=Geisha in the City of Death=

=30=

This way, folks, this way, please. That’s it, follow right along, no lingering before the exhibits, please. Catalogs will be available for purchase in the gift shop at the end of your tour. That's it, thank you very much, let us proceed, then, shall we?

The preceding diorama is one of countless others, innumerable in the sense that additional ones are being constructed all the time, each illustrating a new discovery in the compendium of research collected, compiled, and catalogued by that preeminent psychosexual archaeologist, secret police interrogator, serial killer, museum curator, surgeon, and god-only-knows-what-else who, up to now--and from now on--we've been pleased (as we've no choice but to be) to identify in our narrative (inasmuch as our so-called “narrative” narrates anything whatsoever) as "Mr. Thoth."

Each heretofore undreamed of variation of sexual fantasy unearthed, coaxed, coerced, induced, deduced--well, take your pick--by the esteemed Mr. Thoth is thus represented here in this wonderfully intricate maze of disturbingly lifelike tableaux for the education and illumination (and, in some cases, let it be admitted, the lubricious titillation) of visitors such as yourselves. Endless hallways of such exhibits, a vast and labyrinthine network not unlike the inextricable (and inexplicable) knot of a large tree's root system, a kind of psychic world oak of humanity's sexual psychopathology, impossible to uproot, is laid out here, far beneath both ground and consciousness, as museum, symptom, and scene of the crime--all three and all at the same time!

Quite a feat of inhuman engineering, don’tcha think?

On the wall beside each sickeningly lifelike diorama is a descriptive plaque, which, at the touch of a button, offers in over seventeen-hundred-and-seventeen different languages (including the dead and extraterrestrial tongues), Mr. Thoth's illuminating ruminations upon the visual banquet set before your disbelieving eyes. These spicy meditations add an interpretive depth and personal dimension to the displays that would otherwise be simply indigestible theoretical sexoterica.  What’s more, these extemporaneous oral essays are being updated and expanded in real-time even as Mr. Thoth continues to ruminate, which he does, let us assure you, constantly, compulsively, like a cow on a cud.

With incomparable art and technological artifice, the characters appear to move and speak as if they were, in fact, still alive, and, thus, they seem to suffer the same cruel sufferings again and again, lending the facility a certain similarity, we must admit, to commonly held notions of Hell.

So be it. We make no apologies. Even if we did, they'd fall on dead ears. Ha ha...did we say "dead"? Ah-hem. We meant "deaf," quite obviously.

           

Come now, step lively. Don’t mind a mere slip of the tongue. But do be careful not to let your foot slip on that slick patch. You wouldn't want to break a leg at this point. We'd have to leave you behind for the wolves. It would be a real shame for you to fall prey to the wolves having already come this far. After all, we are very nearly done with our tour. If you squint real hard you can just make out the exit up ahead.

Read the complete novel here:
http://geishainthecityofdeath.blogspot.com