False idols and teacups

January 29, 2007

Unlike most great figures he was much larger than I expected: his tea cup sized eyes and Daliesque hands thrice the size of lesser men. He gambolled and pandered through the crowd; only he and I knowing his hidden contempt for them. Oh they had watched his tinctured morality plays, and surely had a laugh or two, but all the secret messages were meant for my eyes alone; sleek and hidden cruelties sliding past their vacant minds. I steadied my expression lest I give away the game, and waited for him to spy me out from amongst the crowd.

A moments indifference. Then another. His gazed passed over me repeatedly. Something was wrong; even a master of the craft such as he would show some urgency at meeting at meeting one of the chosen. I plucked at his waist coat to draw him closer, that I might have a word. He reached down to tousle my hair with his bloated digits, a sick rictus grin playing dumbly towards me, then turned away without so much as a knowing wink. “Speak to me mouse” I thought, “am I so beneath contempt you cannot spare the barest trite exchange”. Ploughing sideward through the reeking masses I kept time with his curiously stilted gait. Heedless of the disruption my passage caused I flashed every key sign and hand cipher I knew. No response.

That’s when I saw the cold crease beneath his chin, the lipstick of Madame guillotine lay thick upon his collar. My gut churned at the horror: this was no more than the husk of my comrade. He’d been made and butchered; his rotting shell draped over some parasitic impostor to lure in the faithful. Never had I doubted the depth of their brutality, but the breadth… the sheer pagan audacity; had I been a braver man I would have ended his treacle dance with a blade to the heart. Shamefully I bore his life an hour more; but on the tea cups… on the teacups he would meet his ruin.


One Response to “False idols and teacups”

  1. John Gap Says:


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