Big Big Dangler
Mark Gerard Miller
suns while drinking dry martinis, so dry that the gin had only been passed
through the shadow of a bottle of dry vermouth, per the instructions of his
hero, W.C. Fields. Big Big Dangler's handmaidens, for he had an entire
retinue of such because he was an important clown, tickled his enormous,
knobby, empurpled knees as he juggled the dangerous balls. Luckily for his
handmaidens, he was a skilled juggler with a fiercely concentrated mind and
did not drop the dense, massive star balls onto their pretty, black-haired
heads. Big Big Dangler had seen one of the handmaidens on a Web site that
sold images of pretty ladies and had to have her in his entourage so he
snatched her away with his usual promises. Her beauty was so bounteous, her
locks tumbling down her bosoms so luscious, her demeanor so delicious, her
face so fabulous, her body so lubricious, that he was moved to conquer the
known cosmos for her, as he was for all the women he knew. His marquee had
the legend: Big Big Dangler: King of the Known Kosmos. As far as he was
concerned, the known cosmos were those things he was actually experiencing
right at the moment. He wasn't sure that the past had happened, and he was
even less certain that the future would happen, but of this present moment
he was fairly certain, and he wanted to present it in all of its reality to
Klezmerelda, a gem if ever there was one. Now Klezmerelda always threatened
to play some music, but Big Big Dangler threatened her with banishment to
the monkey grinder's flea-bitten, peanut-smelling, screeching and chattering
ragtag bunch (and those were just the people; imagine the monkeys!) if she
so much as played one note on her fiddle. Big Big Dangler kept threatening
to fly up to the moon some day, dive off of it down toward earth,
metamorphose into a roc on the way, land on Mount Olympus as a powerful red
angel man and demand an audience with Zeus and the immortals. He wasn't
quite sure what he would say, but he was certain he would be moved to golden
tongued and silver throated eloquence, eloquence so surpassing any that the
gods had heard before that they would grant his most outlandish wish. Big
Big Dangler fantasized a lot about diving off the moon and liked to think up
wishes for the occasion of his audience with the gods. He savored wishes.
Just like children have a bunch of best friends, Big Big Dangler had a bunch
of favorite wishes. Among them were:
--To retire to the Cave of Nyx with Klezmerelda and unite with her such that
they became one. A wish he held close to his heart was to become a
hermaphrodite, especially with the especially lovely Klezmerelda. Oh, Big
Big was well aware that such is the goal of all heterosexuals: to become one
with one's opposite. A sensitive fellow, he was afraid that if he publicly
pronounced the fantasy that everyone in the world cherished deep in the
heart of their essence while saying how sick it was, someone would tell him
to go fuck himself. The only one he ever told was Klezmerelda, and that in
an unguarded, post-ejaculative moment.
--To know all the languages in the universe.
--To be able to walk without fear into the toughest bar on the waterfront,
plant a wet, sloppy kiss on the prettiest girlfriend of the baddest ass mofo
of a crime gang leader in there and then look him in the eye and tell him
his momma was an ugly ho bag. And then, when the toughs attacked him, he
would be able to defend himself from any harm whatsoever with blocks and
ducks and and weaves without laying a hand in violence or anger on any of
them until they were so tired that they would sit down, crying like little
girls because they felt weak and ineffectual.
--To be able to bowl 300 every single time he bowled and throw 121 mph,
deadly accurate fastballs at will.
Big Big Dangler had a lot of wishes like that, each one more outrageous and
outlandish than the last.
Now, Big Big was trying to get Klezmerelda to become a contortionist. She
kept saying she would as soon as he conquered the cosmos for her. He said he
had conquered the cosmos and she should just take a look around and he would
give her whatever she wanted. She said, "I want a perfect 321-karat
diamond." He said he didn't see one, but as soon as he did he would give it
to her. "You're just a big fraud," she said. "You can't give me a diamond,
you can't fly to the moon, and you're not the king of the cosmos. I want to
live in a house and have babies like normal people do. You want to become a
hermaphrodite with me as the other part of the equation and live in some
dark, dank cave. That's just sick, Big. No normal man would want that." She
stopped when he gave her a look. The whole troupe was around them, listening
carefully to her rant. The clowns began laughing and shouting, "Go fuck
yourself Big Big Dangler! You go girl! You go boy!"
Big Big Dangler, the consummate showman, bowed low and tumbled out of the
vicinity, singing "I Want Me.''
Copyright 2001 Mark G. Miller