There’s this mate of many years, now comfortably ensconced in The Big A, doing his thang with his art and jewellery making and getting into the total-immersion thing with ‘Art’ of all sorts. And so we exchange mails occasionally, ever so often succumbing to our craziness and communicating in parables. I came across one such exchange of August 1999, when cleaning out my junk – to do with his mails to a friend being returned by ‘Mailer Daemon’ – that ethereal postman who used to return mail found to be undeliverable. It also had to do with a dark chick with a great voice, who he was hitting on in an attempt to get in her pants. Aaannnyways, G Force sent me the following mail (permission to re-print taken for granted).
The Gargoyle (true identity known only to that mysterious companion of his – Ducilla Dido – a veritable Persephone) hunched over the control panel (read keyboard), now with hands flying over as of an eagle, now at disturbingly staccato movements, with a devilish sneer and a crazed gleeful look that betrays an underlying insidiousness of a dark and malevolent kind, is absorbed in his wont busyness.
By Pluto! Those scaly hands with unsightly fungi ridden disfigured nails wafting a most malodorous scent is crashed upon the panels of Doom!! For the mildly disturbed fearful and bewitching enchantress, moments as these are prized more than the invisible wish fulfilling jewel of ancient lore. She croons “ Pray, O lord, my singular delight, what may perchance the matter be? Might there be some pleasure denied that I may soon fulfil? Could it ever happen that I (woe is I – were that be the case) may have been the cause of thy displeasure?”
“Nay darksome and designful creature of mine, it seems that I am once more haunted by me arch-enemy the devious and loathsome MAILER-DAEMON , hence my grief.”
There were a few lines that followed – in regular language – that spelled out a few chores he wanted taken care of, but the message in his Gargoyle number was quite clear to me. This was the first ‘stylised’ mail that I received from G Force and had to respond in like vein and so:
Ducilla Dildo, also know as the Dildo Duchess, (depending on his choice of gender at the given time), twatwithstanding the Gargoyle’s push and thrust for the invidious and elusive east wind, grasped to her bosom those scaly and scabrous appendages and breathed deeply of their malodour. Infused with the narcotic swamp gas, Ducilla wafted over the Gargoyle, dildo at half-mast and pondered over the lascivious goings on between the Gargoyle and the luscious ebony-hued wench with the voice that launched a hundred phallic fantasies.
The Gargoyle lay back, trying like hell to look cool and, with a decided lecherous smirk, wagged a disfigured, fungus-infested finger in a ‘come closer my husky melon-twat’ motion to the wonder-voice before him.
The Duchess continued to waft, watch and ponder – “would the wench succumb or would this be just another Gargoyle fantasy unfulfilled?”
The honey-husk moved forward and gargoyle, scarcely unable to control his surprise and the expectations that were zipping through his twisted mind, sensed the stirrings of an erection. Honey-tone didn’t seem to notice and, to Dildo’s abject amazement, moved so close to Garg that he could get his crazed and beady eyes focussed directly on a cleavage of near epic proportions. The first stirrings were now decidedly firmer, as Gargo whipped out his…….camera – and whispered to the illusion that faced him, “I must have your image forever in my possession and the sound of your voice on my system. Come, pose for posterity. Presume nothing. I am the creator of works that defy the mundane viewers of so-called art and you, creature of my wildest fantasies, have been chosen to deliver.” The voice sighed – a sigh of resignation and decided to succumb – why(?) was beyond her.
Ducilla wafted and wondered, “what the fuck?!!” Gargoyle reached for the cleavage and, as the image of the most wondrous creature he had ever beheld disintegrated before his very bloodshot and haunted gaze and the remnants of the honey-tones drifted away, in its place words were formed: “Message Undeliverable.”
Gargoyle screamed – a wail of despair, as he swore revenge on his arch-enemy, the devious and loathsome MAILER DAEMON, who had mindfucked him one more time.
And the Duchess wafted and pondered, dildo drooping.
And that was the gist of it. A few more lines couched less in parable format followed and the message was clear. There was the inevitable response from G Force, but that’s a whole other thing.