The Sugar Frosted Nutsack (21 page)

The Goddesses prefer gazing at inert and immutable images (“onanistic ornaments”) while they masturbate. This is why, the Chineans insist, the only significant image of
Ike
in the entirety of the epic is the one of him “standing on his stoop, on the prow of his hermitage, striking that contrapposto pose, in his white wifebeater, his torso totally ripped, his lustrous chestnut armpit hair wafting in the breeze, his head turned and inclined up toward the top floors of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.”

In an event at the Celeste Bartos Forum of the New York Public Library billed as
THE CAPO DI TUTTI FRUTTI
in conversation with
Lorena Bobbitt
(who was replaced at the last moment by
Malcolm Gladwell
), a man purporting to be
The Capo di Tutti Frutti
(his face was covered by a balaclava) answers the question “What do you think is the sexiest inert and immutable image?” by proposing “A photograph of a chubby, perspiring fifty-year-old woman bending over to pick up a mah-jongg tile from the floor of some cabana, coquettishly exposing her hairy hole.” This creates quite a stir, prompting some in the audience to call out their own suggestions: “What about a Hummel figurine of a plus-size Bavarian beer maid getting a dental X-ray, wearing a low-cut dirndl and a lead apron,” someone proposes. “Some defaced plinth in a piazza,” someone else says. “A magazine layout of models showing the half-chewed-up food in their mouths,” says another.
The Capo di Tutti Frutti
(or whoever he is) glares at the audience, shaking his head vehemently. “A photograph of a chubby, perspiring fifty-year-old woman bending over to pick up a mah-jongg tile from the floor of some cabana, coquettishly exposing her hairy hole,” he repeats.

That night, thousands of rats descend on an enormous obelisk of baklava that’s been erected by bearded, bare-chested intellectuals in cargo shorts to protest a significant uptick in the number of vagrant, drug-addled bards who are being slaughtered.

Tuesday: 8:00
PM
Eastern
“Snapping Out”

Here, as anyone with even the faintest familiarity with
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
knows,
Vance
is supposed to snap out of his reverie and ask
Ike
whom he’d rather fuck,
Jenny Sanford
or
Silda Spitzer
. And
Ike the Kike
—“haloed martyr, edged in splendor, the stone homunculus, who never curdles into the comprehensible”—is supposed to impassively ignore the question, his eyes remaining fixed in the direction of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, and then
Vance
is supposed to ask, “Well, who do you think are the hottest Goddesses?” prompting
Ike
to compile his “Ten Gods I’d Fuck (T.G.I.F.)” list (headed, of course, by his beloved
La Felina
and including
Lady Rukia
,
La Muñeca
,
Las Pistoleras
, and several others, including a hitherto unknown Goddess named
Hmm Uh
, who is now considered a Goddess of surpassing significance, although some experts continue to believe that “Hmm Uh” was simply what’s called a “speech disfluency” or “verbal placeholder”—a meaningless interjection that
Ike
unconsciously inserted as he tried to think of other Goddesses he’d fuck). And this is the list in which
Ike
fatefully neglects to include
Shanice
, which sets into motion an inexorable concatenation of events culminating in
Ike
’s death at the hands of Mossad sharpshooters hiding among the leaves of the trees across the street from
Ike
’s hermitage.

But
Ike
doesn’t compile his list. And
Vance
spins the wheel of his BMX bike, faster and faster now, sensing that everything is about to become incredibly messed up.

The highly provocative proximity of the words “balaclava” and “baklava”—the sheer fuck-you impudence of it—is a deliberate and unambiguous signal that
XOXO
is decisively ratcheting up his sabotage of the epic. And
Vance
understands, on a completely intuitive level, that the faster he spins the BMX wheel, the faster the epic might reach its conclusion (i.e., the masochistic, hyperviolent death of
Ike Karton
).

There’s a ticking clock now (i.e., the spokes of the BMX wheel against the empty soda can).
XOXO
is unraveling the epic faster than the bards can recite it, which results in the bards’ increasingly high-pitched gibberish. The epic might end without
Ike
dying (and on a Tuesday at 8:00
PM
!) or drag on inconclusively for an infinite number of seasons. This is
XOXO
fucking with everyone’s mind. He’s denying
Ike
his doom—
Ike
, so eager for a hero’s martyrdom, virtually cataleptic yet perpetually flinging himself toward his fate, “his spur caught in the bull-rope of his own inexorable destiny.”

XOXO
finds it
amusing
to shit on the integrity of the epic, to leave it in a state of suspended animation, a state of complete unfulfillment and nongratification, a form of eternal Tie and Tease. He wants to leave
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
with an epic case of blue balls. It’s
XOXO
’s ultimate mind-fuck.

XOXO
thinks it’s “cool” to just paralyze the whole looping, recursive epic, with all its excruciating redundancies, heavy-handed, stilted tropes and wearying clichés, its overwrought angst, all its gnomic non sequiturs, all its off-putting adolescent scatology and cringe-inducing smuttiness, all the depraved tableaus and orgies of masturbation with all their bulging, spurting shapes, and all the compulsive repetitions about
Freud
’s repetition compulsion…

At this point,
XOXO
is blocking blood flow into the brains of the bards.
XOXO
is giving the bards TIAs (transient ischemic attacks) which are miniature temporary strokes and which are causing the bards to forget vast sections of the epic and simply spout high-pitched gibberish (i.e., nonlexical vocables). Of course, the fact that
XOXO
is giving the bards “ministrokes” which are causing the bards to forget vast sections of the epic and spout high-pitched gibberish is a now a crucial part of the epic, which audiences at public recitations expect the bards to “belt out like the cast of some Broadway musical.” The bards are now expected to “belt out” that
XOXO
is expunging the epic in its entirety from their memories, to “belt out” that the hyperviolent death of
Ike Karton
might now be endlessly deferred.

Some bards simply start making up phrases suggested by the letters of license plates on passing cars, and attempting to pass
that
off as “the epic.”

A Volvo wagon (THG-87F), an old Toyota Corolla (IKR-53J), and a little blue Mazda Miata (HAH-19B) drive past.

Two more cars: TSH-74P, SFH-19N.

In response to a spate of violent crimes and growing concern that the encampments are breeding grounds for
Meir Poznak
’s extremist organization,
T.S.F.N.—General Command
,
police today evacuated 1,000 vagrant, drug-addled bards in 251 caravans in southwestern France. More than 40 camps have been dismantled in the last fifteen days, and 700 vagrant, drug-addled bards are being sent back to Jersey City and the Upper Peninsula on chartered flights. Vagrant, drug-addled bards (blindfolded even though they’re already blind) continuously chant
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
on their chartered flight from southwestern France to Jersey City International Airport (on West Side Avenue, at the corner of Culver).

These measures came after bards in southwestern France burned cars and a police station, following the death of a blind, blitzed-out bard who was shot by a husband whose wife had just left him for the bard at a public recitation of
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
. The jilted husband almost immediately gouged out his own eyes and became a bard. He continuously chanted
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
(including, of course, this sentence) during his arraignment until the judge threatened him with a laryngectomy.

Bards are also being recalled because of “quality-control problems” (i.e., not blind, vagrant, or drug-addled, lacking chunky chachkas, etc.).
Ken Howard
, president of the Screen Actors Guild (SAG), said that he “must reassure disappointed aficionados of the epic and persuade them to once again attend public recitations.”
Howard
said that
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
owed its first responsibility to the unkempt, hairy, sweaty, heavyset, middle-aged women who’d left their husbands for vagrant, drug-addled bards.
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
has since revamped and centralized its quality-control operations, installing state-of-the-art molybdenum-steel melon ballers for double eye enucleations and a strictly enforced policy of random drug-testing of bards to ensure that they are blind and blitzed-out.

Tuesday: 9:00
PM
Eastern
“Vandalizing the Denouement”

XOXO
is vandalizing the epic’s denouement, a denouement that’s been foretold and basically guaranteed for thousands of years by blind, blitzed-out bards beating time with their chunky chachkas against jerrycans of orange soda. He’s plying the denouement with drugged sherbet. He’s giving the denouement an enormous military-grade ass-cheese enema.

As anyone with even the faintest familiarity with
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
knows,
Ike
is supposed to make a lewd mandala of Italian breadcrumbs for the Goddess
La Felina
, and then engage in an extended adagio with the waitress at the Miss America Diner, and write his narcocorrido, “That’s Me (
Ike
’s Song).” And then he’s supposed to get high with his daughter’s boyfriend,
Vance
, and make a list for him called “Ten Gods I’d Fuck (T.G.I.F),” and neglect to include
Shanice
, which incurs her eternal enmity (FYI:
La Felina
was #1 on his list).

And then the scorned Goddess is supposed to wage a vindictive campaign against
Ike
that begins with her inducing the zoning board to ban Ike’s latest pornographic monument to
La Felina
—“a teetering monolith of marzipan.” (“Ike laughs, gathering up his notes and tapping them against the table into a tidy stack: ‘Look, guys…you’re fated to authorize the demolition of my pornographic monument to
La Felina
. I’m fated to die in the confrontation outside my modest two-story hermitage after performing my narcocorrido with my band,
The Kartons
. So why don’t we just get this over with?’”)

(But, of course,
XOXO
—who fucks with your mind, who will discomfit any denouement—is preventing everyone from “just getting this over with.”)

And then
Koji Mizokami
is supposed to help
Ike
shoplift an Akai MPC drum machine from a Sam Ash on Route 4 in Paramus, New Jersey, and
Bosco Hifikepunye
begins supplying
Vance
with the hallucinogenic drug Gravy to sell on the street. And
La Felina
promises
Ike
that before he martyrs himself, she’ll appear to him in human form and fuck him, and she says she’ll get in touch with him on his cellphone and let him know exactly when and where.

And then a God (very possibly
Bosco Hifikepunye
) is supposed to impregnate
Ike
’s teenage daughter while
Ike
is interviewing for a butcher’s job at Costco. (
Ike
says to the Costco meat department manager re: his relationship with the Goddesses: “I’m just a fantasy they jerk off to.” Explaining a gap in his resume, he says that during Spring Break in 1989 he was hit by a
Mister Softee
truck, but told police that it was a Hasidic ambulance in an effort to foment an apocalyptic Helter Skelter–type war between club kids and Hasids. And, in response to a question about his “availability,”
Ike
tells him that he can only work for a week because he’s going to be killed on Friday by Mossad sharpshooters.)

Then
Ike
is supposed to accidentally kill his father as they wrestle for
Ike
’s cellphone because
Ike
’s father is trying to change
Ike
’s ringtone from “Me So Horny” to
John Cage
’s
4'33''
—the composer’s notorious “silent composition,” which would almost certainly ensure that
Ike
misses
La Felina
’s call, which, for
Ike
, is “the booty-call of a lifetime.”

(None of this is going to happen, of course, as anyone with even the faintest familiarity with
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack 2: Crème de la Sack
knows, because it all has to be set in motion by
Ike
making his list of
Ten Gods I’d Fuck (T.G.I.F.)
, which
XOXO
is thwarting in his effort to sabotage the epic.)