• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 08

Feejee Mermaid lookin’ for a good time, call now

Go on, fill your goggles, then Wikipedia it. Feejee Mermaid, I ain't known for my kisser. My anguish – and there is real anguish beneath the bell jar at the Turf Coffee House here on Saint James Street – is that I can't join you for a cup of tea. Can you imagine how parched I feel at this particular point in history? To whet my lips, if I still have lips – no, don't answer that, your face already says too much – yes to whet my lips, to while away a few more seconds in paradise, to feel the salt breeze in my hair again and imagine myself not hastened to the rear end of a trout, but in the South Pacific cracking open a coconut against a rock...

How much do you know about monkeys? I'm guessing not a lot. Some believe in the theory of the aquatic ape although I don't think my desiccated figure is quite the genetic link they were hoping for. You look like an atheist. Have you read John Berger's essay Why Look at Animals? Do you feel morally compromised right now as you swill Earl Grey this early in the day, contemplating a decomposed monkey torso stitched to a fish? Or still curious?

Hey baby, looking for a good time? I do after hours at the coffee shop too. Just ask at the counter. Hot ape seeks fun loving gimp for water sports and cosplay. BYO imagination. And glue gun. By the way, the bell jar is made of plastic. Just lift the seal.