[EDITOR'S NOTE: A team of archeologists have unearthed an unfinished work from Sophocles entitled Oedipus the Chat King. What is particularly amazing about this excerpt is that it seems to closely match recent, but by no means confirmed, events. Return of the Reluctant has obtained an exclusive translation of Sophocles' one act play. Please bear in mind that this is very rough and by no means a complete portrayal of Sophocles' text. But we offer the rough translation in an effort to promote the humanities and give scholars a first look at this astonishing discovery.]
OEDIPUS
Here too my dialup has often lagged, for twice
At Creon’s instance have I called tech support
When losing a flirtatious email
CHORUS:
My liege, beware! The prophecy! The prophecy!
OEDIPUS
These warnings I disregard, for she is sensuous
Well prepared to wear a hot pink tank top
To match the noble lips, two sets I’ll kiss upon the beach.
Her name: the beautiful Jocasta, jumpy and jocose
Willing to hole up in a Ramada Inn with room service
A fan of reenacting scenes from pornographic pay-per-view
With the nimblest fingers and a malleable mouth
How can I, Oedipus the Great Chat King, lose in the deal?
I know not her age, but she says she’s older
Experience, let us not forget, is a virtue.
CHORUS
Methinks he walks into the Venus Flytrap of anonymity
Whom thou art be careful with, given trannies
Sad sacks, stalkers, DSM-IV exemplars and liars
But this, O Noble Chat King, is not worth your while
Do not be blinded by a titilating faceless JPEG
Thou hath not seen her visage nor engaged in real-world chitchat
Beware, your highness! You’ll never live this down!
OEDIPUS
The chorus, despite my many bribes, is stentorian
Have they no respect for royalty?
It took me five years and many X-rays
To become the Great Chat King
This woman then, who hopes to shift in the sands
Is the most flawless type I have come across
But no more! Hark! She comes near now
JOCASTA
Yoohoo! Chat King? Come closer so we might liplock
And take our sandy tangos to a hotel suite
OEDIPUS
The girl of my dreams! See her white shorts
Her trim legs. I cannot wait to sink my teeth
Into her bosom. Come nearer, Jocasta!
Let me taste your saliva and stroke your thighs
JOCASTA
O Chat King! Your talk pumps the blood
In my varicose veins. I want you, Chat King.
I want to smell you and feel you close to my –
Dear lord!
OEDIPUS
But what is this astonishment, my love?
My — oh fuck! I wanted pizzazz, but —
Mom, could it be you? Ewwwwwwwwwww.
JOCASTA
Let us speak nothing of this, son. It never happened.
It can never be uttered by –
OEDIPUS
The lights! The black and whites on the beach!
We’re done for!
JOCASTA
Now, son, before you were born, I did many things
To talk my way out of a ticket. Indeed, talking was
The least of my worries.
OEDIPUS
Mother! Stop! They’re leading us away!
This terrible tale, foretold by the soothsayers,
Will be spread across the Internet!
I’ll never date again!
JOCASTA
Hush hush, dear son. One-time Prince of Pleasure.
You trusted my poetry. Now trust my gift of gab.
[Here, the text ends. We leave our audience to judge what any of this means.]
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
Excellent job!
Having read the article about that mother & son, I am very impressed with you verse and sense of humor!
This is the MOST HYSTERICAL thing I’ve read on a blog. Nice work oh tenebrous one! I had to link to it. I couldn’t resist.
Wouldst thy taketh my cyber heart,
Ophelia,
Blackened tongue inserted in cheek,
HEY…get my uncle the king off my mom…
Awesome piece with limitless possibilities tenebrous one, but I somehow feel as though I need to take a long, gene cleansing shower….