Monkeys on Horseback

Homepage
Mail the author

Neil’s legs unfurled as he awoke, stretching to their full length, both knees cracking in unison. He snaked an arm out without opening his eyes, fingers probing, seeking his sleeping partner, finding warm, reassuring flesh. His head felt groggy, too much wine consumed, but still his nerve endings seemed to tingle, the afterglow of their passion seeming to linger, even the morning after. He eased open one eyelid, the dim light of the room painful at first, receding gradually as he fully committed. Beside him, seemingly awoken by the slight movements, Ti rolled over, his eyes bleary, too, reddened from excess and too little sleep.
‘Morning,’ he said, his voice little more than a croak.
‘Morning,’ Neil replied, tilting his head forward slightly to plant a kiss on Ti’s cheek. The touch of his lips brought a smile to Ti’s face, and he nestled in towards Neil, eyes wide, suddenly. Their lips met, tenderly at first, ferocity soon building so that, quickly, they were both breathless, any suspicion of a hangover now forgotten. Beneath the quilt covering them both, Neil pressed a palm against Ti’s chest, trailing his fingers downwards, upwards, the motion causing the hair that dwelt there to tickle his fingertips pleasingly, a fresh sensation to add to the pleasure. Eagerly, Ti pressed his mouth still more firmly against Neil’s, his tongue flicking outwards, probing, seeking the warmth of the other’s mouth, finding it, Neil responding in kind, moving his own tongue in a swirling motion. Neil allowed his hand to glide teasingly down Ti’s chest, passing over the smoothness of his stomach, reaching the crop of tightly curled hair at his groin, almost overwhelmed with desire now, finding Ti’s already stiffened cock and clasping it firmly, a well practiced hand stroking up and down the shaft, slowly to begin with, gaining in speed, eliciting a groan from his partner and, for a moment, Neil worried that he was about to lose control but, before that could happen, it was Ti’s turn to take over, pushing firmly against Neil’s shoulders, rolling him onto his back, swivelling upright before hoisting himself from his seated position so that, before Neil had time to react, he was straddling him, legs at Neil’s waist, his cock standing proud, though rocking slightly from side to side, as though he were trying to hypnotise with it, his eyes travelling up and down the other man’s body before finding Neil’s own, the sly glint present suggesting he was pleased with what he saw.
‘Not too fast,’ Ti said, a gravel to his voice. ‘You first.’
Neil did not protest.
Ti bent forward, now, planting kiss after delicate kiss on Neil’s neck, his warm breath tickling, his jet black hair doing the same on the chin before Ti began to travel downwards, still kissing each new region of exposed flesh, finding a nipple, sucking on it, deliberately too hard, giggling at Neil’s slight discomfort, repeating the action on the other before once more heading south, not kissing anymore, allowing his tongue to lick softly at the skin, marking his path with a thin trail of saliva which quickly evaporated, Neil’s body pumping out heat in his excitement.
Ti reached the navel, exploring it briefly, apparently not pleased with what he found there, for he moved on swiftly, downwards, using one hand to lift Neil’s swollen member from his body so that his mouth glided easily over the tip, no pause required, sliding his lips down as far as he could manage, applying a little suction, teasing with the tongue before gliding back again.
Neil groaned aloud, hands gripping at the sheet beneath him, ready to burst, not wanting to, eager to prolong the exquisiteness of the moment, knowing he was not capable, kicking a leg out to push the quilt from him, all the better to splay out his limbs more fully and, as he did so, suddenly, Ti stopped.
Neil groaned again, delighted by the interruption, the moment or two it would take to compose himself, thinking it was all part of the game, until Ti spoke, urgency to his tone.
‘You’ve got to take a look.’
Neil lifted his head, squinting down at Ti who had scuttled further down his body so that his bottom was balanced just below Neil’s knees.
‘Look at what?’
‘I don’t know. Sit up.’
There was an edge to his voice, almost a panic, as if he were trying to contain his emotions, but one glance at his face revealed the inner truth, for revulsion was a mask he did not wear well.
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ snapped Neil irritably, in part due to the interruption of the sex, in part to mask his own anxiety.
‘Just look,’ Ti insisted.
Neil forced himself up onto his elbows, staring first at Ti, then at the focus of his attention, a frown creasing his brow instantly, eyes not quite comprehending what he was seeing as he struggled to an upright position.
‘What is it?’ he demanded, real fear evident now, and he bent his right leg suddenly, pulling it out from beneath Ti’s naked form, leaning forward, too, eyes narrowing.
Midway down his right thigh, front and centre, a pink tube protruded, two inches in length, maybe half again in diameter, tapering to a point, though ringed along its length so that it appeared segmented.
Neil stared at it, comprehension failing him.
‘What the fuck is it?’ Ti asked, and Neil simply shook his head sharply, once, twice, by way of reply, all his attention focused on the foreign object jutting from his skin. He brought his right hand up and prodded delicately at the area around the oddity, relieved to feel no pain, though surprised too. He lifted his hand, hovered it about an inch away from the tip and was about to prod at it.
‘Don’t touch it,’ Ti warned.
‘I’ve got to touch it,’ Neil snapped. ‘I need to know what the fuck it is,’ and, cautiously, he jabbed at it, drawing his finger back instantly and letting out a short shriek of surprise as the tube appeared to react to his touch, flinching away from the point of contact.
‘Is that thing alive?’ Ti asked tremulously, but Neil simply ignored him this time, thoughts a vortex, breath becoming ragged, heart pounding like a bass drum in his chest.
‘I’ve got to get it off me,’ he said, a flurry of motion, suddenly, pulling his left leg free from Ti’s body, out of the bed in a second, still naked, dashing out of the room.
Ti sat and waited, listening to his lover race through the house, into the kitchen, the sound of a drawer being yanked open clear then, just as evident, the sound of footsteps on the staircase as he hurried back to the bedroom, a pair of scissors brandished before him.
‘You gonna cut it off?’ Ti asked, redundantly.
‘Course I’m gonna cut it off. What the fucking hell do you think I should do? Ask it nicely to leave?’
The anger wasn’t aimed at Ti, they both knew, and Neil sat on the edge of the bed, motioning for Ti to pull over the chair in front of the dressing table. Leg suitably propped, he placed the scissors around the pink tube, flush to his own skin.
‘Hang on, Neil. We should call the ambulance. We don’t know what the hell we’re looking at.’
Neil paused to look at him.
‘This first, then we call the ambulance,’ and, with that, he refocused his attention on the pink tube which, suddenly, almost as if it sensed that plans were afoot, began to writhe along its length, a slow undulation from base to tip of its structure, a peristaltic pulse that could indicate nothing but some kind of life.
‘Do it. Quick,’ Ti urged, the strange motion of the organism having altered his perspective dramatically.
Neil closed his eyes briefly, counting silently to three in his head, simply to steady his nerves, fearful of cutting into himself if he were too hasty, bringing the scissors close to the entity, closer still so that they were all but touching then, as he pressed hard on the handle of the scissors, snapping the blades together, the organism vanished, quicker than the blades could connect, somehow propelled inwards, burrowing, maybe, and yet still there was no pain.
Neil dropped the scissors to the floor, pressing fingers desperately against the spot on his thigh into which the creature had disappeared, gasping for breath, throat so constricted it felt as he were being suffocated, fingers finding nothing to grab onto.
‘Easy…easy,’ Ti soothed, hands on Neil’s shoulders as he stood before him, squeezing hard, but tenderly, knowing his partner was on the verge of total panic, wanting to help, but not knowing how.
Slowly, Neil gained a modicum of composure.
‘Get my phone,’ he instructed, and Ti simply complied, not sure why, assuming it was for an emergency call, proved wrong as Neil tapped a couple of digits before turning the device towards his thigh, the small flashlight at the top of the phone illuminated, searching.
Both men peered towards the small, circular wound that wept a single tear of blood and there, just beneath the surface, in the tiny pool of plasma that had formed, the pink tip of the creature still writhed.

The waiting room of Stourhampton General was reassuringly devoid of chaos as Neil strode through the sliding glass double doors, the hiss of their movement somehow in tune with his own mood. The car journey had been brief, but tense, Ti desperate to ease his worries, Neil interested only in reaching the destination, conversation halted by his demand that Ti ’shut his stupid mouth,’ an outburst that, despite the anxiety he felt, he bitterly regretted.
‘Can I help you?’
She was pretty, her blonde hair tied back in a neat, professional ponytail that seemed to stretch her skin a little more severely than necessary.
‘I need to see a doctor, please. It’s urgent.’
‘Ok, Sir. Name, please.’
‘Neil Savage.’
‘Address?’
Her voice was almost robotic, but still held that trace of melody that seems to permeate repeated phrases in the workplace.
’12 Cumber Crescent.’
And so it went on, the mundanity of the interrogation a relief for, by focusing on the trivial aspects of day to day existence, Neil was able, briefly, to forget about the parasitical horror he was sure resided within.
Formalities complete, Neil followed his instruction, taking a seat amidst three other blighted souls.

The room was small, claustrophobically so, barely sufficient for the stretcher pressed against a side wall, much less the sink, stainless steel cabinet and myriad medical paraphernalia, much of which Neil found hard to identify. A quick glance at the clock on his mobile told him he had been there - the waiting room beyond the waiting room – some twenty five minutes. As each minute inched past, the temptation to remove his jeans, to inspect the ghastliness that seemed to have corrupted him, became increasingly strong, only social conventions preventing him from doing so. The last thing he wanted was for the doctor to walk in just as he was yanking down his strides.
Outside the room, all was hustle, doctors and nurses hurrying hither and thither, faces set to neutral, as if to register emotion would magnify the significance of what they did, or somehow trivialise it; a frown signifies death; the flicker of a smile, lack of compassion.
As Neil’s impatience reached critical mass, on the verge of bursting from the cubicle to demand attention, a figure appeared in the doorway. Tall, imposingly so, the man wore an expression that seemed to suggest he had entered a room filled with faeces, the creases of a sneer seemingly etched permanently into his face. Without even looking at Neil, he raised the clipboard he carried.
‘Mr….’he began, eyes scanning the documents clipped to the board, the free hand held up to signal he needed no assistance., ‘…….Savage. What seems to be the problem?’
Feeling like a troublesome schoolboy, anxious lest he upset the matron, Neil began to stand, to allow him to unbutton his jeans.
‘What exactly are you doing?’ the doctor demanded.
Neil blinked, confused, primarily due to the harshness of tone, the words spoken as if by a mother to a wayward son.
‘Erm….I was about to show you…..’
The hand came up again, ushering silence.
‘Tell me first. Then, if I decide it is necessary, you can show me.’
‘Erm. Ok.’
The doctor stared at him, eyes unblinking.
‘Well,’ Neil tried again, so flustered the formation of a coherent sentence was proving elusive. ‘It’s…erm….it’s this…..on my thigh.’
‘Yes. Something on your thigh,’ the doctor said, dismissively. ‘Care to elaborate?’
A curious melange of coldness and sarcasm.
‘Well. When I woke up. It was just there.’
‘And what, dare I ask and, please, do be precise this time…..what exactly is ‘it?’’
‘I don’t know,’ Neil said tersely, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his own voice. ‘It’s why I’m here.’
The doctor placed the clipboard on the stretcher beside Neil, fixing a piercing gaze on the smaller man. ‘Drop your trousers please young man and, while your at it, drop the attitude.’
Neil moved automatically to follow the given instruction, not sure how to respond, the fear he felt over his condition now temporarily replaced by a growing sense of anger. He undid the button holding up his jeans, allowing them to fall to the floor, no need to remove them completely before hopping back onto the stretcher, lifting his t-shirt free of his leg so that the affected area was exposed.
The doctor glanced down momentarily.
‘What am I supposed to be seeing?’
Neil took a moment, forcing himself to control the temper that was on the verge of overpowering him, jabbing a finger at the wound which, throughout the journey, had seeped more blood and, even from his upright seated position, he could see the tail of the creature wiggling, constantly in motion.
‘Sir, you need to be more specific.’
‘Are you joking?’ Neil demanded, prodding his finger insistently at the circular opening. ‘There’s something living in me, for Christ’s sake.’
‘You need to control your temper.’
A statement of fact, or so it seemed.
Neil breathed hard, sucking in three, four, five deep lungfuls of air, forcing himself to calm down, aware that his anxiety had made him quick-tempered. Maybe he had misinterpreted the doctor. Maybe it was his own malady that was causing the tension, the apparent hostility, and if only he could focus on the actual problem, rather than the emotional response to it, he could make doctor understand.
‘I apologise if I appeared rude, doctor,’ he said, mollification his motive, ‘I’m just so frightened, maybe I let my temper run away with me.’
‘Fair enough.’
Nothing more. No warmth to the words..
Neil ignored the vague resistance.
‘When I woke up this morning, there was something sticking out of my leg. I don’t know what it is. It was pink, about three inches long and tubular. When I tried to cut it with scissors, it....crawled into my leg.’
The doctor stared at him, expressionless.
‘That thing there, the pink tip you can see. That’s the end of it,’ Neil continued, desperation now registering in his timbre, ‘What is it? How can we get it out?’
As Neil eyed the doctor pleadingly, instead of sympathy, or even professional curiosity, Neil saw only a cloud of anger mist the eyes, the muscles of his jaws tensing and relaxing, one of his eyes twitching slightly.
‘Is this some kind of student prank?’
The words were shouted, the volume amplified by the confined space, and Neil jumped, startled by the sudden outburst.
‘It’s not..…what?......no…..it’s there!’
‘I suggest you pull up your trousers, and leave. Immediately.’
The volume of the words spoken had dropped, but the intensity had, if anything, intensified,
‘What are you talking about?’ Neil demanded, no idea what was happening.
‘Get out. Now!’
Hastily, Neil dressed himself, spluttering demands for the attentions of another doctor.
‘The only person you’re going to see, young man, is a police officer, if you don’t leave immediately.’
‘I’m not leaving here without a second opinion,’ he insisted and, though irritated, the doctor appeared to relent.
‘Wait here.’
Neil sat back on the stretcher trembling, unable to believe what had just taken place, utterly mystified by the doctor’s refusal to even begin to discuss the wound on his leg.
Without thinking, he pressed his fingers on his jeans, pushing at the wound, exploring, the feel of movement that should not be there repellent, making him feel nauseous, forcing him to cease his brief examination. Suddenly, figures at the door, two, dark blue uniforms signifying authority.
‘Get him out,’ he heard the doctor say.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Neil protested, before strong hands gripped him beneath both shoulders, lifting him clean off the bed, legs swinging in midair, like a toddler between two playful parents, though this was anything but a game.
‘Hit him if he gives you any trouble,’ the doctor advised the security personnel. ‘I’ll say he threatened you with a knife and you had no choice.’
Still protesting, though powerless to resist, Neil was propelled down the corridor, through two sets of double doors, back through A&E, finding himself on the pavement; alone; confused; infected.

Ti found him some time later, still sat on the ground, though he had moved to the kerbside, allowing his feet to rest against the double yellow lines, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around the legs, a small comfort from the madness he wrestled with.
Taking him in his arms, Ti was able to coax him back to the car, an elder leading a lost and frightened child and, wisely, he choose to remain silent, sensing that Neil needed time to settle, not the irritant of questioning.
The journey passed in silence and, as before, a tension hung in the air, though this time the nature of it was altogether different, Neil seemingly lost in a world far removed from the norm, Ti eager for information, resisting the urge to press.
They pulled up on the driveway and, once more, Ti was compelled to guide Neil towards the house, his partner utterly distracted, not really there at all, like an elderly relative gripped by the latter ravages of dementia, oblivious to his surroundings.
They moved along the hallway, into the kitchen and, slowly, Neil began to rouse, looking around himself briefly, checking his surroundings, a slight flicker of surprise registering.
‘We’re home?’
Ti smiled, kindly.
‘Welcome back, handsome.’
Neil returned the smile, blushing slightly.
‘I was really out of it, huh?’
‘You could say that. What happened in there? Did they give you something?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
And Neil recounted the encounter with the doctor, the fury he had felt at the time returning as each word was spoken so that, by the time he was in the hands of the security guards once more, he was physically shaking.
‘The bastards,’ Ti sympathised when the tale was told, taking Neil in his arms, squeezing him hard, shocked by what he had heard.
‘Best take a look,’ said Neil warily, not really wanting to, knowing there was no choice.
He stood, dropping the jeans once again, sitting, staring at the point of entry for the….the….parasite – no word seemed more apt – which had once more emerged, at least partially, the tip glistening in the light cast from the kitchen window, and still, the peristaltic bulges swelled along its length, from base to tip.
‘You can see that, right?’ he asked Ti, no humour in his voice.
‘Of course I can see it,’ Ti confirmed, squatting down, all the better to study the creature.
‘Don’t get too close,’ Neil advised, worried lest it reveal an as yet unseen defence mechanism.
‘Takes more than a worm to frighten me,’ Ti said, with more bravado than he actually felt.
‘It is a worm, isn’t it?’ Neil asked, for the first time putting a name to the nightmare.
‘’It’s what it looks like.’
‘I’m frightened, Ti.’
‘I know.’
He rose suddenly. ‘Hang on,’ he said, leaving the room, heading upstairs, reappearing moments later with a pair of tweezers in his hand.
‘Do you want to try?’
‘What you gonna do? Pluck it’s eyebrows?’ Neil asked, with just a shadow of a smile.
‘Give me a sec,’ said Ti, disappearing once more and, this time, the sounds of someone searching were clear; objects moved; metal scraping against concrete; Ti’s grunts of annoyance, then he was back, this time clutching a pair of pliers.
‘So, not the eyebrows. You’re gonna fix it’s car, instead.’
‘Shut up, you tart, and listen. I’m gonna grab it with the tweezers, so it can’t dive back in, then you take hold of it with the pliers. Hard, though. Don’t let the slippery fucker get loose.’
‘Ok. Then what?’
Ti moved again, this time to the kitchen drawer, retrieving the largest knife that came immediately to hand.
‘You pull it out with the pliers. Drop it on the floor. I’ll chop the bastard in half.’
Neil nodded slowly.
‘Be careful,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry. You just get it out. I’ll do the rest. That thing has to die.’
Ti squatted down again, in front of Neil, placing the knife on the floor beside him, retrieving the tweezers, testing out the action of the implement, familiarising himself with the give in the prongs, ensuring, as best he could, that his first strike would be one that counted.
Neil gripped the pliers, hands shaking slightly.
‘Don’t fuck this up, Ti. I want that thing gone.’
The Japanese man nodded, face set, the embodiment of grim determination.
He moved the tweezers within a centimetre of the waggling tip of the parasite, silently worried that the glistening surface would prove too slippery to hold, but certain that they had to at least try.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Neil nodded.
‘Three.’
‘Two.’
‘One.’
Ti snapped his hand forward, at the same time squeezing the twin prongs of the tweezers closed, connecting with the organism soundly, the prongs meeting resistance but, satisfyingly, though the tip wriggled frantically, the creature clearly desperate to retract, it seemed his grip would hold.
‘Grab it,’ he said, louder than intended, adrenaline flowing thickly, and Neil complied, aiming the pliers down low, almost flush to the skin of his thigh, squeezing as hard as he could, pleased that his efforts seemed to paralyse the beast, for no more motion was apparent. Maybe the force applied had merely stunned it but, best case, maybe the thing was dead.
‘You got it?’ Ti demanded, still shouting, not even realising it.
‘Got it,’ Neil assured him, so Ti released the tweezers, tossing them aside, adding his grip to his companion’s on the pliers, eager that they not loose the thing, despite the lack of movement; perhaps it was just playing possum.
‘Right when I say now, we pull. Ok?’
‘Ok.’
‘Steady…….now.’
They pulled, hard and, incredibly, their efforts seemed to be rewarded, as the length of the worm visible above the skin increased.
‘Keep tight,’ Ti instructed and, between them, they eased the worm outwards, millimetre by agonising millimetre, the whole time the thickness of the creature widening.
‘How long is this thing?’ Neil bellowed, excitement in his voice despite the revulsion he felt, his blood curdling at the sight of this monster that had lived inside him.
‘Can’t be much more to go,’ Ti replied, before gasping as now the worm appeared to come to an end, but not with a blunted head, as expected, instead it seemed to be buried head first in something else, something jet black, with fur matted down with blood.
‘What the….’ Neil said, eyes bulging, as the ball of fur now began to emerge, impossibly, through a wound no bigger than an inch in diameter, though this was bigger than that, squeezing through somehow without damaging the skin around it, fur clotted in streaks down its side. Now, a pair of legs manifested, kicking desperately at nought but air, toes long, tapered, thin, wicked looking claws at the tip of each.
Still the monstrosity kept coming, a birthing, of sorts, though surely not an act of nature, a foul depravity emerging from a man’s thigh in a manner no God could ever have intended.
More of the creature slid free, then another set of legs, similarly weaponised, and, it was only as the head emerged, that the true grisliness was revealed.
Ti took a faltering step back, releasing his hold on the pliers.
Neil scrabbled backwards, legs kicking spastically against the tiled floor of the kitchen, anxious to move, not knowing where, just desperate to be away from the creature that he himself seemed to have spawned.
It dropped to the floor with a liquid slap, lifeless, or so it appeared, coated in blood and mucus, an amniotic offering to the high lord of lunacy.
Then it moved.
Still lying on its side, the head of the rat lifted clear of the floor and, for all the world, seemed to look straight at Neil.
‘Sinner.’
Ti felt certain his sanity had finally snapped, for the rodent lying in a pool of his lover’s blood had just spoken. Low, throaty, like the voice of a minor demon in a cheap horror movie, its mouth had opened and a word had emerged.
But that could not be,
Then, as if to prove that the crazy were credible, it spoke again.
‘Sinner.’
Eyes still locked onto Neil, who simply stared at it, open mouthed.
It was Ti who moved first, stepping forward, raising a foot, bringing it down sharply onto the prostrate impossibility, lifting, stamping once more, just to be certain. His foot came away and, as it did, so too did organic matter, but not with the shoe. Something spat from the presumed corpse; small, viscous, hitting the nearest wall, sliding down slowly.
More emanations came, increasing in frequency, a rain, of a kind, but a kind that rained upwards, spewing in all directions, small, fast, striking walls, cupboards, white appliances, globules of matter covered in more mucus and, as they slipped earthwards, the globules grew. Tiny specks within them, almost invisible to begin with, swelled at an impossible speed, though there was method to this madness for, as they grew, so they took on form. Three seconds, no more had passed since Ti had crushed the rat beneath his foot but now, fully spawned, one hundred more stared at the men where they remained, paralysed, a combination of shock, fear and utter revulsion rooting them to the spot.
As if a command had been issued, the rats began to hiss, louder than should have been feasible, even for their number.
‘It’s my fault,’ Neil shrieked above the din, suddenly understanding.
‘It can’t be!’
‘It was my mother. She always used to say it.’
Still the rats continued their voluminous susurrations, as if they were attempting to drown out the words he spoke.
‘What are you talking about?’ Ti demanded, wanting to grab Neil and run, too frightened to attempt it.
‘Before I came out. Before she knew I was gay…..’
The rats, as one, took a step towards the men, closing the circle tighter.
‘….It was when AIDS broke on the news. She’d spit with fury……’
Ti listened, a numbness overtaking him that removed any urge to flee.
‘And she said the same thing, each time. She’d say ‘They deserve it for their sins.’ She’d say ‘They’re no better than rats.’’
Ti shook his head in disbelief, registering the words that had been spoken, refusing to believe what he was hearing.
‘But they were just words. Just a mad old bitch raging against the world. It can’t be this.’
He swept his arm around the room and, as he did so, one of the rats that had crept onto a work surface leapt at him, snapping its jaws over two of his fingers, the wickedly sharp front teeth scraping bone, drawing blood and lancing pain so that, instinctively, Ti banged his hand down, beating the body of the rat against the work surface twice, three times, sweeping his arm again so that the lifeless creature smashed against the far wall and, as it struck the ground, it’s body exploded into a hundred tiny balls of mucus, within each a near invisible black speck, the globules spraying in each direction, each clinging to whatever surface they hit, sliding down, swelling as they went so that, within a matter of seconds, the rats’ numbers had multiplied four fold.
They opened their mouths, displaying their teeth and, as one, they spoke.
‘Sinners.’

© Ian Stevens (2012)
Mail me