Personal Insult

 
‘Absolutely wonderful, somethings are best left unsaid, ask a child they won’t tell you more than can be said in their eyes!’ cried the bishop to the monkey whilst he stroked his brow in calm.

‘Nonsense!’ said the monkey, ‘you’re just a fat old git.’

‘God has willed my waistline monkey and also the strength within my arm, I could snap your very neck if I so chose, so watch that tongue of yours.’

‘So God has chosen death for me I see, if you are willing in lust to do his will, then I won’t will against it, for broken neck or not you see, I am sure to get my point across. You corpulent twat.’

‘Careful monkey, lest I pray for God to intervene, he may yet guide my hand. Always the way of the lower race to hurl such lies around. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw your feckless furry face today and now I know why you have come mocking me in such a fashion! I breathed deep and was soaked in surreptitious peace in such a lovely fine and dandy place as this.’

‘Ha, ha, my place! Well after all we share a common ancestor, I and you the fidgeting buffoon, you know not God or the stars any better than me. You see it’s such a fuss to dance around in this confusing blurt of life. Jangling angles and doubting wants whilst we march to the fine beat of blood.’

‘No sense, makes sense monkey, now quiet down. I am here with God and I will quaff my hearty mead, My congregation all be damned, I will imbibe it until I drown your irritating, whining voice out.’

‘Oh old fat man, you are a fool and drinking may dampen my words, but they will still ring true to sting at you in the cold hard light of morrow. Still the rush is up with all that plays and now is the time for living! For you are a fool an old fat fool to believe in such a load of dreary offal.’

‘Awful offal monkey man, I will drink myself deep, I will drink myself steep under the table, when no one else is able and I will blurt out these words as I roll down the hill from the very tower of God that I preach at! Children’s tears be damned, It is I who shall wail the loudest. For that is where my God lies beyond all place and time!’

‘Then drink it deep fat old fool, it will favour the war of words and I will add mendacious, torpid, delusional shit-wit to your new description. For monkeys know where all fate sleeps inside its own fire, burning frolics just for the sake of a complex sum. Occasionally numbness will foresee that our minds can even push old fate to the limit to maybe even crack a little or on a rare occasion or two to snap completely and that is more than can be said for the putrid bog of lustful sin from which you arose today.’

****The interlude occurred****

‘Oh, blast and damn,’ it thought and there was a sharp and sulphurous tang as the spirit shifted from its grave, it dearly loved to watch and see the insults bandied back and forth but now bother had returned.

Back to the heavens where the unanswered prayers were waiting, there were so many and it only had eternity to answer itself.

So it summoned its steel dragon and flew back to the heavens whilst whistling its cheerful tune of decay and dismay…

****The interlude became itself****

‘Shush monkey listen. Can you avoid catastrophe simply by being quiet? I can hear God lamenting my thoughts upon the very winds today. I can almost taste him.’

‘Oh shut up you silly old bugger, you are but a fucking clown, everyone knows it, even me, for who would be mad enough to talk to a bloody monkey?’

‘Ah alas, I think you may be right you wretched little creature.’

And with that the Bishop decided he was no longer afraid of God’s terrible wrath this particular day and he snapped the monkey’s neck and walked back to his church to spread more dubious claims of talking primates. It would be God’s glorious work indeed.

A personal insult of sorts…

The monkey said nothing for its neck was broke and it lay dead, but if it could have uttered a word or two it would have said, ‘Fuck itself, I told you so.’