Best Little Witch-House in Arkham. Mark McLaughlin

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СКАЧАТЬ Woman’s Voice: My, what a sweet little angel you are. ‘Oh, my name is Laura and I am so holy, I only eat tiny apples that have already fallen from the tree.’ Spare us the sermon! We’ve heard it a million times before.

      MM: Who was that who just spoke?

      Jones: My wife Hekuuna. She is from this island. The people of Pokaluhu have a more nature-based philosophy. They see the food chain as—

      Laura: They’re cannibals. Just say it. Disgusting cannibals.

      Hekuuna: Who are you to judge my people, bitch-dog woman?

      Mongo: Mark didn’t fly out here just to listen to you two argue, you know.

      MM: I do want to get back to that whole cannibalism topic at some point. But you still need to answer my first question. Why are you behind that screen? Did you catch some horrible island skin disease or something?

      Hekuuna: ‘Island skin disease’? No one is ever sick on Pokaluhu! It is a much healthier place than America, where everyone is a bloated pig!

      Gregor: You’ll have to forgive Hekuuna—she’s very excitable. Ain’t that right, Jonesy? Actually, we’re hidden from sight because we’re gods.

      MM: Oh? Congratulations, I guess…

      Gregor: What I mean is, the locals say we’re divine. They don’t look at us directly, and they don’t want you looking at us, either.

      Hekuuna: Your pitiful gaze would defile us.

      MM: No offense, but I used to give these guys enemas. I’ve pretty much seen it all. Besides, there’s somebody in with you right now. That guy standing to the side. How come he gets to look at you?

      Laura: His name is Ko. He’s blind, the poor thing. All of our servants are blind.

      Mongo: But it’s not like we go around poking people’s eyes out. We asked the local islands to send us their blind people. They were happy to oblige.

      MM: Hmmm. Back when you were heavier, the whole world was watching you. Now that you’re finally slender, no one gets to see you. Pretty ironic. Laura, if I remember correctly, didn’t you used to be Popo’s dietary consultant?

      Laura: He never listened to me. Yet I fell in love with him anyway. He still doesn’t listen. But I still love him.

      Popo: Those fancy diets of yours didn’t do me any good. I was just big, plain and simple. We were all big boys growing up. Well-fed from day one.

      MM: We’ve heard from Laura and Hekuuna—who are the other two women at your table?

      Hekuuna: They are my sisters, Yilla and M’namma.

      Yilla: Hello. I am Yilla.

      M’namma: I am M’namma. Hello.

      Gregor: M’namma is my wife.

      Mongo: And Yilla’s my wife.

      MM: I’m guessing Hekuuna’s sisters were big fans of The Vittles, so she made the introductions?

      Hekuuna: That is wrong. My sisters were not familiar with any form of American entertainment. They were priestesses of Kugappa.

      MM: Is that a local deity?

      Hekuuna: Local? Stupid man! Kugappa is the great god of all the world.

      Laura: But he’s only worshipped on this tiny hellhole of an island.

      Hekuuna: But someday—

      Mongo: Now, girls. A little decorum.

      MM: Jones, how did you meet Hekuuna?

      Jones: It’s a long story, so I’ll give you the condensed version. Hekuuna’s father, who passed away a few years back, used to be king of this island. Her mother was a tourist, originally from Chicago, who met and fell in love with the king. Hekuuna was the oldest of the three daughters, destined to take over the throne someday. Her mother sent her to college in America to receive a more cosmopolitan education.

      Hekuuna: America is filled with pigs!

      Jones: Yes, my dear—but lucky for me you have a fondness for pork. I met Hekuuna at a concert in New York City. She snuck backstage, and—well, she’s just very beautiful. And wise—the wisdom shines in her eyes. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her.

      Laura: Evil shines in her eyes. I hate her.

      MM: I’m not sure if I should bring this up, but—well, my readers would want to know, so here goes. Some people say that Hekuuna is ultimately responsible for the downfall and self-imposed exile of The Vittles.

      Hekuuna: Yes, that is true. I made them what they are today.

      Laura: Whore. Filthy pagan whore.

      Mongo: I give up.

      Laura: They came here because Hekuuna told them to. And it’s the only place in the world that doesn’t mind cannibalism. It’s the only place that would take them.

      MM: Cannibalism. Yes, I wanted to get back to that topic. So that still goes on here at Pokaluhu?

      Hekuuna: Food is food. Is that so hard to understand?

      MM: Certainly The Vittles sang a lot about food in their early days, with songs like “Submarine Sandwich” and “Captain Bacon’s Hungry Chowhound Band.” But later—after Jones met Hekuuna—they started to releasing singles like “Eight Plates Of Meat,” “I Wanna Eat Your Gland,” and “Luigi In The Pie with Diced Ham.” Their music grew steadily darker—the Filet Of Soul album was awfully grim, but it was positively perky compared to Monstrous Misery Tour.

      Hekuuna: Yes, that was my doing. I took them to the next level. That is why I told them to destroy the town where they grew up. They were too fond of their old ways. Their old identities. They had to erase the past, so they could be reborn into a new future of great power. An artist must grow—must evolve!

      Yilla: I started listening to the music of The Vittles after I married Mongo. I like the song “Helena Handbasket.”

      M’namma: My favorite one is “Buried In Hay Fields Forever.” It is very pretty.

      Yilla: You mean ‘handsome’—it was sung by men.

      Hekuuna: No, ‘pretty’ is more correct. ‘Handsome’ applies only to the men, never to the music.

      Yilla: I see. Forgive my stupidity.

      MM: So was it the band’s newfound preoccupation with cannibalism that led to the attack on your fans at Monroe Hexagonal Stadium?

      (A moment of silence.)

      Popo: That’s right, Mark.

      Laura: Oh, God.

      Hekuuna: They were following the way of Kugappa.

      Yilla: The way.

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