The Annual Banquet of the Gravediggers' Guild by Mathias Énard & Frank Wynne

Author:Mathias Énard & Frank Wynne [Énard, Mathias & Wynne, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fairy Tales; Folk Tales; Legends & Mythology, Occult & Supernatural, World Literature, France, 21st Century
ISBN: 9780811231299
Google: LX6izwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0811231291
Barnesnoble: 0811231291
Goodreads: 88564030
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2020-10-07T05:00:00+00:00

BERTHELEAU’S SPEECH:

HOW LUDIVINE DE LA MOTHE RELIEVED

GARGANTUA OF HEARTSICKNESS

“Gravediggers and friends, to return to the matter of women which so nettles you, for there can be no good Banquet without talk of love, and of prick, as it is the practice of this Guild to say outrageous things, and corporeal pleasures have their rightful place (while you scoff, dig the wax from your ears! Swill the juice of the vine!), there will be mention made (with no vulgarity) of a form of gigantism of the cunt, of disproportion in the gash and of vim in the quim.” (At these words, the guests sat stunned, hands raised, elbows frozen.) “We are all familiar with its interior, dank as a cave, a slimy enclave, its texture like liver, its lips all a-quiver, its perfume of humus, its mystery a rebus, its shape like a plow.” (The words instantly prompt an outcry: slime? humus? plow? What swinish pearls of wisdom, these! You go too far, Bertheleau! Enough of the wine, bring water! We shall have none of this, by the devil! Bertheleau, you boor, you insult the fair sex!) “Hold your whisht! I speak as behooves me of grooves! Of gargantuan asses! Of heavenly lasses! Prodigious crevasses: cunts wide as crossbeams, from which flow great streams. Torrents between mountains! Ah, yes! ’Pon my word! Remember, fellow gravediggers, where we find ourselves, the refectory of the abbey of Thélème, from the solar disc the divine Analemma. Here it was Gargantua was born! Upon this selfsame spot! Born fully formed, primed and ready. Now suppose this brave giant knew not where to stick it, where, in what vessel and by what excipient: for it was so big that no cunt could contain it. A nanny goat was tried: she ended up a harelip, cleaved in twain and inside out, her horns on her ass and her fleece in her guts. A cow was prepared for his Homeric member. The problem, the pressure, as all will remember: though roped by her shanks and with steel round her flanks, she exploded. Fearful of taking a woman’s cherry, Gargantua essayed a dromedary: her head in the sand the beast prated, while the giant her intestines ablated, resulting in untimely death. Zounds, poor Gargantua, doomed never to wife! O cruel fate! O woeful plight! Condemned to hand-to-glans combat! O how he beat his meat, how he swung his salami! Like the bell ringer of old Notre-Dame, ding dong, ding dong, up down, polishing the snake whose lone eye was blinking. And beware the emission! The cannon fired thunderous salvos wildly, it rained homunculi! All Poitou was knee-deep in cream that pâtissiers piped into éclairs. The semen delighted the fishermen, for in it were oyster pearls and caviar.”

(What in Christendom is this horror? Eww, Bertheleau, you churn-curdled bollock batter! Enough! This is vile! Shut the fool up! The comments turned nasty, because the gravediggers were prudish: they wanted no talk of cum while they ate. Bertheleau cared little and carried on.

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