A G String Over the Pyre

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Mark Englander

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We arrived well after midnight, drove all the way inthe rain
The old hotel looked abandoned, not a single light anywhere
The night clerk let us in, he moved like he was in pain
The elevator was on the fritz, so we had to take he stairs

Our room was on the third floor, it felt stuffy and smelled of Lestoil
The little fridge hummed and gurgled, the alarm clock was blinking 12:00
We hefted the big duffel on the bed, let it sit there for a while
I said, "You think she's still alive?" Jack said, "Open it yourself"

The zipper caught a couple times, I had to pull it hard
The duffel split open and three feet of tail whipped loose
We jumped back and watched her squirm out, yard after yard
Her slime oozed off the bed, like cloudy green chartreuse

She hissed at first, then she sang... Oh, man, did she sing
Her voice like a diamond, cutting through a plate of glass
It rose and trilled and yodelled 'till my sinuses began to ring
Jack sprang a nosebleed and he sat down hard on his ass

She tired kinda fast and her tone lost its glitter and fire
Her amber eyes turned dull and her spiny tail went limp
My heartbeat slowed a bit, though my loins still throbbed with desire
Jack slumped 'gainst the bathroom door, wanking off like a crazed chimp

It had to be close to three AM when we got to carving & slicing
She was cold and hard by then, her bones turned brittle & blue
I wound her tail 'round my neck, Jack found her entrails enticing
I said, "Dude, that's a massive woodie!" Jack growled, "Man, screw you"

Smoke hazed the room when we set the chairs on fire
In my toiletry kit I found two sporks and an old guitar G string
We shish-kebab'ed the stringy meat on the string over the pyre
When the sun rose we ate, we cried a bit - and we sang
Oh, man, did we sing

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