“Oh, did I tell you, I am dying, my darling. “
“How grotesque!”
“Oh, I guess not. I forgot to mention it. I am so sorry my dear.”
“Please, stop talking, now!”
“Okay, my love.”
But if I had continued, I would have let her know about a whole series of exceptionally serious events that had taken place on the previous Valentine’s Day. First and foremost, I received an urgent message from my doctor to come immediately to his office. Once there, he advised me that the tests had come back positive. He helplessly announced that my case was terminal and that there was nothing more he could do for me. He suggested I go see my family, say my goodbyes, and get some peace and quiet before I came to my final rest.
My subsequent visit to my family provided little solace or sympathy. Their response to my situation was to tell me to go see the priest, in order to get absolution for my sins.
I headed in the direction of the church but as I climbed the extended, stone staircase and gazed up at the wooden building surrounded by blue sky, I scoffed at the silliness of the idea. Why would I go there when Wing Chun’s red brothel was right next door! Actually, I must confess I never went to church and I always passed it by and went to Wing Chun’s place instead.
Wing Chun was an old Chinese prostitute with willing hands and open mouth, and who possessed great ability as a masseuse. Generally, Wing Chun gave me a pipe to smoke while she smoked mine and we were both extremely happy. This particular evening started in our regular fashion.
Wing Chun wore a red robe with a red sash. She gave me some opium to smoke while she proceeded to massage me with elegant, elongated strokes. Soon I was in a dreamlike stupor, listening to her seemingly faraway voice praising my size and strength as she reached around and under my body and rubbed my cock sensationally.
Just after, things went bad. I fell asleep and dreamed a nightmare. Given the circumstances, I guess I might have expected as much. Suddenly, I experienced myself running down a rainy, deserted city street that began to shake and crack. I fell into the quake. Out of the ensuing darkness came a phantom-like, undulating twelve-limbed female body with wide swinging hips and bloody lips. With a bewitching grimace, the demon opened her pudenda and showed a prolapsed labia that hung like a rope bridge across infinity.
“Come dance with me.” She gasped as she grabbed me around the neck with one of her twelve arms and shook me. It was quite clear that it was to be the dance of death.
Now it was at this point that Wing Chun rescued me. She slapped my face repeatedly and yelled for me to wake-up. Once awakened, I thanked her profusely and hugged her tightly.
“How did you know to wake me at that precise moment?” I asked.