The Second Case..

…..Doctor P, who had undertaken the task of moving a large amount of his ancient records out of a vault in his office to a rented van parked in a dark corner of the underground garage. The doughy-faced bastard from across the hall blocked his way. “I can put those all on electronic record for you, you don’t have to keep carrying them down to the ministry of data all the time.”

Dr.P: “To the what? I mean..Yes, that’s where I go with these, to that…data place, but you see my brother in law works there as a clerk, the poor fuck and well with everyone giving in to the abject indolence of, whatever you said ….you have probably never had your loyalty tested……Have you?”

“Look, I only said because-“ doughy started to say

“Because you can’t keep that gaping fish maw closed, move out of my way.”

Behind his home, the burning fire cast its heat like Indra’s net over his body. One by one, yellowed old files and envelopes were tossed in.

Bah, ..garbage…garbage…nothing..

And then

There was a particular envelope that Dr.P noticed and it was apparently so important that he saved it from being burned and took it with him. Abandoning the fire, and the remaining papers he went inside. Sitting down, he held the old, unopened envelope near his face and smelled it. Nothing. The old odors were gone out of it. It died along with its subjects. He sat back and remembered his loyal dutiful service Ahhh, those days. The Spanish influenza, cholera. It was as if the young viruses were having their halcyon days along with the untapped sun and unbleached air. Let them have their fun, I would say.

But there were those who objected. Those diseased themselves. There was the Colonel, one B.I Boswell, and NOT the same Rev.B.I Boswell who is currently the abbot of St.John’s, but his grandfather. His presence was recalled vividly, I liked him, Dr.P thought, even though he was a boorish bastard, and an incorrigible alcoholic.

“To drink!”, he said, standing too close to the doctor with his hot gin breath . He held up a glass, “to drink is both science AND art, and to those of us who do it right..” he drained half his drink in one gulp “…it is also… religion.“

The Doctor himself never had the stomach for liquor and was often glad to be afforded the inarguable excuse of being “allergic” to it.

Bombs were going off in the distance , the colonel seemed unaware as he went on talking in garish tones, raising his hand and his glass whenever a dead comrades name was invoked. One especially large blast shook the table sending the butts and dirt in an ashtray scattered. He wasn’t listening anymore to the colonel’s words only for the next explosion. A bomb hit so close that fragments of earth hit the roof of their tent like fat rain drops. At the same time with inexplicable prowess, the colonel swept the Doctor into the air, holding him by the shoulders. “God Damnit, Man! Look at me! Don’t you see? He is angry!.. Anu. ANU! ANU! He is angry! He wants them back!.. why?

Because his own son bit off his testicles! An spit out three bastard gods of the sky! Wouldn’t you be angry?” He let Dr.p drop to the floor in a heap. “It is almost too late”, the colonel announced.

Outside the colonel sped toward the doctor in a jeep, he sat stripped naked behind the wheel. “Be still Teshub! Be still before me!” he heard him shout as he narrowly missed being overrun. He had no choice, he had to accompany the colonel, lest he never return and too much of the doctor’s own future lay within the old colonel just as the lesser god’s own future lay within Anu’s testicles. “We are at WAR, don’t forget that, medic! Don’t let your guard down and think the bandits are not coming! I tell you this, they ARE coming, you don’t even know. They come because you don’t believe in them” his body, fat and pink, shook at every bump

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Dr.P:

There was a clearing in the desert. It was open and the cold air swelled around us. Boswell leaped out of the jeep and stood in the center of the clearing with his arms open, crying out. I knew at that moment what must be done. I overtook him with a blow from behind. I had no choice you see. Down he went on his back. His great belly, like a hairy tarp stretched across a vast mound expanded and depressed like a monstrous bellows fueling some vast furnace.

He was out, and not moving.

I had prepared a make shift scalpel, but as I drew it, I noticed..

A tiny hole in his trunk. I put my hands on him.

I had knuckles deep within like a faith healer, my hands drew back nothing.

Then, a bloody piece of tissue, protruding the surface. It’s a clotted mass of spent tissue. Could it be?

Is this Anu’s broken testicle?

It writhes by itself between my fingers as if seeking ground.

I do not know where to cast it, into the ground or upward toward the starless horizon.

It kept it, in the bottle of the colonel’s gin, after I emptied its contents over his spent body in order to sterilize the site, you see.

It was a long night that night I spent watching over his body.

The next morning, after the colonel was dressed and shaved by his attendants, I saw him at the mess tent. His manservant brought him his usual aftershave colonic garnished with herb in a highball glass for breakfast. The colonel waved him away. He looked at me with gaunt face, what had grown it seemed years older rather than hours since the events of the last night, he nodded in my direction.

I nodded back.