...Conciousness crept over me like an icy wave - unsure of my surroundings -smells and sounds invaded my senses - the sweet aroma of the opiate - streaked the underlying acrid stench of depravity - What fresh Hell is this ? - a goat cried out in anguish 'Meeeehhh' - then stopped - Stillness pounding - a headache - a bastard behind the eyes - my sight blurred I attempted to focus and evaluate my plight within a cloud of fetid murk .Shifting slightly I detected a warmth of my flanks and on futher investiagtion I discovered the presence of two naked , thankfully human -sexually indeterminate beings - unconscious but breathing either side of me - their origin it seemed to be the Far East as they were furnished with sexual characteristics both male and a female ! The trunk of my body appeared to be strewn with the fiberous remains of a soft citrus fruit - possibly a blood orange . I was clad in only a tattered pair of strupets stockings and the sturdy leather apron commonly worn by blacksmiths - on lifting this I dicovered my flaccid hampton adourned with some sort of sexual contraption common in Arabia I believe - tethered at the foot of the ramshackle cot I was lying in , was a male Goat - of the type common to most Northern European countries - Its yellow eyes seemed to mock my being to the core and may well have been the eyes of Satan himself in the context of this foul midden , but it wasn't . Beside me on a table sat the paraphenalia of my greatest vice - the Demon Opiate - I had undertaken use of my indulgence to enable my mind to grapple with the challenges of my current case - The strange murder of General Sir Jeffrey-Charlton of the Victorian Scottish Rifles - his body discovered in The Limehouse district of London wrapped in a carpet - his face hideously contorted and evidence suggesting he was buggered to death several days earlier by person unknown .
I suddenly became aware of an approaching shuffeling gait , I quickly feigned unconscousness - as the footsteps grew nearer - I was aware of the flickering light of a candle dancing across my prone form and detected uneven breath near my face its stench being similar to the Bear cages I had seen at the Russian Circus I had visited on a previous case . I openned my eyes and was confronted my the Gargoylesque features of a hideously deformed hunchbacked Chinaman - In these days of advanced Medical exploration he was truly study worthy - as Watson would have observed he had evidently lost his footing upon the completion of an ascent of the much lauded ugly tree and unfortunately struck every branch during his hasty descent . I mustered my strength and bellowed 'Gadzooks ! I shall have at you , Sir !' Despite his dispicable and fearsome visage - alarm was palpably obvious in his eyes - with a few infernal subhuman grunts he scuttled away as best as his twisted limbs could carry him . As he alighted i noticed a crescent shaped hole in the seat of his roughshod britches - undoubtedly very similar to the scrap of hessian of Eastern manufacture I had discovered on investigation the body of the murdered General !
My mind now alert , I was desperate to extricate myself from my current plight and share my discovery with Watson . The noise generated during the exchange with my Oriental aquaintence had evidently caused my companions to stir - as I attempted to rise their eager hands , danced across my nether regions pawed my naked flesh as they uttered presumeably depraved phrases in their native tongue -I paused - reached for my loaded opium pipe , lighted the vapourising oil lamp and drew the foul poison in to my lungs and allowed its sluttish seductions to be victorious over my better reason - as my companions dragged my down the greasy pole of depravity one more time - 'Curse You God For Making Me This Way ' I cried before becoming completely immersed in the gloom...
Text taken from Sherlock Holmes And The Case of The Embuggered General By Arthur Conan Doyle and is part of the ocaisional series Great Detectives in Unlikely Sexual Situations . Future issues include Poirot - Cum on My Spats and Miss Marple and The Village Fate Jam Judging Spit Roast.
No comments:
Post a Comment