“Well I’m a human fly
I-I said F-L-Y
I say “buzz buzz buzz”
A-and it’s just becuz
I-I’m a human fly
A-and I don’t know why
I got 96 tears and 96 eyes”
Halloween is coming. I lay sweaty in my bed with the dancing moist pumpkins and sweaty witches’ brooms invading my dreams, forcing me awake.
In the reeking darkness, I see a man silhouetted at the end of my bed wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants, a puff of smoke leaving the area where his head should be and escaping through the open window past fluttering ghostly drapes.
I rub my twitching eyes and notice I have the alcohol sweats. My head pounds and I see another shadowy figure behind the swaying man. A woman with red curly hair, her face lit by an angry moon, exhibiting a dark wet-lipped sneer. I pull the bed covers up to my face and wonder whether I should ask them a pertinent question. She begins to sway beautifully. They both move to an unheard ancient music.
My face is fully wet now and the sticky humidity has made me, I must say, breathless. Biting down hard on my knuckles, I watch them. Opening my mouth to speak, no sound comes out. I feel strangely aroused. What is this feeling? She puts her ring-ed finger to her lipstick-ed mouth. He leans in. His devilish eyes focus on me. He pours red wine into my mouth until I gag. She sits sliently at the edge of the bed. My mind is full of multiple possible scenarios, some including my demise. He moves closer awkwardly but with grace, his glistening white shoulders moving like an insect. She smokes cigarettes and blows a ring at my head. I am backed up against the headboard, pushing down on the soaked sheets. My startled eyes like something from a silent movie. He opens his wine-drenched mouth, his cigarette-stained teeth smiling at me and through his hot breath comes the sound,
“Buzz…buzz…buzz.” Over and over again.
The air around us vibrates violently. The lamp crashes to the floor. She throws the bed covers to the wall. He smashes the wine bottle above my head. Bottles fall to the ground as they close in. She climbs on top of me. I know what’s about to happen. He climbs on her back to get a spectator’s view. A bottle of whiskey rolls across the floor. He has more wine now, spilling it on my bare chest, then casting it aside after guzzling half of it. She pops champagne and necks it, the foaming spillage forming around the area of our connection.
Her eroticism and reptilian rhythmic motion…the, the, the vibrating air send me into an ecstatic thrall. She screams….He buzzes. She throws her wine glass behind her and he rubs her wet hair as she performs her devilish insane exhibition on my prone body. The light fixtures explode and the walls begin to drip with what I hope is wine and my, my, my last thought before I succumb to these unnatural, unearthly pleasures is that if I wake from this surreal carnal experience, I really must bring all this glass to the recycling centre in the golden morn.
Because, THAT would be the right thing to do.