Right, so Sir Dolphus tells Krongold … my lord, I cannot go on, there is an arrow in my side … I am dying, O virtuous lord, in truth and on my honor! My friend, says Krongold … you did not lose honor, sir knight, you fell in battle … only those who live may lose honor … I must tell you something, King Krongold … the reason I am with you is that I too love Queen Eleanor, the Shining Star, ‘tis a sin … No, Dolphus, we all love her, ‘tis no sin at all … and Dolphus, contented, breathed his last … Ondra fidgeted … so now he’s just got the swords? Exactly, now the king had two, and when the Bedouins attacked him he let out a roar and charged, the camels bolted, kicking up sand, and the Bedouins began fighting each other … that one Krongold knew from the Legion … and Dolphus’s confession filled him with power so he fought like an army that day … and also he was intelligent, slipping a burnoose off one of the Bedouins he cloaked himself in it … and then he came to a Zulu village, and they surrounded him with spears and clubs, fearing that he was a Bedouin chief who had come to take them prisoner, it was a dangerous moment. The Zulus were painted with mud for war and the shaman was rattling his rattle … but Krongold revealed his identity … and they rejoiced, because they feared Merlin, and they showed the king the way, and he walked through the desert … but isn’t he gonna get another army? Ondra huffed … wait a sec … till he came to the cave where the Old Man of the Computers lived, and he had a thorn in his paw, he was a lion … a lion with a festering wound … and spying him, King Krongold planted his sword in the sand, nobly reached out his right hand, and plucked the thorn from his paw … an the old guy made him an army on his computer! Ondra yelped … exacdy! and they rode off through the dunes with Chief Joseph’s braves at their flanks, eerily painted in yellow and black, their veins pulsing with speedy strength, between their teeth they clenched stone knives and their quivers beat against their thighs … the notches on their six-shooters gleamed … and in front strode the giant Ninjas, followed by the waving standards and banners of the Nestorians, and Spartacus and his rebels were there, gladiators and former slaves, it was one great big mix … and they chanted in rhythm to the march: Whip, sword, blood, cross … six thousand of them, just like in Capua later on … the sisters of mercy went with them too, they were very powerful, nobody knows why they went along … then the metallic ranks fell in, halberdiers, flailers, and slingers, and the Skipetars, with their bambitti, and the murderous Richard the Humpback headed up the cavalcade, riding under the sign of the cross … the shields of the Lithuanians sparkled in the crimson sun, the Egyptians carried baskets … and had elephants and bazookas … the Old Man assembled a massive army in Krongold’s honor … and Eleanor … Eleanor had to obey the disgusting Merlin’s orders, had to grovel and make coffee for him … listen to his bullshit! … he laid his charms and lures out before her, be a free woman, forget Krongold, you can be whatever you want … and I can change myself too, just tell me what to be, the abominable Merlin fawned over her … I can be twenty years old and play guitar … or I can be a racecar driver … I can even change myself into a fifty-year-old writer in a sweater with a pipe … just tell me what you want, Eleanor … forget King Krongold, forget … Merlin yelled, and that word, forget, echoed down the halls and corridors, startling the bats … that disgusting pig! Ondra cried, how’d he get that hocus pocus? I donno. But King Krongold was drawing near, and he pitched his camp at the foot of the tower, and the fair Eleanor stretched her arms out the window … the king withdrew to his tent with Richard and his valets and the rest of the knights to dream up a plan … and meanwhile the Nubians rigged up the catapults and flung fireballs and dirty tricks into the city, and Merlin got hit in the eye with an arrow … Ondra applauded … but it didn’t do a thing to him, he whipped his robots onto the ramparts … Krongold went for a ride on his steed, and ho! what did he see, an eagle soaring down from the sky! Yep, an eagle! Fuckin A! … yeah, an then? … then, Ondra … then, oh yeah … then it got bad, man … see, Krongold had a goblet of wine before the attack, but the computerized army vanished in a blink under the blows of Merlin’s axe, and King Krongold was alone … alone … and couldn’t get to the Queen, screaming up in the tower, so he had another goblet, betrayed her, the scoundrel, oh well … now leeme alone, Ondra … that’s the end … You’re lyin! You lie! That’s not the way it was! Ondra yanked at my shirt, I swung round … he pulled my hair, I think he was crying … you’re a retard … just like everybody else.
Afterwards I was sorry … I’d pissed off the only person around I could talk to … gimme a break, Ondra, I screwed up, you’re right, that’s not the way it was … he walked off in a huff, pretending not to see me.
But I felt better. Charity gave me pants and a shirt. My SUPER DISCO was worn thin. I traded it in for Mickey M. Picked up a quilted jacket too, I needed the padding … because where everyone else had nothing, I had a pistol … and the Madonna. My silver Madonna. And her I had to protect. She was the only living thing I had left. And if anyone had spotted it, I would’ve had to fight. Assuming I’d even have a chance. I also had my keys. But I couldn’t go there yet.
That’s just horrible, I’m callin the mayor’s office, Gramps complained, I still got friends! Lookit um, the shameless hussies … two Romanian Gypsy women sat on the ground, newborns feeding at their breasts … I knew Gramps liked to spy on them … but now he was outraged … they’re bad for business, I’m Vltava baptized, not enough all the hicks we got crawlin aroun, now on top of it the furriners’re movin in, trash oughta be swept out … but he didn’t dare lift a finger, they weren’t alone, and their menfolk would’ve made fast work of him … it’s funny, I said, I mean who’s makin slaves outta who, those pimps … lousy bitches, go to hell! Gramps shook his fist from a safe distance … or those women an their kids … this is goin in the papers, honest Czechs’re bein robbed … or maybe they truly can’t provide for the kids so they feel like they got no choice, it’s all they know how to do … shoot em all! … you an yer who’s makin slaves outta who … nice rack on that one though, Gramps licked his lips. Yeah right.
I may be aggressive, but the Book is aggressive too … the preacher said for probably the sixth time already. We were packed in there at the Mission … Gramps’d dragged me in … in the stench of our grubby rags, but there was soup on the table, and sandwiches and rolls, ugh, I said to myself, shutting my eyes … yes, this book is a book of war … now watch him whip out the Scout Handbook, dipshit, said someone behind me … you have wronged and been wronged … yeah, that especially! shouted another voice behind my back, and a guy built like a mountain stepped forward from the door … the preacher, short and stooped, raised his hand to stop him, they had their act down pat, those two … the doorman had a T-shirt on that said Jesus Loves You, the rest of his upper body was plastered with tattoos … on our way in I’d told him: And you too, on purpose, to see what he’d do, but he just lowered his eyes and said, Enter, sinners, I didn’t tempt him further … yes, my book is a warlike book, and it’s the Bible! the preacher shouted, climbing onto a chair … grasp at last the meaning of history … start with yourself, cuntlips, a voice behind me muttered, my belly growled, the others looked on, intrigued … the preacher teetered a moment, then decided to climb back down … close the door, brother Arthur, it’s full, and the draft … you are going to fry in hell! the preacher roared. The life you lead now is a stroll! Gramps picked at his scabs, while some woman in front turned on the waterworks. Yes, a stroll through the rose garden, Satan is going to skewer you on his pitchfork down there! What the hell’s he scarin people for … a voice behind me grumbled … what people, asshole? I don’t see none, another voice replied. Silence! the preacher thundered, there is but one hope! Let Jesus into your hearts, he knocks softly, but the dragon fights his way in with the whip … the preacher paused dramatically to illustrate … but Jesus! He was no sniveler, no, he was no coward like you. Like you! He pointed at a woman, she let out a shriek. Like you! And you! The preacher ran around pointing his finger, pissed me off. No, you are mistaken, he exclaimed, like anyone’d even opened their mouth … remember Babylon, remember centuries of man humiliated and beaten, remember the pyramids, the lowly, who suffered under the whip, and the lofty, who suffered in their souls, the flames devoured each and every one, and they had to make war, to burn their savagery in blood, their enemies’ and their own … I’m ready to chow! said a guy behind me … puke is more like it, another said quietly … like rabid beasts the people lived, for they did not know … in every land on earth they murdered, nothing but tears and gnashing teeth and conflagrations … but then he came along, the warrior, he alone had the courage to say: Enough! The preacher jumped back on the chair: And the name of that most fearless warrior is Jesus … and he said: Love one another, there is a way … for otherwise your torture shall be prolonged unto eternity! And some heeded his words and found life eternal. You riffraff, you will never be known as anything else, you in your humiliation and pain are closer to Jesus than those who dwell in the sumptuous towers, say Yes! A few Yesses sounded out, guess they wanted to get it over with … Many stuck by Jesus and left behind the world of cruelty, only the fools and the defiant remain, and sectarians! they will burn, oh, how they will burn … And Jesus was brave enough to accept the human body and be martyred on the cross, to prove … that it could be done! Out of love for his fellow man! He left the message of his pain here for you, because pain is all you believe in, pain alone is real for you, the wretched … don’t shit cher pants, bozo, the guy behind me said … this time I got pissed off, cause in the midst of the stench and nothingness, at least the preacher had a story, yep, they killed him back then an it’s been goin on ever since, an they say nothin’s happenin … an I realized, those words from kids’ nursery rhymes, like honor an faith an all the rest, the only place they’re left anymore’s in the old stories the preachers tell, it’s similar … but Bog was in me, an I knew this guy here was leavin out plenty … and Luke the Evangelist was the only one, you poor souls, continued the preacher, who set down for the record that in the garden, that ancient, desolate garden, Jesus was alone, sweating in agony … someone fell off his chair, a little commotion ensued as the others picked him up … because he had accepted the human body and its pain, and he didn’t have to, but he was brave, unlike us, and Luke the Evangelist, you motley crew, was a doctor and he knew what he’d seen, that agony was human, Jesus feared torture no less than the most wretched of men, and that was his war … and he was victorious, and he showed that it was possible … to love.