The Feast
It is a fresh,
autumn evening in a medium-sized metropolis. There is peace in the
streets. The police are on the watch, keeping the citizens of the
city safe. Winter is approaching, but it is not here yet. Still, the
weather is pleasant. He opens a bottle of blood-red wine on the
terrace overlooking the green neighbourhood. ”Lets drink to the
full moon, my dear!”, he says. From the kitchen, she answers
playfully: ”The moon, the stars, the clouds, my cunt, whatever!
Lets drink to life!”. She is busy preparing their dinner, the feast
they have prepared for. He, in a half whisper, half call: ”Oh, my
little dove, my little kitten, you know that I love you when you
speak dirty like that! It turns on a fire in my loins.”. Although excited, he
controls his voice as best he can, for he does not wish to disturb
the neighbours, or perhaps children or other persons in the street.
What would they think of this kind of language? To him, it is a
private matter. Besides, someone might covet his wife if they knew
how feisty she could be. He worships her, he wants her, but he does
not trust her completely. But to the outside world, they are a
well-to-do, successful, respectable, and harmoniously loving couple,
with not a problem between them.
Earlier in the day,
they were lying in bed. They were trying out a new form of love-play,
suggested to them by one of their church-fathers. They had lighted
scented candles, and spread them around their bed-chamber. The bed
itself was covered in silken sheets, and there were flowers on a
little table next to it. The room smelled clean and nice. However, to
a sensitive nose, there was a tinge of something metallic in the air.
They were lying, naked, on either side of the bed.
In between them was
the foetus, an unborn little baby girl. She had a wisp of black curls
on her head, and was perhaps 7 months old. They had paid dear money
for her, from a man they knew who was also a member of their church,
and who did not ask questions. They instinctively reciprocated his
delicate diplomacy. Some secrets were meant to be kept. Their secrets
were meant to be kept. They respected the man, and he respected them,
but they did not trust each other. They were together in the church
often, all partaking in its ceremonies and rituals, and the bond in
their congregation was strong. The eyes of the foetus were closed,
and it was lifeless. He jabbed it with a finger, in its little
stomach, saying: ”Ding dong! Anybody home? Is baby happy?”. She
laughed, a tinkling laugh, and said, in a teasing voice: ”Oh, my
big man, my strong man, you’re so funny! Do you want to play with
baby and me?”. He answered cockily: ”I will play with baby and
you, and I have a friend who will join us, so that we shall be 4 all
together. You know who I’m talking about!”. And for the next hour
or so, they were straining their imaginations to the utmost, doing
whatever came to their minds, trying to remember all that they had
learned about these things, drinking the pleasures of their acts.
Afterwards, they were pleasantly exhausted, and had a little nap.
Later, now, the
feast is ready to begin. She tells him to come in, and to sit down.
He complies. She brings the silvered platter, covered with a big lid,
onto the table. There are lighted candles, and fine cutlery. He
exclaims: ”Oh, my little dove, how wonderful it smells! Did you
prepare it just for me, just for us?”, and she answers: ”Of
course I did, my little devil, my big man. It will make us strong, as
they have told us.”. She takes off the lid, and reveals the
steaming foetus, on a bed of tender vegetables that lie in a fragrant
sauce. He: ”Oh my Lord! My dove, how terribly delightful it looks!
May I?”, and, without waiting for an answer, he grabs the carving
knife and the meat-fork, cuts the meat, and serves her a piece with
the fork. Then, he takes the spoon lying on the platter, and serves
her some vegetables, the steam pleasantly wafting into their noses.
After this, he serves himself in a similar fashion. ”Bon appétit,
my dear!”, he says. She lifts her glass and smiles at him, a wicked
gleam in her eyes that she knows makes him crazy about her. They eat
in reverence, the silence broken only by the clink of their glasses,
the scrape of cutlery, and the purring sounds of pleasure they make
as they eat. After they have finished, they drink a cup of coffee,
and then enter the bed-chamber to spend the night in lusty embraces.
They feel drunk on life, intoxicated with pleasure. For them, life is
good. Life is beautiful. They can do what they want. They feel
strong, and beautiful, and healthy.
The next morning,
after they have ingested a small morning meal, showered, cleaned
themselves and dressed impeccably, as is their wont, they exit their
home and enter the streets, walking together for a little while.
Their destinations for the day are different, but the direction they
must take at first is the same. They pass a smelly vagrant on the
street, who asks them for some spare change. On the inside he is
gloating over the vagrants misfortune, but knowing that appearances
have a power of their own, the man self-consciously pulls out his
wallet, and hands the homeless man a newly minted note, saying: ”I
feel good today, my brother, I feel generous. This is for you.”.
The vagrant, in surprise, says: ”Oh thank you, thank you, my good
man! May the Lord bless you and yours!”. The well-dressed man
politely gives a little bow, saying: ”Everything for my fellow man.
May you be well, friend.”. The homeless man cannot hold back his
emotions, a tear shows in his eye, and he says: ”Good sir, if only
there were more people like you, the world would be a better place, I
am sure!”. The man bows again, and, taking his wife by the arm,
walks on.
A little further
on, they walk past a church, a big sign hanging by its side
proclaiming: ”Jesus sees! Jesus saves!”. With a sneer, he says,
to no-one in particular: ”Hah! Jesus sees? Well, I don’t see him,
so I guess that settles that. Jesus saves? Jesus saves who? The
believers? Well, I sure as Hell don’t believe in Him.”
-Fin
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