The Bicycle Eater by Larry Tremblay

Author:Larry Tremblay [Tremblay, Larry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Dark Comedy, Surreal, Adventure, Burlesque, Relationships, Sex
ISBN: 978-1-77201-108-1
Publisher: Talonbooks
Published: 2016-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

11

The Butterfly Fish

THAT NIGHT, at the very moment when I brought down my murderous arm with a shriek, the swarm of butterflies—very likely the same one that had brought me to my rendezvous—had swooped down brutally onto the cliff. At first I was propelled in every direction, then the ground beneath me suddenly gave way. I lost my balance. Plunged headfirst.

When I came back to my senses, my body was resting on the last steps leading to the grotto. I raised my head. A ray of sunlight searched my face. On all fours I climbed the stone staircase. Close to the entrance my hand touched something: my brace. I felt my neck. It was there. I felt my head. There also. I made it move forwards, backwards. Everything seemed normal. I found, crushed against the inner wall of the brace, a butterfly. The monarchs! All at once my memory came back. With its horrifying message: I had thrust a knife into someone’s heart. What was in store for me now? Hanging. A lethal injection.

I got up to climb the last steps. Dawn greeted me, knowing nothing about my crime. Or was pretending to have come up on an ordinary day. I blinked. No trace now of the monarchs. A clear sky. I looked for Rita’s dead body. It wasn’t there. I touched the ground as if my eyes were lying, then I looked up towards the edge of the cliff … and spotted her! Alive! Her back was a bright spot, motionless. I called to her. Never did a cry feel happier to me: it brought me back to the world. I called out again. She didn’t budge, was upright as a statue contemplating the space at her feet. I ran to her. Was about to touch her shoulder when she turned around.

“My splatter! See how magnificent it is: the morning light is the most intelligent. It lets you see what’s important. Where have you been? I thought the monarchs had kidnapped you. No, don’t answer. I only asked out of kindness. Hold onto your mystery. In the sun your eyes look like a cat’s.”

“You aren’t dead! But the knife?”

“I threw it into the sea.”

“But I … What happened yesterday?”

“Alf came back. He forgave me. Let’s forget the black sound of a heart being torn out. Let’s stop dancing the tango. Let’s dance a waltz.”

“But I …”

“Yesterday, a gentle shower of genitals fell on us. Ah, Huachi! Listen to the breeze, it’s laughing! Laughing at newborns because nothing is new. Except the sex, which purrs like a cat embedded in the sun-warmed stone. Ah, Huachi, tick-tock, no more tango, no more thighs, I laugh like the breeze, I laugh at your chicken thighs, I extract all thighs from my life, no more tango, only a blind waltz that makes its way through the sofas of sleep. Let us taste the uselessness of sex with no meat to offer, shall we? Sex in the form of tickling, sex bristling with antennae,

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