The Adventures of Ibn Opcit

Scene 1. Burnt Offerings

11 Scene 1. Burnt Offerings Lightning reveals two souls, naked on a naked branch. They are recognizable but not as if alive, not like birds but like birds in the oven. Num. Tumma Numma Tumma. Soul 1 Lightning! How it bridles the air. Seethes and scuttles like a centipede. Under its repeated bites, this place— Lord Bejeezus of the Alchemies, where am I? Can this be Baja California? Soul 2 (A cough, as from the grave. The second soul, in a state of considerable dishevelment.) The doors are closing. Please hold on for dear life. I haven’t felt this bad . . . what day is tonight? My head feels like a cantaloupe. A hailstone. Soul 1 Those baked salt flats, like a pan of cookies forgotten in the oven. What is this place? Soul 2 I am so glad to see Camp Berkshire is back on the map. Soul 1 Maybe it’s the wrong Creation. Maybe this is a flawed, discarded prototype. Soul 2 Maybe God made this world, but lost it at dice. 12 Soul 1 Or perhaps He did not create the universe— that was another god. And He was brought in later to inspirit it. Soul 2 Maybe earth was Purgatory and they just didn’t tell us. Would that make this Hell? Soul 1 What if there is a judgment and an afterlife, but we had it backwards? That would explain why no good deed goes unpunished. Soul 2 Just what we need, another ten theories of the universe at rest. How did you get here? Soul 1 For me the gateway was a king-sized bed. A certain lady, avid to do the silly slant, invited me in for a round of polar bipod. She had just asked me, “How big is your shatska?” when in walked the man of the house with a sushi knife. One quick stroke and he held Leviticus aloft; like a mad postmaster he canceled everything in sight. I awoke on a conveyor belt with dirt, grass, dead animals . . . “So this is where the dead go,” was my thought. And death for you was . . . ? Soul 2 . . . like being sneezed on by an elephant. You know how Manhattan buses lumber up Madison, down unimpressed Fifth, asserting their asphalt rights? Stepping off the curb I looked right instead of left and was ironed by a thirteen-ton Express. The canonical black I wore was mistaken by the driver for the entrance to an underpass. 13 Soul 1 (Looking him over.) I can see that. But who are you? What are you, a null or a void? Soul 2 How I look and how I feel may be different things today. This is as much fun as waiting for luggage. Soul 1 Or watching dental surgery on TV. Did you live the life you wanted to live? Soul 2 I can’t remember. But I think it was intemperate. (Upon that word one of the shapes circling on thermals far above drops like a plummet to where the two souls sit.) Demon EEEEIIIIOOOOUUUU! Soul 2 Healthy Jesus, what is that? Soul 1 Another lightning bolt. But this one in slow motion. Soul 2 More like the flaming horricide of an airliner crashing. Soul 1 It floats like a parachute to ground. Soul 2 It walks with a gnarly overblow . . . 14 Soul 1 like a spider . . . Soul 2 . . . or as if drunkenness were God’s ordinance. Demon Now here is a coy assemblage. Wing and wing you occupy that branch, a couple of birds looking for a place to bluster, a couple of roasters on a hymnal tree. Truly you are two for the specimen collection. Look at me! I say you both are easy work for teeth. Assjammer! Bring the flesh fork, the one for spitted meats. We’ll turn these till they make the spittle music, till they let out a meaty warble. Headlicker! No more animal hams of uncertain origin for lunch. Here are your meat pies. Soul 2 Divine Ordnance, have you come for us? Demon I came because I heard the magic word. Soul 1 You mean “dental surgery”? Demon I mean “intemperate.” Soul 2 I feared that. I feared you would say, “Your souls are mine.” Demon Why would I say that? Why own souls? You think we are dulotic here? Think this is some [52.15.63.145] Project MUSE (2024-04-25 06:59...