Ma Bell Needs Liposuction
"Okay, so what IF Jimmy has a bigger penis than mine. Is that why you
always gave him more milk?...Wait a sec, mom, someone's at the
door...while you're waiting, let me turn on some Muzak for you. It's
`Prosopagnosia' by the Visceral Abortion Leftovers arranged for
synthesized woodwind orchestra, I know you'll love it...
"Okay, I'm back. It was just a guy I know with a relationship
problem. It seems he and his girlfriend had been practicing The Way
of the Quantum Light Breath, an ancient mystical technique involving
sitting in an odd position known as The Narwhal and concentrating very
hard on your pineal gland while dismembering a live rodent, but very
slowly. It's supposed to lead to weight loss--they're both really
obese--a more impressive speaking voice, and greater ejaculation
volume. The whole thing takes at least five hours. Anyway, he and
his girlfriend were about halfway through when she suddenly had a
seizure. He grabbed the nearest thing handy and jammed it into her
mouth--it was a small fake water-squirting slot-machine that she had
won from a group of Hassidic Jews at Purim last year because they
liked her crucified aardvark costume.
"Anyway, when she came out of it, she ran out of the house at an
amazing speed, considering her weight. He followed her into a
drugstore downtown, where she started grabbing random pills off the
shelves and eating them. She must've taken a hundred pills. Then she
started to grow, just like Alice. Her clothing split at the seams.
Electricity shot out of her eyes, nearly frying a nearby group of
tourists from Inner Mongolia. (Luckily, they had been spiritually
protected against just such an attack.) She lumbered around the city,
knocking over buildings and roaring.
"Then she started ripping up telephone poles and impaling people on
them. She must've disabled at least twenty major prefixes. But
here's the really strange thing--when the telephone company workers
would come out to try to fix the damage, as soon as they caught sight
of her they'd fall into a trance. They'd run towards her, climb up to
her breasts, and start nursing. And she wouldn't kill them,
either--after awhile she'd pick them off and deposit them on the
ground, very gently, where they would fall into a deep sleep.
Interviews with the servicepersons involved later revealed that they
felt an incredible oneness with everything as they drank her milk, as
if they were at the center of an infinitely complex web of
interconnections. They could understand every voice, interpret every
modem carrier tone, and visualize every fax transmission they heard
all at once.
"But as she kept growing and growing, something happened, and she
started getting too big even for her skin. Finally she just exploded.
They're still cleaning up huge chunks of her thigh downtown, and I
understand that portions of her pancreas are being sold at souvenir
shops, along with certificates of authentication, for $5 a piece.
"So anyway, after that happened, this friend of mine got another
girlfriend, but now everytime they have sex he can't get an erection
unless he plays a tape with Cliff Robertson's voice on it, and his
girlfriend can't stand it.
"So how's things with Dad these days?...Hello?...Hello?...Shit." I
ripped the phone out of the wall and threw it through the window. It
fell twenty-three stories and landed on a hearse whose occupant had
died waiting for 911 to answer. Bad move.
-- not by Mark Leyner,
not from "Oh, Please Give Me a Colostomy, Mistress:
Confessions of a Surgery Fetishist"