The following is another installation in an ongoing saga that I keep returning to irregularly. Probably the easiest way to access the sections in order, at least until I figure out a better way to organize them, is the thread on my Twitter account (I tried to link that last phrase to the tweet for the previous part, #33, and you should be able to scroll upward from there to see the earlier entries, all the way back to the beginning), as that's the only place where I've cried out each finished segment of this abomination.
Dear diary,
It takes more than two full hours for Jehovah & Ishmael to catch up with Beelzebub & Moloch. Repeatedly the idea came into Ishmael’s mind that he should abandon the journey and head home, on his own; but, every time he entertained this thought, Jehovah would turn and glare at him unnervingly. So they all kept going.
Now Beelzebub & Moloch reach Gomorrah by nightfall. They arrive just ahead of Ishmael & Jehovah. Lot is waiting outside of his mansion, at the mast-head, as a lookout: there he sits, a hundred feet above the silent turf, enthroned atop gigantic stilts, while beneath him pace the the two aforesaid Gods, along with Jehovah and Ishmael his new acquaintance. The fourfold approaches Lot’s Reptile Paradise even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous Colossus at old Rhodes (to plagiarize Melville).
Lot extends his arms in welcome, after sliding down one stilt of his mast-head like a firefighter’s pole. Then, lifting his lamp beside the golden door, he gestures for the crew to follow him.
Beelzebub, who claims to understand the nonverbal language of the Lizard People, translates for the benefit of his fellow-travellers:
“He said, ‘Behold now, my lords, I pray you, enter into your servant’s house, and tarry all night, and bathe, and ye shall rise up early, and return to your wandering’.”
Yet Jehovah answers, “No, no! — not at all, my dear Mr. Lot; thank you kindly, but no: We plan on staying out-of-doors, at least until sunup, to roam the streets and enjoy the local nightlife.”
So Lot shrugs and hisses, and embraces them one at a time, very warmly and firmly. Then they grip him and turn him so that he is facing his mansion’s entryway, and let him go; and he walks towards his abode. After going inside, he prepares for them a feast: he bakes bread-sticks for them to eat, and he serves them with garlic dip.
Now in the middle of the night, when the atmosphere reaches the perfect temperature, and there is a pleasant breeze (as opposed to high winds, like they were accustomed to in the far north), Jehovah and his companions decide to stop and rest. They recline in an elongated booth that is situated by the roadside, and enjoy the sight of the neon lights of the surrounding casinos.
Soon, men and women from the city — that is, the people who reside in Sodom and Gomorrah — began to approach our reclining tourists (Jehovah and his friends), and they form a circle around the visitors. And this crowd that encircles them consists of all types of citizens, anurous and otherwise: it includes interesting individuals from every quarter. And they begin to sing carols to the tourists, in an effort to seduce them. Yet, since the Reptilians lack the faculty of human speech, the attempted serenade comes off as communal hissing, like the noise of spraying waters.
So the trinity of divine beings, along with their companion Ishmael, remain sadly unaroused.
Now Moloch interrupts the caroling & sez: “Hey, hello there, citizens of Reptile Paradise. Thank you for the friendly welcome. But we were wondering: do you have any old-fashioned Goddesses among you? Maybe a couple or three happen to be vacationing here tonight? If so, will you bring them out & introduce them to us, so that we might know them?”
Here Lot approaches offering porcelain trays of zakuski; then, after depositing a bottle of grain liquor and other refreshments on the coffee table at street-side, he retrieves a paper pad from his apron & scribbles frantically upon it. He hands this communique to Jehovah.
Jehovah passes the note to Moloch. Moloch squints at its message, then translates:
“He sez, ‘No Goddesses here tonight, dot-dot-dot, please forgive’.”
Having read the note, Moloch looks up at Lot and exclaims: “Aw, Mr. Lot, that’s nothing to apologize about — no worries at all! We were only wondering if anyone from our neck of the woods might be staying in your countryside at the same time as we’ve chosen to visit. Ultimately we’re all just happy to be here, spending the night in this sleepless zone with your plain’s gorgeous denizens.”
Lot bows low and then returns to his mansion, securing the gated door behind him.
In a moment, the side panel of Lot’s establishment slides upward, and a pair of dancers slink out. They sidle up to Jehovah and his crewmembers, who remain reclining at curbside in the comfy public-booth. The blonde dancer hisses in a way that seems to be an official proclamation. Moloch translates:
“As far as I can tell, she’s saying: ‘Behold now, I and my sister are the daughters of the proprietor, whom you know as Monseigneur Lot. My name is Aholah, and this is Aholibah. Here is what we propose: Let us pray unto you from our hearts; and, once our prayer is concluded, let us do whatsoever we desire unto you; then you may either grant our prayers or rebuff them. We only ask, after you deliberate, if you deign to accept our offerings, that, if you deem us worthy, you will bless us with a good review, when acting as critics of our culture, in the write-up that you shall publish in your holy scripture: please do not pan or censure our performance, but rather refer to our dances as alluringly exotic.’”
The three Gods exchange glances; then, on their behalf, Beelzebub replies:
“Go ahead & make a wish!”
Jehovah then places his hand on Ishmael’s shoulder and addresses the dancers, as they are preparing to start: “This fellow who is traveling with us came also to observe. He is a human, from Abram’s country: his name’s Ishmael, son of Sarah-El. He’s our amanuensis.”
Now the dancers press sore upon the lad, even Ishmael, and come near to breaking the booth where they are all reclining. But the Gods put forth their hands, and steady the backrest, so that the booth does not topple during the prayer.
Aholah begins by doting upon the Gods, and upon their travelmate. And her thoughts come to them plainly, and they exist on the air in audible form, and there is no more confusion of hissing but a plain voice, saying:
“Ye appear to me to be executives of some foreign realm; your skin is bluish, like the clear sky of heaven; all of ye are desirable young men.”
Then she commits whoredoms with them, with all the Gods on whom she dotes. And she lies with them, and pours out her whoredoms upon them.
And now, when her sister Aholibah takes her turn, she grows even more inordinate in her love than Aholah, and in her whoredoms even more lustful than her sister! And she likewise dotes upon her friends, the Gods, and calls them captains and rulers with her mind, and calls their skin most beauteous, and she tells them that they look to her like horsemen riding upon horses, even as cowboys, and she whispers mentally “I am your cowgirl” (or, actually, “milch-maiden” was the term she used); and she seconds her sister’s notion that all of these men are desirable young executives of the businessworld. And she increases her whoredoms.
In addition to these verbal prayers upon the atmosphere, Aholibah tenders visual fancies (for the mind can generate any type of perception that it likes) on the screen of air, as scenes of cinema — cast from a film projector, or from that magic lantern in Marcel Proust’s novel — and these images appear before the eyes of the Gods and Ishmael: Paintings of nudes pourtrayed in vermilion, with translucent girdles upon their loins, exceeding in dyed attire upon their forms, all of them princesses to look at, after the manner of the harlots of America, the land of lust.
As soon as the Gods and their scribe espy these pictures, they dote upon them, and send messengers unto them. And lo: they now come out of the airy dream and enter into the booth of love, and they purify them with their whoredoms, and they become satisfied, for their minds grow alienated by these holy visions.
Thus they discover their whoredoms, and uncover their nakedness.
(In later years, on account of this prayer circle over which the sisters presided, Aholah and Aholibah would become famous among the dancers of the plainland.)
At last, Jehovah turns & asks Ishmael: “Well, what’s your judgment, mister Art Critic?” And Ishmael answers:
“Verily, verily, I must admit, even if I myself were the teller of this tale, my own imagination would be alienated by Aholah, just as my fancy outdid itself with the ogling of Aholibah. Lot showed us great kindness by introducing us to his friends here, we must not forget to thank him for this. And I say we should give these dancers of the cities of the plain, and all the citizens who occupy this part of the countryside, blessings galore. This place exceeds my expectations.”
Here Lot walks back out to the public-booth, & puts forth his hand, and leads the dancers back into the mansion with him, and shuts the gated door behind them.
Following the above attractions, for a few brief moments, the Gods and Ishmael find that they are smitten with blindness — it’s just like when you stare at an epiphany for a spell, and then look away toward something of more normal brilliance, your eyes need a moment to readjust. Thus it is with our fourfold. So, when all’s said and done, they each grope with their hands atop the table in front of the booth, attempting to locate their beverages; & this sight appears slightly humorous to the surrounding audience.
Now Jehovah rises from his seat and addresses the citizenry:
“O ye Lizard Folk of Reptile Paradise, give ear. This young man Ishamel, my traveling companion, has been appointed to be your judge, and to rate the quality of your city’s artworks. He informs me that you’ve passed the first test with flying colors. We have just finished enjoying the performance of Aholah and Aholibah. They did an elaborate prayer routine for me and my compatriots. This here is Moloch, and that’s Beelzebub. Stand up, men. Now, to show our appreciation, we’ve made arrangements to bless your countryside with a sizable investment; and this is a promise — it’s irreversible. However, I’m curious: have you any more among you like those two damsels who just left us? Any sisters or daughters, anywhere else in the city? If so, please bring them out; tell them to come here and meet us in the piazza. For, like I said, we are planning on giving your nation a pretty big blessing, as soon as possible, because this realm is so perfect — we love what you’ve done with the place! — and it’d be nice to enjoy ourselves further, and to get to know more of your fellow citizens, as we stroll about planning and implementing our various upgrades. By the way, before we arrived, your reputation was so high that it reached the Celestial Pantheon; that’s actually the reason we were sent on this scouting mission. And tho our tour has barely begun, I can already say: it’s no wonder they wanted a closer look at Gomorrah.”
And the multitudes, hearing this, hasten back to their mansions and alert their sisters and daughters, and say to each one (in their lizard-language):
“Up! Rise and shine! Leave off admiring yourself for a moment and come out and admire the visiting trinity and their boatsteerer, who await thee in the piazza!”
But, in most cases, the damsel just laughs and remains leaning back upon her davenport, as she assumes that her sibling is only being glib and playacting. So it takes a moment for the streets to begin to fill: yet soon they look like rivers streaming with damsels, all flowing directly to the booth where Jehovah and his comrades are waiting.
Thus, all thru the night, the divine beings and their friend Ishmael proceed from one district to the next, enhancing further an already resplendent city; with masses of damsels escorting them, praying and dancing.
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