literary diary, prose, satire

JEZEBEL or The etymology of cunt, an extract from Samarrai’s Diary, inspired by Hodor

The etymology of cunt is a matter of debate, but most sources consider that Jezebel, the best bar fly con blotto in the world, never caught cheating on control school exams, with a master’s degree in Old Norse languages, with a doctor’s degree in long distance running – one day, entered a cheap protogermanic bar with confidence, trampling its bandstand with her lucky adidas sneakers.
After she completed her missionary work for the day, she daddles the waitress, ordering two kissing fish.  “Oooon… ttthe.. hhh… house!”, mutters she, fingering the holes in the Old Norse canteen’s table.
Everyone should know there will be something aggro in the air after the famous tit queen enters the bar.
She drinks dusties too, always looking forward to drink oddball liqueurs that no customers ever order.
Two whiskeys later she is starting to sing, “Cheers darls… my kunto'”, going apeshit: con skot kott cot cona kun cuneus cunnus.
Then she goes really ballistic smashing the table with her mighty fist, cursing the schlongs of the best Old Norse knights of the golden grummet, who are hiding the salami, returning from their recovering war – party, honorably descharged.
“I will make scissors of you!”, threatens she. The floor trembles… 

Three tequilas later or five schnapps before, she is smashing everything around letting her knowledge to lead her through centuries, to modern English, sighing ah kotze, kut and kont kutte and the tone of her voice have arisen, yammering cona coño coynte, cunte and queynte canteen kunton, kunton, kunta kunta kunta conte cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt, cant…

– Stop it!
(entranced)

– I can’t I barely started I can’t I cant.. mmmm..nnnnn.. I can not!.. I… cant it’s too late I can’t, can’t cant cant cant cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt
cunt cunt cunt
cunt      cunt    cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt KOTZE! cunt
cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt
cunt cunt……………………….
200 pages later: END OF THE CHAPTER.cunt

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dramma, horror, literary diary, novel, samarrai, short story

FROM THE DIARY OF A MAD WRITER AFTER LOSING A LAWSUIT

Soon it will all be over. Damn them, the reverse optics of my intercranial madness are picking up the pace. I am no longer a woman, but a macroscopic particle. A peg-top. Call me Peg-Top. This I will do so suddenly, so feverishly, and yet so calmly, my hand will not quake. I will lightly lean forward, legs spread to the width of my shoulders, yes… Calm your body. Aim carefully. Pull the trigger. Take a deep breath. Aim, pull, calm…calm…
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