Fiona raised both hands and implored for silence. “The tumour on display, in and of itself is an immaculate conception. There is no doubt. But the singular sphere of biology is the tip of the iceberg. Within the body of Mr. Miles lie many more similar tumours. In fact, I believe it reasonable to assume that the tumours currently inside him are of an even higher quality. Ultimately, that’s what we’re here to find out.’
The applause exploded, cracking my eardrums in little pink puffs. I didn’t know what else to do so I curtseyed, mashing my testicles between my thighs. They ate it up. I swanned about the stage like a diva, flashing my cosmetically poor teeth and star jumping. When I attempted an ill-fated version of the Charleston, Fiona put a merciful stop to it. With a hand on either shoulder, she guided me to the back of the stage.
A child dressed in wooden clothes wheeled out a gurney covered in sleeping cats.
“Your attention,” said Fiona. The room fell immediately quiet. “This is the most exciting portion of the demonstration for me personally. Let’s take a look inside and see what else we find. Mr Miles, if you would lay yourself down on the gurney, it would be most appreciated.’
She urged me with her eyes and I responded accordingly. I brushed aside the cats, many of whom scampered away, and lay down as instructed.
“If you could roll to your side with your face toward the audience,”
I waved as I did it, eliciting slight laughter from several of those watching.
“I will be performing a routine colonoscopy that should uncover beauty of the purest form. Imagery from within Mr. Miles will be visible on the screen behind me. A recording will be made available to all of you in this room and those on the mailing list. Pricing will be determined based on the quality of the colonoscopy. Any of you found to be in possession of external recording devices will have their membership revoked and their youngest child sold to prostitution. Piracy is not a victimless crime and will not be tolerated.”
Fiona was holding a long, flexible device with steam valves running along its length. The thought of her sliding that thing inside me inspired both excitement and fear.
“If I can have your silence, we can begin.”
I nibbled at my bottom lip and listened to her resonant footsteps behind me. I could feel the air stir as she moved and the anticipation sent chills. Then her hand slapped my arse cheek and pushed it upward, granting easier access to my hole. Fiona’s endoscopic device tickled and scraped suggestively. She was toying with me, right there in front of all those people. I loved it. It slid inside me with a squish and I felt mucous drip out of me. I closed my eyes and thought about board games.
Curiosity got the better of me. My eyes were soon open again and my neck craned painfully to see the screen. I had to know what I looked like inside. The walls of my bowel were mapped in graffiti, some of it rather fetching. Small chandeliers swung from the roof, lighting the way. To my dismay, advertising also lined my bowel walls. Was no place sacred? The endoscope pushed further, through rivers of fecal muck and thick blood and hissed as it released scorching steam. I winced, but allowed it to continue. I had to see them. I had to understand why I was so special.
“We’re nearly there,” whispered Fiona.
She arrived at a U bend littered with miniature, discarded furniture and moth wings. The endoscope slid past and there they were: my tumours.
A collective gasp rose from the audience and splashed against the ceiling. Fiona’s body twitched and a small, enamored moan escaped her lips. My tumours were clustered together majestically — more than I could count. Perhaps it was just an illusion brought about by the endoscope, but they looked so large and perfect. Each appeared to be breathing and rotating like fleshy planets. Here in their putrid little ecosystem, they thrived and absorbed the secretions around them.
“I’m going to go deeper,” said Fiona.
The tumours gathered around the endoscope as if trying to feed on it. It pushed forward, uncovering more tumours of even higher quality. I could hear some people in the audience crying exalted thank yous to no one in particular. The endoscope arrived at a tumour much larger than the rest. It was covered in a rich netting of veins and spindly protrusions. Right in its centre was something no one would have expected — an unblinking, coal-black eye.
“Oh my lord,” said Fiona. “It’s more amazing than I expected. It’s a guardian! This means, Bruce… that you have a queen inside you!” She let go of the endoscope and collapsed to the ground in spasms of euphoria. An opening below the tumour’s eye began to appear — just a slimy slit at first. It continued to grow and yawn open. Worm-like creatures wriggled from the opening, seeking escape. There was something inside me, beyond what I was seeing… something that resided at the deepest part of me. This was the something that gave birth to everything. The guardian tumour bit down on the endoscope, severing the connection and painting the screen above with busy static.
The audience members rushed the stage in a blur of excitement and crowded my body, desperate to touch me. Their sweaty hands groped and fondled every part of my body. I felt violated, but most of all, I felt like royalty. My body had never been given so much physical attention. It was a tactile explosion. It wasn’t arousing, but it felt pleasant. After struggling to her post-euphoric feet, Fiona began swiping at the crowd with a broom.
“Get back!” she yelled. “He needs space to breathe. Leave him alone.”
They bit and hissed like animals before eventually retreating. My body was pocked in bruises and claw marks. A small slither of foreskin was missing and the endoscope was still lodged inside me.
“I’m sorry about that, Bruce. You have to understand, they’ve been looking for someone like you their entire lives.”
She ripped out the mashed endoscope in one abrupt movement, bringing a gush of muck with it.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘someone like me’? What am I? Why do you people care so much?”
“Tonight, Bruce. You’ll come to my house and we’ll talk. I have so much to tell you. For now, we need to get some formalities out of the way. Is there anything you need?”
I didn’t have to think too hard before saying, “A cigarette”. I was choking on smoke in no time.
I was standing in a plush-carpeted function room. Thousands of fly paper strips hung from the ceiling, layers of dust their only captives. I was still naked from the waist down, but somehow this didn’t concern me anymore. It wasn’t that I had all of a sudden grown comfortable with my body… it’s was more that I was comfortable by how comfortable everyone around me was with my body. It was a curious thing. Fiona’s ‘friends’ were lined up before me in an orderly queue. Len’s ‘Steal My Sunshine’ played from invisible speakers on a maddening loop.
One by one they approached me, spending considerable time running their hands over my body, rewarding it with more attention. They whispered words I couldn’t discern, like they were purging sins. I remained silent, unsure what to say. My instinct told me that silence was the correct course of action. Fiona oversaw the proceedings, making sure no one lingered too long. Anyone in danger of passing their allotted time was stabbed in the shoulder with a quill. Only two people suffered this fate and they didn’t seem too concerned.
By the end, I was wearing their fingerprints like a body stocking and feeling exhausted. Fiona kindly gave me a handful of recuperative Minties, which, truth be told, didn’t really satisfy me. I was made to sign copies of a book I hadn’t even read let alone written. I tried telling a couple of people this, but they weren’t concerned. What kept me going, no matter how depleted I felt mentally and physically, was the thought of me at Fiona’s house. I had no idea where this encounter would lead, but there was a possibility it would involve mutual nudity. My tumours made me interesting to her — they made me interesting to everyone in the room. I had found my niche and I was prepared to milk it. If I was going to die, I was going to die as someone important.