Weeks had passed since their meeting and excruciating boredom settled down upon the farmhouse like the ghost of Passover upon the residences of the firstborn. Not a potato was cultivated, nor a penis moistened in the span of time during which her and Merzbow awaited the commencement of their chemotherapy.
There came a knock upon the front door. Expecting to be greeted with a doctor, she was surprised to see a middle-aged Japanese man with long hair standing in her doorway. He wore a thick, black trench-coat and a t-shirt with the slogan “meat is murder” (which it most certainly is not).
“Greetings”, he said. “My name is Masami Akita, may I come inside?”
Merzbow, barely able to suppress his enthusiasm, sat across from Mr. Akita in the olive green armchair in which he often occupied. He wore a beaming, almost unnaturally formed grin. Merzbow was not known to display any conspicuous emotion in the presence of strangers, but having met his lifelong idol for the very first time, he was able to contain naught.
“So, what brings you to our humble farm Mr. Akita? New Brunswick is an awful long way from Japan.”
“I received a call from a friend of mine, Dr. Parvanov—you’ve met him yes? Anyways, he has informed me that you are in possession of something that may be a great deal of importance to me.”
“What would that be?”
“The potatoes you’ve been growing have been contaminated with radioactive soil, as Parvanov has told me. If this is the case, I would like to purchase every potato you have grown and are to grow from now on for the sum of one million dollars.”
She was bewildered, albeit cautious less this be some kind of clever ruse on behalf of Parvanov to crush what had remained of their spirits.
“I can’t imagine what use they could be to you. They can’t be eaten or you will grow hideous tumours on your head. God only knows what that would do to your music career!”
She pointed to the horns on her head, which had grown about an inch since her confrontation with the intoxicated scientist. Masami laughed.
“Oh course I know that! I’m not planning to eat them. Obviously you’ve never sampled the feedback from a radioactive potato before; they make such an eerie, otherworldly sound that would sound amazing with my new split EP with Boris. Besides, it’s the least I could do for such an enduring fan of mine.”
Merzbow perked up.
“Thank you sir, you have no idea what a considerable deed this is. My brother thanks you as well.”
Using the payment they had received from the generous musician, The Emporium of Unsavoury Delights had its grand opening in Miramichi a month later. Her dream, against all odds had finally come to fruition. The magnificent brothel, much like the John Galt line or the Battle of Adwa, stood alongside the glorious triumphs of human history as testament to the fact that one could achieve their most lavish dreams, regardless of how bizarre they are, or how much the odds are stacked against you. Larry, Vern, and Gus were all happily serviced, as were the rest of her clients.
She had not been so selfish to use all the money for herself. With the excess profit, she bought Merzbow a brand new stereo system, and the entire Merzbow discography, complete with all the bootlegs and compilation discs. He wasted not a breath of daylight listening to them all.
One quiet afternoon, about a month after the brothel had opened, a mysterious dark figure walked into the storefront. He had a large Canadian cigar pressed between his lips and a glass of scotch in his left hand.
“Dr. Parvanov! I knew you would have the time to stop by. I cannot thank you enough for helping my dream become a reality. Merzbow thanks you too.”
“Haha it’s no problem really. Mr. Harper thanks you for keeping my plant a secret, and I am glad to see the chemotherapy is going smoothly. The Einsteinites are receding quicker than I would have thought.”
“Yes they are, and these wigs are so very comfortable and stylish. Say, to show my gratitude for not having us killed earlier, your first visit is on the house!”
Parvanov removed his coat and she led him into a vacant room with a bed. She said that when she had been
transferred into his possession, that it was akin to reclaiming a lost part of herself.
the end
transferred into his possession, that it was akin to reclaiming a lost part of herself.
the end
