A Symphony unto Oneself

Chapter 9

The Story The Authors

Mr. Tickles hated being called silly. "I am not a silly little man!" vanblah

At this pronouncement -- muffled and cavernized into the ghostly voice of melodrama by the great hollow interior of Donovan's colon -- Li'll Debbie pushed her now-comatose lover away. As Donovan rolled onto his back, the last kicking remainder of Mr. Tickles disappeared into the bard's lower G.I. tract.
Inside, Mr. Tickles trudged forward. He fished into his pocket and found a stumpy candle-end but then, sniffing the air, thought better of lighting it (lucky for Donovan, eh?) -- and besides, what was that he saw up ahead, round the next bend, so to speak, the way if you stand at the front of a subway train you came see the glow of the next station aways down the track...what was it, and who, then, that pale blue glow up ahead, that flickering as of a late-night television? What new enemies or companions-in-adventure were to be found in the brocolli-blessed intestines of Donovan? Philip

He might have said had he heard it. Of course with his head was buried as deeply as it was in the butt of the Scottish bard. it would have sounded a lot more like "omph noofa philee miffll an ! Lanark

At this pronouncement -- muffled and cavernized into the ghostly voice of melodrama by the great hollow interior of Donovan's colon -- Li'll Debbie pushed her now-comatose lover away. As Donovan rolled onto his back, the last kicking remainder of Mr. Tickles disappeared into the bard's lower G.I. tract.
Inside, Mr. Tickles trudged forward. He fished into his pocket and found a stumpy candle-end but then, sniffing the air, thought better of lighting it (lucky for Donovan, eh?) -- and besides, what was that he saw up ahead, round the next bend, so to speak, the way if you stand at the front of a subway train you came see the glow of the next station aways down the track...what was it, and who, then, that pale blue glow up ahead, that flickering as of a late-night television? What new enemies or companions-in-adventure were to be found in the brocolli-blessed intestines of Donovan? Philip

The dwarf approached cautiously. He could hear the others outside, making fake megaphones with their hands and calling his name through the comatose body of Donovan...
Debbie lilting "Yooooo-hoooooooo,"
...Meredith shouting "Heeeeeere, Ticky-Ticky-Ticky-Ticky,"
...Cap'n Cupcake (at last!) solemnly intoning "We'll never make it to Cupcake Island without ye, laddy,"
...And Big Chief Big Wheel dispensing his native American wisdom: "Rectum of one man no place for other man to live. Specially if first man be Scottish. Usually mean he drink too much firewater, then eat haggis. Yuckum."
Rectum of one man no place for other man to live... Mr. Tickles pondered that one for a minute. True, it was true, there was no denying that at first listen, and yet -- as he stole towards the blue light down the tunnel -- why, somebody else seemed to be living here. And from the sound of it -- children's cries (the dwarf loathed children) -- more someones than just one. So perhaps the times were changing, there had been Feminism, there had been Reggae, there had been Post-Structuralism, and there had been South Park -- so perhaps the roles expected of men and women really ahd changed enough so that it was now possible, in these golden new times, for a man to live inside the colon of another...! He found himself grinning, the dwarf did, from ear to ear! It was as if he'd at last found his niche! No one would be mean to him here! No one would tease him! And that Jake, that ball and chain, that royal-pain-in-the-ass, was simply too tall to follow Mr. Tickles in here! The thought cheered him more than anything else had been able to in months, as he stepped into the circle of firelight. Philip

His cheer was rather shortlived as it were as he observed the rumpled figure slumped into the heavy overstuffed armchair. The chair was pulled up so close to the fire as to almost set it alight as the figure attempted to suck whatever heat it could from it. The long maroon velvet doublet and ruffled shirt the figure wore stained with intestinal fluids. The high folded leather boots cracked and caked with fecal matter. At first glance he appeared to be asleep, laborous stentorian breath rising and falling like a winter tide.
Mr Tickles glanced about at the rest of the colon's accoutrements. A sea chest, some maps, a few South Seas knick knacks and a pair of hammocks swinging from some pre-cancerous polyps. The figure spoke wearily.
"Well, Pan, so you've found me at last. I must say the years have been even less kind to you. My how fat you've grown."
Mr Tickles turned to protest but the figure in the chair merely raised an accusing arm and said "And none of your backtalk, Pan. I've been waiting for this day. "Smee, set another place for dinner. We've got a guest." The end of the upraised arm terminated in a large shining metal hook. Lanark

The Story	The Authors
Mr. Tickles hated being called silly. "I am not a silly little man!"	vanblah
At this pronouncement -- muffled and cavernized into the ghostly voice of melodrama by the great hollow interior of Donovan's colon -- Li'll Debbie pushed her now-comatose lover away. As Donovan rolled onto his back, the last kicking remainder of Mr. Tickles disappeared into the bard's lower G.I. tract. Inside, Mr. Tickles trudged forward. He fished into his pocket and found a stumpy candle-end but then, sniffing the air, thought better of lighting it (lucky for Donovan, eh?) -- and besides, what was that he saw up ahead, round the next bend, so to speak, the way if you stand at the front of a subway train you came see the glow of the next station aways down the track...what was it, and who, then, that pale blue glow up ahead, that flickering as of a late-night television? What new enemies or companions-in-adventure were to be found in the brocolli-blessed intestines of Donovan?	Philip
He might have said had he heard it. Of course with his head was buried as deeply as it was in the butt of the Scottish bard. it would have sounded a lot more like "omph noofa philee miffll an !	Lanark
At this pronouncement -- muffled and cavernized into the ghostly voice of melodrama by the great hollow interior of Donovan's colon -- Li'll Debbie pushed her now-comatose lover away. As Donovan rolled onto his back, the last kicking remainder of Mr. Tickles disappeared into the bard's lower G.I. tract. Inside, Mr. Tickles trudged forward. He fished into his pocket and found a stumpy candle-end but then, sniffing the air, thought better of lighting it (lucky for Donovan, eh?) -- and besides, what was that he saw up ahead, round the next bend, so to speak, the way if you stand at the front of a subway train you came see the glow of the next station aways down the track...what was it, and who, then, that pale blue glow up ahead, that flickering as of a late-night television? What new enemies or companions-in-adventure were to be found in the brocolli-blessed intestines of Donovan?	Philip
The dwarf approached cautiously. He could hear the others outside, making fake megaphones with their hands and calling his name through the comatose body of Donovan... Debbie lilting "Yooooo-hoooooooo," ...Meredith shouting "Heeeeeere, Ticky-Ticky-Ticky-Ticky," ...Cap'n Cupcake (at last!) solemnly intoning "We'll never make it to Cupcake Island without ye, laddy," ...And Big Chief Big Wheel dispensing his native American wisdom: "Rectum of one man no place for other man to live. Specially if first man be Scottish. Usually mean he drink too much firewater, then eat haggis. Yuckum." Rectum of one man no place for other man to live... Mr. Tickles pondered that one for a minute. True, it was true, there was no denying that at first listen, and yet -- as he stole towards the blue light down the tunnel -- why, somebody else seemed to be living here. And from the sound of it -- children's cries (the dwarf loathed children) -- more someones than just one. So perhaps the times were changing, there had been Feminism, there had been Reggae, there had been Post-Structuralism, and there had been South Park -- so perhaps the roles expected of men and women really ahd changed enough so that it was now possible, in these golden new times, for a man to live inside the colon of another...! He found himself grinning, the dwarf did, from ear to ear! It was as if he'd at last found his niche! No one would be mean to him here! No one would tease him! And that Jake, that ball and chain, that royal-pain-in-the-ass, was simply too tall to follow Mr. Tickles in here! The thought cheered him more than anything else had been able to in months, as he stepped into the circle of firelight.	Philip
His cheer was rather shortlived as it were as he observed the rumpled figure slumped into the heavy overstuffed armchair. The chair was pulled up so close to the fire as to almost set it alight as the figure attempted to suck whatever heat it could from it. The long maroon velvet doublet and ruffled shirt the figure wore stained with intestinal fluids. The high folded leather boots cracked and caked with fecal matter. At first glance he appeared to be asleep, laborous stentorian breath rising and falling like a winter tide. Mr Tickles glanced about at the rest of the colon's accoutrements. A sea chest, some maps, a few South Seas knick knacks and a pair of hammocks swinging from some pre-cancerous polyps. The figure spoke wearily. "Well, Pan, so you've found me at last. I must say the years have been even less kind to you. My how fat you've grown." Mr Tickles turned to protest but the figure in the chair merely raised an accusing arm and said "And none of your backtalk, Pan. I've been waiting for this day. "Smee, set another place for dinner. We've got a guest." The end of the upraised arm terminated in a large shining metal hook.	Lanark

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