XIII

GYMNASTICS 'ИИ'

The hapless fleece shifted, feeling bored, and hiccupped out a little cough. But he read on:

“Stories and gossip are sometimes more likely to become fables and legends when their origination is to be found in the dampest of mud. The vagrants huddle amongst themselves and discuss the thing that was seen in the trash heap. Then, we might say, one of the vagrants will find himself drunk, and recounts the story to a reluctant listener, who is nonetheless, a listener. The story bobs down other avenues and up to other levels of buildings, first floating listlessly, unimportantly, carefree. But it begins rolling and writhing, bigger and faster, with a thick body spiking with electricity, until it roars at all of the people so loudly that it may be ignored no longer.

The people moved sheepishly, disconcerted at having to go about their business amongst the vapors emitted by the story. When such a cloud develops, an individual always seems to materialize from the gaseous swirls within and the people suddenly found themselves listening to the shouts of a severe woman. It must have been as it was, as if such women, with their insatiable desire for morality, for justice, for the preservation of society’s fabric, are spawned by stories. Either way, the severe woman rose up from obscurity and barked to the people, backed by that sentiment known as righteous indignation. She became covered in badges, pins, and medals. Her face hardened into a beautiful, noble and cruel shape and a laurel rested upon her hair. She exhorted the people to remove these offensive ‘they’ characters from the public trash heap. The public trash heap was no place for ‘them’, 'they' must be reformed and shaped anew! It was for their own good, and everybody else’s good! She was severe and black with the righteous indignation, demonic in her authority, but like all such people, she spoke from her innate sense of justice and was to be obeyed.

And after all, it was out of love that she moved the people against ‘them’! It was all for love! At the bottom of everything, nothing could be found but love and death to move them, and so that severe lady righteous indignation and infinite love mounted the charge, the people rushed forth in a wonderful unified, bleeding heart of unification to the trash heap, where those lost lambs lay in their squalor.

The parade of liberators tore through the trash heap, joyous and righteous, laughing and smiling, awaiting the moment when ‘they’ would be located amongst the molding, rusting rubbish. Men blew trumpets and pretty girls in billowing dresses danced around holding flags. Singing songs of freedom, they all dug together. The woman of righteous indignation stood atop a pillar shielding her eyes from the sun, watching the project with great attentiveness. How heroic, strong and beautiful she was! She shouted orders to the groups of searchers, suggesting they dig in different areas or that they dismantle untouched pillars of rubbish beneath which ‘they’ might be buried.

In good time, a cheer more powerful than the rest rippled through the searchers and from her post, the severe woman of righteous indignation saw some little forms being tossed up into the air repeatedly. Some strong men had found ‘them’ and, overcome by joy and compassion, had hoisted ‘their’ inert bodies upon their brawny shoulders and were vaulting them into the air with great gusto. ‘They’, hideous and miserable in the bright sunlight, flopped like noodles as 'they' soared through the air and landed with squishes into the arms of the strong men. ‘They’ were brought before the pedestal of the severe woman, where ‘they’ squatted before her, blinking and smiling dumbly. From on high, the severe woman, who had rescued ‘them’ from rot with her infinite love of mankind, pronounced them forgiven and blessed by the people. ‘They’ scratched at the sand confusedly and peered around like extinct birds, but there was no time for anything to be said before the people popped in a histrionic gasp of joy and swarmed all over ‘them’, ripping off ‘their’ feathers and scales, chopping off their tails and smashing their beaks. The brass and horns boomed triumphantly, the people swirled in ecstasies of love and lively drums thumped as ‘they’ were restored.

The people retreated from them when the rehabilitation was complete, leaving them standing and smiling shakily. By then it was dusk, and the severe woman of righteous indignation went away, followed by all of the people. The rehabilitated walked to the houses that they had grown up in, where the dusty bones of their parents lay in the dining rooms. They went somewhere, it doesn’t really matter where, put on some of the clothes that were to be found in closets and went out to ask for jobs. They were given jobs, very nice jobs. Eventually they found some wives and everything was very nice. They celebrated holidays and looked forward to teaching their children how to play board games and admired the weather of changing seasons and dreamt about buying new cars but worried about what their wives would say and it is all very nice. In the streets people sometimes march and at night unknown animals shiver in the dark.”

The hapless fleece guffawed, slapped himself in the face and wondered if he could stick his head up his ass, then he crumpled the paper up again and swallowed it.