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You haven't finished your ape, said mother to father,
who had monkey hair and blood on his whiskers.

I've had enough monkey, cried father.

You didn't eat the hands, and I went to all the
trouble to make onion rings for its fingers, said mother.

I'll just nibble on its forehead, and then I've had enough,
said father.

I stuffed its nose with garlic, just like you like it, said
mother.

Why don't you have the butcher cut these apes up? You lay
the whole thing on the table every night; the same fractured
skull, the same singed fur; like someone who died horribly. These
aren't dinners, these are post-mortem dissections.

Try a piece of its gum, I've stuffed its mouth with bread,
said mother.

Ugh, it looks like a mouth full of vomit. How can I bite into
its cheek with bread spilling out of its mouth? cried father.

Break one of the ears off, they're so crispy, said mother.

I wish to hell you'd put underpants on these apes; even a
jockstrap, screamed father.

Father, how dare you insinuate that I see the ape as anything
more than simple meat, screamed mother.

Well what's with this ribbon tied in a bow on its privates?
screamed father.

Are you saying that I am in love with this vicious creature?
That I would submit my female opening to this brute? That after
we had love on the kitchen floor I would put him in the oven, after
breaking his head with a frying pan; and then serve him to my husband,
that my husband might eat the evidence of my infidelity . . . ?

I'm just saying that I'm damn sick of ape every night,
cried father.

-Russell Edson

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16 hours ago, ExPDXer said:

Russell Edson

 

That was depressing, but thanks for turning me on to this writer.

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1 hour ago, laripu said:

 

That was depressing, but thanks for turning me on to this writer.

Just recently rediscovered Edson. Peter Schejeldahl pointed out that his poems have “the sustained wackiness of old Warner Brothers cartoons.”

 

The Academic Sigh

 

Some students were stretching a professor on a medieval torture rack. He had offered himself to show them how an academic might be stretched beyond his wildest dreams like a piece of chewing gum.
         And as they turned the wheel the professor was getting longer and longer.
         Don’t make me too long, or I’ll look kind of goofy, sighed the professor as he grew longer and longer.

         Suddenly something snaps.
         What happened? sighs the professor from the rack.
         We were just stretching an academic when suddenly something snapped; you may have heard it ...
         Yes, I was there. Don’t you remember? sighs the professor.
         And then we heard an academic sigh ...
         Yes, I heard it, too, sighs the professor, it seemed to come from the rack where I was being stretched beyond my wildest dreams like a piece of chewing gum ...

-Russell Edson

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The Father Of Toads

A man had just delivered a toad from his wife's armpit. He
held it by its legs and spanked it.

Do you love it? said his wife.

It's our child, isn't it?

Does that mean you can't love it? she said.

It's hard enough to love a toad, but when it turns out to be
your own son then revulsion is without any tender inhibition,
he said.

Do you mean you would not like to call it George Jr.?
she said.

But we've already called the other toad that, he said.

Well, perhaps we could call the other one George Sr.,
she said.

But I am George Sr., he said.

Well, perhaps if you hid in the attic, so that no one needed
to call you anything, there would be no difficulty in calling
both of them George, she said.

Yes, if no one talks to me, then what need have I for a name?
he said.

No, no one will talk to you for the rest of your life. And
when we bury you we shall put Father of Toads on your
tombstone.

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