by Tony Duvert
th th th this morning
oh this morning? you mean to tell me you’ve been sleeping here in the cold all morning? but my poor child how could you have gotten here with that fractured leg?
in a car
how do you mean a car? somebody brought you here in a car and then just left you here ill as you are? is that what you’re trying to tell sister? yes? yes sister remember what I said! but who brought you here in a car my child?
I don’t know
you don’t know? how don’t you know? was it your mama and daddy? some friend of your mama and daddy’s? no? you truly don’t know? you mean then you don’t know the mister who drove the car? it was a mister then? yes? some man you didn’t know? yes?
I don’t know I was sleeping
you were sleeping? my poor child with all these fractures and bruises it’s more likely you had fainted! you lost consciousness Yann yes fainted Yann you had lost consciousness isn’t that it Yann? fainted? as if you were sleeping but not dreaming?
yes
yes sister remember yes sister! oh but what a tale oh dear Lord Holy Mother Jesus Mary and Joseph and all the saints preserve us but no my little one you mustn’t cry it’s not your fault not at all oh dear you probably haven’t understood a thing that’s happened to you and the Blessed Virgin be thanked you’re all the better for it oh dear Lord what times we live in
I slept there were tall windows going all the way up to the ceiling curtains of white sailcloth my bed was painted white even the bars at both ends were white everything’s white in an infirmary that white tells you that they’re going to take off all your clothes and take good care of you and you’d better sleep when they tell you or you’ll never get better
I crawled out as far as here it’s not my kind of place this hospice where they steal my body I want to keep my remains and make them crackle crunch a slime that I can then knead into the form of an inhuman face placenta parcel of meat scraps into which I push both my thumbs hollowing out two eyes
he didn’t just abandon me there by chance he bandaged all my cuts first the ones that might have bled too much and dried me off completely then he covered me with a blanket and finally set me down there just a couple of steps away from that big house and of course they all pretended to be surprised seeing me as if it hadn’t been planned all along no adults there but only a lot of boys they told me everything how they kidnap you off the city streets how they butcher you after they’ve got you here but finally you forget even that you don’t even have many scars sometimes none at all
I listen to what he says not really all that interested he could be lying or maybe delirious from that fever or maybe yes telling the truth fuck it childhoods leave me indifferent all of them sad even the happiest in the street before returning home there was only this old goat at least he smelled like one he’s sure to die any minute he has no further need to say anything about what he knows or what he can prove I put up with his grabbing my tool copping a quick feel but as soon as he started moving his lips closer I hit the road that mouth like a mound of cow shit when the lips opened wide brownish threads stretched across it like melted cheese I like shooting my wad onto the sidewalk anyway I held it back this time though because of the repulsiveness of that vagabond silly word vagabum more like it drooling watching me disappear around the corner heading up that blind alley I saw myself also
a little boy stomach rumbling sitting on the sidewalk’s edge midnight silence surrounding his glance moving over the cobblestones stopping at each never losing his bearings but always moving from one paving stone to the next finally reaching those that abut the opposite sidewalk then that glance returning taking another line of stones until he reaches this sidewalk once more no automobiles no pedestrians the people who live along this dead-end street are already sound asleep and by tomorrow morning this child will also have disappeared his head wavers eyes growing heavier and heavier consciousness dimly counting paving stones through flickering eyelids in order not to fall completely asleep he’s too cold paralyzed by this cutting night wind and no human being will ever be able to rip from his mouth a single word a single evening but there will be another evening another place another child all of them similar to this evening this place this child the coming of day the wetness of dawn will efface erase them all I didn’t follow him or any of them I don’t follow I’m not myself any of
face raised glance moving from one ridge of cobblestones to the next glance ricocheting projecting inventing a white emptiness alongside my feet then farther then even farther away straight ahead of me finally beginning all over again with this image of a circle shimmering before my eyes I broke the magic circle leaving it here alone without any beginning any end without me nevermore
blue foam rubber ball it rebounds silently landing once again within the palm of the child the artless skill of children mechanical unconscious millions of such tiny mechanisms employing that same graceful movement ball bouncing against the wall of a sun-stained house I didn’t select any particular movement for I myself remain outside such grace they are all dried up withered obscured petrified here where I had hoped to make out something anything but I didn’t understand any of it I waited for some illumination but now never mind anyway it can’t be helped
the door of the red brick edifice opens part way I emerge gloved hatted wearing a topcoat it was very cold a ragged child huddled up against some garbage cans shaking all over the sight of him moves me I ask him a few questions then toss him a franc I climb into my car he doesn’t even lift his head to follow my passing I don’t exist in this form neither does the car nor my hat all of them of me canceled annulled I hold my hand fist clenched tightly around the franc coin I don’t say thank you to him I don’t know how to use money you can’t buy anything anyway in the middle of the night some lady in high heels sees that silver glimmering between my fingers she leaps on top of me Hand it over you little fucker Why? it’s mine! clawing into my hand Give it to me you dirty little pickpocket! and she starts doing a dance on top of me with those pointed heels of hers I kick out in pain knocking over a garbage can and a cat screams I hadn’t seen it before in all these shadows the fucking whore I bite into her shin and she lets out a scream high enough to shatter the glass in some of those apartment house windows You stupid little shit! and so I take off not wise to hang around here any longer
it costs you five francs just to touch it or give it a few licks with your tongue ten francs if you want me to touch yours fifteen francs if you want me to give you a blow job but I’m warning you I won’t swallow it and twenty francs to fuck me up the ass that is if your prick’s regular standard size if it’s too big then it’s thirty francs after all I’m the one who has to pay for the vaseline who has to put it in there who has to clean up all the mess afterward you see I figure that when a fat cock plows up my asshole it’s equivalent to six guys standard size for the wear and tear it does to my insides after all it’s much harder and hurts more even if it is a lot less long and takes a lot less time than six guys and then there are always some lousy cocksuckers who bite it when they get too carried away but what really disgusts me is when they try to kiss me on the mouth or if they sneakily try to shoot off down my throat before I notice what’s happening ugh and what I really like best is for somebody to lick my asshole yeah all the way into it then I won’t have to wash there saving it for them and it’s a pity too that all of them forget about your feet or your ears or your toes oh how I wish somebody would suck my feet clean one toe at a time taking it slowly I’d go wild over that I wouldn’t even charge them for it oh well maybe one franc
he shoves the money I gave him into his pocket and leaves he doesn’t have any sperm yet I could certainly feel on my tongue a spasm making his. cock get all hard then limp but I didn’t feel anything wet not even piss he’s not old enough yet and yet I’ve known other kids the same age who had juice lots of it already it all depends I suppose on their biological make-up when I grazed his mouth with mine he gave me such a shove eyes furiou
s Fifty francs pops yeah fifty I said for anything like that spitting on the ground rubbing his mouth off with the back of one hand prick still hanging down at an angle through his gaping fly his pants filthy too big for him he’s a little hood already no time now and he’ll be killing old queens rolling them for their money
I’m being carried somewhere wrapped in a blanket we’re passing a garden where I can make out ruins of some building a church it looks like fragments of stone a broken pillar or two and a bit of a roof pointing up into the sky like maybe half of a smashed bicycle wheel only this one is made of stone I’ve lost a lot of blood already thank goodness their house has an infirmary and a lady doctor there gave me a transfusion with a shiny red bottle and a rubber tube she stuck into my arm she looked after my leg too and everything else and what she did hurt me a lot more than what that guy had done to me before but after all she had the right to do it and he didn’t they stick a suppository up my ass to make me sleep the storm awakens me I’m scared shitless and some boy comes in to talk to me because he knew I guess I was afraid he’s not sick though he shows me a scar on his belly it looks like a chalk-white comma right there just above his handsome cock it even looks rather pretty like a tattoo and he says They did it with a razor he says he didn’t feel anything except maybe a slight burning they slashed a much longer gash than that scar he says because scars are always much smaller than the cuts themselves his cock gets harder and harder while he explains all that to me Get a look at this thing will you! he laughs she’s a regular whore! and he calmly shoves it back into his briefs rearranging his balls And how about mine? I ask him do you think you’ll be able to see mine after they heal? Not on your face those’ll certainly disappear they’re not deep enough to be permanent he seems to know what he’s talking about since the lady doctor already said something like that to me too
I was playing ball against the side of the house he comes up alongside me seems very interested in watching and I start being more careful playing better for his sake he puts one hand right up against it but he can’t feel anything because he was all mixed up about where everything fit I backed away quickly
hey kid come on I just wanted to ask you something honest sonny so I let him come closer again
you little idiot I promise I won’t do anything to you let me explain he puts both hands on me now one on my ass the other on my cock he’s found, where it’s hiding he’s caught it paw pressing down hard upon it smiling looking into my face to see if I’m enjoying it
stop that I said stop that let me go huh? he keeps smiling not even listening eyes far away looking past the trees Aaaaah your cute little ass I could eat it up right here hmmmmmmm your cuddly little balls oh you sweet baby
I’ll call my mother if you don’t stop that honest! so he stopped then opened his own fly
wouldn’t you like to touch it just for a minute or so? let’s take a little walk together that’s when I ran off at top speed calling Mama mama! I even forgot my nice ball the man ran too not very long before he caught up with me I’m only a little kid his legs longer than mine he was really batshit that guy
who’s that lady doctor? she’s not very nice
oh just some lady doctor her husband’s the director of this joint don’t worry about them we never see them much is the grub good here?
naw it stinks that’s because old Black Ass cooks all the food around here
old Black Ass? she’s a black lady then?
naw we just nicknamed her that because she’s so deaf and she goes around farting all day since she can’t hear herself but why do you ask? are you hungry or something?
yes
that’s because of the suppository yeah I’m not kidding having that thing stuck up your ass always makes a guy feel hungry that is if it doesn’t put you to sleep first you haven’t eaten since when?
yesterday I think or the day before no it was on Sunday yes Sunday morning
wow because you know they won’t be feeding you any grub here for a long time they can’t you see
oh well never mind I guess I’ll just have to wait huh but who else lives here besides us if there’s a doctor?
nobody just us
what do we have to do?
not a fucking thing whatever we feel like doing except for when but wait and you’ll see soon enough
but do we have to stay here for a long time?
search me the big guys leave I know
but why are we here?
no special reason I guess it’s a nuthouse I think except you get to leave this nuthouse finally
but I’m not nuts
didn’t say you were did I?
because I mean have you ever been in one before been in a real nuthouse I mean?
well don’t you think maybe we’re all a bit nuts huh? hey will you take a look at these hey these sheets are really super not like the ones we have up in the dorm
you have a dorm?
yeah it’s a real dump but it gets real wild up there sometimes
will I have a bed up there with you later?
definitely
perhaps in some whorehouse sitting erect on a straight-backed chair but not in this filthy hole this garbage pail for young punks I lived among gracious young ladies beautiful gowns shimmering hands always caressing my face catering to my every whim dancing around me like houris I said houris not whores and they perfumed me combed the mats out of my thick hair anointed my member with soothing oils sponging away all my pus with delicate girlish gestures and in the evenings after they had finished their work they returned to visit me only dressed now as boys once more they chose me for their scapegoat taking revenge on their clients through me at the entrance to the cellar a huge soap box overturned spilling out from which an assortment of whips riding crops knives forceps needles shears and a large apothecary jar into which they continually piss and when it begins to reek foul and acidy they dump it over my head I’ve gotten used to the smell and even to the taste but not to the way it makes all those cuts on my face burn anew my cheeks suddenly ablaze and finally the oldest wounds become infected crackling curling up like a piece of paper you set a match to for most of all they amuse themselves with my face my swollen crotch especially that too
they shook the chair back and forth to force me to topple off ripping my asshole and yet all the same their tortures were rather unimaginative at least when they went at it in unison but certain of the older boys those more depraved returned alone later during the night and without ever uttering a word truly worked me over letting their horrible little imaginations play upon my unresisting body it’s not their fault really they don’t even hate me I’m just a surrogate a symbol growing harder crueler meaner more and more distant yet untiring in their torturing a kind of love it was since I pleased them so I’m not the first either those who preceded me still hang from water pipes in the dark depths of this same cellar drying up little by little the air is healthy enough so you can’t rot here dead only rot alive
no light for me to see they never untie me now never bring me anything to eat or drink they can replace us without any trouble I say us instead of me because of all those corpses back there
up above me in the house itself whatever happens up there they tell me about it whenever they return I tell it to myself afterward too I can no longer speak hardly even moan obviously I don’t even cry for they continually try to catch glimmers of pain grimaces of agony coursing across whatever’s still left of my face or in my body below the rippling convulsive movements of muscles that might give them a hint some clue as to what I’m experiencing in my glazed silence but it’s like torturing some fly or insect you can’t ever hope to find out what it suffers or if it suffers when you pull off its legs tear off its wings you stick a pin into what you imagine to be its ass you stretch its tiny iridescent head until it seems to become totally unglued but then snaps smartly back onto its thorax once you let go so you start all over again without feeling anything yourself your only pleasure being to finally a
bandon this tiny oblong thing which seems on the point of death motionless not at all interesting anymore unless you can imagine for yourself what’s perhaps still going on inside and then you might shudder with joy conceiving such agony that’s the way it must be with all of them now they must be thinking of me while doing it with their clients that’s what sustains them and thus I will endure this evening whatever it is they wish and afterward after my death if indeed there is such a thing as death I’ll be fit only to hang up there like some disemboweled rabbit they continuing to lacerate me slashing ripping stripping going wild at their labors until they’re finally handed another piece of refuse captured and brought here from some dank city slum
savages and the oldest boy the big bruiser who is their accomplice their refuse collector in his van a mustached mentally retarded fellow in his late teens helps them prepare these nocturnal vengeance parties he’s on their side flatters them so they’ll remain forever submissive adolescent flaxen-haired young beauties brutalized and docile some of the clients find out about the cellar and lust after such orgiastic delights they sell their businesses will their entire fortunes over to the establishment and come down here to stay handing themselves over happily to their little executioners we garrote them on our special chair they pissed blood crying out spurting as our gang of guys set to work upon them attacking raping and those men shot forth their final come screaming ecstatically ejaculating at the instant of their deaths enough semen for a hundred thousand such deaths but I don’t enjoy any of it myself I’m not at all pleased to have it all so quickly ended for me
one of those shadows hanging from the ceiling was a child perhaps one of the sick kids they had to finish off themselves or else some brat his comrades had decided was an enemy a foreign spy making it all up of course their dormitory is certainly a far more dangerous place than this cellar and what’s more I prefer being among cadavers after the first two or so days they no longer appear frightening they are merely dreamers dreaming forever and oh so calm and I dream of them while dreaming them
