49 Appearances of Sailor Moon
by
David Pascal
(Note: A while ago a young lady -- I think -- wrote me asking for some
advice about a story she had written. I was glad to oblige, and wrote
back that her story was not at all bad, but could have been told a bit
differently. I got a somewhat puzzled response. 'Told differently?
Differently how? You just write it down how it happens, right?'
Well�you can. But actually there's a lot of ways to tell a story. You
can put the same basic narrative material across in a great variety of
styles, genres, persons, and so on. Of course that's easier to
demonstrate than to say. Hence the following. I hope it may help a few
budding writers out there loosen up a bit, stylistically, and maybe also
give FFML folk currently suffering the slings and arrows of postgrad
English Lit a chuckle. Certainly it was interesting to do.
All the characters below (barring Che Guevara, the two dwarf Elvis
Impersonators, Santa, the Right Reverend Peregrine Westerbent, Miguel,
and other ephemeral flotsam) are the creations of Japan's great gift to
mankind, Takeuchi Naoko-san. Bishojo Senshi Sailor Moon is the property
of Takeuchi Naoko, Kodansha, and now DiC. The piece contains no
spoilers, possibly excluding allusions to the sexual preferences of Ms.
Tenno Haruka, and I have posted a rather more readably formatted version
of it at http://www.geocities.com/~davidpascal/smj/49.html.
Comment on '49 Appearances of Sailor Moon' --phew, what is there to say?
Well, should you come up with anything, feel free to send it to
david@davidpascal.com. I shall be travelling for the next few days, so
don't be offended if you don't get an instant reply.)
49 Appearances of Sailor Moon:
1. Plain:
The red-haired woman released a beam of force.
It struck Haruka and knocked her to the ground.
�Prepare to die!� said Kaolinite.
�Stop!� cried a voice.
It was a young blond girl in a short-skirted sailor suit.
�In the name of the moon, I�ll punish you!� said Sailor Moon.
*
2. Telephone:
The phone rang.
�Who the hell is it?�
�Kaolinite, is that you?�
�Who do you think it is? Of course it�s me.�
�You sound grouchy.�
�I have reason to.�
�Why? How did it go?�
�How do you think? That little twit Sailor Moon showed up.�
�What?�
�Like always. And I had Haruka in the palm of my hand!�
�You�re kidding.�
�Would I kid about something like that?�
�So what happened?�
�Well Haruka and I were tossing energy bolts at each other -- .�
�Uh huh.�
�And the bitch raises her arm to do that �Wuuurld-SHAKING!!� bit. You
know?�
�Yeah, uh huh.�
�But I let go first, see, and zap the cow right in her fat navel.�
�Way to go!�
�And the tramp�s lying on her back with her eyes revolving, right, like
the whole football team�s just had her?�
�Uh huh uh huh.�
�And out of nowhere that little brat turns up! �In the name of the moon,
I�ll punish you.� Give me a break!�
�Tell me about it. When is she going to get some new lines?�
�Flat-chested little witch. That hair! You know it�s all peroxide.�
�I know. Japanese blonds. Ri-i-ight.�
�And she brought her damned cats too. Ukh. �
�So what happened then?�
�Oh God I don�t want to talk about it. I just want to take a Tylenol and
forget the whole thing.�
�Well you can tell me about it tomorrow over lunch.�
�Sure sure. Starbuck�s?�
�Great.�
�Later.�
�Ja.�
Click.
*
3. Telegraphic:
BIG FIGHT STOP ANIME BABES STOP KAOLINITE SLAMS HARUKA STOP MOVES IN FOR
KILL STOP SAILOR MOON STOP OUT OF NOWHERE STOP KICKS ASS STOP INCREDIBLE
STOP SIGNED PASCAL
*
4. Shakespearean Sonnet:
When in these sessions of sweet swift onslaught,
I scatter forth Jove's bolts with luminous hate
Full force and with high emnity enwrought,
That from mine finger-nails do emanate;
And when mine eyes do trace the lissome swirl
Of proud Haruka to green Earth's seat toss'd,
And her long limbs in limpid sprawl unfurl,
All plaintive helplessness, all recourse lost,
'Tis then, swift sweet, I think on thy pursuit,
Inevitable as the dazzling hart
O'er English wilds, and O thy sailor suit
In moonlight gilt; thy wand; and, with a start,
Thy orison, sweet nymphet, hies to me:
"Knave, in this moon's bright name, I chastise thee."
*
5. Dostoyevschina:
Kaolinitova drank the bitter vodka before her. She was a student in St.
Petersburg. The meeting of Young Nihilists had concluded hours ago, and
now Kaolinitova sat in the dark corner of the drinking house, brooding.
The memory of the empty jabber of her fellow conspirators filled her soul
with wretchedness. The fools. How could one strike down the State
without first striking down the God who upheld it? One had to transcend
the morality of the deluded Russian masses before one could raise them
up. Did no one but she understand that?
An unlettered lame young peasant woman, Anna Grigorievna Harukieva, swept
the floor of the darkened room. Kaolinitova watched her with burning
eyes. Kaolinitova had once pitied such simpletons. Now she knew better.
�Pity� -- an illusion prattled by holy fools to reconcile weaklings to
their insults and their injuries. Not Kaolinitova. She would free
herself of its slavery, of all slavery. Kaolinitova felt within her
shabby coat for the knife. One stroke, and she would rise above her
weakness, her wretchedness. She stood, and approached Harukieva from
behind. Swiftly she raised the knife in the air!
Suddenly Harukieva screamed and fell to the ground, her mouth foaming.
The girl's limbs twitched in spasms. What is this, thought Kaolinitova?
Ah -- the servant girl was an epileptic! Kaolinitova's heart beat
faster. Did anyone overhear? Should she run? No -- what did it matter,
after all. Kaolnitova brought the knife up again. Let God stay her hand
if He could. This would prove that God did not exist! That she was free
of all restraint, that all things were permitted!
"Stop!" cried a gentle voice.
Kaolinitova turned.
There at the door -- it was the saintly child-prostitute, Selya Muunovna
Usagieva, whom Kaolinitova had deeply wronged behind the cathedral at
Krasnoyarsk. Selya Muunovna had trailed her here barefoot, from the
Siberian wastes! "Sister in Christ," said Selya Muunovna. "What are you
doing? Have you forgotten the words of our Saviour? 'Thou shalt not
kill'. Hear the word of the Lamb of God, sinful one! Let us forgive one
another, and wet the good Russian earth with out tears!"
They embraced and wept.
*
6. Haiku:
Ka-boom! Haruka,
falling like cherry blossoms.
Ah -- how close the moon.
*
7. The Five Senses (Smell):
Loosing a sulfurous brimstone blast from her foul fingers, Kaolinite�s
malodorous assault emanated downward at Haruka with devastating
flatulence, leaving Haruka smoking upon the burnt acrid grass.
�Haruka, you stink,� sniffed Kaolinite.
�So does your underwear, you blowhard,� snorted Haruka.
�That line is stale, windbag,� hissed Kaolinite. �You�re all washed up.�
She knew it was over � the gamy perspiration of fear was fresh on
Haruka�s brow. Scenting the sweet whiff of victory as she stood tall and
straight as a single bead of sweat on a fat man�s forehead, Kaolinite
raised her perfumed arms above her armpits for the odious death-blast,
and wheezed, �Die!�
Haruka inhaled sharply.
�Stop right there, you skunk!�
�Wha -- ?�
Freshly washed, her hair like a fragrant bouquet of lilacs, Sailor Moon
stood on a rooftop as bravely as a white waving sail cleansed in a breeze
of briny water and salt sea air.
Her rosy arms pulled out a Thompson submachine gun. �In the name of the
Moon, I�ll ventilate you.�
*
8. Hard-Boiled:
The broad in the tight red dress had a chest like two ripe watermelons,
and the bar she stood in was the pits.
She was twisting a sandy-haired dyke�s arm when she saw me walk in. I
was smoking a Lucky. She let the dyke go and smoothed down her long red
slinky hair.
"Hi, handsome," she said throatily. "Can I help you?"
I gave her a right cross across her schnozz. She hit the linoleleum.
She wouldn't be needing Sominex tonight.
"Thanks, pal," said the other dame. "She was giving me a hard time."
She wiped a trickle of blood off the side of her mouth and ran her hand
through her sandy hair. It was short. Real short. What�d you expect?
"Anytime, baby,� I said. �By the way -- your shoes untied."
She looked down. I belted her in the gut. Her abs folded over my
knuckle-duster like a cheap accordion.
"I didn't come here to play games, Butch. Where's the blond?"
"What blond?"
"The blond the redhead on the shag is blackmailing you over."
"I don't know what you're talking abou -- ."
A left cross knocked her lesbo butt over the other dumb broad.
"Stop it!"
I turned around.
It was the kid.
She was young and blond and skinny. The way I like 'em.
Except that she was pointing a forty-five at my gut.
I raised my hands. "Hey, baby. I just want to take you home to Mommy
and Daddy. Take it easy."
She laughed. "I blew those sick bastards to Hell twenty minutes ago,
shamus. Now it's your turn." She clicked back the hammer.
Suddenly a Maltese falcon flew past the window. She glanced at it.
Broads. They just can't concentrate.
I yanked out Velma, my revolver, and slammed six big ones into her groin.
Her eyes got big. The .45 slipped off her finger. She fell to her
knees.
I walked over to her and picked up the .45. I curled my finger around
the trigger. She looked up at me.
"Wh -- why?" she said.
"Why not?" I said, and pumped in six more.
*
9. Advice Column:
Dear Abby:
Hi I'm a high school girl of Japanese descent and I've got a problem.
One of the best friends of my acquaintance is a older girl whom I will
call H. H. is an OK sort of pal and a really really good person who has
helped me out many times when I have been in a spot. But I never see her
go anywhere without this other girl whom I will call M. and moreover H.
likes to dress in clothing that well I can only ahem call masculine if
you know what I mean. I am afraid that H. is really a you-know-what
though I am too grown-up and sophisticated to ask. The thing is, the
other day when I was walking through the park I saw H. lying in the grass
and an older woman in a tight red dress was standing over her. I think
they were having an argument. I think the older woman hit her! Well I
walked up and went Stop! You can get punished for that sort of thing! or
like that. Well that broke it up. But now I'm concerned. Should I get
involved? What if H. really and truly is a you-know-what? Will people
think I am a you-know-what too if I am her pal? Will I get AIDS? Please
advice me.
Signed, Concerned Friend
Dear Concerned Friend:
In dealing with contemporary young girls of today and their intimate
practices, the thing one has to remember is that everyone has many many
facets to their personality. What a person does in the privacy of their
own bedroom or bathroom or Leather & Upholstery Shop is but one aspect of
their overall selfdom. If H. has been a good and helpful friend to you
in every other respect, then of course you should return her friendship
and help her too if you can. However, it is never good policy to
interfere with other people's private doings unasked; so, in this case,
if you feel that H. is perhaps unhappy with you for interrupting her
discussion with this older woman to whom you refer, you should respect
her feelings and not do so again should the situation re-occur. Ask her
about it. Open honest communication is always best!
Abby
P.S.: As for AIDS, don't worry. Sex between two women is perfectly
safe, so long as they both wear a condom.
*
10. The Five Senses (Touch):
�You�ve rubbed me the wrong way long enough,� said Kaolinite. A rolling
brutal blast of violent physical force stretched from Kaolinite�s fingers
and grabbed, slammed, pummeled and tossed Haruka almost senseless against
a mitt of crisp sharp blades of dry harsh grass.
Haruka pushed a wet drop of warm blood from the trembling corner of her
soft mouth and got a grip on herself. Kaolinite�s cutting remarks hit a
raw nerve, all right: she was too hot to handle. Cut to the quick, a
gnawing sensation of limp helplessness churned in the pit of her belly.
Haruka�s heart fluttered and trembled. She was in a scrape -- a scrape
that could smoothly slip into a sharp brush with swift staggering death.
Though rough-and-ready and wild-and-wooly, she shook, shimmied, quaked,
quivered, shivered and shuddered, sensing she was about to really get her
lumps. Who would pull her out of this one?
�Hold it, you heavy-handed roughneck!�
Haruka�s body turned.
Discarding a hard copy of Shonen Jump, Sailor Moon, sharp as a tack,
stood solid as a rock on the firm foundation of an adjoining rooftop,
her soft silky arms crossed over her smooth sensitive lamb-soft breasts
under her tight firm sailor tunic. Moved, stirred, and jarred, Haruka,
trembling with gratitude, could have nuzzled them both with a moist wet
soft smack!
Sailor Moon�s burning eyes looked at Kaolinite icily. �In the name of
the moon,� she said, �beat it! Or I�ll slap your face, bust your nose,
crack your skull, kick your gut, break your jaw, twist your spine, gouge
your groin, tear your hair, bite your ear, smash your teeth, stomp your
ass, and poke you in the eye!�
�Solid, man!� added Haruka.
*
11. Confessional:
�Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.�
�How have you sinned, my child.�
�I assaulted someone, Father.�
�Physical violence is a grave transgression, my child. As we sow, shall
we not reap? Did not Our Saviour Himself say, �turn the other cheek�?�
�I know, Father, I know. I just lost control. You see, there�s this
woman, Haruka. She�s always getting in my way. I need to locate
something for my employer, Professor Tomoe. A talisman. My job�s
depending on it. And everywhere I turn this Haruka is there, tripping me
up, giving me grief. I � I just couldn�t hack it anymore, you know what
I mean?�
�Frustration can be hard to bear, my child, but it is at such moments
that we need to think on the instruction of the Church.�
�I know, Father, I know, but � well, I lost it and I hit her.�
�At least Heaven has given you sufficient light to understand your error
and ask forgiveness. Nonetheless, for your penance you must say three
Hail Marys. And I would also suggest you speak to our social outreach
counselor, Sister Butch.�
�Yes, Father.�
�Did you commit any further transgressions?�
�No. I didn�t have a chance. This other little blond showed up.
Tsukino Usagi. She got me back good, let me tell you.�
�She struck you?�
�With this wand she carries. Wham! She�s a real hoodlum, Father. She
hangs out with this gang. Her grades are a joke. She�s fourteen and
raising her own daughter!�
�We must not speak ill of our fellow Christians, my child.�
�Christians? They�re both heathens, Father.�
�They are?�
�And the big one�s a lesbian!�
�She is?�
�And I�ve seen her with her arm around the little blond tramp sometimes
too.�
�Really?�
�They should all burn in Hell, father!�
�Do you really think so?�
�You bet I do.�
�Well�in that case, it�s three *hundred* Hail Marys. And when you see
Sister Butch, tell her to power up the electric rack.�
*
12. Reverse Temporal Order:
�I�ll punish you!� said Sailor Moon. Just before that she had also said,
�In the name of the moon�, after having leaped atop a city rooftop a
moment earlier and shouted �Stop!� at Kaolinite, who had herself earlier
suggested that Haruka prepare to die (for having frustrated Kaolinite�s
plans on a number of previous occasions), and had even gone so far as to
knock Haruka to the ground with a beam of force that she had previously
released. Prior to that, Napolean invaded Russia. (All this occurred
after the Big Bang, incidentally.)
*
13. Out Of Temporal Order:
�Hey, guys, we just saw Usagi beating up Kaolinite!� said Rei.
�Is she all right?� said Ami.�
�Yeah, she was giving Kaolinite that �I�ll punish you� speech. You know.
Once she does that, it�s all over.� Said Rei.
�Maybe we should help,� said Ami.
�Nah,� said Minako, �once Usagi goes, �In the name of the moon�,
Kaolinite might just as well check into Emergency directly. They never
learn.�
�Besides, Haruka�s there too,� said Rei.
�Yeah. Kaolinite got the drop on her. And then Usagi showed up on this
rooftop.�
�Kaolinite didn�t hit Haruka with a force beam, did she?� said Ami.
�Yeah. Shouted �Prepare to die�. The usual thing.�
�Oh dear. That probably knocked Haruka-san down. I hope it didn�t tear
her dress.�
�She can always get another from Central Casting. But hey, Ami, you
should have seen that red number Kaolinite was wearing. Pret-ty hot!
I�ll bet that guy in the library you�ve been looking at would look back
if you had something like that on,� said Rei.
�Or almost on -- ,� said Minako.
Ami covered her face and giggled. �Oh girls, stop it!�
*
14. The Short Sentence:
�Hey!�
�What?�
�Fight!�
�Yeah?�
�Yup.�
�Where?�
�Park.�
�Who?�
�Moon.�
�And?�
�Kao.�
�Whoa!�
�Yeah��
�Why?�
�Har�.�
�Har�?�
�Caught.�
�In?�
�Trap.�
�Kao�s?�
�Yeah.�
�And?�
�Zap!�
�Ouch.�
�Mmm��
�Then?�
�Threats.�
�Like?�
� �Die!�.�
�Ah.�
�But!�
�Yes?�
�Then��
�Yes?�
�Moon!�
�Sure!�
�Ha!�
�And?�
�Wham!�
�Bam!�
�Pow!�
�Crunch!�
�Crash!�
�Bang!�
�Boom!�
�Splat!�
�Wow... �
�Phew!�
�Great.�
�Wild.�
�Babes!�
�*Sigh*...
Fin.
*
15. The Long Sentence:
As the beautiful Lady Robinstairs descended gracefully from her French
carriage that Autumn morning, aided by her mute Bessarabian manservant
Oleg, my Papa, the eminent medical phrenologist Sir Oscar Carbotham, late
of Her Majesty's Sixth Regiment of Lancers, was engaged in his habitual
turgid debate over the merits of the arguments of Mr Charles Darwin with
our Parson, the Right Reverend Peregrine Westerbent, a sleek Byronesque
Gladstonian of no small eloquence albeit bovine wit (the not wholly
uncommon fruit of his Welsh extraction), who unashamedly defended Mr.
Darwin in hopes of establishing an irrefutable simian pedigree for the
fallenness of man's corrupted nature, whereas Papa (though proudly
brimming with the skepticism proper to a man of science) nonetheless
heartily detested Mr Darwin for (he avered) diverting the gaze of Papa's
scientific contemporaries away from the cephalic cartography of the
bumps, dunes, and ridges of Papa's own cranial studies onto antedeluvian
theological quibbles of the most fruitless sort, and could not bear to
hear the name Darwin invoked without a jibe at the chinks in the great
naturalist's lugubrious ratiocinations; and, as Lady Robinstairs and her
manservant, as I say, approached this periodic contest of amiable if
otiose discourse, little did we know that accompanying her beneath the
alazarean velvet of her fashionable heliotropic Viennese waistcoat was a
sealed missive from the Royal Scandinavian Phrenological Society in
Upsala which my father had for twenty years dreaded would one day come,
ever since that extraordinary expedition in the mountains of the
Mahabharata which he had headed in the 1870's with the eminent
Egyptologist Lord Albert Edmund Whistler-Weaverwell, during the course of
which twenty native bearers had mysteriously vanished in the depths of
the Sacred Caves, never again to be seen, and Lord Whistler-Weaverwell
himself had returned a shattered raving maniac, placed in the care of the
most eminent diagnosticians of London, Dusseldorf, and Vienna, whose only
diagnosis of the pitiable gibbering Lord was, "Mad; quite mad..."; nor
did Papa and the Right Reverend, engrossed as they were in their habitual
colloquy, as was their wont, even begin to suspect the even more
extraordinary occurrence set to pounce upon them and enfold about them
that very moment � as, nay, what sane subject of Her Majesty might? � for
as Miss Robinstairs and the misshapen shuffling Oleg approached, passing
the magnificent new green-gabled gazebo which Papa had commissioned for
our country domicile from the eminent London building firm of Jubjub,
Frumious, & Bandersnatch, Ltd., and neared more closely to the
ever-and-anon bickering pair, there took place of a sudden the most
inordinate clamor and clattering issuing from overhead, a quite numbing
Wagnerian lied not entirely unreminiscent, Papa subsequently recalled, of
the enraged mating cry of the Sub-Saharan Boku-boku when restrained from
procreative consummation by the unsentimental thongs of native captors; I
might further venture to dare to add that this cacaphonous peroration,
moreover, was accompanied by a ray of lightning of bold fury and
iridescent occult splendor which dashed madly down the darkened midday
British sky like an Abyssinian leopard about to fall upon its meek
lamb-like prey, nor may I say this metaphor which spontaneously arose
within my ken was less than most apropos, for the bolt to which I refer
did roundly smote the aforesaid Miss Robinstairs� gentle breast, tossing
the maiden most discourteously to the waiting earth with the rough
disregard of the most common of ruffians, if I may venture to express
myself in so anthropomorphic a manner, whereon she lay prostrate upon the
green in so utter a state of sodden collapse that one could not but be
reminded of the wilting fall of Indian Thugee hordes in the face of
valiant British cavalry, nor indeed of the great climax of Mr Wagner�s
not inconsiderable recent foray into operatic creation, to wit, the
doughty and rumbunctious 'Gotterdammerung', reviewed rather gamely by Mr
Bernard Shaw (under the pseudonym of Corno di Bassetto) in the London
Star, whereupon Papa cried, �Egad!� (the Right Reverend being momentarily
too abashed to add further commentary of his own), and looking up with
astonishment at the presumable fons et origo of this exceptional
conclusion to a placid English afternoon tea, they beheld the exceptional
spectacle of a rather buxom wench with scarlet tresses (Irish in origin
perhaps) floating in midair like a veritable mayfly in one of Mr.
Barrie�s Peter Pan theatricals, and covered (if covered be the word) in
scanty vermillion silken undergarments bordering so close to the
unseemly, nay the Parisian, that it was only with the greatest restraint
that Papa managed to keep himself from removing his vest and draping it
over the downcast eyes of the blushing Right Reverend; though, had he in
fact conceived the intention to do so, it would have availed him but
little, for the crimson fairy gazing upon the mortals below at that
moment raised both arms, transparently with the intention of repeating
her earlier voltaic performance and dispatching Miss Robinstairs past
this vale of mortal suffering and to those angel realms beyond towards
which every hopeful soul must needs aspire -- when all at once the mad
charade took yet another incomprehensible twirl, as the not unhorizontal
Miss Robinstairs lifted herself up upon one frail arm, and with the other
pulled away a fleshy strip of mask from her handsome Continental profile
to reveal beneath instead the sandy-haired features of a dazzling
Oriental maiden with flashing eyes and a physiognomy of rather a
masculine, nay Sapphic, cast; at which astounding point, yet another
feminine outcry pierced the sky above, proclaiming, �I say, cease this
detestable display of heathenish barbarism at once!�, and as the earth
dwellers below gazed upward, astonied, upon the speaker of these, I dare
say, rather welcome sentiments, they observed that the sensible
injunctions therein gave every indication of having issued forth from the
roseate lips of a maiden of quite tender years, clad in what would seem
to the casual observer to be a disconcertingly truncated white sailor�s
tunic clearly fashioned upon that of the common English navvy, and who
had somehow taken it into her mind to mount up, peregrine-like, upon the
green gables of the family gazebo (to which I have alluded), proclaiming
to all and sundry but most particularly to the other, somewhat taken
aback, faery maid: �In the Name of the Moon, I�ll thrash you silly, you
sorry wog of a blighter!�
*
16. The Sentence Fragment:
Up there! In the sky! Kaolinite! Charging up! UH oh... BLAM!!! Over
there. Look. A body. Falling. There on the grass. Haruka! Yuck.
What a mess. Total wipe-out. Darn. Too bad. Happens. Right? What
now? Kaolinite again! Moving up. Closing in. For the kill! (Tsk tsk
tsk.) Wait! On the roof. Sailor Moon! "Stop!" Way to go, baby!
"Nameofthemoon." Damn right. Punish that scumbag! BLAAMMM!!! El
finito, maan...
*
17. Cross-Examination:
�Counsel may examine the witness.�
�Thank you, your honor. -- Please state your full name.�
�Tenno Haruka.�
�And what is your profession?�
�I�m a First Year Junior High School student in Tokyo.�
�Could you please tell the Court what you were doing the morning of May
22 of the year 1999?�
�I was taking a walk in the park.�
�Which park?�
�Ueno Park.�
�In Tokyo?�
�That�s right.�
�At what time?�
�Early.�
�Could you be more precise?�
�Nine AM. Nine fifteen. Thereabouts.�
�And what occurred as you were taking your walk. In your own words,
please.�
�That bitch over there tried to kill me!�
�Objection, your honor,� said the defense attorney. �The witness is
offering her own interpretation as to motives.�
�Sustained.�
�Miss Tenno � could you rephrase your answer, keeping to the actual
physical events.�
�Well, I was walking along the grass, minding my own business, when I
looked up in the air and saw her -- .�
�Let the Court record that the witness is pointing at the defendant. And
then, Miss Tenno?�
�She zapped me with a power bolt. She could have killed me!�
�Objection.�
�Sustained.�
�And then, Miss Tenno? Please continue.�
�Then Sailor Moon -- .�
�Could you indicate the person to whom you refer?�
Haruka pointed.
�Let the Court record that the witness is pointing to Miss Tsukino Usagi
of Juuban Junior High School in Tokyo. And what role did Miss Tsukino
play in these events, Miss Tenno?�
�She waved her wand and chased that red-haired bitch off before she could
fry me like a egg roll.�
�Objection.�
�Sustained.�
�Thank you, Miss Tenno. You may stand down. Unless the defending
attorney has any questions, that is.�
�I do, your honor.�
�Proceed.�
�Miss Tenno. You claim that my defendant, Miss Kaolinite, assaulted you
without provocation. Do you have any witnesses to that claim?�
�Well of course. Usagi was right there!�
�But according to earlier testimony from Miss Tsukino, she only arrived
on the spot after you claim this alleged assault occurred.�
�What, you think I zapped myself and threw myself on the grass?�
�There are no witnesses nor any physical evidence proving the contrary.�
�Why the hell would I want to throw a force bolt at myself?�
�Isn�t it true, Miss Haruka, that you like to dress in men�s clothing?�
�What�s that got to do with anything?�
�And isn�t it true that you�ve occasionally been seen with your arm
around Miss Tsukino?�
�What? � Well, maybe � but so what, we�re just friends, there�s nothing
going on between Usagi-chan and me.�
�Usagi-�chan�. Indeed. Oh I believe you, Miss Tenno. I believe that
you and Miss Tsukino are not romantically involved. But tell me � on
your oath before the Court � have you never given any thought to such a
possible involvement? Have you never toyed with the idea that � just
perhaps � you and she -- ?�
�Well, all sorts of things go through everybody�s heads. What does that
prove? What does this have to do with me getting attacked in the park?�
�Isn�t it true, Miss Tenno, that you attacked *yourself* in Ueno Park on
May 22nd? Isn�t it true that you *faked* being assaulted, so that Miss
Tsukino here would be deceived into coming to your aid? Isn�t it true
that you were hoping to get Miss Tsukino�s sympathies � perhaps to have
her nurse you back to health � perhaps in her home � perhaps in her very
bed! Giving you the opportunity to consummate all the twisted perverse
fantasies that have haunted your sick depraved imagination since the day
you met Miss Tsukino! Isn�t that true, Miss Tenno? Isn�t it? *Isn�t
it?*�
�Objection! Counsel is badgering the witness!�
�Sustained.�
�It�s a lie!� sobbed Haruka. �A lie! -- Usagi-chan -- !�
�The defense has no further questions, your honor.�
*
18. The Five Senses (Sight):
A blinding flash of glimmering iridescent light beamed through the clear
blue air and blazed into Haruka like a cinematic display of dazzling
fireworks.
�Short-sighted of you not to have looked up, Haruka,� said Kaolinite.
�Not very bright!�
Getting an eyeful of the flashy red-haired green-eyed pink-armed
glossy-lipped scarlet-heeled pink-mascara�d vision shimmering high in the
air above, Haruka (in light of being attacked) clearly lost focus on the
situation as her vision grew hazy and inky darkness clouded her
perspective. She fell, out of the picture completely.
Kaolinite glared down at the sandy-haired rosy-lipped buttermilk-thighed
white-frocked portrait of loveliness sprawled on the canvas of
emerald-green grass below.
�Now to punch your lights out permanently,� said Kaolinite.
�If you want two black eyes, just try it!�
Kaolinite glanced up over her shoulder, staring with bulging eyes at
Sailor Moon, who stood golden-haired and pink-limbed on a bright sunlit
rooftop overlooking the dark scene from a bird�s-eye-view, ready to see
to it beyond the shadow of a doubt that Kaolinite�s black deeds would
never see the light of day again!
Brightening up at once, a radiant Haruka beamed and said sunnily, �You�re
a sight for sore eyes!�
Kaolinite, reflecting on the new situation, took a somewhat dimmer view.
Things were now a horse of a different color! Should she fade from the
scene? Sailor Moon illuminated her quandry: �Disappear! Or in the name
of the bright blue glittering gleaming glistening glowing crystal-clear
moon, I�ll scratch your eyes out. Get the picture?�
*
19. Freudian:
"I -- I don't know what it means, Doctor."
"Vot do you think it means, Fraulein Haruka?"
"I don't know. But it's always the same. Always the same dream. I'm --
I'm in a park. The moon is out. And there's a woman in a tight red
dress -- ."
"Ah. Und vot sort of voman wears a 'tight red dress', vould you zay,
Fraulein?"
"What sort? Well -- all sorts -- don't they?"
"Is not a red dress azzzociated mit a particular kindt uff voman,
Fraulein? A particular kindt of -- vemale profffession? Undt how oldt
is this voman, Fraulein Haruka?"
"She seems older than I am. An adult."
"As oldt as -- your mutter, perhaps?"
"Are you suggesting the woman symbolizes my mother?"
"I'm not zuggesting anythingk, Fraulein Haruka. Although I findt it �
interesting � that your zubconscious vould allow you to characterize your
mutter to me in zuch -- blatantly zexual terms -- that zuch an
interrpretation would zpontaneoulsy zuggest itself to you... Undt what
happens next, in zis dream?"
"Well, Doctor Himmelschnuffer -- the woman knocks me down."
"De zexual mutter-figure forces herself upon you violently. Ah ha!"
"And -- and then there's this little girl in a sailor suit."
"A zailor zuit? Undt what does the term 'zailor' zuggest to you,
Fraulein?"
"Sailor? The sea, I suppose. Sailing. Ships."
"Ah. The sea. Deep. Vet. Unnnndulating. And movingk across it --
schtrokingk it -- plungingk deep, deep, into der varm undulating
moistness -- a ship. How vould you describe a ship, Fraulein? Could you
not describe a ship as -- long? Almost -- tubular? Indeedt --
zigar-shaped?"
"I guess you could."
"Is not a zailor usually -- a man?"
"Yes, I suppose."
�And is a zailor not a government functionary? A zymbol of --
authority?�
�I guess.�
�And is not the psychic zymbol of all authority -- the Father?�
�Are you suggesting that the girl is really my father?�
�I'm not zuggesting anythingk, Fraulein Haruka. Although I findt it �
interesting � that your zubconscious vould allow you to characterize your
father to me in zuch -- blatantly zexual terms. Nein, nein, I merely
findt it -- curious -- that you would zpontaneously zuggest zuch an
interrpretation yourself... But tell me, Fraulein� is this 'young girl'
who is perhaps a man, perhaps a Father-figure, holding or touching
anything, Fraulein?"
"Why, yes, Doctor. How did you know? She's holding a wand."
"A wandt? A wandt, did you zay? Proceed, Fraulein. Ve are approaching
ze core uff der neurozis! Ze unconscious material is rising into the
light uff consciousness -- !�
�It is?�
�What next? What comes next in zis traume � zis dream?�
�Well, a powerful force spurts out of the wand -- .�
�Ha!�
�And the woman in the red dress is defeated and goes away!�
�Zo! Ze youngk fraulein strokes the wandt, zere is powerful schpurtingk,
undt zen the protecting zexual Father figure banishes the threatenting
zexual Mutter figure!�
"Doctor Himmelschnuffer -- you don't mean -- you can�t be suggesting that
-- that the reason I like young girls is because I really want to sleep
with my father? And that -- I want him because my mother molested me
sexually when I was an infant?"
" I'm not zuggesting anythingk, Fraulein Haruka. Although I findt it �
interesting � that your zubconscious vould allow you to characterize your
parents to me in zuch -- blatantly zexual terms. Nein, nein, nein, I
zuggest nothingk...nothingk!...�
*
20. Late Beckett:
(The stage is deserted except for a large garbage can at stage center.
Three heads can be seen looking at the audience over the rim. Their
facial expressions and vocal intonations should be as flat as possible.)
Har: �Why am I?�
Cow: �Why?�
Har: �Am I?�
Moon: �Who?�
Cow: �Who now?�
Har: �Where now?�
Moon: �When now?�
Cow: �No.�
Moon: �Aye.�
Har: �I?�
Moon: �Aye?�
Har: �Moon?�
Moon: �Aye.�
Har: �Mu.�
Moon: �Har.�
Cow: �Mu.�
*
21. First Person:
I'm walking along, minding my own business, just walking, figured maybe
I'd get lucky and hit on a babe or something, right? When all of a
sudden I hear this sound. BOOM. I had to cover my ears and shut my
eyes! Loud? I thought my head would split. I could feel it in my
belly. I thought a lightning bolt had hit me or something. I look up,
and what do I see? I see this babe in a red dress hanging there in mid
air! Unbelievable! I move over a couple of feet so maybe I can look up
her skirt, right? And I notice she's looking down at something, and so I
look down in that direction too, and what do I see? I see another babe,
lying prone all over this burnt-up looking stretch of grass. Is it my
lucky day, or what? This new babe is not bad either, let me tell you. I
notice that she's wearing some dinky kind of sailor suit and I figure
that she probably could use some mouth-to-mouth really really bad, so I'm
about to trot my Reeboks over, when I hear yet another babe hollering
"Stop!" Stop? I look up again and this time I spot a skinny
fourteen-year-old blond chick in the same kind of dinky sailor suit.
And, I swear, she's hanging there in mid-air too! So I'm looking up, and
I take a couple of running steps to find just the right angle to look up
both their skirts at the same time, and -- bam -- I smack my face into
this tree. I go sprawling. I'm lying on my back. I'm seeing stars. I
hear this voice. "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you." Punish me?
What did I do?
*
22. Second Person:
You�re walking through the park. You can smell the cool clean raindrops
still on the grass after the morning rainfall and you hear the leaves on
the trees rustling quietly in the soft wind. You�re relaxed and calm,
strolling along, thinking about things, daydreaming, reminiscing. And
then suddenly you hear this loud crackling noise overhead. You�re
puzzled. You think � was that thunder? But you notice the sunlight all
around you. And then you feel a wave of heat pour over your skin, like
you�re in front of an oven door opening. You look up. And you see a
woman in a short tight red dress floating in mid-air. Your jaw drops.
You stare at her. And you notice that both her arms are pointing down at
an angle toward something in the park. You follow the line of her hands
and at the end of the line, on the ground, you see a tall hard-looking
young woman in a mini-skirted sailor suit lying dazed on a patch of
fuming grass. You want to go to her, to help her, but out of nowhere you
hear a voice. A voice that you realize came from elsewhere high in the
air. A voice shouting something in what you think is Japanese. You look
up again, and this time you see another woman, even younger, floating in
the middle of the air. You stare at her and you realize that she�s
wearing a mini-skirted sailor suit too, and that she�s holding a silver
wand, and that she�s barely fourteen. And then you hear her shouting
something else in Japanese at the other woman hanging in the air, the
woman in the tight red dress. But you can�t figure out what, because
this is real life and in real life there are no English subtitles. So
you just stand there and blink, watching them fly around like robins and
shoot rays of force at each other. And after a while you walk away. And
as you walk away, listening to the explosions in the air above you, you
promise yourself that at the next Rave you go to you�re not going to take
any pills you get from a stranger ever again, no matter how smashed you
are.
*
23. Third Person:
The red-haired woman floating in mid-air released a bolt of force. It
struck Haruka and threw her to the ground.
"Prepare to die," said Kaolinite.
"Stop!"
A young blond girl in a sailor suit holding a wand hung in the air across
from Kaolinite.
"In the name of the moon, I'll -- I'll -- Kaolinite? Hey, are you paying
attention?"
Kaolinite was twisting in mid-air, pulling her red dress down lower with
both her hands.
"Those two creeps down there are looking up our skirts!!" said Kaolinite.
Sailor Moon shrieked and crossed her legs. "Where?"
"There. See the first person, lying there on his back by that tree? And
the second person, shaking their head and trying to walk away?
Perverts!"
"Hentai!"
"Ecchi!"
"Sukube!"
"Let's fry 'em like shrimps!"
The red-haired woman and the blond-haired girl floating in mid-air
released a bolt of force...
*
24. King James Version:
1. Now Haruka was an unwed maiden that did justly in the eyes of The
Lord.
2. And it came to pass in those days that unto Haruka came a gentile
priestess of great whoredoms and abominations.
3. And this priestess was fair to behold.
4. And the name of this priestess was called Kaolinite.
5. And Kaolinite spake unto Haruka, saying, �Verily hast thou raised thy
hands against my servants and heated my heart to great anger.�
6. And Kaolinite smote Haruka upon the breast. And Haruka did fall.
7. And Kaolinite spake unto Haruka again, saying, �Verily, dust thou art,
and unto the dust shall I return thee.�
8. But in the Kingdom of Judea at that time there lived a maiden whose
ways were pleasing and righteous before The Lord.
9. And the name of the righteous maiden was Seylah.
10. And the maiden Seylah beheld the hand of the priestess Kaolinite
smite Haruka.
11. And the heart of Seylah burned with anger.
12. And Seylah spake unto Kaolinite, saying, �In the name of the Most
High, the Lord of Hosts, He Who hath no Name, yea, I shall bring
punishment upon thee; thy paps shall wither and thy comeliness fade;
thine oxen shall know leanness and thy seed flourish not; thy tongue
shall eat of the wormwood and thy lips shall drink bitter waters; thy
ear shall hear the thunder of righteousness and thy eye shall see the
blood of judgement. Yea, I shall bring the anger of Heaven upon thy
brow, that ye may know Who is The Lord.�
*
25. Dialect:
An so dis red-hair cracka she go to Haruka she go, �Bitch? I moan kick
yo fat fanny �round so hard, fm�now on you gon hafta poop up!� an den she
go an slap d�sistuh inna mouf, man, you catch what I�m sayin�? and den
you know whut? you know whut? Sistuh Souljah Sailah, you know, dat
skinny-ass yella-ass sistuh, you know d�chick, she get ex-pell�d fm�duh
Navy? Well she dere on d�roof robbin� dis liquor sto� and she an Haruka
dey tight you know what I�m sayin� dey tight an she like scope dis out
and she go, �White bitch, I gon whup you honky butt so baaad even yo
momma wont recknize yo ugly ass!� an the cracka she go, �Don chew talk
bout mah mutha!� and Sailah she go, �I say whut I want, big butt!� and
the cracka she go, �You a mutha!� and Sailah she go, �You anuthuh!� an
d�white bitch she make lak t�go for her piece you know what I�m sayin� an
Sailah she pull out dis stick and she whup the bitch upside her haid so
bad she look lak her ass be six rounds with Tyson man you know what I�m
sayin�? Sheeeeeeeeeeeee-it!
*
26. Western:
"Dance, tenderfoot!" said the Kaolinite Kid
She blew several holes next to Miss Haruka's feet into the floor of the
Crystal Tokyo saloon. Miss Haruka's toes leapt up in the air. "EEK!"
she cried. She had walked head high into the Crystal Tokyo straight from
Church with her collection plate to raise money for the town orphanage,
trusting that even the lowest of the no-account would open their pockets
for such a good cause. Little did she know that the Kaolonite Kid, the
most wanted desperado in all the West, would be there.
"Dance!" hollered the Kid, taking two more loud shots.
Miss Haruka stepped backwards and tripped over a spitoon put there by the
Kid's toothless sidewick 'Chibi', and fell across the floor. Her bare
anklet was visible for all too see. A gentleman would have immediately
looked away, but the Kaolonite Kid moseyed over with nary a
how-do-you-do, sassy as you please.
"Y'know," said the Kid. "All you Bible-thumpin' nose-in-the-air
hoity-toity schoolmarm-types irritate me somethin' fierce.
'Collections', huh? I got somethin' you can collect. Made of lead."
Miss Haruka put the back of her hand to her head and began to faint.
The Kid chuckled and clicked back the hammer on her Colt .45.
"Hold it right thar, Kao-girl," said a deep and dusky voice.
The Kid swivelled.
"Dang!" went the no-accounts in the Tokyo. "It's the Sheriff!"
Strolling in through the swinging doors, fingers wrapped around the
triggers of two long-barrel Colts that had already killed 37 men, Sheriff
U. (for 'Ulysses') S. 'Shaggy' Chan moseyed on over in her buckskin
vest and white sherrif's hat up to the Kaolonite Kid, slicker'n hog
grease on a mackerel's behind. Shaggy was shorter'n Audie Murphy, but
twice as feisty. Her guns were pointed smack at the Kid's dirty nose,
and when she got close enough she spit her chewin' terbacky on the Kid's
filthy boots, and stuck both Colts upside the Kid's greasy neck.
"You're comin' to the Jailhouse with me, Kao-girl," said Shaggy. "Or in
the name of Moon City, I'll blow yore ornery stinkin' back-stabbin'
bushwhackin' horse-stealin' sheep-thievin' guts so far over the Pecos
even the coyotes 'll have to ride Pony Express six nights to pick 'em
up."
*
27. Sailorwocky:
'Twas matsuri and the senshi five
Did pyre and henshin on the screen.
All flimsy was the narrative
And the fansubbing keen.
"Beware that Kaolinite, my girl,
The rasts that slish, the tangs that ratch,
Beware her buminous beams that qwirl
And did Haruka catch!"
Brave U-chan took her wand in fee.
Airborne the buxom sow she sought,
Till rested she on a rooftop's lee
By Ueno Park, and thought.
And as in Jappish thought she stood,
This Kaolinite, with wolts of flame,
Came trackling through the Zenzen wood,
All scortchful as she came!
Ich ni! Ich ni! And as you see,
Her lunic wand went slish and prack!
She left K. prone on her head-bone,
And strook Haruka back.
"And hast thou plashed that Kaolinite?
Oh, to my arms, brave Usagi,
Oh sugoi day! Hai-ee! Hai-yay!"
They chortled. "Dai suki!"
'Twas matsuri and the senshi five
Did pyre and henshin on the screen.
All flimsy was the narrative
And the fansubbing keen.
*
28. The Five Senses (Hearing):
�AIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!� screamed Haruka.
The ringing bolt of force had sung through the air like a symphony of
destruction the moment Kaolinite had gotten within ear shot of Haruka,
and struck Haruka like a gong soundly with a deafening ear-splitting
thundrous crash like a thousand cymbals. Tongue-tied with pain, the
vibrant Haruka slid like the arm of a trombone to the muted green grass,
sinking into silence and tuning out completely.
Kaolinite, in her loud brassy dress, cackled resonantly. �Time to face
the music and pay the piper, Haruka,� she said, ready to lower the boom.
�Hold your tongue!� chirped a lyrical dulcet-toned voice.
On call 24 hours a day, it was the melodious clarion cry of Sailor Moon!
�Would you care to amplify those remarks?� growled Kaolinite.
�Why, I�d be happy to turn up the volume loud and clear and give you an
earful, in a manner of speaking,� she said, purring like a kitten. She
cleared her outspoken throat and bellowed clear as a tuba: �Now hear
this: pick up your violin and bow out, or in the name of the moon, I�ll
wring your neck, bang your head, drum on your ears, and knock your big
mouth down your throat!�
*
29. Email:
From: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
To: Mizuno Ami <ami@ibm.net.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:00:09 -0000
Subject: Ha Ha I Win Again!
Hi Ami-chan : )
Guess what youll nevr gues that big bimbo Kowlinight was giving Haruka a
hard time other day I showed her good haha! Hey the new SMAP album up on
MP3 yet?
Usagi
From: Mizuno Ami <ami@ibm.net.jp>
To: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:05:09 -0000
Subject: Re: Ha Ha I Win Again!
Dearest Usagi-san:
No, I haven�t heard anything about the SMAP album to which you refer, but
there is a wonderful new site for Soviet Classical music at
http://www.siue.edu/~aho/musov/musov.html. Ustvolskaya�s discography is
quite thorough. What happened between you and Kaolinite? Is everything
all right? I do hope you and Haruka are both well.
Sincerely,
Ami
From: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
To: Mizuno Ami <ami@ibm.net.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:10:09 -0000
Subject: Re: Re: Ha Ha I Win Again!
Hi Ami-chan: : )
Ha I�m OK Kawlonit zapped Harukko-san but I got the drop on HER she stinx
hey Ami -- Mamo-chan�s bringin a kute gaijin friend to dinner & he needs
math help� ; )
Usagi
From: Mizuno Ami <ami@ibm.net.jp>
To: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:15:09 -0000
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Ha Ha I Win Again!
Dearest Usagi-san:
I�m sure he�s very cute but I�m terribly busy this weekend. I have so
much studying to do! Perhaps Minako-san would like to help him. Have
you talked to her?
Ami
From: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
To: Mizuno Ami <ami@ibm.net.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:19:09 -0000
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Ha Ha I Win Again!
Hi Ami-chan: : )
Ow com on, Ami your alwayc studying. study study study!! Kom on Ami
this guy is HOT. Pleez? Pleeeez? PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ?
Usagi
From: Hino Rei <iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp>
To: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp,
ami@ibm.net.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:20:09 -0000
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Ha Ha I Win Again!
USAGI! STOP BUGGING US ALL DAY W/ YOUR STUPID **!@#!!%&!!#!** FWDS
ASAP!!!
Rei
From: Kino Makoto <sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp>
To: Mizuno Ami <ami@ibm.net.jp>
Cc: lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:22:09 -0000
Subject: Sushi
Dear Ami-san:
The ingredients for good daishi are:
1 cup flaked katsuobushi
1 square inch konbu
5 cups water
1 teaspoon shoyu
� teaspoon aji-no-moto
1 teaspoon salt
Ja matta ne!
Makoto
From: Aino Minako <lovemechain@hotlinx.com.jp>
To: Tsukino Usagi <playboybunny@aol.com.jp>
Cc: ami@ibm.net.jp, iamwoman_hearmeroar@wrathofgod.org.jp,
sushisensei@biggerisbetter.com.jp
Date: Mon 29 May 2000 09:15:09 -0000
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Ha Ha I Win Again!
USAGI! STOP BUGGING US ALL DAY W/ YOUR STUPID **!@#!!%&!!#!** FWDS
ASAP!!! <<
She told you! ROFL
V.
***************Visit the Saber Marionett J Fanfiction Page at
www.smjfanfics.com **********************
�Nani?�Nani? Nani? Nani? Nani? Nani? Nani?
Nani?� � Lime-u
*
30. In Retrospect:
Haruka knelt down with difficulty amid the tiny bonsai trees in the
outdoor garden of the Crystal Tokyo Home for The Aged. Her support hose
pinched. Well, old girl, she thought, once you�re over two hundred
pounds, the old stockings just don�t fit like they used to. She sighed.
But then she shook the moodiness off, as her wrinkled ashen hand reached
out and took up the pruning scissors. Her hand trembled a bit, but less
so than yesterday. She snipped away a small overly symmetrical branch,
and thought she heard the sound of a cane tapping along on the stone path
to the garden. She turned up her hearing aid and turned around.
�Why, Kaolinite, dear! How nice of you to come join me.�
Kaolinite�s white old head extended forward, bird-like. She stared left
and right, through eyeglass lenses thick as the bottoms of Coke bottles.
�Haruka? Haruka-san? Is that you there?�
�It�s me, it�s me. Here I am. No, over here. That�s right.�
The elderly creature in the long reddish smock hobbled over, tapping.
She peered, squinting and nodding, at Haruka�s various bonsai.
�And what have you been doing?� said Haruka.
�Oh, sitting, reading. Reminiscing. Looking at photographs. The old
days.� She cackled. �You and I were certainly a feisty pair back then,
weren�t we?�
�We had our moments.�
�You know, Haruka � I really do feel sorry about that one incident.�
�What? Speak up.�
�THAT INCIDENT!�
�What incident?�
�You know.�
�Oh that. Don�t be silly. That was ages ago.�
�Yes, but knocking you down like that. If Usagi-chan hadn�t come along
and stopped it -- .�
�Well, she did, didn�t she?�
�Yes, but -- you could have been seriously hurt.� Kaolinite frowned.
�Once you�re old, you really begin to appreciate what physical injury
means. Decay. Look at poor Usagi-chan.�
�Yes � Altzheimer�s. What a shame. She�ll never get those Kanji
straight now! All she does is eat eat eat. She doesn�t even know where
she is.�
�Did she ever?�
�Well, you know the Altzheimer�s began when she was six.�
�Really? Well that explains a lot.�
�Come on, Kaolonite, dear -- let�s go tickle Usagi! She can still laugh,
anyway!�
�May I help you up, Haruka, dear?�
�Why thank you, Kao-chan. You�re sweet.�
Haruka rose to her feet with difficulty. She placed a hand over her
sagging chest. �Oh dear I really must take my heart medication.�
The bent old creatures hobbled arm-in-arm toward the Home. A few cherry
blossoms broke from a branch behind them and slanted down along the air.
*
31. Celine:
�this red-haired broad�what a body� hot stuff�you could burn your
fingers�you know?�red dress�tight skirt over her ass�she knew it too�she
knocks down this other broad�blond�short-haired�tough face�a dyke�sure
what else�they�re all dykes these days�but this one�s hot��I�ve had it,�
she says�the redhead��It�s over���You�re finished��the dyke takes
it�doesn�t say a word�then a voice out of nowhere��Stop��from the
roof�another broad�a kid�blond�no tits�skinny ass�skirt pulled up to her
nose� looking down from the roof�moonlight�bright�you can see into her
crack�it�s hairy��I�ll punish you��what the hell?�something weird going
on�who�s behind it�communists�big shots�the jews�everything�s going to
hell�it�s a toilet�France is finished�
*
32. Kafkaesque:
Moon, or M. as she had grown more and more in the habit of referring to
herself, was a sailor, or perhaps it would be more precise to say a
ship�s clerk, although lately she was less and less sure of whether she
actually was a clerk, or where, or in the service of whom, or whether she
had experienced what occurred to her that morning or merely dreamed it or
perhaps had been through it sometimes long before. She had sat in a
chair at the office of the Park Commission, enclosed somewhat nervously
between its close clammy walls. She had been walking in the dim thick
fog and then she had heard a sound, a loud sound, and then another sound
that was perhaps a scream and perhaps not a scream and she debated
whether to investigate or perhaps not to investigate and as she stood
there paralyzed and anxious a large heavy hand sank down on her shoulder
and the park guard attached to it led her without protest to the Park
Commission office. The guard wrote some words on an official slip and
gave it to S. to give it to the official whom he said would be arriving
momentarily. S. nodded meekly and sat down on a chair in front of an
huge desk, her head bowed, not daring to look up at the infinite rows of
locked official files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemed
to stretch back from the vast desk to infinity. The sight made S. dizzy
with an inexplicable vertigo that made her head ache. After what seemed
an eternity, two sleek self-possessed figures appeared and took their
places behind the desk and began writing rapidly on various sheets of
paper. S. approached the nearer of the two, who did not look up.
�Yes?� he said sharply, after what seemed like hours.
�Excuse me� I beg your pardon�I was in the park, and the park guard�he
said to give you this.�
�See the other gentleman.�
�Oh,� said S. �Thank you.�
She crept along the knife-like edge of the desk toward the other official
who immediately began scribbling in a ledger. S. stood there, her pale
hands sweating.
�Yes, what is it?� he said at last.
�The park guard said to give you this��
�See the other gentleman.�
�But he sent me to you.�
The man with the ledger looked over at the other official, who was
scrutinizing them both with the intensity of a vulture.
�Just a moment.�
He stood up and walked over to the other man. They spoke to each other
rapidly, in whispers, occasionally laughing coarsely, and occasionally
glancing coldly at S. Finally the first man came over and sat down in
the second man�s seat. He stared at S. Then he took the paper out of
her hand. S. saw that he noticed the sweat from her fingers had left
moist stains along the paper�s edge.
�You wanted to enter The Park.�
�Yes. You see, I heard something -- .�
�You need a ticket. You need a ticket to enter The Park. Not just
anyone can enter The Park. Not just anyone, whenever they please. You
need a ticket. You didn�t have a ticket.�
�May I,� said S. his tongue inexplicably dry, �may I get a ticket then?�
The official looked at her without expression for several minutes.
Finally he stood up and walked over to the other man. They spoke to each
other rapidly again, in whispers, occasionally laughing coarsely, and
occasionally glancing coldly at S. The seated man stood and the man who
had spoken to S. took his seat. The standing man walked over and sat
down in front of S. He began scribbling furiously in the ledger before
him. Several minutes passed.
�Sir?�
He stared up at S.
�May I get a ticket to enter The Park?�
�See the other gentleman.�
He resumed scribbling.
S. looked at him for a moment and then walked over to the other man, who
was stamping documents loudly. The echo of each hard thump reverberated
down the infinite files till fading into eternal silence.
�Sir?� said S.
�Just a moment!�
S. waited.
�Yes?� he said finally.
�I�d like a ticket to enter The Park.�
�See the other gentleman.�
He resumed scribbling.
�But the other gentlemen sent me here,� said S.
The official looked at her without expression for several minutes.
Finally he stood up and walked over to the other man. They spoke to each
other rapidly again, in whispers, occasionally laughing coarsely, and
occasionally glancing coldly at S. The seated man stood and the man who
had spoken to S. took his seat. The standing man walked over and sat
down in front of S. He began scribbling furiously in the ledger before
him. Several minutes passed.
�Sir? My ticket? My ticket to enter The Park?�
�I�m afraid only The Commissioner has the authority to issue tickets to
The Park?�
�I�d like to see The Commissioner then. If I may.�
The man at the desk stared at her. His eyes narrowed.
�One doesn�t �see� The Commissioner. The Commissioner is busy. Very
busy. The Commisioner isn�t �seen�. The Commissioner sees you. When he
wishes to. If he wishes to. There are rumors that occasionally The
Commissioner appears here at the office, or even in The Park. Though I
myself have never seen him personally. But The Commissioner does appear
here at the office, occasionally. Rarely. So they say. So I am told.�
�But when?�
�No way of telling. The Commissioner is busy. Very busy. Very busy.�
�But then�how can I get into The Park?�
�We have chairs available. You�re welcome to wait. If you wish. Or you
can leave.� The official smiled. �If you�re confident you can find the
way out��
*
33. The Five Senses (Taste):
Disgurgitating a vomitous blast of force which spewed all the bile and
bitterness at her command, Kaolinite�s assault closed over Haruka like a
fat man�s mouth over an ice cream cone. Caught in its bite, Haruka
swirled like vanilla tofu in a mixmaster, and fell to the palate of crisp
fresh grass like a honey crouton onto a vast bowl of Caesar salad.
�You saccharine tart! You can�t lick me. I�ve cooked your goose,� said
Kaolinite, �and now I�ll gobble you up.�
The cherry-red villainess licked her lips with anticipation
�Bite your tongue!� cried a sweet young mouth.
Kaolinite turned, knowing in the pit of her stomach that her victory was
souring. Yes: there upon the rooftop like a maraschino cherry atop a
triple-decker banana split with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and
pistachio nuts (and just a dash of Dutch cinnamon) stood Sailor Moon, our
luscious heroine!
�In the name of the moon, I�ll make you drink, chew, gobble, lick, gnaw,
gulp, gurgle, masticate, and quaff the bitter dregs of nauseating
defeat!� she spewed.
*
34. Off-Off Broadway:
"Eat The Cheeseburger Of Modernity"
A Tragicomedy In Five Acts
Cast:
Sailor Moon (Usagi)
Sailor Mars (Rei)
Sailor Mercury (Ami)
Sailor Jupiter (Makoto)
Sailor Venus (Minako)
Kaolinite
Haruka
Che Guevara
An Orthodox Rabbi
Santa Claus
2 Dwarf Elvis Impersonators
6 Black Male Homosexual Acrobats
Act One:
(The stage is completely dark. A blinding white spotlight casts a
brilliant circle on Kaolinite, Haruka, and Sailor Moon, all dressed as
shaven-headed concentration camp inmates.)
Kaolinite (crying out loudly): Wahrheit und Dichtung!
Haruka (just as loudly): Hypocrite lecteur! -- mon semblable � mon
frere!
Sailor Moon: (passionately): De profundis clamavi!
(Two dwarf Elvis impersonators run towards each other from opposite
directions off stage, crash in front of the three figures, go sprawling,
pick themselves up, and run off stage again in opposite directions.)
Kaolinite (crying out loudly): Wahrheit und Dichtung!
Haruka (just as loudly): Hypocrite lecteur! -- mon semblable � mon
frere!
Sailor Moon: (even more passionately): De profundis clamavi!
(The spotlight goes out. The stage is black.)
Act Two:
(Against a vast crystal clear photographic backdrop shot of a moonscape,
Kaolinite, dressed as Hitler, dances an elaborate Spanish fandango with
Haruka, dressed as the Pope, to the music of Beethoven's 'Grosse Fuge'.
The five soldier sailors, in their usual sailor uniforms, carry an open
wooden casket on their shoulders onto the otherwise bare stage. They set
it down, and fan themselves with elaborate oriental paper fans, wiping
the sweat from their brows. A cell phone inside the casket beeps. Its
occupant sits up: it's Che Guevara, in a white wedding dress. He
answers it.)
Che: Hello? Hello? Hello?
Sailor Moon: In the name of the moon. In the name of the moon. In the
name of the moon. In the name of the moon.
(She repeats the phrase over and over, softly and dreamily, through out
the rest of Act Two. Out of sync, the other Sailors begin repeating the
phrase as well, sinking to their knees, weaving and swaying hypnotically
to it).
Che: Hello? Hello?
(Santa Claus runs out into the middle of the stage and puts his hands on
his head.)
Santa: This is one small step for man -- one giant leap for mankind!
(Santa does a perfectly clean backflip, grabs Che's hat, and runs off in
the opposite direction. A black male acrobat in blindingly whote
leotards, like all the acrobatic troups, cartwheels onto the stage and
then off the stage in one smooth continuous motion.)
Che (not noticing the hat, but looking puzzled): Hello? Hello? Is
anybody there? Hello?
(The Sailors are by now lying on the floor, writhing sensually in front
of Che Guevara, who is completely oblivious to them. Che looks at the
phone and clicks it off.)
Che (looking directly into the audience): Man, I need a
*cheeeeeeeeeeeese*-burger!
Act Three:
(The white-clad black acrobats run out on stage with #2 pencils clamped
tightly between their teeth, and form a rickety human pyramid, which
collapses almost instantly. They lie there as if dead throughout the
rest of the Act. Sailor Moon, in skimpy pink brassiere and panties,
skips diagonally across the stage holding a Red Chinese flag, leaps
across them, and goes off stage again. Kaolinite and Haruka enter from
opposite sides, heads bowed, dressed as nuns, Haruka in black, Kaolinite
in white, and stand at center stage. In the middle of their
expressionless declamations which follow, Sailors Mars and Jupiter cross
the stage laughing and sword-fighting kendo style, while Sailor Venus
crosses the stage in the opposite direction dressed as Hamlet, crying
quietly and holding a human skull.)
Kaolinite: A is A.
Haruka: A is not not-A.
Kaolinite: If A is B and B is C then A is C and C is A.
Haruka: A minus A plus A equals A.
Kaolinite: Being is that which is.
Haruka: The Real is rational and the Rational is real.
Kaolinite: Cogito ergo sum.
Haruka: Workers of the world unite.
Kaolinite: E equals MC squared.
Haruka: Let a hundred flowers bloom.
Kaolinite: I do not want to be I, I want to be We.
Haruka: Are you better off now than you were four years ago?
Kaolinite: The world is all that is the case.
Haruka: Existentialism is a humanism.
Kaolinite: Ontogeny recapitualates phylogeny.
Haruka: To save the village we had to destroy it.
Kaolinite: Wouldn't you really rather have a Buick?
Haruka: Ask not what your country can do for you.
Kaolinite: One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Haruka: The silence of these infinite spheres terrifies me.
(Haruka, for the first time visibly moved by her words, says '...the
silence...' again, and turns towards the audience as though becoming
aware of them, also for the first time. She steps forward and reaches
out her hand to them. Kaolinite, seeing her gesture, shudders with fury,
pulls out an Uzi submachine gun from beneath her habit and pulls the bolt
back loudly. Haruka hears it, turns, sees the pointed weapon, and turns
again and tries to run away.)
Kaolinite: Run Toto Run!
(She shoots Haruka in the back with a brief machine gun burst. Haruka
falls to her knees, dripping incredibly bright yellow blood, and
collapses.)
Kaolinite: Use The Force, Luke!
(Kaolinite stands over Haruka and gives her another few bursts, then,
blinking and beginning to weep, puts the barrel into her own mouth and
pulls the trigger. She goes sprawling backwards and lies on the stage
beside Haruka. The two dwarf Elvis impersonators run out to strip both
of their rings and shoes and false teeth and crosses. The six black
acrobats cartwheel slowly across the stage one by one, from left to
right, then right to left.)
Act Four:
(An Orthodox Rabbi in Ray-Ban sunglasses and full beard chants the 'Caw
Caw the Lord the Lord' sequence from Allen Ginsberg's 'Kaddish' in front
of five empty chairs in center stage. Walking around and doing a slight
boogie as he declaims, he eventually circles around behind them, and as
he does so, the five Sailor Scouts walk out, four of them dressed in
Pulcinello clown outfits with white pancake make-up and bright round
rubber noses of various colors. The fifth, Ami, who is seated second
from the right, is dressed in conservative black Western mourning attire,
smiling shyly and holding a dozen red roses. All five sit looking out at
the audience silently for several minutes as the Rabbi chants on
monotonously. Then all four clown Sailors simultaneously jump on Ami and
tear all her clothes off as she screams at the top of her lungs,
horrified and revolted. They drag her roughly to the front of the stage,
stark naked, and Sailors Moon and Venus push her to her knees and hold
her shoulders while Sailors Mars and Jupiter tie her hands behind her
back with shiny barbed wire. All four Sailors begin spitting on her
repeatedly as the Rabbi rushes off stage and returns, panting, with
several bags of Big Macs. The Soldier Sailors each take a bag and pull a
Big Mac out and push it towards Ami's face without ever quite touching
her face or getting it dirty, each of them saying repeatedly:)
Sailors Moon, Venus, Jupiter, & Mars: Eat the cheeseburger of modernity!
Eat the cheeseburger of modernity!
(Finally Ami opens her mouth and, coughing, swallows down an entire Big
Mac. She weeps, wretchedly. The light fades to red and then to black.)
Act Five:
(The stage is completely dark. The same blinding white spotlight of Act
One suddenly casts a brilliant circle over Ami, who is kneeling at front
stage still completely naked, head bowed, her wrists bound behind her
back with barbed wire. The stage is absolutely silent. Suddenly there is
the sound of a pair of boot steps. Into the spotlight circle walks
Sailor Moon. She is wearing US Army pants and jackboots. She is nude
from the waist up and carries a brown leather riding crop. She
approaches Ami and stares down at her for exactly 120 seconds. Then she
lifts Ami's chin up with the riding crop and bends over and kisses her on
the mouth for exactly 120 seconds. Then she stands up straight again.)
Sailor Moon (quietly): Wahrheit und Dichtung.
Ami (screams): De profundis clamavi!
(The stage is plunged into total blackness and silence for 120 seconds.)
Sailor Moon: Baka.
The End
*
35. Socialist Realism:
Masquerading her syphilitic sores beneath a gown the color of the beloved
Red Flag of the Soviet Motherland, homeland of all progressive
freedom-loving peoples, the Trotskyite renegade and social-ideological
prostitute Kaolinite fingered the money extorted from the toiling
oppressed masses of the Capitalist Bloc by her Zionist masters on Wall
Street and chuckled. Soon the magnificent Soviet train would arrive
exactly on time to its destination, and she would conveniently forget the
trunk she had brought on board and placed above her head. Then, moments
after she stepped away from the railcar, it would explode into flame,
slaughtering hundreds and ruining the Soviet train system�s hitherto
perfect record Kaolinite would walk away smirking, to secretly pass her
thirty pieces of Capitalist silver to the Trotskyite wrecker network in
the Moscow Iron Foundries. Stalin�s Five Year Plan would be in ruins!
Comrade Captain S.U. Harukieva, the simple clear-cheeked peasant girl
whose innocent denunciation of her tyrannous counterrevolutionary
social-fascist terrorist White Guard parents had saved the lives of
untold innocent thousands and set her to join the Red Army with a
cleansed and joyous heart, sat amid her admiring comrades forward in the
train, playing her accordion and singing �Dance of the Laughing Red
Guards�, her gold tooth shining as brightly as her sunny heart. But
then, noticing the obvious social degeneracy on the smirking face of
Kaolinite, she halted her merry music-making. How could one conceivably
be a member of the Worker�s Paradise and be unhappy? The twisted grimace
of the woman�s face could only mean one thing� Placing her hand on her
revolver, Comrade Captain Harukieva approached the foul obviously
foreign-born woman.
�Comrade Citizen,� she asked politely. �May I see your papers?�
�Of course, Comrade,� said Kaolinite, sliding her hand snake-like into
the maw of her expensive decadent purse.
Bang!
Comrade Captain Harukieva clutched her arm where the counterrevolutionary
bullet had taken its deviant path. Staggering backward, she halted and
fell to one knee. �Comrades!� she cried. �The Fascist snake has come
out of its viper�s nest to slither upon our sacred Russian soil!�
They rose as one in just outrage. But Kaolinite�s cheaply-manufactured
bourgeois American revolver covered them all.
�Snakes are happy to slither over Russian soil -- so long as the working
classes lie under it!� She grinned. �And now � die like dogs.� Her
finger closed sensually over the trigger.
�Nyet,� cried NKVD trainee Soviet Soldier Sailor S.M.Ugasova, youthful
virgin leader of the Kyoto Komsomol and twice recipient of the Sword of
the Revolution medal from Comrade Stalin. Leaping from Kaolinite�s
already-discovered trunk and placing the butt of her Kalishnikov AK-47
squarely against her strong iron-worker�s shoulder, she shot six
steel-jacketed 9mm bullets through the cowardly social degenerate�s cheap
American revolver which burst into laughable scrap instantly. �In the
name of the Supreme Soviet and the proletarian masses of the Workers
State, I condemn you to forty years corrective labor in the far Taiga,
Trotskyite-Zinovievist-Bukharinite stooge of the decadent Capitalist Axis
lackeys. -- Long Live The Soviet Motherland!�
*
36. The Restoration Poets:
Awake, numb Muse! And shun the Grecian vales,
That property of pedants, boors, and snails;
Turn rather to high drek of Nippon, pray,
And sing the deeds of maids of anime!
For what bland Muse so dull and quite untaught
Would such a scene dare leave to Rhyme unwrought
As stern and ruby-lacquered Kaolinite,
Tip-toe 'pon clouds in search of wights to blight?
See, swift she stoops -- a hawk in thirst of prey,
When oh! beneath, a gentle lamb does stray!
Such venison the cruel wench adores;
Thus from her palm a flaming liquor roars.
Its startled object turns and cries out, "Nay!"
Haruka 'tis, the soldier sailor gay!
In vain, Haruka, such assault wouldst' fly;
No heel so swift when Kaolinite draws nigh.
Haruka falls, her sailor skirt a-twirl,
To Morpheus' arms -- sleep, sleep, sad girl! --
For Kaolinite now stoops to end the jest.
Shall no one aid this gentle nymph oppress'd?
"Desist!" -- Whose clar'ion cry doth pierce the air? --
" 'Tis Sailor Moon!" -- How pert her derriere!
Her azure eye doth flash, her angel thigh;
Her biceps bold for Love and Justice sigh;
Upon the treetop stands she like a robin --
Full well rude Kaolinite shall soon be sobbin'!
The vermeil villainess does turn to flee --
Too late, thou knave! Resplendent Usagi,
Moon Prism Power soaring, her wand juts;
And Kaolinite's base flight quite undercuts.
Lo, from the nimbus Kaolinite does plummet,
And smites the Earth pock-marked, a blackened comet,
No more to chide the creatures of the day.
And birds sing a melodious rondelay,
As 'pon each other's arms the sailors lean
In soft embrace; with which we leave the scene.
Fare well, sweet nymphs, for whom otaku pine --
May wreaths of cherry blossoms thy brows twine!
*
37. Metafiction:
The red-haired woman released a bolt of force. It struck Haruka and
threw her to the ground.
"Prepare to die," said Kaolinite.
Haruka looked up. "Oy! Pascal!"
[I beg your pardon?]
"Pascal. You -- the gaijin with the pencil. Listen, I'm getting pretty
sick of this plot line."
[You're what?]
"You heard me." She rubbed her head and winced. "I've gotten bashed in
the head, what is it, thirty times now? Something like that? I'm sick
of it. I'll bet the readers are sick of it too. Can't you come up with
something a little more fresh?"
"You know, I have to agree," said Kaolinite, stretching. She yawned a
bit and cracked her knuckles. "I mean, really, if I have to toss another
power bolt, I may just ask for overtime."
[Overtime? Overtime? You can't ask for overtime. You can't ask for
anythingl The only time you can ask for something is when I personally
write down the words and put them into your mouth!]
Haruka sighed. "Pascal -- look," she began.
[That's 'Pascal-sensei' !]
Haruka rolled her eyes and shrugged. "OK, fine -- 'Pascal-sensei' --
look: we're all sophisticated adults here, aren't we? You, me, the
readers out there in cyberspace. We all know that a story's just a
story, and not actual reality. That Kaolinite and I are just words on
paper -- a conceptual collage momentarily glued together by authorial
whim. Robbe-Grillet, Barth, the nouveau roman, magic realism,
deconstructionism -- we've sat through Contemporary Lit 101, seen it all,
we're all post-modernists now. True? Am I right?"
[So what're you getting at?]
"Given the reader's consciously self-conscious -- nay, ironic --
perspective on contemporary post-Tolstoyan narrative, why are you
bothering to maintain this archaic plot rigidity? I mean, Kaolinite zaps
me, Sailor Moon zaps Kaolinite -- it's stale. You understand what I'm
saying? Come on. Loosen up. Vary the tale. Why not insert yourself in
the story personally and send us all to the Bahamas with a tray of Bloody
Marys and some Coppertone? Those pectorals of yours could do with a nice
oiling -- hmm?"
[Uhhh...(ahem)...now, Haruka, you're missing the point. The whole
purpose of '49 Appearances of Sailor Moon' is to demonstrate to aspiring
writers out there that there are a large variety of ways in which one
single piece of narrative information can be told or elaborated. The
point of the exercise is lost if you start changing that element at
random.]
"Well, yes," interjected Kaolinite, raising a finger, "but isn't the plot
event as such an intrinsic part of any narrative purporting to
'represent' it? Any fictional work is by definition an integrated whole.
To separate content from style in the manner you suggest is to posit a
sort of epistemological rift between the plot-event-in-itself and the
plot-event-as-represented that is problematic and indeed pre-Kantian."
"Yeah," said Haruka.
[Well, fine, that may be your opinion, and if you want to make it the
subject of your doctoral thesis in English Lit, good for you, but so
what? Here I'm the author and what I say goes. So c'mon, the pace is
lagging, let's get back to the story...]
"Pff," said Haruka, crossing her arms. "Ah, so that's what it's all
about. Patriarchal anxiety and aggression. Not having much success
lately manipulating real women, am I right, P-chan? So you're indulging
yourself by pushing fictional ones around instead. What did Freud call
it -- symbol formation, symptom substitution? Something neurotic like
that."
[I don't need fictional characters to give me free psychoanalysis. And
since when did you pick up a doctor's diploma anyway, Sigmund?]
"Ooo. Hit a nerve, did we, macho man? Fine. Be defensive."
Suddenly a young voice cried, "Stop!" The voice of Sailor Moon!
"Pascal-sensei is right!" said Sailor Moon. "It's -- um -- like those
old samurai movies on NHK. Like 'Yojimbo'. Or -- um -- like those old
yakuza films too. The true-blue loyal samurai's got to not be snooty and
do the bidding of his Noble Lord, like in 'Shogun'. And be loyal. And
stuff. And us too. 'Cause -- 'cause like he's the writer and he can
make our story whatever he wants! We�re in his hands, and he knows
what's best for all of us!'"
"Oh, get real," said Kaolinite.
"Writer? The man's a bum," said Haruka. " 'The pace is lagging' -- ha!
Look at Terrible Swift Sword. It's got the pace of a dead turtle. And
his typos! And the way he uses dashes and exclamation marks -- ukh."
Suddenly Haruka and Kaolinite were struck totally dumb. Sailor Moon, who
all at once seemed to grow fifty times more beautiful than ever before,
lifted her exquisite pretty soldier sailor arms in fury and cried, "In
the name of traditional Tolstoyan narrative realism, I'll punish you!"
and tossed the most powerful bolt of force ever thrown in the history of
anime at Haruka and Kaolinite, who both instantly vanished forever into
subatomic particles, screaming, "We're sorry...Pascal-senseiiii....."
Placing the back of her lovely hand against her ravishing forehead,
Sailor Moon, exhausted, fell back down to the earth, into her boyfriend
Mamo-chan's strong sexy tuxedo-clad arms, and, looking around, she saw
that she was completely surrounded by a seemingly endless expanse of ice
cream, cookies, sweets, chocolates, gold, diamonds, rubies, sapphires,
pearls, designer dresses, rings, bracelets, CD's, gift certificates,
winning Lotto tickets, and 60,000 male go-go dancers doing the Frug.
She looked up, tears shining in her beautiful eyes. "Arigato,
Pascal-sensei."
[Anytime, baby. ]
*
38. In the Wake of Joyce:
Hairborne abovine a readharried wombmoan whoreled a papalbullast ove
fillearias utter higheroocaca hoo flailed O! toothed gerund.
-- Pleaupair too daisooeykey! sheeshed.
-- Slitup!
Cowlunarnighate thorned.
Stillhouwetted agunsitting the loon, ah!, a Jung girowl, coolad ein a
soilher sooweetly.
--O, inn thee nomenepatterifeelyspurteesanktea ovum moocow, Aye!, shat
Slayerlearing Moan, Ill punning lasschew!�
*
39. Contemporary British Usage:
Kaolinite (hanging in mid-air): Oi! Fuckface!
Haruka: Oi! 'Oo the fuck said that?
Kaolinite: Up 'ere, you dumb fuck!
Haruka: Fuck me! 'Ow'd you fuckin' get up there?
Kaolinite: 'Oo gives a fuck? Cop a whack of this, you fat slag.
(Blasts Haruka.)
Haruka: I'm fucked! (Collapses.)
Kaolinite (powering up for the kill): Time for you to fuck off permanent
then, cow.
Sailor Moon (entering): O fuck! Oi! You up there! What fucking wanker
did this then?
Kaolinite: 'Oo fucking wants to know?
Sailor Moon: Give over. You fucking did it, dincha, you piece of fuck?
Kaolinite: Yer.
Sailor Moon: Let's fucking do it then, wanker!
Kaolinite: Too fucking right. (Sailor Moon and Kaolinite throw power
bolts at each another. Kaolinite is hit.)
Kaolinite: Fuck me! It's all fucking over! (Crashes to the ground.)
Sailor Moon: (Kicks her when she's down): Better'n you deserve, you
fucking git!
Haruka (reviving): What the fuck?
Sailor Moon (Rushes to Haruka.): Oi! Mate! You fucking square?
Haruka: I'm fucking faint, mush.
Sailor Moon: 'Ere, cop a fucking whack of this then. (Hands Haruka a
joint. Haruka takes a deep drag.)
Haruka: Oi! 'At's fucking lovely, mate!
Sailor Moon: Yer, ain' it?
Haruka: What happened to that other fucking wanker?
Sailor Moon: I fucked 'er good. She's fucking round the twist.
Haruka: Well I'll be fucked.
Sailor Moon: Yer. Oi -- fuck this then. Let's piss off. (Exit.)
*
40. Ernest (1):
It was evening and it had been evening for a long while and the moon was
out and the moon had been out for a long while and the girl sitting at
the bar drinking sake had been sitting at the bar drinking sake for a
long while. The girl at the bar had been called moon once too. It had
been long ago. She had been a sailor then too, long ago, when it had
been different. She had been young and hard and her small breasts had
been firm and her belly had been flat. She had been good. She had been
very good. They had written fanfiction about her. That had started it.
The fanfiction. She had read it too, the fanfiction. It was clever.
And it looked easy. It looked so easy. You read a little of it and you
thought that you could write it too. She had another warm slow sip of
sake and remembered. Yes, it looked so easy. But it was hard. It was
hard, the fanfiction. She didn't know how hard, not at first, not back
then, not at the start. The nouns. The verbs. The adverbs. The
gerunds -- yes, the gerunds. Sooner or later the gerunds would get you;
the gerunds, or the participles. She didn't know that then. She didn't
know that the when you held a word in your mind, a word that looked clean
and clear and bright, and you looked at it hard and straight that it
could spoil and become hollow. Words like 'love' and 'justice' and
'senshi'. What did they mean when you looked at them hard? She had
fought for the words and might have died for the words and yet when she
picked up her pencil and sat down and put them on the cold white rice
paper -- what did they really mean? She didn't know and she knew that
she didn't know. So she stopped being a soldier and a sailor. She
stopped, until she could make the words mean something again. She was
writing now so she could catch the words and look at them straight and
clean and wait for them to come alive again and speak to her again, the
way they had spoken to her before, long ago. She was writing late in the
evening now, writing fanfiction, in the streets and in the bars, because
that's where life was, in the streets and in the bars, and it was late,
and she thought that maybe the night's writing was over with, but it
wasn't over, no, it would never be over because the words kept coming and
kept coming, the big words and the little words and the clean words and
the dirty words, and there was nothing for it, there was nothing for it
but to write them down, the words, because they were the words and
writing down the words was what a writer did, writing them down clean and
straight was what made you a writer and an artist and not dull and hollow
like all the others.
"Vamos," said a voice. "Let's go."
The word came out of the mouth of one of the Spanish prostitutes. There
were two of them tonight, the whores, and they sat at the other end of
the bar on the bar stools, drinking the sake. The one that said the word
wore a tight red dress and had long warm hair the color of rust and was a
bitch.
"Vamos!"
The whore pushed herself away from the bar and walked over to the center
of the room beneath the single yellow bulb hanging from the cracked dark
ceiling and moved the tables so there could be room and she turned and
faced the other whore and her hands moved in that way that says 'come
on'.
"I obscenity in your vamos," said the other whore.
The other whore had sort sandy hair. She was a bitch too and a beautiful
bitch and she was drunk, very drunk, but though she was a bitch and a
beautiful bitch she moved like a man and her voice was deep like the
voice of a man is deep and she was drunk, very drunk, and her head hurt.
The other whore pulled up her red dress and took it off. She was no
longer young just as the sailor was no longer young but she was crazy and
to be crazy is almost like to be young and she stood in the center of
the bar in her long hair and her soiled underwear and waved her red dress
at the other whore like the cape of a toreador.
"Toro!" she said. "Toro!"
The whore with the sandy hair sipped sake and made as though she did not
hear the word, the taunt, and she belched and then she ran one long gold
hand through her short pale hair and she turned around. She looked at
the other whore and she put her fists up at the side of her head and
stuck her index fingers up, just the index fingers, straight up. Her
head came down slow and she crouched. She stroked the floor with her
left foot. She charged.
"Ole!" said the whore in the soiled underwear, loud, very loud. "Ole!"
The whore with the short sandy hair stood in the middle of the floor and
looked sick.
"Ho! Toro! Toro!"
The other whore stood blinking like a wounded bull. The sailor did not
like that. A wounded bull is dangerous. A wounded bull will not attack
unless you get close. And if you get too close then it will gore you and
kill you and you will be dead.
"Toro! Toro!"
"Stop it," said the sailor.
"Eh?"
"Stop it."
The whore looked over at the blond sitting at the bar with a pencil in
her hand and laughed.
"Esta bien," she said. "Why not? Toro! Ho!"
The other whore bowed her head again and charged again and the one with
the cape winked at the sailor and as the one with the sandy hair came in
close, she lifted her knee and dug it into the charging whore's belly,
hard and clean. The whore with the short hair stopped cold, pinned on
it, and stagggered back and held her stomach and vomited and fell down.
Then she slept.
The whore flipped her red dress up over her shoulder and walked over to
the sailor. She slid her arm into the sailor's arm and the sailor could
the whore's breast pressing against her arm and the whore's breast was
not firm, no, it was no longer firm, but it was soft and soft is not a
bad thing, no, soft can be a good thing. The sailor looked at her. The
whore had eyes that were the sort of eyes that crinkled when she looked
at the sun or at a marlin coming up out of the bright clear water or as
she cut the ear off of a john who tried to cheat her.
"What you say, blondie -- eh? Let us make the love in the vomit, si?
Ten pesos."
Sailor sipped her sake. She did not turn her head again and look at the
whore with the soiled underwear pressing her arm because she was a pig, a
pig with magnificent spirit, yes, that was so, a pig with spirit, yes,
but still a pig. And she did not want a pig tonight, no, not tonight,
tonight she wanted the words, tonight she wanted to empty her head of all
the words. The sailor waved over the bartender, Miguel. The bartender
was a friend. They had fought against the fascists together once, in the
hills of Andalusia, across the rivers, and into the trees, long ago. The
sailor asked Miguel for a bottle of Campari and two glasses. He brought
them over. The sailor poured the Campari into both glasses and then
broke the bottle over the whore's head. She lost control of her
sphincter muscles. Then it was quiet.
The bartender came around the bar and stood over the whore and sank his
fingers, stained from many Turkish cigarettes, into the whore's hair and
wrapped it around his fist and began to drag her away. The sailor was
glad. Now he could write about it. When you wrote about it, the pain
would subside. The wound would hurt less. She drank down her glass of
Campari and the whore's glass too and began to sharpen her pencil
"Senora?" said the bartender.
"Yes, Miguel?"
"Was it good for you too?"
"It was good. It was very good."
It was early morning now and it had been early morning now for a while
and the night was almost over and it had been almost over for a while but
the sailor sharpeed her pencil and did not believe that it was completely
over yet, no, not yet. There would still be time. Time for the reading
and the writing and the sake. Yes, the sake. Ah, the sake. Always, the
sake. Every night, the sake. And the fanfiction. Yes, the fanfiction.
Ah, the fanfiction. Always, the fanfiction. She sharpened her pencil.
The bartender grabbed the hair of the other whore and dragged them both
down the floor and into the alley. They would thank Our Lady of
Guadalupe for their full bellies tonight, the roaches. It was very good.
*
41. Earnest (2):
Lady Kaolinite: Higgenbotham, do be a good fellow and thrash that odious
frog.
Higgenbotham (her antedeluvian retainer): Begging your pardon, M�lady?
Lady Kaolinite: That French fellow there. Strike him forcibly about the
face and shoulders. He is quite obstructing my view of yonder gazebo.
Do be quick about it.
Higgenbotham: Very good, M�lady. (The manservant totters over to Tenno
Haruka, garbed in a fashionable French male evening attire and, huffing
gamely, tosses crepuscular apish swipes that never remotely approach the
aforesaid Tenno.)
Haruka: Alors! Are zese British all mad? (Tenno gives the ancient
manservant the mildest of taps on the nose. He collapses instantly to
the floor, prone, and at intervals snores loudly throughout the
subsequent scene.)
Lady Kaolinite: (shocked) Murder! Constable! A constable, someone!
Murder!
Sailor Moon: Lady Kaolinite! Cease this absurd caterwauling at once!
Lady Kaolinite: And who are you, boy, to dare address your betters in so
abrupt a manner?
Sailor Moon: I fear I am not a boy at all, Lady Kaolinite. Have you
forgotten me so quickly?
Lady Kaolinite: (Peering closely at the speaker through a pair of ornate
pice-nez mounted on a foot-long gold-encrusted pin holder): Merciful
Heavens. It�s Princess Bunny!
Sailor Moon (pluckily): The same!
Lady Kaolinite: My dear Princess, whatever in the world are you doing
robed in that absurd sailor suit?
Sailor Moon: Why, happily it is to you that I owe my new habiliment, my
Lady.
Lady Kaolinite: I beg your pardon?
Sailor Moon: As you know, Lady Kaolinite, though born to the purple, I
have always dreamt of a career upon the Stage. Yet the Queen Mother, in
a huffish snit, took umbrage at my thespian aspirations and quite forbade
me to ever appear upon any English-speaking stage, lest my association
with the artistic classes cast a stain upon the family escutcheon.
Lady Kaolinite: Quite right.
Sailor Moon: Yet, by a curious happenstance, a fortnight ago the new
Japanese ambassador, observing the races at Ascot, was so forcibly
pierced to the quick by the elegance there of your gem-like profile as
you observed the straining steeds chafe at their respective bits, that he
instantly discarded his sixteen mistresses to embrace a life of monastic
chastity, realizing of course that the gap between your respective race
and class was so gaping as to forestall any possible hope of gentler
entanglement.
Lady Kaolinite: Justly so.
Sailor Moon: Left stranded in a foreign land, however, and gamely
seeking a means by which to support themselves, the mistresses in
question elected to form a dramatic troupe and perform the complete works
of Gilbert & Sullivan in sundry Oriental taverns in what I believe is
termed �Ni-hon-go�. As such theatricals can hardly be described as
�English-speaking�, I saw my opportunity to perform made manifest at
last, discarded my royal waistcoat for the simple naval tunic you see,
and now assume the role of Captain of the Pinafore before hordes of
appreciative if mustard-colored groundlings nightly.
Lady Kaolinite: Indeed!
Sailor Moon: Quite so.
Lady Kaolinite: I grant that both you and they exhibit laudable pluck,
to be sure. Yet that hardly explains why you chose to come to the aid of
this foreign-born miscreant.
Sailor Moon: Mlle. Tenno is the troupe�s manager. Who better to manage
sixteen mistresses than a Frenchman?
Lady Kaolinite (gazing more closely at Haruka through the pice-nez): But
� but he�s a woman!
Sailor Moon: An additional bonus! Who better qualified to be agreeably
free of several notable defects of the masculine gender?
Lady Kaolinite: And foreign-born as well!
Sailor Moon: Alas, Lady Kaolinite, of that we may not be certain. One�s
origin is rather like the fidelity of one�s spouse: the affirmations one
receives of the phenomenon are regrettably second hand. Which is to say:
the star-crossed Mlle. Tenno is not so much foreign-born as proximately
uncovered.
Lady Kaolinite: I beg your pardon?
Sailor Moon: The unfortunate creature was found one moonlit evening in
an abandoned portmanteau beside a common French bakery in Piccadilly
Circus, under a discarded baguette.
Lady Kaolinite: My word!
Sailor Moon: And now the downcast foundling haunts the taverns and
bistros of all lower London searching for a childless wandering gourmet
sans bread or brief, hoping to find a notice saying �Found nameless
beneath the moon? I�ll garnish you!�
*
42. Classical:
Femina cum rubrum capillum ad Harukam fulminem conjicet. Haruka in
terram incidet. Modita mori, femina dixit. In navalem tunicam, parva
discipula cum flavum capillum obstat. Desiste, puella clamivit. In
nomine lunae, te punies, dixit Nauta Luna.
*
43. Zen Tale:
A wandering disciple of the great Rinzai master Hakuin, the Buddhist nun
Haruka once went on a pilgrimage to the zendo of the great roshi Kao Lin.
Haruka had walked the Eightfold Path for many years without once having
achieved the Great Enlightenment. Arriving at night, half-starved from
fasting and half-dead from her journey on foot from the distant
mountains, Haruka seated herself at once beneath the nearest Bo tree,
assumed the lotus position beneath the large bright moon and, straining
beneath the weight of karma and duhkha, threw herself into passionate
concentration on the Four Noble Truths and the Gateless Barrier.
Kao Lin, observing the woman�s strenuous efforts from an open window of
the zendo, immediately ran out with a large stick, shouting �The Four
Noble Truths are six flies peeing up Buddha�s nose!� and smacked Haruka
on the head as hard as she could.
Seeing this, a wandering simpleton passing by, named Usagi, who had
recently been discharged from the Imperial Fleet, leapt up and grabbed
the Roshi�s stick and said, �Hey! How�d you like it if somebody came up
and whapped you in the head like that, you weird old hag!� and grabbed
the stick and began to beat the stuffings out of the Roshi.
And as Haruka observed this incident beneath the full white moon, the
Gateless Barrier opened and she was suddenly wholly enveloped by
limitless enlightenment. Heaven and earth passed away. Time and space
ceased to exist. Body and mind fell into the abyss. She realized that
she and Kao Lin and the simpleton and the stick and the six flies peeing
up Buddha�s nose were all One and that the One was pure Nothingness and
the Nothingness was the All. She became six thousand white cranes
flying over Mount Fuji in the year 2009, an American Chevrolet, and
Napolean�s sister�s first pair of shoes, and blinked.
*
44. Talmudic Commentary:
REBBE TAKEUCH SAYS : THE RED-HAIRED WOMAN RELEASED A BEAM OF FORCE. IT
STRUCK HARUKA AND KNOCKED HER TO THE GROUND. PREPARE TO DIE, SAID
KAOLINITE. STOP, SAID SAILOR MOON. A YOUNG BLOND GIRL IN A
SHORT-SKIRTED SAILOR SUIT STOOD ON A CITY ROOFTOP. IN THE NAME OF THE
MOON I�LL PUNISH YOU, SAID SAILOR MOON.
THE RED-HAIRED WOMAN RELEASED A BEAM OF FORCE: Rebbe Jonathan ben Galen
sayeth: to what may we liken this parable? This parable teaches that
force that injureth them that do justly does not proceed with the
blessing of the Holy One, honored be He, but rather reboundeth upon the
doer if vainly he heedeth not Torah. As the prophet Amos of blessed
memory sayeth, and the strong shall not strengthen his force, neither
shall the mighty deliver himself. (Amos 2:14) Rebbe Ebom bar Maad
sayeth: let a woman be peaceable amid her like. It is better to dwell
in the corner of a housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.
(Proverbs 21:9)
IT STRUCK HARUKA AND KNOCKED HER TO THE GROUND: How may we understand
this? We will light upon him as the dew falleth on the ground. (2
Samuel 17:12). For as the dew falling on the ground bringeth up much
wheat, so doth the smite of injustice call forth the healing arm of the
righteous. (ARNB).
Rabbe Animonides sayeth: yet should the righteous intervene? For in
this parable, the maiden Haruka, a gentile, hath done justly in the eyes
of The Lord, blessed be He, but hath also performed many abominations.
He that is of a perverse heart shall be despised. (Proverbs 12:8). The
woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man; neither shall a
man put on a woman�s garment: for all that do so are an abomination unto
the Lord thy God. (Deuteronomy 22:5) Is it not said, They that are far
from Thee shall perish. (Psalms 73:27)
Rebbe Matok of B�rai Ton sayeth: should therefore the children of Torah
turn their faces away from injustice? The Creator, blessed be He,
forbid! Thou shalt open thy hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and
to thy needy, in thy land. (Deuteronomy 15:11). Break Thou the arm of
the wicked and the evil man. (Psalms 10:15).
PREPARE TO DIE, SAID KAOLINITE: I have no pleasure in the death of him
that dieth, sayeth the Lord God. (Ezekial 18:32). Once as Rebbe Johanon
be Zakkai was coming forth from Jerusalem Rabbi Joshua followed after him
and found the Temple in ruins. �Woe unto us,� Rabbi Joshua cried, �that
this, the place where the iniquities of Israel were atoned for, is laid
waste!� �My son,� Rabban Johanon said to him �we have another atonement
as effective as this. And what is it? It is acts of lovingkindness
(gemilut hasadim), as it is said, For I desire mercy and not sacrifice.
(Hosea 6:6). (ARN).
STOP, CRIED A VOICE: From what shall we abstain? Cease to do evil.
(Isaiah 1:16).
SILHOUETTED AGAINST THE MOON: Fair as the moon, clear as the sun. (Song
of Songs 6:10).
A YOUNG BLOND GIRL IN A SHORT-SKIRTED SAILOR SUIT: the raiment of those
who do justly and aid the needy is a garment of righteousness and like
unto study of Torah in the eyes of the Holy One. (ARN). Can a maid
forget her ornaments or a bride her attire? Yet My people have forgotten
Me days without number. (Jeremiah 2:32). To what may the raiment of
this maiden in the parable be likened? They that go down to the sea in
ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord,
and His wonders in the deep. (Psalm 107:23-24).
STOOD ON A CITY ROOFTOP: The tongue of the sucking child cleaveth to the
roof of his mouth for thirst. (Lamentations 4:4). Rebbe Jonathan ben
Galen sayeth: thus as the child cleaveth to the roof of his mouth for
thirst doth the maiden that walketh on the rooftop of Torah thirst for
righteousness.
IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, I�LL PUNISH YOU, SAID SAILOR MOON: The sun
stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves
upon their enemies. (Joshua 10:13). My God hath sent His angel, and
hath shut the lions� mouths. (Daniel 6:22).
*
45. Plot Variations:
Let�s see�Kaolinite knocks down Sailor Moon and then Haruka shows up � no
wait � how about this: Sailor Moon knocks Kaolinite down and then Haruka
shows up -- no, wait � how about this: Sailor Moon and Haruka both knock
Kaolinite down and start kicking her and then Ranma shows up -- no, wait
� how about this: Sailor Moon and Haruka start exchanging hot lesbian
kisses and Kaolinite shows up with some Ripple and makes it a threesome!
-- no, wait � how about this: Kaolinite ditches the Ripple and just
takes photos of Sailor Moon and Haruka necking and tries to blackmail
them � but it�s OK � because Haruka pulls off her wig & shows she was
really Usagi�s boyfriend Mamo-chan in drag all along! � no wait � how
about this: Sailor Moon is about to blow away Kaolinite � and � and �
Kaolinite reveals that she�s really Usagi�s mother! � and that Usagi and
Haruka are sisters! � And that their father is � um � Darth Vader? Bill
Clinton? Emperor Hirohito? � no wait � how about this: Sailor Moon and
Kaolinite and Haruka are all each other�s mothers, caught in some screwy
Star Trek time warp � no wait � how about this: Haruka and Sailor Moon
are two orphan girls in a Catholic school in Hokkaido -- and Kaolinite is
the chief nun � and Mamo-chan is the tormented Jesuit priest they both
love � and Chibi-usa is Pope John XXIII � no wait � how about this:
Usagi is an underage Italian pop movie starlet doing a remake of Gone
With The Wind opposite Woody Allen as Rhett Butler � and Haruka is an
Israeli film director kidnapped by Iranian terrorists in exchange for �
for -- uh � sushi? � Barnes & Noble Gift Certificates? � God I�m losing
it -- � no WAIT � how about THIS: Kaolinite knocks Haruka down with an
energy blast and Sailor Moon steps in and beats the living shit out of
her � that�s IT! � it�s CLASSIC! � it�s -- no � no wait � how about
this�
46. Allegory (1):
The night was as dark as coal. And in this coal-dark night, a trembling
hare ran through the forest, alone, endangered by the darkness, for
predators surrounded it on every side and the darkness hid them. What
could save it? Where could it hide? The hare found an oak. Ah!
Suddenly behind the clouds the glistening moon rose, shining brightly,
casting away the coal-dark night and lighting up the forest. The forest
predators cringed in the brightness, and crawled back into their dark
holes. The hare in the oak looked up happily at the moon. She would
live to see another bright day.
*
47. Allegory (2):
With satanic fury, her hell-red hair writhing in the breeze behind her,
Kaolinite pitchforked an infernal bolt of flame at Haruka.
It�s all over, thought Haruka, repenting of the many mistakes she had
made in her battle with her demonic enemy. But what more could I do?
I�m only human. She stared at the inevitable death-bolt, ready to meet
her Maker.
Suddenly Sailor Moon appeared and threw her arms straight out,
cross-like. �In the name of the Moon, and of the Sun, and to keep you
from turning wholly into toast, I�ll save you, Haruka!�
Leaping in front of her, Sailor Moon took Kaolinite�s bolt full force,
sacrificing herself for Haruka�s sake. The blast crackled around her
like a crown of thorns!
�Kaolinite!� gasped Haruka. �Forgive Haruka�for she knows not what she
does��
Usagi fell to the ground, lifeless.
A Mexican cop called Angel jumped Kaolinite from behind and bound her in
chains.
�Usagi-chan!� cried Haruka.
But then three seconds later, she rose again -- as if from the dead!
*
48. Hentai:
[censored]
*
49. Beat Poetry:
HOWURU
-- For Tsukino Usagi
I
I saw the senshi of my generation destroyed by badness, starving
hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the Tokyo streets at dawn
looking for a Sony fax, angelheaded schoolgirls burning for the
connection to the Silver Millenium in the starry dynamo of the machinery
of fights,
who poetry and sweaters and mascara-eyed and high sat on their knees
joking in the Zen brightness of cramped Japanese apartments contemplating
SMAP,
who bared their underage legs to drooling animators under the Ginza and
saw Mamoru-chan angels staggering through salaryman universities
unilluminated,
who studied for Todai exams with radiant cool eyes hallucinating kanji
and Yankee grammatology among the scholars of No,
who boogaloo�d in technopop sub-basements in pink underwear, burning
their love confessions in wastebaskets and listening to Seiko oldies
through the wall,
who distributed epicanthic folds outside Ginza shops weeping and
undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed hard bop,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked,
who bit samurai droids in the neck and shrieked with delight in
archetypal Jungian cages for committing no crime,
who coughed power bolts on the sixth floor of Honda crowned with flame
under the ronin sky surrounded by images of gaijin Christology,
who vomited fire from their pinkies illuminating the motionless ikebana
of Time, swirling above the Juuban Junior High rooftop, chaining
themselves to the Tokyo subway for the endless ride from Hiroshima to
McDonalds on j-pop till the noise of the wheels brought them down
shuddering battered bleak of brain drained of brilliance in the drear
light of Pizzicato Five.
who sank intoxicated into bakemono arms listening to the crack of doom on
hydrogen Texan MP3 downloads, lost nymph battalions of short-skirted
joshikousei jumping off the stoops off the fire escapes off the
windowsills off the skyscrapers off the saxophone moon yacketayakking
screaming whispering with brilliant eyes, meat for the Zendo in splinters
across the Showa pavements
who vanished into nowhere satori leaving a trail of ambiguous picture
postcards of Emperor Akihito suffering Western sweats,
who waltzed along Hikawa Shrine at midnight laughingly eating the
accursed cheesburgers of 3,165 broken hearts because eternity
instinctively vibrated underneath their white haiku jackboots,
who loned it through the alleys of Nagasaki seeking visionary origami
angels who were visonary origami angels,
who fell from the big pink sky in yakuza limosines into lava Mt. Fuji
leaving only the shadows of their dungarees and the lava and ash of big
pacifist eyes sexy as kendo and casting their ballots for eternity not
time,
who were burned alive in evangelical sailor suits on Madison Avenue amid
foul accusations of innocence & the Iron Mouse & the nitroglycerine
shrieks of marketing & the mustard gas sinister of intellectual otaku and
run down at last by the Korean taxicab of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Tokyo Tower this actually happened & walked away
rubbing their bottoms forgotten into the ghastly haze of Juubangai,
who wept across the laughing firetrucks, danced on shattered sake,
punched out Chow Yun Fat at the Crown Game Center, and threw up groaning
into the American toilet moans in their ears and the blast of colossal
steam whistles singing Mammy.
who barreled down the mental highways journeying to each other's
hotrod-Geofront oak incarnation and crashed through their minds waiting
to be picked up by impossible criminals with multicolored heads who sang
joke blues in Sukottorandogo.
who threw sexy riceballs at blind baka lecturers on Dada at the Crystal
Seminars and turned themselves in at the harlequin madhouse rocking and
rolling in ambiguous lederhosen demanding immediate sushi and the subtle
tongues of pingpong lobotomy,
ah, Usagi-chan, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're
really in the total anime soup of time,
and who therefore ran through the iczer-3 streets obsessed with a sudden
flash of the animated ellipse the matsuri the megalopolis the vibrating
visionary nijizuishou and who therefore rent carnal gaps through Time &
Space by juxtaposing manga and pantyhose and boffed the archangel of the
soul between 2AM and 4AM and joined the elemental pink sugar heart attack
of consciousness together jumping and rose reincarnate in the ghastly
sabbath of Dance Dance Revolution and blew the matrix's mind eli eli
lamma lamma sabacthani with a karaoke cry that shivered Crystal Tokyo
down to the last absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of
their own henshin bodies O Magnum Mysterium a thousand years.
II
What sphinx of miso and aluminum bashed open Haruka�s skull and
splintered her brains and imagination?
Kaolinite! Kaolinite! Nightmare Kaolinite! Kaolinite the loveless!
Kaolininite Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Krazy Kaolinite! Kaolinite the
busty blaster of men!
Kaolinite the incomprehensible huntress! Kaolinite the crossbone soulless
bathhouse and hostess bar of sorrows!
Kaolinite whose scarlet fingernails are judgment! Kaolinite Nagasaki!
Kaolinite Nanking! Kaolinite whose fingers are ten armies! Kaolinite
whose breast is a kamikaze armada! Kaolinite whose lips are mahou!
Kaolinite whose opponents reel and croak in Kirin!
Kaolinite whose love is blowfish and stone! Kaolinite whose soul is
electricity and pachinko! Kaolinite whose thighs are a pillar of
American hydrogen! Kaolinite whose name is the No-Mind!
Kaolinite! Kaolinite! Robot kairetsu! invisible prefectures! skeleton
salarymen! blind besuboru! demonic miso! spectral burakumin! granite love
hotels! invincible yakuza! subway gas attacks! fascist Todai! monstrous
sumo!
They broke their backs lifting Kaolinite to Satori! Pavements,
transistors, offices, cell phones! lifting Tokyo to Satori which exists
and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! Bushido gone down
the American toilet!
Unholy laughter above the prefectures! Haruka saw it all! the wild eyes!
the holy yells! She bade farewell! She fell to the earth! to solitude!
waving! scattering cherry blossoms! down on her backside! into the grass!
III
Usagi-chan! I'm with you in Tokyo
where you're more kawaii than I am
I'm with you in Tokyo
where you gobble up rice like there's no tomorrow
I'm with you in Tokyo
where you spank the shit out of Chibi-usa
I'm with you in Tokyo
where we are great Kabuki dancers wearing the same Tina Turner
hairdos
I'm with you in Tokyo
where the Yomiuri Giants will win it again this year
I'm with you in Tokyo
where you and I exchange business cards and bow at just the right
angle
I'm with you in Tokyo
where neon genesis three-year-olds clop around in geta
I'm with you in Tokyo
where the blowfish may kill me but I don�t care
I'm with you in Tokyo
where that wimp Mamo-chan tosses rose stems at every freaking thing
that moves
I'm with you in Tokyo
where we can take baths together naked in public
I'm with you in Tokyo
where Maria Kannon forgives me for loving you jerk that I am
I'm with you in Tokyo
where even the raindrops are kawaii tears in the eyes of Iwakura
Lain
I'm with you in Tokyo
where all the cherry blossoms shout banzi when I lift your skirt
I'm with you in Tokyo
where the worms of the senses twitch along to Pink Lady
I'm with you in Tokyo
where you scream in your straightjacket that you're glad you look
Aryan
I'm with you in Tokyo
where I guess we have no choice but to revolutionize the world
I'm with you in Tokyo
where you wail on catatonic koto that your soul is innocent &
immortal you're right it should never die
I'm with you in Tokyo
where a hundred more episodes still won't return your soul to its
body from its pilgrimage to a pachinko
crucifixion in cyberspace
I'm with you in Tokyo
where we sip Coke watching Meiji angels watching Sadaharu Oh
watching televised Tea Ceremonies
I'm with you in Tokyo
where you shake the heavens of Roppongi singing 'super duper love
love days' w/ 25,000 mad comrades
I'm with you in Tokyo
where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the
United States that still bitches about Toyota imports all night and won't
let us sleep
I'm with you in Tokyo
where we wake up electrical out of the coma of our own souls' own
Kaolinites roaring over the roofs they've come to drop animated bombs the
gaijin bar illuminates itself imaginary paper walls collapse O skinny
soldier sailor senshi legions run outside O starry spangled shock of
mercy the pretty soldier sailors O victory forget your underwear we're
free
I'm with you in Tokyo
in my dreams you walk starlit in tears in moonlight
from a space journey on lunar highways in lunar palaces
in tears to the door of my television in the Western night
Footnote to Howuru:
senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi!
senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi! senshi!
the world is senshi! the soul is senshi! the skin is senshi! the nose is
senshi! that thing under your navel is senshi!
everything is senshi! everybody's senshi!
anime is senshi manga is senshi fandubbers are senshi distros are senshi
bootleggers are senshi otaku are senshi resin kits are senshi!
senshi Ami senshi Makoto senshi Rei senshi Minako senshi Haruka senshi
Michiru senshi Chibiusa
senshi the gaijin in the insane asylum of fanfiction! senshi the butts of
the cheerleaders of Osaka! senshi the crazy expelled university
fansubbers!
senshi the groaning koto! senshi the zen apocalypse!
senshi the departed jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace & Chandler &
Carver & Scott Fitzgererald & drums at Murakami Haruki�s old bar!
senshi the solitudes of MITI skyscrapers! senshi the rivers of yakuza
tears for Mifune Toshiro!
senshi MacArthur�s corncob pipe! senshi Ito Midori�s skates! senshi the
Go stones of Honimbo Dosaku!
senshi John Biles senshi Elsa Bibat senshi Kus Kus senshi Hitomi
Ichinohei
senshi the human angels of the FFML!
who digs anime IS anime!
senshi Tokyo senshi Hokkaido senshi Kyoto & Osaka & Kobe senshi Nagoya
senshi the Arakawa Line senshi Ueno Park senshi Nerv senshi Juuban Junior
High School!
Senshi the Jesuit martyrs! senshi Commodore Perry entering the harbor!
senshi Neil Armstrong on the moon!
senshi the name of the moon! senshi the punishment of Kaolinite! senshi
the Angel in Kaolinite!
senshi basho senshi issa senshi mishima senshi ramen senshi miso senshi
muyo
senshi moon crysal power senshi sparkling wide pressure senshi aqua
rhapsody senshi burning mandala senshi love me chain senshi pink sugar
heart attack senshi world shaking senshi deep submerge senshi dead scream
senshi silent wall senshi serious laser senshi gentle uterus senshi
sensitive inferno senshi the visions senshi the miracles senshi the
eyeball senshi the videotape senshi the TV screen senshi the internet
senshi the worl wide web senshi the matrix senshi the wired senshi the
All!
senshi forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! senshi! our senshi! arms!
legs! eyes! lips! bodies! hairdos! skirts! wands! justice! beauty! love!
make up!
senshi the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!
for everything that lives is senshi!
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david@davidpascal.com
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