor. None has a FOX mask.
The chubby naked man with the CRAB mask sits in the centre of the courtyard assuming the leading role in this play, keeping an eye out for a fox.
FOX
FOX has an uncanny sense of the order of...
CRAB
Crabs do walk sideways: crabwise, crabbing...
House of Masks
