Pas De Deux *

Frederick J. Mayer

A Lloigor and Zhar Faery Tale

    "Once upon a time, back in the
    beginning of an era...There was no one
    but you and me. Time after time we
    have been seperated...I still believe
    in your flexible beauty, though you no
    longer have fiqure existing."-THE RED FOX

She was an Asian queen.

"'When The Tiger Smoked The Pipe', who can tell me what might be used for this opening in the 'West?'" was asked of the school-aged Korean children hunkered down silently around a young Westerner, tall with a well-built frame, healthy glow of a tan, blue eyed and ever so bland of a man; prytaneum for the slightly wavering flames within a near frigid winter's realm.

"'Once Upon A Time'", regally responded a sotto,reserved voice of an eidetical 13 years old obviously maturing girl, whose oversized eyeglasses reflected a looking glass clearness of the campfire's individualistic flames from the whole as if they were all trapped inside a magician's mysterious preternatural prison cells of prism crystal; all the while making her pretty eyes seem a rich cerulean hue. "Sunny" (her required selected English name) was constructed athletically like a ballerina with extra developed lean sculpted muscles in her thighs, upper arms and torso. Yet, she maintained an air of natural looseness of a perky kit.

The remains of this developing young thing  appeared swallowed by a hungery living black space, the ancient stalking, encircling, encroaching Namsan evening maw...verges of darkness' uncoiling fog, moving pale semenial white carnivorous thick tendrils through bleakunderbrush and sinisterly attractive barren limbs, looking much like "witches'"of yore articulated, gnarled digits long yearning for lust fetishes not sated. But, the sky was brilliantly twinkling despite a stark robust moon and the inky vastness' cold embrace.

The Canadian trying desperately to be a star theatrical teacher, Todd Bennet, was adorned with a tad too large, little used rabbit outfit whose pelt revealed moth larva eating effects like active maggots to dying forgotten skin; and his "creative" attempt for the gathered students only made the fresh and shiny new instructor come off akin to someone who had flayed with crude cutting instruments the old carcass of "Harvey the Puka", while putting forth a pedestrian stab at wearing the faux hide.

"Who knows whom offered the traditional cured, long bamboo pipe to the tiger?" asked Todd. A smallish adolescent boy whose pimpled, puckered face reminded many of a puffed-up "Puffer fish" (to digest is poisonous) proudly announced, "'Tokkei', the fabled rabbit in the moon!", while pointing his pulpy baby fat still filled middle finger stiffly erect into the celestial bodied night. "See!"

Todd and ever looming "living" group of bodies were part of a "Winter English Language Learning Camp" and one of its most appealing activities is spending an overnight stay in the Namsan ("South Mountain") woods. The mountain itself stands straight and alone in dead center megatropolis Seoul...places like torist trap infamous "entertainment" providing Itaewon, the traditional/historic huge marketplace Namdaemun and other business/sports spots seem as malignant canerous growths about its base. However, once above these continuing expanding, rising "civilized" physical domains, there exists its famed and, suprisingly, haunting, day or night, copse of wind-whipped grotesqueness of seemingly in death throes elongated boney trees; the night time seeks to hide, sequester the whole into a phenomenal pertinacious phantasmal place of beauty where the substances for faery tales reside.

The spectral twilight gleam was ushered out, replaced by a garish, sparkling, prurient aged, nocturnal neon hot allure; even the massive puree of fungal smog infested low-lying clouds could not dim it. This was notorious Itaewon-dong ("district") at "night;" merriment thrumming with mixed sensations of plain, basic, evermore, decay and vitality of Art.

    "...neighborhood has been terrorized by the
     depredations of certain but still unidentified
     animals of a blood-sucking propensity...there
     is a burrow like that of some fox or other liked-
     sized animal."-OFFSPRING OF THE GRAVE,
                          Clark Ashton Smith

"She's got claws, she's got claws, she's got claws/She makes me nervous/...with dreams in cold storage," the chilled wind carried with crystalline clarity a Gary Numan techno-pop, neo-classic's lyrics that were gushing out of THE BIG ELECTRIC CAT club and cascading over the customers of the STARLITE cafe/restaurant just down the way. Amid the smog tainted fog billowing, enshrouding that neighborhood nearest the eros of scatology brownish Han river and situated at the foot of South Mountain, the flapping of insidious chimeraish things softly twirling in their flight within the light shadow of darkness; penetration, intercourse, entrance torn into the air-borne waspy paper wings by a pure silver stiletto sharp impaling point that sprang from within a delicately carved Asian folk tale dragon's cleft.

"Still another brutally savage, heinous serial slaying," came the dispassionate voice of outre Artist/Author Joseph Gordon as his Korean fir cane stylishly descended, polished to near shimmering serpentine-shape behind, retaining its piercing of the front page sheet of a popular Korean ilbo and the pleasant patio lighting of Starlite shown onto the newspaper's sordid red headline: "Namsan Ripper Reaps Another Liver!" Gordon's imported Chinese cigarette's, "Septwolves", smoke sensuously left from his flared nostrils and sardonic macerating orifice going upward to seemingly perform the ballet movement "Pas de Deux" with the thick steam arising from his tasty "bosintang" simmering inside the shearing flesh hot traditional stone bowl before him. "Perhaps, it's merely an augur doing his/her thing."

"Joseph! My niece is in the Namsan woods this very evening," in a particular striking protective paroxysm form, arose from his dinner partner Ryu Rei-ho. Gordon's, whose thinning, wispy hair and balding scalp made his facial features and head resemble characteristic charcoal drawings of an aged Charles Beaudelaire, took advantage of the pregnant pause he created and calmly sipped his cooling in the growing breeze "Suk Cha" tea (ancient Korea's version of the Decadent/Romantic 19th century poets' drink of choice), then stated, "According to all publically allowed accounts, the 'victims'  were all males, not counting the several gutted of their vitals and partially devoured rabbits spewed about each slaughter site."

Changing the subject, Joseph mused about the deprecating virility of Itaewon's existing condition, "It's slightly nostalgically sad how this once gleefully wicked area seems to have a darkening shroud tightening, slowly wrapping around the eerily sultry old genius loci of the dong to the point of virtually smothering it...(Orison) 'let's pass through the grime, let's corusicate through the slime, roots suck the lesser spirit, let itself die for the greater clime'...can colors' verity be sense seen for their birthing greyness, growing sickly aura of mordant extenting outer morose reality?" Gordon's sudden sullen seriousness gained Rei-ho's complete focus. "The sublime odours of the dripping cleavages' and thighs' sweat perfume of bodies back to back, face to face on long standing meet/meat markets' dance floors, such as the nefarious KING CLUB, and of the freshly sliced, bleeding beef and melting fat broiling on irregular, small, white hot rocks and jagged smoldering purgatory coals of outside foodstands have become the double helix and dying genes of the sickenly sweet Itaewon body."

Joseph didn't stop his observational rant, "The sullied air along its central drag no longer holds any scent of esoterical epicurean sexuality (the neighborhood never was a true "red light" district) and sybaritic, phlematic suspense of manifested danger, violence, even killing...'Juicy bars and girls' shrivel as spent penises to the STARBUCKs' spores collecting about the original Itaewon strip as places where the creatures meet...the once 'backstreets' where true Korean eateries could be found have yielded to white collar Western worker upscale eating/drinking venues on the mountain side off the center throughfare, building yaw, streching, retching evermore with their delectable flesh and blood fare towards the Namsan peak...the hideously beautiful flora of the South Mountainside house various things hidden, beings of the mountainous soil whose raison d'etre is to 'feed'; appetizing humans are on these secretly awaiting, horrible lurking secretory shadows, bestial connoisseurs' menu."

"She's not a shape shifting were-creature totally 'evil' fox-spirit unique to Korea!" reiterated Sunny as she and her classmate cum best friend "Ally" strove with a smooth, supple animalistically strong gait toward the pup-tents set-up for their Namsan experience. Ally's sleek, gymnastic physique made her physically similiar to Sunny, though, the glasses-less, moonless night colored eyes, precocious girl with emerging emponpoint, consistently had a relaxed compossure while her girlfriend was Yin and Yang, a somewhat threatening pleasing two-in-one demeanor, much like her celeberity aunt. "I agree with you, you know that...Mr. Bennet didn't doubt you either. He simply was re-telling the KuMiHo ("Nine Tailed Fox") folk legend as it has been recounted by our ancestors for aeons before us and to them she/it (can be a male) was considered a 'monster', manifest evil, after all, she is the only Asian fox-spirit that eats a part of their human target."

Sunny stopped dead cold in her tracks, the wind wildly fingered her "Betty Page" bangs and appeared to actually to bare her canines, "How could she be thought evil? Buddhist lore says this creature achieved its status as a nine tailed fox because it had lived for 1,000 years and, consequently, is considered a divine 'celestial' fox. However, instead of ascending to 'Heaven', she chooses to remain on this earthly plane." Ally nonchalantly stared at eye level straight back, "Yes, but does she stay to help others of her kind? No. KuMiHo craves to become 'human' in flesh, blood and spirit; one of the two ways allowed for it to happen is to eat 100 human livers raw without her real nature being discovered." Ally displayed a racy grin. Sunny, "Ever eat a rabbit?" The two (often called as a pair, the sun and moon in tandum) interlocked their arms affectionally and strolled off whistling with the ebb and flow of the rising gusts of wind the melancholic theme of the South Korean television's hit limited series: FORBIDDEN LOVE, "KuMiHo."

The GRAND HYATT SEOUL hotel squats just below the permitted camping portions of Namsan territory and on many an evening the elegantly expensive hotel's (location is everything) noxiously loud man-generated sounds could drown out to a lesser or greater degree the natural aural emmissions of the mountain's forest. It seemed only the country's legendary, black and white, message bearing (in Korean faery tales) magpies' cawing could be heaard above the temporary residents grand housing complex's din. A protesting of the housing establishment's un-natural existence within the birds' eternal residence on the mountainscape. It has been said that to hear the magpies' rackety song in the early morning hours brought good fortune and tidings to those who heard it or, at times, even a herald of sorts. Ironically, this cousin of the raven and crow sang a few days before for only the bleeding sans liver corpse that originally came desirously to the Hyatt's late night party scene and ended up laying upon soiled ground under one of the "magical", vociferous birds' tree top nests/home. So it all began.

Pedagogue Todd sat yoga style before the dying flames forming images of splattering blood as crimsons, scarlets and varied rubian tints, almost in slow-motion, exploded as in windy invisible fists, clenching and releasing in masturbating squeezes; so preceived the male educator's mind's eye. Coming, at this same moment in time, noisily in cut arterial-like spurts, depending on the strong palpating breezes' direction, the Hyatt's current purely "copy" band, which like others of its party hardy till puking/dropping soundtrack ilk that made the "Asian Hotel Circuit," was incessantly pumping out music and sung lyrics. The language camp was partially awashed, sprayed with a Jimi Hendrix classic, "Foxy, Foxy Lady/...comin' to get ya!" Todd did not hear the words nor felt the sonic pounding beat. He was too engrossed with his ponderings caused by what some of his more outspoken students stated during the discussion/palavering period that came after his telling of one of the most arcane, endearing "Korean" legends, whose prime character's existence still was very much alive within the social belief fabric of the culture.

"KuMiHo, a malignant fox-spirit?" Sunny demanded accusingly with a vicious, almost virile snarl, "Would such a so-called monstrosity, given a choice, between achieving their centuries old goal, all consumming desire, passion, by eating the still 'alive' liver of their last required human being or letting that corporeal body live because she 'loves' him, hence, having to start her quest all over again, freely select the latter?" Ally, however, added, "A KuMiHo has no compunction to kill whatever may be a perceived threat to her or threatens to reveal her real vixen-self. Perhaps, it's the terribly nightmareish obscene means she remorsefully relieves her quarry of their livers that helped give rise to her more common horrid visage?" Todd vividly envisioned how KuMiHo could appear as a young wholesome attractive girl not much different than some the older ones in his group. Then, knowing the camp was in the excellent hands of the well-trained Korean teachers working with him, he stood, still in his threadbare rabbit suit, and, oddly, found himself going for a walk, as the night's coldness continuously got colder, midst the trees of Namsan at 3AM in a mindset that preambulated into an "enchanted forest" to encounter what awaited inside for him.

    "The two shall be one,
     and the outside
     as the inside,
     and the male with the female
     neither male nor female"
Clement of Rome

Ryu Rei-ho is formally South Korea's top nude model,first of her profession university degreed ("ModernDance"); as the "Rei" in her name implies, she has an consanguinity who were part of the royal Tcho-Korean bloodlne connected, supposedly, to the legendary Grand Queen Zee Rei and truly Gordon's soulmate, his "Other." Rei-ho's most striking feature nowadays is her hair, which is black as the fur of a Korean red fox's "socks" and it reaches down to her prime muscled haunches braided tight like a leather whip until near its end where it is divided into nine smaller braids like a cat-o-nine-tails (though she refers to them as her "nine tailed fox look") with an equiste single animal painfully sharp talon attached to each; when a writhe whirling wind kisses them, they are melodic as the most dainty of Oriental wind chimes.

"Have you noticed," started Ryu, simutaneously her left hand's index finger released, as some feline paw, an acute pointed and forever lethal nail (a throwback to her Tcho Tcho side of the family tree) that she cleverly used to ream the fleshy center of a still exuding life, brackish sea urchin whose fright riddled puckering was a simulacrum of an anus opening to her. Catching Gordon in mid-sentence, she slid the succulent sea creature into his gape, thus succinctly halting his flow of verbiage. As he munched, Rei-ho continued, "that as the juicy bars are on a financial decline, at least those who cater to the 'straight' set, the transgender estabishments have been reaching outward like preatory suckers on sinewy cuttlefish tentacles off the euphemistically named  'Hooker' and 'Homo' hills onto the main drag of Itaewon, such as STARBUTTS?" As if precisely on cue, "Xanadu" (aka C. Vixsela Foxx) sidled up smiling at the now masticating couple.

"Livers," the exlted designer, Lord Scott B. Smith, currently residing in New Zealand but on vacation in the Republic of Korea, was slatheringly estolling the merits of their meal to his wife, Lady Jean Elizabeth, and some unseen audience, "at GECKO TERRACE (one of the more newly arrived marvelous thriving restaurants flourishing on the sidestreets, to Itaewon's mainstreet, that clung to Namsan like a promiscuous, deadly prolific poison ivy)) are uncomparable! They're so absolutely fresh and raw, a seemingly drooling suety blood and oozing interior fluids as liquid excretement. Perfection of ever so slightly grilled meat with cut and harvested a moment ago vegetables and copious helpings of deliciously whipped Korean potatoes to a rabid-like foam intermingled with potherbs, and sliced homemade butter floating, no, make that bleeding slowly from the/inside a distinct depressed crater."

The eloquent Lady Jean noted, "The potato 'design' reminds me of Jejudo's stunning formation 'Sangumburi', while her well developed pinky in an assiduously adroit circultory motion entered into a tantalizing spun tumulus from tubers in yellow, a gliding  digit ascent arrived in the anticipatory spouse's mouth; there was too a thread thin rivilet over Scott's protubeiant lip. "Do you recall our honeymoon on that mystically romantic isle? We stayed in Pyosan-si." Over suckling sounds of her mate, solidly and curvaciously built Lady Jean thought aurally, "It occurs to me that the multitude don't appreciate livers because of its odious odur when overly cooked." Gecko's gifted, unorthodox head chef Kim Rei-suk, whose specialties were the Smith's liver offering and sundry exotic meat dishes, eased over to the couple's electric candlelighted indoors table and, with a salacious salivary glint to her dark adapted eyes, gracefully inquired, "Enjoying the liver?" They embarrasingly nodded. The luscious legged woman in an immaculate white uniform of her profession, "Delightful. We got it just this morning." Kim politely departed; the Smiths soon followed suit, not quite corporeally satiated, for their Seoul Hyatt suite fearlessly and, no doubt due to the aphrodisac effect of particular livers, feeling like frisky pups. "You look...""Good enough to eat?"

"Look what the dog dragged in," (Joseph murmured "cat") humorously spoken by Ryu as she stabbed with an ornate custom-made woodn toothpick the abdomens of several in their infancy "bungdaeki" sluggishly thrashing in a shallow porcelean bowl by her firm right hand. Xanadu glanced, "Those little buggers do stink," as she gently laid a rare 1st edition hardback of Gordon's premiere volume of verse, WHERE DOES THE REAL GO WHEN IT'S GONE?, down for him to autograph. She placed her Auguste Rodin model's figure straight as a Kitsune phallic tail into a chair between her two comrades, busom buddies. Xanadu's sleek artictic finger tapered with an acupuncture needle sharp nail languidly traced Ryu's nicely pronounced cheekbone (that and her ample, nutritious breasts harkened back to her Mongolian, pre-Korean line), "Most can't understand, but I know why you are so attracted to this small statured fellow"...Ryu inched up a cup of some boiling hot "Tazo Chai" tea (a rich blend of such spices as black pepper and star anise "in the style of the hill dwellers of the Himalayas") to her dear friend, "This will take the chill out of your bones' marrow"..."It's his 'Romantic' poetry, it sets free the female animal deep inside." The growing voracious winds seemed then to begin to howl.

"Please Xanadu, indulge yourself in some lovely tenderized Korean tits found on Namsan itself", mumbled  Joseph as he continued to gnaw away on uncooked ginseng, swished in local red chilli pepper laced with minutely diced slivers of numerous Oriental fungi paste. "Odd," reflected the reknown poet, "This mythical health root believed in a human form lacks a 'head'.''  Xanadu's shapely skull's sockets that held her almondish eyes, along with her, depending upon the light, ruddy dark skin, led many a South Korean to believe her of Asian stock. Actually, she was mainly of Native American lineage, the Pequot tribe (the "Fox People"); the tribal owners of the largest gambling facility in the world. She remembered how their FOXWOODS RESORT AND CASINO dubiously procured her her start to international stardom, "Almost like a perverse faery tale come true."

    "There is no better way to know death
     than to link it with some licentious image."

"What's she doing?" Ryu with apt use of her heredtary index fingernails had with veteran butcher's skill skinned, dissected and dismembered a live cuttlefish with amazing apomb. Now, she had several wiggling tentacles within her upwardly poised mouth, leisurely sucking them in and out; the waving forlorn looking items seem to wave good-bye as they were dispatched to their gastric finality. Joseph simply shrugged, "It's her Lloigor imitation." "Blasphemy?" "Not if you have a sense of humor," issued from Ryu Rei, even though she was, at the moment, drinking her beloved organic beverage." "A chaser?" came the Artist's quietly sardonic voice. Ignoring him, Ryu smirked and pointed out to the puzzled Xanadu, "Ever noticed those Lloigor and Zhar 'devil poles' are always in pairs and 'smiling'?" The former top nude model continued, "I'm the guest 'Star' (making the quote sign with her strong but willowish expressive fingers) hostess for the formal annual "Brotherhood of the Star Treader" gathering, which is being conducted this year at the famous Itaewon juicy bar RED FOX." Here Rei-ho passed with alacrity a metal bowl of Korean cold wheat noodles still moist and having a cuttlefish's form of liver, bladder, heart and ink sac, interestingly different for they sloshed slightly on top, to her close friend..."Some whisper in very hush hush tones, it's a front for an exclusive homosexual filiation club, the entertainer articulated clearly despite she had some sepia hued fluid drool down her left jaw. "No," came out of Ryu's subtle yet sublime in movement grin, "They're basically pan-sexual or asexual with male leanings. Dagon and devotees have their E.O.D. while Lloigor's followers have the Brotherhood."

"And the tales of unbrided objurgational lust for human sacrifices?" Rei-ho's second eyelids shot up revealing eyes, like polished black gem stones of the grave at midnight sans moonlight and stars, that bore straight into Xanadu's contacts that made hers seem as florid flaming glass from sherry red orbs...both locked in laser focus at each other's cranial caves. Joseph was still working on his peculiar root, though by now, he was roughly about just below where hips would be in human anatomy, when he broke in, "Xanadu, how's the Starbutt's gig going?" Eye contact broken, she re-calculated her thoughts, then spoke, "Quite well, since 'Diamond Dogs' (name taken from the immediate album after David Bowie ended his Ziggy Stardust personage) became the house band, the clientele more than doubled and the place changed from a so called den of iniquity to a popular neighborhood hang-out that lures both the hip 'Straight' and 'Kinky'...

"As you probably know, the main bar and dance floor is situated in its cavernous basement grotto with the shadowy jet walls and ceiling being accruals of mainly Hannes Bokish and Gigeresque murals, some even explictedly executed by your friend "Koonude" (aka Stephen K. Morrison). We would always start with the club's regulars, flagitous gorgeous drag queens, sumptuously attractive female impersonators and in various stages trans-ops, crowding the front of our raised chrome performance platform that was throughly buffed with softest of shagreen. They would get most of the newbies, sweet young things, into their near hiddn booths; it was like observing trap-door spiders snatching their prey in slo-mo." Some of those new comers were seen nevermore. Of course, there were forever the dancing souls lost onto themselves upon the Alicean mirror floor.

Shortly after her narrative and obeisance, "The 'Dark' is young and to be had!" androgenous Xanadu ambled through the swarming "fields that never die". Joseph, "My how her eel-skin boots effectively showcase her deliciously sexy shanks." Rei-ho had on her ankle length coat, a gift Dr. Koh Rei-am and his identicaltwin sister Ms.Koh Rei-mi, Esq., expressly had made for her; its inner lining was a magnificent blend of Arizonian hares' winter fur and extremely rare jackalope hair, while its outside covering was superbly tanned Occidental flesh with broad lapels and cuffs done with Asiatic skin that was embroidered with gold floss  that created outrageous tantric arabesques of Zhar." "Sorry, my love, I must bid you adieu, but I do have an early morning rehearsal tomorrow." Ryu sauntered with a royality grace toward her home NAMSAN MANOR that was verily a set of multi-leveled Korean "villas" on the mountainslope, which she shared with her niece, sometimes others of her extended clan. Gordon couldn't hear the melodious tinkling of her braids due to the blustery winds, yet did hear the din again debouched from the Electric Cat club; snipets of lyrics of a Doors tune of old, "She's no drag just watch the way she walks/She's a '21st' century fox."

The poet for a brief melancholic moment mused, "Will there be any 'Lived Happily Ever  After' before daybreak?" Winds coldly churning, he was kept cozy by his jade green (like his long jaded eyes) wool turtleneck sweater, matching corduroy pants and East Indian gore boots. Abruptly the air as if entwined tendrils funneled down extinguishing, upon his particular table, the lit sandalwood scented candle inside a crystaline brandy sniffer. Thereafter, Joseph Gordon sat in the dark.

The woods' atmosphere was still as if the seconds ago March Hare winds just self-aborted. Rabbits abounded and laid mangled picturesquely about, unmercifully used to slake a gluttonous appetite. The largest, costumed Todd, was unceremoniously plopped into the rough bark crotch of an old double trunked Namsan tree. A hand with nails keen as a mad sotted surgeon's scalpel easily tore through the Canadian's attire to his up-ended rear and was in through his anal canal...twisted like a corkscrew within vitals to locate the liver...quick as pain was out, yanked along the entrance path now much widened aperture...two bites and gulp the black blood soddened internal organ was swiftly gone as was the penetrator. Todd released a slow suggestive moan as he not as swiftly bled to death.

Heaven's golden eye arose as red and black ants, large and small, with other such carnivorous insects were entering, eating orderly inwards at any wet opening; little miners. The loving mother magpie regurgetated portions of a blue-eyed eyeball for her perpetually ravenous, shrieking offspring. Todd forevermore the proper environmentalist felt one must always "see that it's an organic two-way highway and one must give as well as take." That dawn of another "Land of the Morning Calm" day, the sun and moon could be seen twin children, the duo gazed upon the abominable tableau, setting below.

"This may all be part of an ominious portentous depravity that is, perhaps, a sacrifical ritual," offered officer Won Dae-il, a slender, young yet with a dignified bearing male who is the top aide to the senior detective assigned the gruesome Namsan case, Inspector Park Ser-im, "Sir, we may be dealing not with an individual lunatic, or as the Americans are wont to say, 'One sick puppy', but a 'group.'" Park, a fortyish still in excellent athletic condition, who otherwise is a typical South Korean man that wouldn't stand-out in a normal Seoul situation/mob, "Great, just the logical speculation I need to hear," Park uttered in his strigent voice. Then, came a tentative, but matter-a-fact professional vocalization through the Inspector's  workroom door opening, "Sorry to intrude on you sir, but a Lord and Lady Smith havesomething directly effecting your immediate case, something I think you should hear straight from them." "Please escort them in with all proper protocol."

"We encountered a dreadful, macabre, nearly darky burlesque scene at the crack of dawn today," said the normally staid Ladyship, "that was so implorably debased..." she held herself with an unquestionable authoritarian stance, however, her facial muscles twitched as if caught in a blunt and unexpected gelid blast of air. "It was carrion, male, whose self had some craven ennuchish operation of the type typical of Scandinavia, performed horribly most foul." "Pardon?" Scott entered the conversation, having steaded Jean by having his arms tightly looped assuringly around his wife's waist, "What my dear partner is meaning to convey is quite a few ghoulish magpies had already had their way, circumscribed the poor fellow's corpse enjoyingly cawing and gormandizingly crude swallowing into their gullets the grisly delicious gourmand fowls' repast of his more tender, exposed parts, including the genitals. Unfortunately, one of them gliding directly overhead accidentally dropped a prized piece of gonad onto her uncovered head; my Jean first felt it was merely some glop of bird dropping...on closer inspection, it turned out to be a section of testical matter that was similiar in texture to mushy phelm tainted with, dripping fresh rosey red blood that was meshing, sticking to her breeze elongated hair." Lady Jean barely choked down rising  tangy but also tastebud disgusting bile in her constricting repulsing throat. "How distasteful."

"The Lady Smith is being tended to as delicately as permissible in our officers' ladies' lounge" came Won's diplomatic disarming statement. Jean's pallor was becoming more degenerate and appearing sorely akin to racid melted tallow; she couldn't rid her senses of the vile gore of a natural orgy by feathered feasters at a bountiful banquet. Such was the impact upon the dedicated voyeuristic ornithologist. Park asked in now perfunctory perfect English, "Why were you two up so early inside the Namsan woods?" "The best time to observe those divine Korean tits whose abode is Namsan is just as the sun assails the horizon." "Various fully grown tits are, by many, considered a delicacy. And, the Korean Master Chef Kim Rei-suk is internationally reknown for her unparalleled ability to titillate even the most decerning/decadent or decorous palates with her unique meat concoctions."

"Oh yes indeed! We had the pleasure last night to

savor one of her liver delights at Gecko Terrace, not to mention,  meeting her personally." "Wonderful. So you were at that restaurant and met their head chef Kim?" "Until early morning and she never boasted, let her creation speak for itself, as they would say." "It's her special culinary talent to blend sauces and to keep mysterious what are her sources of quite exotic pieces of eatable fleshto the point of the diner loving the taste while never suspecting what the meat was in its once living state." "Truly you say?" "True. Take those tits of hers, her chef d'oeuvre; she perfers to emmulate the exquiste French fine cuisine dish where they force feed another aerial creature till it's about to literally explode. Chef Kim does that to the tits you so love to watch here, however, what she keeps very secret is what exact kind of meat she overly stuffs into the birds. 'Old family recipe' she claims." Park with a grin liken to that of a cat who caught the proverbial canary continued, ""She originally hails from Jeju Island and the 'Rei' in her name signifies that,  so it is belived by the islanders, her parentage bloodlinks descend from the Grand Queen Zee past ages, the chef would have probably been a real life queen, hence, Kim's sobriquet: 'Asian Queen of Asiatic Cuisine.'"

"Curious," ...Lord Smith had departed to help give some solace to his suffering consort and was informed, when everything settles, which encompassed Jean's particular innards, the female officer calming and cleaning-up the Lady's vomiting escapade with the porcelain goddess would transcribe the couple's statements for them to eventually sign..."there's a time discrepancy." Won postulated, "There is the Hyatt's guest who viewed the couple prancing and copulating in the buff or, as he quaintly expressed it, 'naked as Jay birds', around 4AM, thus the accounted for time could easily be that they discreetly went back to their rooms after their 'discovery' before getting in touch with us instead of themselves." "Performing a pagan ritual/fertility rite with a 'sacrifice,' like those 'Druids' in England?" "Don't believe so, sir. The Smiths are nudists who take pleasure in bird watching a la natural. Lady Smith simply can't reconcile holy serene savagery and the grotesque in beauty's gentleness; other animals don't possess a Snow White faery tale version of the nature of what is to be found in a sylan duality, killing and loving/sex a whole, just is." "Very existential of them." "Sir?"

"The original plan for tonight. With help from the United States Armed Forces, main military base is conveniently right by the mountain, by allowing us to utilize their expertise and 'manpower', we are going to strangle Namsan. Our people will be unseen and nothing on two legs goes in or out without us being aware of their presence. By the book, no escape circumstances for this monster." "Sir, it's the 'Night of the Tokkei Moon.'"

"When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are," C.V. Foxx sang wistfully and low, in a voice whose vocal cords had encountered imbibed soju shots for far too many years. "A shooting star, quick make a wish," Foxx whispered softly to her partner in darkness' emotion for that night's revelry. So her nameless one did. "Ah, my sweet pimpollo, I always get a kick coming up this Namsan pathway to a very elite spiritual retreat because on the archway over its entrance in bold lettering it says, 'A place to get closer to god.'""So?" "You don't know? Under it, from dusk to dawn, the ageing 'ladies of the night' ply their legendary ancient trade to those in passing cars." "Well, for me, you are my Sylph, a fabled ' faery of the air.'"

Binary star system, two as one as a lustfilled topological curiosity, an erotical double helix of pliable forms...Loviatar was the guardian spirit of the lovers entwined, porphyrians of lust and rhymes, sleek in sweat, suppurating spume, undulating licentiousness of the final orgy, connubial death, mystified obsession. Tis how they laid, attractive youth's clenched jawbone and C.V.'s now lubricated hand, serpentine motion along curviature of spine, entranceway, ecstatic convulsive convolutions, exploring vore fingertips as snaken tongue rhythmically crawl into anal grotto aperture. Out again amid Namsan arboreal cove dripping blood, "A virgin...welcome," smoothly soothing came the words,"to the world of amorous 'fisting'." Blast of brightest light.

"You are under arrest"..."We're consenting adults, officer"..."For the Namsan deaths"...Inspector Park sighed, "Lucky me. I get one of the few on record female serial killers." Won, "Sir, 'she' was once physically a 'he'."

And so it ends? A slinking taut bulk observing contemplating feral eyes within shadows of trees and an artifical light, "Why do I so desire to be Homo sapien?" Rustling rabbit prey and an extraordinary large canine pursuer, fox.


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*Dedicated to Ms. Kay Sok, Esq., Without her honest and ceaseless support, there would be no short story here.


Dr. Duane L. Vorhees, heartfelt thanks for his true friendship and being there when needed most in this life.

The family of magpies near my Namsan residence, who have taken upon themselves to daily remind me that they were here first.

The described South Korean locations and presented place names do exist, however, the characters and situations within this tale came from the author's imagination. Except for "KuMiHo," which is an over a thousand years old popular still today myth (?) and the given details about her/it in this telling are just as they have been told/shared by Koreans throughout the ages.

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