This is the last part of the Fool’s Gold travesty. Here are the links to the other parts.
And now here is Part 4.
Tired and embarrassed as usual, but he still stayed up until everybody else went to bed.
He found her reclining on an antique dresser. When he asked her of her intentions she simply pointed out of the window towards a clump of laburnums.
Do you know what this means? Have you any idea what’s going to happen now?! Have you no shame?!!
Will you tango? Just this once? Go on.
A day-charge, a day-charge. Six day-charges.
Off the greasy coast a boat slipped round towards the crude headland. We followed them slurping over the dunes, dragged down by weights. And still we got there before them. As we were digging they creaked up behind. But most of us had hung back under cover. And so they had no chance.
Let’s improve things. Come on, react for once, dare you?
Take these overalls and sleep on them.
What about our government?
There is a problem – don’t worry though. It can be sorted out.
Let’s harness it – try to focus on what’s real. What is real? Spotty – you should know the answer to that.
Do you want to eat some of this giant cucumber? Look at it, in my hands, isn’t it enormous. Here, I can push this knitting needle right through it.
If you’re really indifferent don’t pretend to be otherwise. It’s a posture you put on to fool people. Come on – admit it.
Pepper and salt.
Felony is only permissible when performed by more than one person. It’s a curious ruling which we believe to be unique among all other current nations.
Oh the epitome.
Is there a fifth trombonist or is it a mistake in the programme?
He thinks it’s a burden. Just look at him. Have you ever seen anyone so affected? He should watch himself.
Caught in an eddy.
There’s a strong bias to the left. The motor’s slowing down. Do something.
Slurp it once, slurp it twice. Slurp it down it tastes so nice. Slurp it when you’re feeling good. Slurp it like you’re slurping blood.
The most crushing defeat – but fear not. Wherein the simplest faces were turned now all is turned to gibberish and the moon – planks of the deepest ocean are nothing to the ever-present trustees.
Variably so, increasingly.
Pip pip per paska. Hiss hiss sun mink.
Vermicelli, please, and plenty of new pegs too.
It’s fading – so hold on – we’ll have to come through backwards. Now slowly.
I’ll give you jagged.
Her scrutiny. It pleases me. Won’t she look again. Will her to. I demand it.
Make preparations by all means. It will be the pilgrimge of a lifetime – that I can promise you.
Slowly, inexorably, soon to plough overfield.
Stavitz again. Just as if it was raining.
When it’s warm enough – climb inside and sink like earthbound sap along the tree’s bark until that which you once remembered as a few moments ago is lost in a labyrinth of meaningless egg-formations. Or in other words – fall asleep. I’ll keep watch.
Press on it. Here. And over here… Harder.
Chewing. Labouring. Festival raising. Parsley-sauce making.
Jamboree. That’s J..A..M..B..O..R..E..E…
Go to Fleet St. as fast as you can. Tell them there’s an interesting story that may not be too amusing for their readers.
This is my studio. What do you think? Take a look around. Do you like these?
Yes thanks. What’s this?
Put it in this giant brazier. Now watch it burn. I’d give all the world for just that.
Scandals on every page. Take this peat-dropping incident – have you ever heard anything like it?
Tis an unfair thing to pry where you are not wanted – where no good can be done – for it is a hopeless case.
I spent twenty-three minutes watching men working. Digging a trench.
I don’t often make jokes.
We went through the Suez Canal with a religious maniac.
He’s had too much today. Too much brilliant sunshine and a flat tyre and sherry until it flowed from his navel.
I always look for a letter, whenever I come in. At dusk I switch on my front room light – check – then switch off. At night I push the door well open to cast streetlight on the entrance – make sure that no envelope has been shoved through. I usually expect her to be waiting for me – alone in the dark. I don’t dream such things – I laugh at myself as soon as I have turned the light on.
Slurping machines lunge out of misted-up windows.
People talk such tosh – I specialise myself.
She still haunts me. I don’t know what speaking to her will do to me.
That’s nothing new.
Scale the fortress and then ask me that again.
She’s almost cured. Sometimes it still hurts.
Lohengrin, Lohengrin come here and have a breakthrough. Dismiss this dull depression and despair.
Look at his little tootsies.
Dance, dance your legs off my little Louisiana chicken. You certainly have made an impact on me. You must visit me up the bayou one day. Hetsy can show you which way to come. Bring your dancing shoes. I have lots of different seeds for you to chew.
Afterwards the sky was stained red in the west.
Thus in a tent, before ten yards were gone… the ptarmigan all hunched and incumbent…
Hello sweetie, belabour, do you hear. Be labour and a quick about it. A quick about it too. Be labour.
What about Crème de Menthe?
It’s symbolically cold – the ice. Here cop hold of this. Fungus. Beetroot-coloured fungus. Thick and slimy. With a nose like a butcher’s scalpel.
It doesn’t take a pigeon’s leg to make a good man happy.
Why do you torture me? Surely you’ve had enough of a good time already.
Enlumpen yourself. Tout de suite. A l’adverserie. And then melt surreptitiously away.
As you wish.
Here’s the crumble. Betray it at your peril. Wake up sleepily and pour gravy on your belly. Then take saucepan with frying grease and unwax it on the ceiling. Have you got that?
Whaahh ugh, whauoogh stersplosh tra-tra-tra-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhh. Minsha minsha – triiiiiiiipe saplatz saplatz
What d’ya take me for? A passport to exotica or sumting?
Does this tempt you?
Listen just listen – it might happen now.
Solitary trudger, answer me this, how far have you travelled this night and wherefore do you aim?
For instance there’s this one. Here take it. But be careful. Only use it when you absolutely have to.
Bashful they say.
I repent, I repent. For once and for ever – I will not gloat again. Not next time – not never.
Manicures at 50 pinkers a session. And not much else. Still what do you want for 50 pinkers? Have you got any change?
Zippodromes. So they say.
What a way to carry on. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.