HOPING FOR A BIG BANG

By

Paul Kavanagh

In the shower, the water was too cold. Saul cussed Carol. He climbed out of the shower, dried himself and lay on the unmade bed. He couldn’t relax. He looked around him. He felt as though a thousand faces were looking down upon him, their eyes unblinking and supercilious. Saul quickly jumped off the bed. He made the bed. He lay back on the bed. Now he felt relaxed. Saul closed his eyes but still light played upon the blackness. Saul opened his eyes. Sunlight was flooding into the room. The curtains were open. Saul once again climbed off the bed. This time he moved slowly. He closed the curtains all the while endeavoring to hide his naked body. Now that the room was in a comfortable darkness Saul fell back on the bed. Gripping his flaccid penis, Saul once again closed his eyes. A feeling of missing something exploded into his thoughts. Saul leapt off the bed and ran into the bathroom. He gathered much toilet paper. The roll of toilet paper looked like a bandage wrapped around his wrist. Saul walked back into the bedroom. He fell on the bed. He puffed up his pillow. No, it was Carol’s pillow. He could smell Carol. Saul removed the toilet paper and once again gripped his flaccid penis. Carol’s pillow smelt of hair.


STOP!


This is not the story. This is not what I wanted to write. My mind is playing games. There is much subterfuge. I must stop because nobody wants to read a story about masturbation. I wanted to use words like concrete, existentialism and deconstructivism. This is so beneath me. What I am doing here? See, I can quote Rimbaud.


CONTINUE!


Roth: Circumcised!
Joyce: Uncircumcised.
Stephen King: Circumcised.
Roald Dahl: Uncircumcised.
Mailer: Circumcised.
Woolf: Uncircumcised.
Kafka: Circumcised.
Kingsley Amis: Uncircumcised.
Saul Bellows: Circumcised.
Lucian: Uncircumcised.
Sylvia Path: Circumcised.
Samuel Beckett: Uncircumcised.
Jack Kerouac: Circumcised.
Barbara Cartland: Uncircumcised.
Proust: ????????????????????????

I read that Marcel Proust was addicted to masturbation. Father Proust, a man of exceptional hygiene, was ostensibly pained by his son’s proclivity so he gave his son money and told him to visit a prostitute. How did his father know? The reek of orris-root I gather.

Leopold Bloom’s self-administration needs no illumination.


FIREWORKS!!!!!!!!


Saul took another shower. He hadn’t planed on another shower. This time the water was warm. In the shower Saul accidentally used Carol’s shampoo. Later that night Saul found out that he had used Carol’s shampoo. “Your hair smells nice,” said Carol.