Lollipop
Paul Kavanagh
January 2006
January 2006
A quick left was followed by a right only to be followed by two more lefts. The left was quicker than the right but the right had more weight. The left was flicked like a wet towel and the right was like a spade. Left left right. There was inevitability about the combinations but there was nothing to mitigate the machinations. Left left right. The lefts were exasperating more like a buzzing fly obfuscating the eyes but the right caused an ephemeral shroud of impenetrable darkness. The right brought with it fear and disequilibrium. The fear dictated the body’s movement. The fear was debilitating. The fear drained. The fear.
The stripper was a boot and the music was too loud. The stripper had no rhythm. Her tempo was off and she jounced back and fro as though it had been her that had received the right in the first round. Anatomically she was an incongruity. Her breast ostensibly was containing foreign objects that balanced precariously upon her protruding ribcage.
Don’t worry kid, it happens to us all.
He was just too good for you.
You’ll do better next time.
Next time maybe the other guy would only knock out three of his teeth. His eyes hurt, his nose throbbed, his mouth objected to being opened. He felt as though his orbs were flooded with blood. He just wanted to go home to bed and sleep.
Rab! Rab! Rab! Rab! Rab! Rab! Rab! The other boys were chanting. The other boys had a right to cheer. When you win you can be loud and happy.
Ostensibly the stripper wanted some sucker on the stage. Rab was forced to his feet. His complaining could not be heard. Another ramification of hitting the canvas. Rab was helped onto the stage. Rab could hardly see and hear. Rab was still in a cold nebula of fear.
The stripper sat Rab on an old creaking wooden chair facing the audience. The stripper faced Rab and kissed him coldly on the cheeks. Coquettishly the stripper tickled Rab. Rab was cold. The stripper pulled a lollipop and made Rab suck. The audience bellowed. Rab hadn’t seen the lollipop jutting from her anus.
Paul Kavanagh was born in England 1971. he is happy. his wife is happy. together they are happy. he is not big on capitalizing words.