by Tony Duvert
members of a brawling squalling band they roam through the town almost every morning ten or fifteen together enter a grocery store to buy sweets and of course steal as soon as they pass I hide my self in the shadows seek shelter beneath some portico or in some ditch or behind the church because they’ve got this habit of kicking me in the balls I never hear them coming soon enough and it hurts me too much to run always one or two of them notice me making a great sport of it tripping kicking knocking me to the ground then running off laughing last year they killed my dog twisting each paw until it cracked breaking all those tiny bones those pitiful yelps I can hear them still gathered him up in my bag a little black puppy five months old I’d found earlier when somebody left him outside a runt to die I let him rot lying there against me in that bag sleeping in the woods it’s summer now rains a lot I’m afraid of them they’re so much stronger than I could crack break like the puppy all my bones too if they wanted but so far they prefer tormenting teasing except for that one time they dragged me by both legs my head bumping up and down against the stones into a field I thought I was done for as they piled straw on top of me then set it on fire the farmer chased after them with a rifle wounded one of them in the leg who still limps from it and always will they took care the sisters did of my burns at the hospice it’s a convent on the main highway down by the bridge and the little brat was there too at the same time but I never saw him the sisters described him to me meaner than a wood tick they said and his leg will remain crooked like that forever I’d like it better myself if the village was completely abandoned I could die happy warming myself in the sun amid all these miserable ruins as long as there are doors and people standing peering behind them then that long will I continue to be afraid
at the end of each day after the thermometer Claude returns he has some tiny radishes hidden in one pocket he eats crunch munch crunch one by one sitting by the window he says to me I feel quite comfortable here and reads a book he’s not like the others a certain client a gentleman comes expressly for him and keeps Claude entirely for himself forking over a lot of money for the privilege because it seems that Claude is very handsome it’s a man who didn’t want to assfuck him and so Claude never had to sit duty on the straight-backed chairs the man was huge ugly always dressed in an overcoat always wearing a funny sad-looking hat as for Claude he didn’t much mind it was only twice a week What’s that you’re reading? my question pleases him for he raises his eyes smiles I’ll have finished it by tomorrow then I’ll tell you the whole story on the cardboard cover a colored picture a boy just like Claude and an ink-blue tempest behind him with a black ship red stacks smoking on the horizon it’s surely an exciting story he’s lucky that Claude I’ve less of a fever tonight and my feet tingle I’m hungry not cold anymore my skin feels fresh clean it’s the springtime sun wind that cures me the happy voices I hear
all the neighborhood kids wander in the streets now that there’s so much sun they’ve changed since last summer the babies can walk now the young babblers speak full sentences now the middle-sized ones already fight with each other the oldest are learning how to smoke in secret Bernard fixed up his new bike he got it for his twelfth birthday one tire has already blown out he wears the same sweater he wore last fall only now several inches of naked wrist peep out between the hand and cuff it’s the amount Bernard has grown during the past six months and other things protrude besides Bernard still wears knee pants and maybe his handsome sturdy legs are more uncovered now than they were last September and his rump more firmly shaped but his cheeks still fit loosely enough inside that bright green fabric stretching it tight only when those two muscular buttocks ripple within like two tortoises moving beneath lettuce leaves there are dead leaves elsewhere the dead from whose mouths noses ears navels spring forth spring roses lilies holy prayers litanies written upon their petals and also great tall trees in a perfumed garden so sweet-smelling beneath the bewitchment of moonbeams only the cemetery vegetates without grace smelling of drains cesspools and no one from the village goes willingly there so I remain there sitting upon the ground
nobody would pick me up shelter me these days I disgust all passers-by sunburnt skin like mildewed leather one eye eaten away nakedness puffed up distended like a balloon filled with noxious gases skin translucid beneath which seeps yellowish tides and there where my sex should hang nothing but a long scarlet gash pubis oozing an oily pissy pus that would nauseate even the worms only my fingers still move and seek to touch what whoever is approaching cherry trees peach trees just beginning to blossom young kids shake down pink and white snowstorms as they frolic beneath and beneath the tinfoil wrapping of a chocolate bar there’s a little cardboard card water-colored butterflies plundering lilacs and buttercups there won’t be any left by November All Saint’s Day when we’ll all troop out to the cemetery to visit our dead to see if that old man who hides out there among the slanting headstones can be yes or no covered over with earth finally but always too early it seems he’s still alive and so we leave him there for yet another four seasons if he opens what remains of his eyes he cannot help but make out a sun too overcast itching the eyeballs I noticed him shake himself off beneath a shower of petals bathing in their perfume beneath a low bush of wild roses eglantines and big fat ticks clinging to his hair
long ago in another age the grillework gate was gilt and the garden cared for by two old women living there setting out crumbs of bread for the birds and then an ogre came and ate them both there was at that time a smooth graveled terrace facing the rose garden the terrace closed off by a romantic balustrade ivy clinging and ladies in elegant white summer dresses laughing beneath dazzling white parasols keeping an eye upon children playing their velvet beribboned bonnets flying off rolling like hoops as they ran across the lush green lawn
most likely they didn’t go out at all on wet days and nobody even knew there had to be sunlight and flowers to cause these ghosts to appear and not long afterward no one dared take the path that led past the silent abandoned house
he returns from the city on weekends to that summer house that sits high upon the heights a private green park surrounding it returns to his wife and children distributing kisses gossip gifts commands as the children romp climb upon his knees lead him over to the balustrade pointing out various sights the valley the dark hushed woods the river a rabbit or maybe a duck is killed for the master’s supper and then the little ones are packed off to bed and in their own chamber he forces his wife to perform her conjugal duty demanding she suck his cock as do the gay young ladies of Bordeaux raise her nightgown high above her belly to show herself to him all gaping as do the wild wenches of Angoulême cry Fuck me goddamnit give me your fucking prick when he shoves it into her as do the tasty tarts of Périgord and she afterward sobbing quietly face buried in her pillow she who doted on romantic novels who kept the spiraling Titian-hued ringlets of her babyhood in a braided casket woven out of other women’s tresses she who but I could go back much further all the way back to the stone age tracing their respective nostalgias if I wished instead I’ve preferred a brothel I select this gray hat and I take to the road the open highway I will be there in two hours’ time the establishment is far out in the hinterlands a handsome dwelling sold at a loss because sadistic crimes had once been committed there the condemned being guillotined before an audience of reporters a very serious punishment for here they only deprive us of a chocolate éclair or from swimming down by the river after our afternoon siesta
this summer they hope to get an authorization to construct two walls athwart the river closing off a place for private bathing with a sluice gate and a filter so that we’ll no longer have to be afraid of snakes fresh water insects or drowning already there’s this face of stone and mortar running along fifty feet of the riverbank and when finished it will be like having our own private swimming pool there in the great meadow we should have ourselves a ball down there despite cows that come down to drink swishing tails covered with iridescent horseflies and
their gifts to us of patties of shit cowflops the sun bakes until a hard crust forms on top we undressed under the trees he hid demurely behind me while he slid on his tiny bathing suit shimmering bright yellow nylon there are planks that come sailing down all the way from the sawmill you can toss them out into the middle latch onto them like rafts several of us straddling the same plank at the same time and the heaviest hold up for quite a distance before sinking under our weight here where the river bottom is so sandy and there’s a good three feet of very clear ice cold water fast flowing current that etches furrows into bellies whenever you plunge straight down into it
he bores the piss out of me with all his romantic rendezvous down by the laundry shed nights after dinner there’s going to be a storm tonight I’m too tired anyway the sky is already like lead so I won’t go and just for him I shampooed my beautiful hair
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three tiny navels seen together all almost alike one minuscule embedded within a belly the color of dawn another elongated slanting the eye of a doe the third light brown tinged with amber flecks the tiniest of the three belongs to me standing on the riverbank watching the other two daisies reaching up tickling my armpits they grow so very tall here in the marshland big white golden flowers smelling of peepee smelling of flowers making me sneeze doe’s eye winks disappears within a fold of Claude’s belly he’s seated amidships feet splash the water that covers the tarred boat bottom doe’s eye winking blinking whenever he leans over to bail out more water amber navel flattens tautens strains exertions of Bernard’s torso as he hoists his arms high clutching the handle of the stern oar looking like he’s about to pole vault with it
Yann hey aren’t you coming too shrimp? he gestures toward me then tugs yanks up his red briefs shiny material caught pinched tight within the furrow of his ass I shake my head that boat doesn’t belong to us
oh you’re too chicken we’ll never ask you to come along with us again Bernard swung himself leisurely off his bicycle rang the bell alongside the grillework gate called out impatiently and a fat boy his own age came timidly out of the tiny house they headed off toward the river fat Lulu on foot Bernard back on his bike zigzagging slowly back and forth over the hump in the center of the road wobbling perilously at times because the front wheel turned too slowly moving to the left the right Bernard trying to keep the bike balanced so he wouldn’t fall on his ass giving a few idle turns now and then to the pedals the rest of the time coasting freewheeling tires on gravel emitting an agreeable humming of happy bees Bernard had called out Hi there fat cunt when Lulu came out of the house we’re sailing over to the island want to come along fat cunt? Lulu is not really all that fat it’s mostly because of his round moon face hormones maybe and his clumsy slow-moving manner Bernard idling alongside him plays the role of the handsome young hood freewheeling Bernie on his wheels they’ve somehow without ever discussing it agreed to play these respective roles Bernard the cruel butch number Lulu the nelly young thing simpering trembling with admiration always in anticipation inseparable now each of them needing the other to complete himself
it was two three years ago Bernard first went to play at Lucien’s that combination cafe and grocery store in the center of town and left around ten o’clock Lucien we call fat Lulu followed him out into the street grabbed him one arm around the neck kissed him wetly as a way of saying goodnight Bernard of course shoving him away and disgustedly wiping his cheek with the back of his hand nevertheless the next night Bernard was back for more because Lulu seemed to possess one of every toy ever made plus thanks to his father all the candy and soda pop too Lulu remained there that night unmoving standing by the cafe door silently watching Bernard speed off tail light climbing up up and over the rise in the main street gone now nothing left but night and blackness and silence Lulu’s mouth trembling he no longer even tries to kiss Bernard but they show their cocks to each other just like all the other guys and Bernard lets his own be sucked off sometimes which always causes Lulu to get too red in the face Bernard of course never touches Lulu down there he puts on his most disgusted manner if he so much as sees it and he purposely never washes his own cock beforehand but the fat boy doesn’t even seem to mind he likes sucking so much
hey fatso want to know something fatso I think you’re a real queer cunt fatso
yes
it excites you makes you want to drop your cookies huh sucking off a real tough guy like me you’re in love with me aren’t you you’d like me to fuck you up the ass till you’re cross-eyed huh
yes oh yes
shit on that fatso your ass is too big too much like shoving my tool into a tub of lard one hundred pounds of shit in a fifty-pound bag that’s what you are fatso fairy
yes
a big fat cocksucking fairy that’s what you are I think what I’d like most is to smash your ugly fat mug in come over here closer I said put up your mitts
no no please stop that!
Bernard never told any of us about it and in the street when we are all strolling roaming together and we happen to pass by fat Lucien he always turns his eyes away but Claude and me all the same we saw them on the island we’d gone there ourselves to finish off our loot string beans in tomato sauce a can of condensed milk a box of cheese crackers I’d just pinched from the grocery we really loved packing it in the two of us bullshitting quietly and that one time we heard them both they were very near us behind some bushes Bernard leaning against a tree his head hidden by leaves and Lucien on all fours Bernard breaks off a branch hanging down and swats Lulu’s shoulders with it the leaves scraping falling like rain then Bernard rains too pisses all over Lulu’s face who leaps up trying to escape but Bernard is too quick grabbing him by the shoulder forcing him to kneel once more Lulu fat Lulu piss still streaming down his cheeks while Bernard starts pumping away on his own machine getting more and more excited he starts talking fast and low filthy disgusting stomach-turning things some little gypsy girl his gang had beaten up and then gang-fucked Lulu watching Bernard grow hard moves his mouth nearer gasping fishlike Bernard slapping him hard across both cheeks but Lucien begs insists nostrils aquiver flaring wide like a frightened mare’s stink of piss stink of semen and then Bernard lets go with a fat globule of spit right in Lulu’s kisser yanks him by the hair shoving moon cheeks and all hard up against his glistening cock making him suck suck all the while suck pounding on Lulu’s skull with both fists a little later he lifts one leg sending his knee crashing into Lucien’s jaw who falls backward blubbering bleeding Bernard untied the boat from its mooring and sailed off Lulu running after Claude and me we didn’t feel much like talking we just stared at each other I made a funny oh-la-la gesture with one hand and Claude grabbed the tin of condensed milk from me puckering his lips at the hole sucking it all up finally wiped his mouth clean and said quite calmly It’s not a very pretty sight his cock
at first we know only Bernard no other guys from the village he stole with us pointed out chicks the ones you could cop a quick feel from bragged a lot about being a real cool dude nobody likes him very much to tell you the truth we listen to his stories but have a hunch they’re all a crock of shit especially all that about hot-assed chicks if you ask me we’ll never get to see so much as one hot ass belonging to any of them I didn’t much care anyway I had enough time for that later on and besides I’m already in love but Claude hoped Bernard could fix him up with some town whore some hot-assed beauty and together they might fuck that hot ass of hers he keeps talking about it to me oh their eyes their hair I don’t think he’s pretending either he really seems to feel that way staring at them the way you might eyeball some monument to the war dead in some village square it’s the older broads who excite him mostly the ones our own age don’t even have real tits yet they just strike poses go around acting coy and giggling while the bigger ones are all too fleshy with swollen haunches big hams chewing on their cuds like stupid cows vicio
us depraved huge red mouths and high heels maybe it’s their stink that attracts Claude that female smell since he knows he’s very handsome they really seem to shake him up a lot he never stops talking about them one afternoon Bernard finally managed to lure one of them into that shanty by the sawmill they made me stand out by the door as lookout I could hear the girl laugh a loud screech making fun of them all then complain then moan then suddenly become silent she whispers finally Oh stop that! and then she whispers again Oh you’re getting me all hot and wet down there loverboy what a little pig you are! and they all left before she did Bernard had not shot off I noticed that right away nor Lulu so that loverboy pig stuff must have been for Claude all the same he doesn’t even have hair down around there yet she was fat frizzy red hair sticking out every which way stinking of sweat green checkered skirt nose all dotted with blackheads stumpy dumpy legs a sickly gray color and hairy too big brown blemish on one arm and shoes with holes in them she wasn’t even pretty but she was young at least and so I didn’t dare ask Claude Jo tell me what had happened we both took the road back that winds through the open meadows until it gets to the lane that leads up to the chateau that’s what they all call our house around here the chateau
kicking up chalky dust he started whistling so I finally dared Was it fun? Claude shrugged speaking in a voice more serious than usual I didn’t enjoy it at all she’s a fucking half-wit he really sucked us in that Bernard Claude was no liar he didn’t embroider things and so I listened believing
but she got bare-assed didn’t she?
yeah well no not really she yanked her skirt up over her waist
but you did get to see her pussy didn’t you?
three boys cross in a green and black boat here where, the river broadens before reaching the dark forest there where it laps lazily around a tiny island covered all over with underbrush chestnut trees the blond boy and the youngest kid are not from the village their delicate fine features gracious manners attest to that quite obviously they belong to that private institution the chateau the two biggest are about twelve wearing brightly colored briefs while the third is no more than ten torso nude also but down below he sports black velvet knee breeches remnants of some elegant, eighteenth-century costume falling down loosely from his hips for want of a belt white elastic band of his undershorts peeking out here and there whenever he wriggles his buttocks
