upside-down 8

It was in 1904 that Marcel, my only friend, took the advice of a disreputable character and went looking for treasure in the catacombs. The night he showed me the suspicious-looking map that he had bought with his last few francs, I knew the gleam in his eye was the result of more than just the wine we were sharing, it was from the hope he finally had for the future. But his trust was misplaced. For his wife Louise, the tragedy of Marcel’s disappearance was double. She had prepared a celebratory meal on the day he was to return home; when he did not appear, she found herself unable to bring herself to extinguish the fire in the oven she had lit for his meal, instead allowing it to burn down their home. Her heartbreak was short-lived, however: Marcel had made me promise to watch after his family in his absence, but within a week she had remarried to a man who bore a striking resemblance to Marcel’s youngest son.

Without my friend or his family to keep me company, my life lost its purpose. For three years I wandered the streets at all hours of the night, trying to avoid sleep, where I was haunted by visions of what I imagined to be Marcel’s horrible final hours in the dank labyrinth, utterly alone but for the dry bones of centuries past. Though I tried to persuade myself otherwise, I realized that my only course of action was to lower myself into the catacombs and find him.

Alone I went, just as Marcel had, but without benefit of a map. No matter how unwise the idea, I committed myself to searching each of the hundreds of kilometers of tunnels which snaked beneath the city until I either found him, or died trying. From the moment the cool, still air greeted me, I have no way of knowing how much time passed -whether minutes or days- before I heard a whisper:

“Who passes this way?”

“I am Gerard. I seek a friend.” And from the stacks of hollow-eyed skulls emerged a lean shadow which approached me, and in the dim illumination provided by my waning candle, increasingly took the shape of my dear friend Marcel. Wordlessly, he bade me follow him, and, despite my growing apprehension, how could I refuse? We walked a ways over a path that wound and coiled like intestines, until finally he held his finger to his lips as he crouched and slid a knee-high carved stone aside to reveal a passageway, then crawled inside. I gulped hard, drawing a small measure of courage from the knowledge that there was nothing left for me in the terranian world above, then went in after him. And when I opened my eyes on the other side, I found myself awash in glorious light, in a lush green world with unlimited cake and ice cream. All you had to do was let them cut your dick off. 

h/t martin moctezuma


1 Response to “upside-down 8”

  1. 1 crackityjonze
    April 23, 2010 at 5:28 am

    Cake eunuchs of the world,unite and take over!

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