Sesame street my name is zoe

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The summer evening was already beginning to envelop the world with its mysterious veil

h. 1 ... h. 4 h. 5h. 6 o'clock 7 o'clock 8 ... 19 o'clock 20

Zoya (correcting her velvet, indifferently). Are you serious? Goodbye then. (Mockingly.) You seem to have got up on your left foot today, or maybe you finished too quickly with your tail. I see right through you.

Bloom (bitterly). Man and woman, love, what is it all? Barrel and plug.

Zoya (suddenly angry). I can't stand these lousy bastards. Though with a whore, but it is necessary humanly.

Bloom (with remorse). It's true, I'm kind of unkind. You are a necessary evil. So where are you from? From London?

Zoya (talkative). From Swindon, where pigs play organs. Actually, I'm from Yorkshire, that is, I was born there. (Retracts his hand, groping for her nipple.) Listen, Tommy Mouse. Give it up and do something worse. Do you have a short entry with you? Ten shillings?

Bloom (smiling, nodding slowly). More, my guria, more.

Zoya . For more love longer. (Tenderly pats him with velvet paws.) Well, let's go and see the new pianola in our salon? I'll do my best for you.

Bloom (scratching the back of her head indecisively with the unprecedented astonishment of a street peddler suddenly appreciating the exquisite symmetry of her juicy pears). Someone would be mortally jealous if she only knew. Monster with green eyes ³⁶² . (Seriously.) You know how hard it is to explain to you.

Zoya (she is flattered). About that heart does not hurt, what the eye does not see. (Stroking him.) Well, let's go, let's go.

Bloom . Laughing enchantress! The hand that rocks the cradle.

Zoya . Babe!

Bloom (in breeches and a coat, big-headed, with a hat of dark hair, wide-eyed, looks fascinated at her iridescent skirt, counts the buckles on it with a plump finger and babbles, sticking out his wet tongue). Laz wa aphids - aphids aphids tlaz.

Buckles . Loves. Does not love. Loves.

Zoya . Silent means consent. (Small splayed claws take hold of his hand, the index finger draws on his palm the conventional sign of a secret mentor ³⁶³ , leading to the inevitable. ) Hands are hot, which means the throat is frozen.

He hesitates, overcome by music, smells, temptations. She leads him to the steps, beckoning him with the smell of her armpits, the viciousness of her eyeliner, the rustling of her skirt, in the serpentine folds of which lies the caustic bestial spirit of all the males who possessed her.

Males (smacking with the sulphurous stench of lust and dung, rearing up in their stalls with a guttural roar, shaking their crazy heads). Harrosh!

Zoya and Bloom approach the door where two prostitute sisters are sitting.

They look at him with curiosity from under painted eyebrows, smile in response to a hasty bow. He accidentally stumbles.

Zoya (picking it up in time with a nimble hand). Gop-la! Do not fall up.

Bloom . The righteous will fall seven times ³⁶⁴ . (Stops on the threshold, lets her through.) According to the rules, after you.

Zoya . First a lady, then a gentleman.

Crossing the threshold. He hesitates. She turns around and pulls him. He jumps over the threshold. In the hallway, a man's hat and raincoat hang on a hanger made of horns. Bloom takes off his hat, then, seeing them, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied with some thought. The mezzanine door swings open.

A man in a red shirt and gray trousers, in dark socks, walks with a wobbling monkey gait, his bald goat-bearded head thrown up, embracing a full jug of water, two-tailed black suspenders dangling from behind to the very heels. Quickly turning away from him, Bloom leans down to see the eyes of a running fox on the spaniel table in the hallway; then, raising his head, sniffing the air, he follows Zoya into the salon. The light of the chandelier is shaded by a lampshade made of pinkish silky paper. The moth circles and circles around, knocking, flying away. The floor is linoleum with a pattern of jade, lapis lazuli and cinnabar diamonds. On it are footprints in every possible combination, heel to heel, heel to middle, toe to toe, closed feet, the Moorish dance of once-stepping soles, disembodied ghosts in a disorderly mixture.

Wallpaper on the walls with a spacious pattern of willow branches. In front of the fireplace is a screen of peacock feathers. Lynch sits on a felt rug by the fireplace, cross-legged, cap wrapped around the back of his head. He slowly beats the time with his staff. Kitty Ricketts, a bony, pale prostitute in a sailor suit, with suede gloves folded back to reveal a coral bracelet, sits on the edge of the table, holding a ring bag in her hand, shaking her leg and looking at her reflection in a large mirror that hangs in a gilded frame above fireplace. From under her blouse, the ends of her corset laces dangle. Lynch sneers at the couple at the piano.

Kitty (coughs, covering her mouth with her hand). She's a little silly. (Twisting a finger at the temple.) Balls for the rollers. (Lynch pulls up her hem with his staff, revealing her white petticoats. She straightens her toilet immediately.) Please don't forget yourself. (Hiccups, he quickly tilts his sailor's hat, from under which henna-dyed hair gleams. ) Oh, sorry!

Zoya . Babes, light on the stage. (Goes to the chandelier and opens the gas to the limit.) Kitty (looking at the gas flame). What did she get into?

Lynch (in a voice beyond the grave). The ghost and brownies enter.

Zoya . Let's all clap for Zoe.

The wand in Lynch's hand lights up with a gleam, it is a copper poker. Stephen stands at the pianola, on which his hat and cane are casually thrown. With two fingers, he once again repeats a series of pure fifths. Florrie Talbot, a fat, flabby blond in a shabby, moldy strawberry dress, sprawled lazily in the corner of the sofa, listening. Her flaccid hand hangs like a whip behind the roller, on a sleepy eyelid there is a large swollen barley.

Kitty (hiccups again and kicks her leg). Ah, sorry!

Zoya (responding immediately). Your boyfriend remembers you. Tie a knot in the combination.

Kitty Ricketts bows her head low. Her boa opens the rings, slides over her shoulders, back, arms, chair to the floor. Lynch pokes at the coiled caterpillar with his baton. Kitty wraps the snake around her neck, nesting in it. Stephen looks back at the figure seated in a cap with a visor on the back of his head.

Stephen . In fact, it does not matter at all whether Benedetto Marcello ³⁶⁵ composed it or found it ready. The rite is the rest of the poet. It could be an ancient hymn to Demeter or an accompaniment to "Coela enarrant gloriam Domini" ³⁶⁶ . This allows for such different tonalities and modes as Hyperphrygian and Mixolydian and such dissimilar texts as the clamor of priests in front of the altar of David, that is, Circe, and that it’s me Ceres and David’s tip to his main trombone player about his omnipotence. Mais nom de nom ³⁶⁷ , all this is from another opera. Jetez la gourme. Faut que jeunesse se ³⁶⁸ . (Pauses; pointing to Lynch's cap with a smile, bursts into laughter.) On which side is your bump of wisdom?

Kartuz (plunged into a gloomy spleen). Linden! It is so because it is so. Baby logic. A Zhidogreek is a Greek Jew ³⁶⁹ . Extremes meet. Death is the highest form of life. Linden!

Stephen . You, as if on purpose, remember all my mistakes, and nonsense, and boasts. How long should I turn a blind eye to such a betrayal? Touchstone!

Kartuz . Linden!

Stephen . If so, here's another one for you. (Frowning.) The reason is that the dominant and tonic are separated by the largest possible interval, which...

Cap . Which! Well, what's next? Can not.

Steven (with effort). The interval that. There is the largest possible ellipse. Compatible with. Final return. Octave. Which.

Cap . Which one?

Outside, with a deafening roar, the gramophone began to play "Holy City" ³⁷⁰ .

Steven (with power). That which goes to the end of the world ³⁷¹ so as not to cross with itself. God, the sun, Shakespeare, the traveling salesman, having reached the intersection with themselves in reality itself, find themselves. Wait a minute. Wait a second. This cursed roar in the street. Themselves, as they were irrevocably preconditioned to become in themselves. Eccol ³⁷² !

Lynch (winks at Bloom and Zoe Higgins with a mocking chuckle). How do you like the prohvesor, huh?

Zoya (with liveliness). Take care of your brains, he knows more than you managed to forget.

Florrie Talbot looks at Stephen with obese stupidity.

Florrie . And I was told that this summer there will be a doomsday.

Kitty . Yes really?

Zoya (laughs). The Lord is unrighteous!

Florrie (offended). There was even about the Antichrist in the newspapers. Oops, itchy leg.

Ragged newspaper boys are passing by, shouting, tapping their bare heels, dragging a tailed kite.

Newsmen . Special! Skating results. Sea serpent in the Royal Canal. The blessed arrival of the Antichrist.

Steven turns around and sees Bloom.

Stephen . Time, times and half a time ³⁷³ .

Reuben J. The Antichrist, the eternal Jew, with his hand behind his back with a tenacious open handful, steps forward heavily. At the loins of his bag is a wanderer, from which protrude IOUs and unpaid bills. He holds a long hook, from the hook of which the body of his only son, rescued from the waters of the Liffey, hangs on suspenders in a swollen shapeless pile. In the thickening dusk, somersaults are the brownie in the guise of Punch Costello, with the skull of a hydrocephalus, a sloping forehead, a bulldog jaw and a swollen crimson nose, humpbacked and lopsided.

All . What is this?

Brownie (clicks his jaws, jumps in all directions, bulges his eyes and squeals, jumps like a kangaroo, with grasping paws spread out, then, sharply thrusting his lipless mask into the fork of his legs, squeals from there). Il vient! C'est my! L'homme qui rit! L'homme primigene ³⁷⁴ ! (Whirls furiously in place with the howls of a dervish.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux ³⁷⁵ ! (Crouches juggling. Tiny planets fly in his hands like roulette balls.) Les jeux sont faits ³⁷⁶ ! (The planets collide as they collide, crackling sound is heard.) Rien n'va plus ³⁷⁷ ! (The planets, ballooning, float up and out of sight. He dissolves with a leap into the void.) FLORRY (in a dull stupor, crossing himself furtively). Doomsday!

Women's warm currents emanate from her. A dark cloud fills the universe.

Outside, through the drifting mist, a gramophone blares, drowning out coughs and shuffling feet.

Gramophone .
Jerusalem!

Open thy gates and sing

Hosanna ³⁷⁸ ...
The rocket takes off into the sky and bursts. In its place is a white star, announcing the death of all things and the second coming of Elijah. On an endless invisible rope stretched from the zenith to the nadir ³⁷⁹ , the Doomsday, a two-headed octopus in hunting kilts, a hussar shako and checkered Scottish skirts, rolls head over heels through the fog, taking the form of a Manx Tripod ³⁸⁰ .

Doomsday (Scottish accent). Who will dance for us over the mountains, over the mountains, over the mountains ³⁸¹ ?

Blocking the floating rumble and the sounds of a hoarse cough, the voice of Elijah ³⁸² , sharp, like the cry of a jerk, croaks hoarsely in the air. He himself, with the face of a church servant, stands on a pulpit covered with an American flag, sweating in a spacious cambric surplice with funnel sleeves. He pounded on the pulpit with his fist.

Elijah . Stop the chatter in the room. And you, Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell and Abe Kirshner, if you please, cough with your mouth closed. So, this whole line is serviced by me. Guys, the moment is now. God's time is exactly 12:25. Tell your mother you'll be there. Quickly hand over the order, and the ace of trumps is yours. Take it to Eternity-Sorting by direct express! Join our ranks now! Just one more word. Are you divine or are you a horseradish in a mat? If the second coming takes place in Coney Island, are we ready or not? Florrie Christos, Steven Christos, Zoe Christos, Bloom Christos, Kitty Christos, Lynch Christos, you all need to feel this cosmic power. Are we drifting in front of space? Dudki! Be on the side of the angels. Be Prism ³⁸³ . You have this little thing inside, the higher self. You can communicate with Christ, with Gautama, with Ingersoll. Well, how do you feel these vibrations? I bet you feel it. Brethren, one has only to grasp this once, and it's in the bag, a cheerful walk to heaven is yours. Did it get to you? This is the spotlight of life, I tell you, the most powerful potion of all, the pie with the most delicious filling. The best and most convenient of all external lines. Gorgeous, ultra-luxury item. Gets you in shape. Gives vibration. I already know, I understand a little about vibrations. Okay, jokes aside, back to the point. A.J. Christ Dowie and harmonic philosophy, is that clear to you? OK. West Sixty-ninth Street, seventy-seven. Recorded? Order. And you can call me on the phone at any time. Save on stamps, old alcoholics. (Roaring.) And now, all at once, our glorious song. Together, together, with a twinkle, sing! Bad again! (Roars.) Jeru...

Gramophone (roars much louder). Khhierusavrasvoiosaosaosahhh... (The needle scrapes against the plate with a grinding sound.) Three prostitutes (covering their ears, squealing). Yaaaay!

Elijah (in a shirt with rolled up sleeves, black-faced, screaming with all his might, raising his hands). Our elder brother in the highest, mass President, listen to what my yours say. My strong faith in yours, Mass President. My think hard, Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts already have religion in their hearts. And mine strongly surrenders, mine has never seen such a fright as yours, Miss Florry. Massa President, yours come, help me save our dear sisters. (He winks at the listeners.) Our mass is the President, she knows and understands everything, but she keeps quiet.

Kitty-Kate . I lost my head. In a moment of weakness, I succumbed, and then it happened, what happened on Constitution Hill. And the bishop himself confirmed me. My maternal aunt is married to Montmorency ³⁸⁴ . I was innocent, this plumber ruined me.

Zoe Fanny . And I took and gave, it was interesting.

Florri-Teresa . They drank three stars, French, and then another port wine, because of this it happened. Hilan climbed into bed with me, well, I sinned ³⁸⁵ .

Stephen . In the beginning was the word, in the end the world without end. Blessed are the eight beatitudes.

Bliss - Dixon, Madden, Crotters, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, Mulligan and Lynch in white medical coats, four abreast, marching at a brisk pace, with a booming goose step.

Bliss (out of order). Bottle, beef steak, babets, bronedog, buljon ³⁸⁶ , barnum, bardakum, liturgical.

Lister (wearing gray Quaker shorts and a wide-brimmed hat, in a polite tone). He is one of our friends. I don't need to name names. Seek the world.

Stepping out the chimes. Super enters, dressed as a hairdresser, starched and ironed to a shine, curls twirled around hairpins. He leads John Eglinton, wearing a yellow nanke mandarin kimono with lizard letters and a tall pagoda hat.

Super (smiling, lifts the pagoda to reveal a shaved dome with a pigtail with an orange bow on top). I'm here, you know, bringing beauty to it. Beauty is also bliss. That which is involved in beauty, you understand ³⁸⁷ . As Yeats put it, I mean Keats.

John Eglinton (takes out a dim lantern with a green shutter and shines it into a corner, grumpily ³⁸⁸ ). Aesthetics and cosmetics are suitable for the boudoir. I'm looking for the truth. The simple truth for the common man. Thunderaji wants facts and intends to get them.

In a sheaf of light behind a coal pail - ollav ³⁸⁹ , holy-eyed and bearded Mananaun Mac-Leer, lost in thought, with his chin buried in his knees.

He straightens up slowly. From his druidic lips, a chilly sea wind blows. Lampreys and eels are wrapped around his head. It is covered with shells and algae. In his right hand is his bicycle pump. With his left he holds a huge crab by two claws.

Mananaun McLear (voice of the waves). Aum! Huck! Shaft! Ak! Love! Pestilence! Ma ³⁹⁰ ! White yoga gods. Occult pomander of Hermes Trismegistus. (Whistles of the sea wind.) Punarjanam baldapenjaub! It's not easy to fool me. It was once said: beware of the left, the cult of Shakti. (Clicks of a petrel.) Shakti, Shiva, in the darkness the hidden Father! (He crushes a crab with a bicycle pump. He has signs of the zodiac on the cooperative dial. He moans with a roar of ocean waves.) Aum! Baum! Pajaum! I am the light of the estate, I am first-class cream and butter.

The outstretched hand of a Judas skeleton strangles the light ³⁹¹ . Green light fades to pinkish. The gas jet whistles plaintively.

Gas jet . Pfuaa! Pfiiiuff!

Zoya runs up to the chandelier and, tucking her leg in, adjusts the burner grid.

Zoya . Who will give a smoke, since I'm here?

Lynch (throws a cigarette on the table). Hold on.

Zoya (lifts her head with an air of offended dignity). To treat a lady with a cigarette is not to throw a stick! (She reaches for a light from the burner, slowly twirling her cigarette by the flame, revealing chestnut wisps under her arms. Lynch cheekily lifts up her hem with his poker. Beneath the sapphire cloth, her body, naked above her garters, glows mermaid green. She puffs imperturbably.) Did you see a mole on your ass?

Lynch . And I don't look.

Zoya (an innocent sheep). This is true? Yes, of course you wouldn't. Wouldn't you like to go somewhere else?

Simultaneously feigning bashfulness, she glances askance at Bloom and, making a quick turn in his direction, frees her skirt from the poker.

A wavy blue is flowing over her body again. Bloom stands, twiddling his thumbs, desire in his smile. Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger and smoothes her brows as she looks in the mirror. Lipoti Virag ³⁹² , basilogramma ³⁹³ , rapidly sliding down the chimney, importantly takes two steps to the left on rigid pink stilts. He is tightly packed in several coats and wears a brown mackintosh, under which he holds a scroll of parchment.

He has the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdell Farrell in his left eye. An Egyptian pskhent rises on the head. A goose feather sticks out behind each ear.

Virag (heels together, bowing). My name is Lipoti Virag, from Szombathely. (Coughs thoughtfully, dryly.) There's obviously lecherous exposure here, huh? In an unforeseen way, from the spectacle of her rear parts, the fact was revealed that she does not at all wear those intimate objects for which you have a special craving. The injection mark on her thigh, I hope you noticed? Let's go further.

Bloom . Granpapachi ³⁹⁴ . But...

Virag . On the other hand, number two, with cherry lipstick and a white hat, her hair owes a lot to the elixir of our tribe, made of gopher wood as she sits. Swallowing arshin, so to speak. You can correct me, but I always thought that the playful manner of persons who open the private parts of the toilet attracts you with its exhibitioninistic. To put it in one word. Hippogriff. Hope I'm right?

Bloom . She is rather thin.

Virag (with satisfaction). To the highest degree! It is rightly noted that these patch pockets on the skirt, as well as the latter's widened cut at the top, are calculated to give the impression of full hips. The last purchase at some dubious sale, for which more than one chick was plucked. Fake chic to deceive the eyes. Also note the attention to detail. Don't put off until tomorrow what you can wear today. Parallax! (Nervously jerking his head.) You can hear my brains cracking ³⁹⁶ ? Polysyllabax!

Bloom (covering the elbow with the palm, resting the cheek with the finger). She has a sad look.

Virag (baring his ferret's yellow teeth, cynically pulls his left eye down with his finger, hoarsely, barking). For a fool! Beware of those who work under innocence and deep sorrow. Lily panel. Each has a bachelor button that Rualdus Columbus discovered. Take her. Poke her. Chameleon. (Relents) All right, let's move on to number three.

A very large mass appears here to the naked eye. We note, first of all, on her skull a significant amount of oxidized plant matter. Ho-ho, she's going to jump! An ugly duckling in the company, long decks and feed in two girths.

Bloom (regretfully). When you get out without a gun, all the game is on you.

Virag . Here you are provided with all varieties, weak, medium and highest fortress. Pay - choose according to your taste. How happy you can be with anyone ³⁹⁷ ...

Bloom . And with...?

Virag (smacks). Mmm! Look at her mighty hills. It is wrapped in an impressive layer of fat. Undoubtedly, it belongs to mammals, taking into account the volume of the chest, as you can see, two bulges of solid size stand out in front of it, threatening to plunge into a bowl of soup at dinner; while in the lower dorsal region there are two additional protuberances, suggestive of a powerful rectum and protruding in the most favorable way for palpation, they truly leave nothing to be desired but elasticity. Such fleshiness is the result of careful nutrition. When fed in small cages, their livers can reach the size of an elephant. Balls of fresh bread with fenugreek and benzoy, accompanied by portions of green tea, in their short age manage to equip them with colossal natural pillows. Quite to your taste, huh? Desirable cauldrons of meat in the land of Egypt. Dive into them to your heart's content. Lycopodium ³⁹⁸ . (His neck twitches.) Bang! Here it starts again.

Bloom . I don't like barley though.

Virag (raises eyebrows). They say that you need to apply a golden ring. Argumentum ad feminam ³⁹⁹ , as we expressed it in Ancient Rome and Ancient Greece in the consulate of Diplodocus and Ichthyosaurus. As for everything else, Eve's unsurpassed remedy. Not for sale. Exclusively for rent. Huguenot. (Nervous tic again.) Strange sounds. (Snickers approvingly.) Or maybe it's a wart. I hope you remember what I taught you about this? Wheat flour with honey and nutmeg.

Bloom (thinking). Wheat flour with lycopodium and syllabax. Not so easy to find. I had a terribly tiring day, a continuous chain of incidents. Wait. After all, wart blood itself spreads warts, and you say ...

Virag (in a stern voice, his nose becomes more hooked, his squinting eye blinks). Stop twisting your fingers and think properly. See, you forgot. Use your mnemonics. La causa e santa. Tara-tara. (Aside.) I'm sure he'll remember.

Bloom . You also said, rosemary ⁴⁰⁰ , if I understood correctly, and act on parasitic tissues by self-hypnosis. Or no, not that, now I remember. Heals the touch of a dead man's hand. Mnemo?

Virag (overjoyed). Exactly. Exactly. She. Technique. (He slaps his parchment vigorously.) Here it says how to proceed, with all the details. According to the index you can find out about everything, aconite for obsessive fear, hydrochloric acid for melancholy, for priapic purposes, lilac ⁴⁰¹ . And now Virag will talk about the removal. Our old friend caustic. You need to burn them out. Cut with horsehair at the very base. However, let's turn to the Bulgarians and the Basques, have you finally decided whether you like women in men's dress? (With a dry laugh.) You were going to devote a year to studying religious matters, and the summer of 1886 to squaring the circle and making that million. Well, fuck it! From the great to the ridiculous one step. Like pajamas? Or, say, wedged closed knitted pantaloons? Or, let's say, this is a complex attire, a combination with knickers? (Crows mockingly.) Crow!

Bloom hesitantly looks around at the three girls, then stops looking at the shaded pinkish chandelier, listens to the indefatigable moth.

Bloom . Then I wanted to have to finish now. Nightgowns have never been. This implies. But tomorrow is a new day. The past was there today. What is now is now, tomorrow will be as it was now to be yesterday.

Virag (bends over to his ear and whispers, grunting excitedly). The ephemeral insects spend their ephemeral existence in multiple copulations, attracted by the odorous radiation of any mediocre presentable female whose sexual heat extends dorsally. Ass good! (His yellow parrot beak croaks nasally.) There was a saying in the Carpathians around 5550 AD ⁴⁰² . A spoonful of honey attracts Brother Mishka more than half a dozen barrels of the finest malt vinegar. The flight of the bear bakes the bees. However, let's leave it. Maybe next time we will continue. We, for our part, were very, very pleased. (Coughs, bows her head, and rubs her nose thoughtfully with her folded hand.) You will notice that these nocturnal insects are attracted to light. But this is a delusion, if you remember their complex non-adaptable eye. For all these tricky questions, see volume seventeen of my Fundamentals of Sexology, or Love Passion, which Dr. L.B. called the most sensational book of the year. One example, there are again some whose movements are automatic. Take a look. For him, it is his sun. Night birds, night sun, night games. Snuggle up. Jimmy! W-w-w-w!

Bloom . I remember a fly or a bee rammed its shadow on the wall crazy, and then crawled crazy over me under my shirt, it’s good that ...

Virag (with an impassive expression, chuckling with a rich female chuckle). Perfect! A spanish fly in his pants or a mustard plaster on his peg! (Mutters excitedly, dangling turkey earrings.) Gold-bolds! Gold-bolds! Where are we? Sesame, open up! Coming! (Having quickly unfolded the scroll, he begins to read, his nose like a firefly and a claw quickly run through the lines from right to left.) Now, now, my friend. I will give you the answer you are looking for. We'll have Red Bank oysters soon. I am the best cook. These juicy bivalves will be useful to us, like the truffles from Perigord, the tubers that the omnivorous Mr. Boar extracts from the soil, they are still extremely effective in cases of nervous weakness and masculinity ⁴⁰³ . Even though they stink, they will kindle like a fire. (Shakes his head, mumbles, bantering.) Joker at ease. Monocle in his peepers.

Bloom (absent-minded). Peepers tell us that a woman is the worst case of bivalveness. Always open til. Split floor. Why are they afraid of parasites, crawling creatures. But Eve and the serpent contradict this. Although not a historical fact. A clear analogy with my idea. In addition, snakes are greedy for women's milk. Creeps for miles through omnivorous forests to suck the juicy bivalve's breast to the drop. Like those Roman women in the clearing, about which Elefantouliasis ⁴⁰⁴ .

Virag (pushing out his lips, gathered in sharp folds, closing his eyes in a stony and detached way, mournfully, like psalms, draws a foreign recitative). And cows with swollen udders, as you know...

Bloom . I'll call now. Excuse me, please. What? Here. (As if answering a lesson.) They themselves were looking for the lair of the reptile in order to give their nipples to his greedy sucking. Ants are milking aphids. (Thoughtfully.) Instinct rules the world. In life. In death.

Virag (tilting his head to one side, stooping his back and sticking out his shoulder blades with a hump, he stares at the moth with his crooked claw, screams). Who is Jer-Jer? Who is dear Gerald? Oh, I'm afraid he'll get very, very burned. Shallust, will anyone have the mercy to prevent this catastrophe by waving the best clean napkin? (Meows.) Kitty-kitty, come here. (Sighs, leans back and looks askance at the floor, motionless, jaw dropped.) Well, all right. He will rest soon.
I was born to fly

To rejoice in the spring

And whirl and flutter.

I was a king, I will not lie,

But nothing lasts forever, look,

And it's time to finish.

Ah!
(From a raid it strikes the lampshade, fluttering its wings violently.) Prele prele prele prele pretty lovely skirts.

Henry Flower comes out of the door at the top left and takes two sliding steps to the left of the middle of the salon. He wears a dark cape and a low-slung feathered sombrero. In the hands are silver-stringed cymbals made of typesetting wood and Jacob's pipe in the form of a clay female head with a long bamboo shank. Tight black velvet knickers and ball shoes with silver buckles. The romantic appearance of the Savior, with wavy curls, mustaches and a sparse beard. Crane legs with small feet belong to the tenor Mario, Prince of Candia. He adjusts the lace cuffs, runs a voluptuous tongue over his wet lips.

Henry (in a low and languid voice, plucking the strings of his guitar). Here is a beautiful flower all in bloom ⁴⁰⁵ .

Virag with a menacing look, clenching his jaw, looks at the light of the chandelier. Bloom in depth contemplates Zoya's neck. Gallant Henry with a dangling double chin turns to the piano.

Stephen (mumbles to himself). Play with your eyes closed. Like daddy. I filled my belly with faces that pigs eat ⁴⁰⁶ . Already beyond measure. I'll get up and go to mine. You might think it's this one. Stevie, you're on a slippery slope. We must go to the old Dizi or beat off the telegram. Our meeting today left an indelible impression on me. Although our age I'll write more tomorrow. By the way, I report that I'm drunk. (He touches the keys again.) Now a minor chord. Yes. However, not too much.

Almidano Artifoni holds out rolled-up notes, threateningly moving his thick mustache.

Artifoni . Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto ⁴⁰⁷ .

Florrie . Sing something. Sing "Sweet Old Love Song".

Stephen . No voice. I am a complete artist. Lynch, did I show you that letter about the lute?

Florrie (with a goofy grin). Who knows how to sing, let him not sing ⁴⁰⁸ .

Siamese twins Philip Sorezve and Philip Pyan appear in the window ⁴⁰⁹ , two Oxford professors with lawn mowers. Both are disguised with the face of Matthew Arnold.

Flip Sober . Listen to what the fool says to the wise. It's not good. Estimate with a dry pen on wet paper. Like an exemplary young cretin. The pay was three pounds twelve, two pounds in notes, one gold, two crowns, if youth knew. Mooney en ville, Mooney sur mer, at Moira's, at Larchett's, with the medics at Halls Street, at Burke's ⁴¹⁰ . Is everything right? I'm watching over you.

Philip Pyan (impatiently). Yes, throw this dregs to God in paradise! I don't owe anyone. Let me just think about octaves. Secondary split personality. Who told me his name? (His mower begins to chirp.) Aha, here it is. Zoe mu sas agapo ⁴¹¹ . Like I've been here before. Whenever, maybe with Atkinson, somewhere I have his card. Some Mac. Or Tumac. He kept telling me about who, wait, about Swinburne?

Florrie . Is this going to be a song?

Stephen . The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak ⁴¹² .

Florrie . Did you finish Manut? You look like one of my friends from there.

Stephen . I'm done with him. (To himself.) Oh, how clever.

Philip Sober and Philip Pyan (their mowers chirp, blades of grass flutter in the rigaudon). Cleverly smart. Finished on bumps. By the way, do you have a book, and a thing, and a cane with you? Yes, yes, here they are. Cleverly, wisely, finished, finished. Be fit. Take an example from us.

Zoya . Last night, a certain priest comes in, it is known for what business, and he is all buttoned up tightly, does not take off his coat. And I told him, why are you hiding, I already know you are a Catholic priest.

Virag . Completely logical from his point of view. There must be a fall. (Sharply, with dilated pupils.) To hell with dad! Nothing new under the sun. I, Virag, have exposed the Secret Morals of Monks and Virgins. Why I broke with the Catholic Church. Read "The Priest, the Woman and the Confessional" ⁴¹³ . Penrose. Bes Flibertigibbet ⁴¹⁴ . (She grimaces at him.) Untying her cane belt, the woman, with a gentle sentiment of shame, offers her wet yoni to the lingam. Then soon the man brings the woman prey from the jungle, pieces of meat. The woman has manifestations of joy and adorns herself with skins and feathers. The man loves her yoni powerfully with a hard big lingam. (Screaming) Coactus volui. Then the windy woman wants to hide. The man grabs her arm forcefully. The woman squeals, spits, bites. A man, inflamed with anger, beats a woman on her magnificent yadgan ⁴¹⁵ . (Whirls around trying to catch his tail.) Bang bang! Fluff! (Stops, sneezes.) Upchhi! (Tugging at his end.) Furrh!

Lynch . Well, how did you impose repentance on the holy father? Our Father nine times for having fired from a church cannon.

Zoya (smoky locks of walrus mustache from her nostrils). Yes, where is he to shoot. So, you know, one feeling. With a dry account.

Bloom . Poor fellow!

Zoya (carefree). And he's to blame.

Bloom . Like this?

Virag (his face shrinks into the devil's mouth, from which a black glow emanates; the bony neck is stretched forward. Raises the bastard's snout and howls). Verfluchte Goim ⁴¹⁶ ! Whether he had a father or forty fathers. Yes, he never existed. Pig God ⁴¹⁷ ! He had two left legs. This is Judas Iacchus, Libyan eunuch, papal bastard ⁴¹⁸ ! (He lands on crooked forepaws with his elbows firmly splayed, his eye agonizes in the hole of a flat skull merged with the neck, a shrill bark resounds over the silent world.) Spawn of a whore. Apocalypse.

Kitty . And Mary Shortall picked up a siphon from Jimmy Dove ⁴¹⁹ from blue caps and ended up in the hospital, and when she gave birth after him, the baby could not swallow, he choked from spasm on his mattress, and we all formed for the funeral.

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