metropolis m

In het kader van het voorgaande artikel van Maria Fusco over kunstenaarsromans, schreef Paul Haworth op verzoek van METROPOLIS M een korte dialoog.

Alex, the narrator, has had a baby daughter, Barabus, with his lover Atmosphere. It is the day of Barabus’ naming ceremony and before the rituals begins Alex is having a drink with Atmosphere and a few of her friends…

‘I’m Gid, and this here’s Flip, my passion ration.’

He gestured to the woman beside him, who quipped, ‘You should be so lucky!’

Flip was a similar age to Atmosphere but there was no comparison. Atmosphere improved with time. I’ve often thought men involved with younger women must be out of their minds. You know, it’s terrible what time can do to a handsome man. A woman’s looks often enhance with age, seldom a man’s. My advice to bachelors: never love a woman less than twenty years your senior.

‘I’m June, love,’ said another reveller. Also a similar vintage to Atmosphere, June was more buxomly than Flip, yes, but still not in Atmosphere’s league – nowhere near.

‘How tall are you, Alex?’ Gid asked.

‘Six ten.’

‘Bloody hell,’ he chuckled.

Here we go, I thought, anticipating routine jokes about my height à la ‘What’s the weather like up there?’ Far from it…

‘He is a bigun,’ laughed June.

‘Is he all in proportion?’ Flip enquired.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Atmosphere absently, groping my dread.

‘I mean…yes he’s a bigun but does he have a bigun?’ Scandalous. ‘Is his penis as big?’ I’d never heard anything like it. Atmosphere let out a hearty cackle, to which Flip added, ‘Well you know what they say…’

June, joining the fun: ‘I bloody hope not, wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.’

‘Ooh but it’d be worth it,’ smiled Flip as she sexily wiggled in her chair.

‘Careful, you,’ chided Gid to his flirtatious wife.

‘Careful yourself,’ she parried – quick as a whip – ‘it’s about time someone gave me a good rogering.’

The look on Gid’s face!

Atmosphere was in hysterics. And so was I.

‘Well, give us a look-see,’ said June. She could not be serious? Or could she? Not at all, as the punchline swiftly followed: ‘I mean, we could be talking six ten…millimetres.’

‘Minimetres,’ exclaimed Flip. ‘Now you’re talking Gid’s language!’

Piling on top of one another – bang bang bang – the jokes kept coming.

‘Aw, he’s a lovely bigun, my Alex,’ sighed Atmosphere. It was nice to hear her confirm this.

‘Phwoar, let us borrow him sometime,’ laughed Flip, much to the light-hearted chagrin of Gid.

‘Only if I can borrow Gid,’ returned Atmosphere.

‘Sure, and maybe Alex can lend him a couple inches.’

‘It’s a deal, so long as Gid lends Alex a couple of minutes.’ This joke fell somewhat flat, so Atmosphere went on, ‘He comes a bit previous if you catch my drift.’

Flip loved this. Her head rolled back, spilling her Special, she curled over in laughter.

Going with the flow, Atmosphere continued, ‘He’s barely got his end up and he’s done. I wouldn’t mind, but it’s always me who’s got to clean up his mess.’

Felt relieved to see Atmosphere enjoying herself and having a laugh (by God, she deserved it) but I must admit, I was sorry this had to come up. The subject of my premature ejaculation was a sore one. I felt ashamed.

(Ashamed! Get over yourself! Had Atmosphere not taught you what a vestigial emotion shame is?)

‘I should take it as a compliment,’ June sighed.

‘A lady can only take so much flattery.’

‘What we talking? A couple minutes?’

‘If you count two seconds as a couple minutes.’

‘No!’

‘Yes. He pops in to say hello and drops off the shopping.’

‘Bloody hell,’ gasped Flip, genuinely astonished, ‘better be careful, Alex, At needs her O’s.’

Finally, I felt ready to enter the fray:

‘I finger her or eat her out.’

A silence. I’d gone too far. Oh Alex!

Eventually Gid solemnly said, ‘Brave work, my boy.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Atmosphere snarled.

Stupid, stupid me! I’d wanted to show I could hold my own – to contribute to the banter. Instead, I’d poisoned the mood with my crass ‘humour’. Wish I’d kept my damned mouth shut…

‘Ignore Gid,’ Flip remarked, ‘he don’t know a thing about a good tongue-wash.’

The mood was stilted.

‘So…can he really only last two seconds?’ June whispered incredulously.

‘If I’m lucky,’ came Atmosphere’s answer.

‘Well, keep trying, Alex,’ June said maternally.

‘Tell you what,’ Gid began, leaning forward – I could see it in his eyes, he was about to crack a funny, ‘next time you’re about to come…’ – here it comes – ‘…picture my old lady – that should do the trick.’

Barbarous! I roared with laughter. Flip playfully punched Gid in the face.

‘Watch it, you bitch,’ he laughed as he rocked with the impact.

Right back at him: ‘Watch yourself, bastard.’

A charming playfight. Gid comically rubbed his jaw and picked up where he’d left off, ‘Yeah, just you imagine you’re up this old cow – that’ll keep you going all night.’ Somebody stop them! It was too much…

‘Shut your fucking mouth,’ Flip interjected, before turning the joke on its head, ‘Next time you’re about to shoot your load, imagine you’re balling this old wanker.’

‘Ey, but at least we know he’s not shooting blanks,’ said June.

Atmosphere took another swig of her Brew and laughed, ‘But he is! Got him the snip, didn’t I?’

‘You did not!’ June was incredulous.

‘Fuck off!’ And so was Flip.

‘What? There’s no lead in his pencil?’ asked Gid, no longer scrapping with Flip. ‘But isn’t he Barabus’s father, or is it—’

‘Course he’s Barabus’s daddy,’ Atmosphere cut in, ‘but, I said to Alex, I told him, after he’d knocked me up, after I’ve squeezed out this sprog: no more!’

Like most men, Gideon couldn’t understand, let alone empathise, ‘Aye but don’t you think—’

Typical male excuses! Atmosphere began, ‘I don’t do the pill, don’t agree with me, and Alex don’t like jonnies,’ – was true, couldn’t stand the things – ‘so I said to Alex, I told him, unless you get the snip…’ she leant forward – twinkle in her eye – perfect timing – ‘I don’t think you’re ready for the jelly.’

Outrageous!

Paul Haworth is schilder en schrijver, Amsterdam. Onlangs verscheen van hem Silk Handkerchiefs (2009), de eerste van een trilogie van drie korte, komische romans. Hij werkt nu aan het vervolg hierop getiteld Alone, Desperate and Going Nowhere. Werk van hem is te lezen op www.homelovin.co.uk en wordt uitgegeven door de experimentele uitgeverij TRUE TRUE TRUE van vormgever Sam de Groot. www.truetruetrue.org