I was born on the coast of Normandy, 1929. I had two brothers, a sister, and a son by the age of twelve. My sister was the town bicycle...everyone'd had a ride. She was at the top in her field in Normandy.
Each morning we would rise at the crack of dawn to gather eggs from the chicken trees. Each morning I would pull an egg from the branches, stick it in my supple mouth, close my lips firmly and bite down so that I could feel the yellow goo drip down the back of my throat like the semen of a seventy year old man on viagra...which didn't exist at the time. In my day we used oysters which were rubbed on penises and swallowed down as a gooey treasure from the sea.
I recall a time when girls were girls and boys were girls, basically everyone was girls. Even the donkeys. Ah, the old days. My name was Red Hen, on account of my large red balls which swelled with the passion of young manhood. People used to tell me I was a fine young man, swelling with the handsomeness of a bloated menstrual sack.
Once I walked upon the beach and happened upon a mermaid reciting some stupid poem we learned in IB that had something to do with peaches and being old and young Hispanic women and old women with dandruff fetishes.
The most important part of the story of who I am and how I came to be is that I contain all the knowledge and semen of the world inside my tiny tiny hands. Some people say they have the world in their hands...or maybe they're talking about Jesus. But, anyway, I have semen in my hands. And technically DNA is knowledge...if you think about it, sorta. So, I am the man who holds the world's semen in my hands.
Tiny, tiny hands...like a carny, but my circulation is poor, just like Bohemian Rhapsody's main persona. No blood, only sperm. The jizz of life, the jizz of death, I hold it all within my firm silky grasp. Slowly, however, as I approach the age of twenty four, I lose small droplets...to the wind.
Hymn of Ages: Spermal of Life
Wind, wind, water of life,
full of swimming tadpole, full of
flagella, the life of us all
in the sperm-coated grasp of this
little lass, despite her manliness
The sperm of the world, the sperm of life
Jesus didn't bleed wine, he bled the sperm
the sperm of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifeeee
I was born a long time ago, as man
but then I realized that I was a red hen
which is a woman type animal
despite the fact that chickens are trees
It is a great conspiracy of the world
of poultry farmers that chickens are
necessary evils, as it is the trees
that are the true true source
But I know the truth.
With all the genetic knowledge
I hold in my tiny hands
Let us all form a line
and dance.
