Notwithstanding, I felt on the whole moderately safe in returning to the Spa Elysium. Herod stood as so often before in Reception. Dark eyes glared at me over that black beard. His overcoat unfastened in the day’s unaccustomed warmth. Perspiration beaded on his brow. The latter corrugated by a scowl. Some condensation, as I noticed, also bedewed the White Willy’s counterfeit prepuce, where it jutted from Herod’s loins. The eunuch spake not unto me then, suffering me to pass in silence under his tutelary gaze. Nor spake I unto the obese harpies swinking behind their desk, but pressed into a pudgy hand of one of them the obol which I had in one of mine, and in such manner passed through the turnstile and ascended the staircase beyond. —
White Willy, Herod, Spa Elysium
There was as I had anticipated no Bristol stool upon the escalier for me to tread in or be blamed for doing, being as Marshall Petoman - the number 2 who did number 2’s - now was dead, and doubtless had been been fed by Farokh the Engineer to those xrafstar vultures in Bristol Zoo of which the Parsee had spoken, such being the doom of that fell shitter. In my triumph, I said to myself —
Farokh
Wurzel was much like others of his ilk: large, slow, webbed of finger and disposed to consort with such twinks and catamites as fell into his apron from the gelding’s bough, the only feature distinguishing him from his fellow hayseeds being a polyester Chelsea shirt bearing the sobriquet of Mr John Terry. Let us therefore, in accordance with the usual practice in these instances, dispense with this very rude mechanical, and turn our attention to the other participant in the sub-drama at hand. —
Wurzel
Agape Wydon has hitherto been but a fleeting presence in this chronicle. This lady was certainly long embarked upon the fifth, and eke possibly as some bruited the sixth, decade of her passage across this mangrove or Stygian Marsh of woe. Like Colloid, she enjoyed mucking about with corporate molluscs and nematodes; indeed she was betimes his associate in a range of joint ventures, and eke betimes a sexual partner of that psychopath, whose ruthlessness she strove to match. I think that she aspired to be considered as his Lady Macbeth, wishing him to be a weak and pliant man whom she could goad on to the matchless Nietzschean evils which she would devise for him. However, the reality of her relationship with that myopic silverback never quite lived up to the gaudy polychromes in which her fancy daubed it, being as Colloid’s propensity for fell misdeeds quite overmatched her own, and she was left to perpetrate relatively boring, that is to say needlessly and eke mind-numbingly complex, white-collar crimes, largely against gullible members of her own sex, such as Lady Dragon and Madame Lycra. —
Colloid, Agape Wydon
During the interregna between the episodes which Colloid enjoyed as her paramour, Agape Wydon sought solace for the most part in the lightly-muscled arms of her instructor in the fell art of embarrassingly frank stretching, viz. Ageing Hippus the yoga god. Withal, like many others of his persuasion, that svengali had a predilection for junior portions, preferring to consort with maidens and damsels of tenderer years than Agape Wydon could pretend to, much though that dame was praised high and low for the sedulous application with which she pursued the embalmer’s art. And when Ageing Hippus tired of Agape’s venerable charms, lo! that nymph would flee back to the grimmer charms of Colloid, that destroying Shiva. The Brut Chronicle will have it that she also had savoured the delights of that waxed catamite Guy Pigge, and sundry other similarly depilated personal trainers; however, it is not for me to pass judgement on the plausibility or veracity of these claims. Let us therefore trouble ourselves no further on such matters, but henceforth let them lie on the file. —
Ageing Hippus
For some moments we stood aghast, each man and woman among us petrified, the clashing rocks hard by Charybdis, no subtle Ulysses to steer between us and that whirlpool, withal there were those such as Peggy and Wurzel - and eke Marshall Petoman before them - who presented certain odour issues. Paralysed we were, by the certainty that that maddened eunuch must have drowned in the half fathom of that puddled artifice wherein the Aeromonas, that worm aforementioned by Farokh, did lurk. —
Aeromonas hydrophila
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