“Why do women have to be tied –Hic- up in strings and streamers of wedding -Hic- rings and vows?”
Lamented the sagging monolith, unfortunately named Marshall Orville. His dour state was enclosed in a jacket of midnight. Twinkling stars were everywhere except in his black hole of wallowing. His equally toppled counterpart-who shall remain unnamed- swayed gently like a boat on calm seas before bolting right up and pointing at the unattainable.
“Marshal,l my boy…do you… believe… that there is a party for fornication right next to boredom?” His words slurred and his drooped in uneasy rotations, as he lazily gazed upon the stimulating storm before him. Rich oceans of velvet rose and fell like tsunamis of suppressed desires. Amongst the waterfalls of crystals stood distant sirens laughing voluptuously and toasting to the health of some strange man.
“You– Hic- my dear intoxicated friend are delirious. I would not simply succumb to fornication for base boredom. But, to achieve the gaze of Mrss. Johnson.” Marshall Orville chuckled as his calloused hands mirthfully grabbed his wobbling counterpart’s velveted shoulder. Bringing their gold-rimmed crystal glasses together with grand resounding protestations. A torrent of red sloshed into their red mouths; pooling within their black hole consumed hearts, offering warm solace on a dreary, damp day.
“Only for her gaze? My God, a simpleton!”
This sudden interjection would naturally make way for a passionate counterargument, but such was cut short by the hauntingly ethereal laugh of Mrs Johnson. It floated upon the seas of glamour and clamour, straight to Marshall Orville’s sagging heart. Its lyrical tone and melodic harmony sang a hypnotic, sinful tune, enticing his wilting body back to rejuvenating life.
“Oh, what beauty! –Hic– A siren walking amidst cattle, however, was she conquered and lowered to the life of pigs – Hic-. Should her ephemeral presence ever be captured and tried down –Hic– a man ought to treat her accordingly. – Hic– He should treat her as the deity she is, not a mere mortal, not a mere piece of furniture upon the arm of a disgustingly rich man. I dare say, –Hic– that Mr Johnson is doing a poor job. –Hic– He is a worthless dungeon master, keeping the princess locked up in her tower. He should free her of her vile torment, –Hic– and allow her blessed gaze to fall upon the wretched soldiers, who look up to her and see salvation. And if I were her wretched soldier, I would be blessed with the siren song of her laugh, luring me into forever growing bliss. –Hic- Oh, to have salvation in her arms, it would be intoxicating and wonderful. Oh, if only she were free, if only she wasn’t chained to that ogre of a man, then I might be released from her temptation. If only I could loosen the strings and streamers of lust that she has chained to my empty heart. Ah- her siren song is overwhelmingly enchanting; I answer it, my imprisoned witch! But alas, my brain tirelessly quarrels with my heart. Her eminence overrules my reason, it demands my undivided attention, and I freely give it!”
Marshall Orville became swept up with passion; each word betrayed his inhibitions. He was soaring the height of the tidal wave, before it crashed down upon the earth once again. His entire body was rocking like a lost ship at sea, drowning in his unrequited love.
“Would you damn yourself for salvation?” His swaying counterpart asked with an air of indolence.
“For-Hic- for her gaze alone, I would be damned to a -Hic- heaven of bliss and utter happiness.”
“What about her love?”
“Her love? Her love… Oh, if I had that, I would be truly damned to the Lake of Fire, for you state the impossible.” The way Marshall Orville lamented his fate, as it was a truly novel idea in his eye, the love of Mrs Johnson for him remained an impossibility, unwashed by intentions to act.
“Then a toast to your knowledge of your own despair and damnation! To your inability to enact your desires! To sloth, lust and gluttony!”
