英朗2016手动进取型:（推荐）“让人从肠子里开始翻滚的文字”——《肠子》(Guts) | 燕之夕月夜

（推荐）“让人从肠子里开始翻滚的文字”——《肠子》(Guts)

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今天回来看到twitter上dd大牛贴了一篇文章的链接，描述是“让人从肠子里开始翻滚的文字”，我很好奇就点开来看，写得真是不错呀，翻译也非常赞，看完一动心就转载过来了。其实似乎也没那么恶心，至少我读的时候感觉还是比较平静的。作者 Chuck Palahniuk的细节感受描写真是太细腻了，文章不长，可以一看。（这篇文章我就不配插图了……）

肠子

简介

《肠子》(Guts)是恰克·帕拉尼克(Chuck Palahniuk)的短篇小说集《恶搞研习营》(Haunted)中最著名的故事，有不少人在作者的朗读会上因为听了这个故事而晕倒。

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吸气。

尽可能多的吸气。

这个故事大概能持续闭一口气的时间，可能再稍微长那么一点儿。所以，尽快听完。

我的一个朋友，13岁的时候听说了”打桩”（译注：pegging，俚语，指女人穿上捆束式假阳具为男人肛交）这个词。就是说在一个家伙屁股上插上根假鸡鸡，这样可以充分的刺激前列腺，据说不用动手就能带来爆炸性高潮体验。在他那个年纪，这位朋友可以说是一个小小性欲狂。他总是极度渴望找到一种更爽地发射打飞机炮弹的方式（译注：get sb’s rocksoff，俚语，指射精、获得性高潮）。于是他出去买了一根胡萝卜和一些润滑剂，准备来个秘密小实验。但是他设想了一下站在超市收银台前的画面，一根孤零零的萝卜和润滑剂在传送带上移向超市收银员。在所有排队顾客的注视下，每个人都看能穿他晚上的大计。

因此，我的这位朋友，他买了牛奶、鸡蛋、糖和一根胡萝卜等所有做萝卜糕的原料，以及一些凡士林。

就像他回家要往屁股上戳的是一块萝卜糕。

回到家，他把萝卜削成一把钝器，厚厚地涂上一层润滑油，使劲塞进屁眼。然后，啥也没有。没有性高潮。

啥也没有，除了，很痛。

接着，这个孩子的妈妈喊说晚饭时间到了，叫他马上下楼。

他连忙把萝卜弄出来，然后把这个油油滑滑的脏东西藏在床底的脏衣服里。

晚饭后，他回来找他的萝卜，萝卜却不见了。所有的脏衣服，在他吃饭的时候，他妈妈都拿去洗衣服了。她绝对不可能没发现那根萝卜，那根用她厨房里的水果刀精心雕琢过的，仍然闪着油渍发着恶臭的萝卜。

我的这位朋友，乌云盖顶地等了几个月，等着家人怎么来对付他。但是他们根本没来。从来没有，直到现在。

他现在长大了，那根看不见的萝卜高悬在每一次圣诞大餐、每一次生日派对之上。每年复活节他和自己的孩子，他父母的孙儿们，一起寻找彩蛋的时候，这根胡萝卜的幽灵还一直徘徊在他们周围。

这玩意说出来太可怕了。

法国人有句话叫：”楼梯上的马后炮”。用法语说就是：Esprit del’escalier。意思是当你想到怎样答复回应的时候，却为时已晚。比如说在一个派对上有人骂了你。你必须有所回应，重重压力之下，众目睽睽之下，你只是很弱地说了些蹩脚的话。但在你离开的时候。。。

就像你开始走下楼梯，突然–灵光一闪。你想到了当时最该说的话，那种最完美最伤人的回击。

这就是所谓的”楼梯上的马后炮”。

问题是即便法国人也没有一个词能形容那些你情急之下干的蠢事。那些你所想所作的愚蠢而绝望的事。

有些事，过于鄙贱无以名之。更甚者，则过于低俗无从谈及。

回顾过去，儿童心理专家，学校心理辅导员宣称上次青少年自杀的高峰大多数人是在自慰的时候窒息而死的。家人发现的时候，一条毛巾缠在孩子的脖子上，毛巾另一端绑在卧室衣橱的架衣杆上，人已经死了。精液到处都是。当然，家人们会清理现场。他们给孩子穿好裤子，弄得。。。体面些，至少让它看起来如此，弄成那种普通的失意少年自杀的样子。

另一位我的朋友，还在他上学的时候，他的在海军服役的大哥写信说起中东男人打飞机的方式和我们这边如何不一样。这个大哥驻扎的某个骆驼国家，那里的集市上卖一种像是用来拆信的新奇玩意。这个新奇玩意是一根铜制或银制的抛光细棒，可能有你的手那么长，一头连着个大金属球，或者某种你会在一把剑上看到的那种华丽雕花手柄。这位海军大哥还描述了那些阿拉伯人怎么把他们的鸡鸡弄硬然后把这根金属棒整个插进去。里面带着这根棍子打飞机，能更好的达到高潮，更强烈的高潮。

就是这位周游世界的大哥，传回些法国词儿，或者些俄国词儿，或者些有用的打飞机的建议。

这之后，这位小兄弟有天没来上学。当晚，他打电话问我能否在未来几个星期帮他拿作业，因为他住院了。他得跟一些肠子有毛病的老年人同住一房。他说他不得不跟他们看同一部电视。所有的隐私只能靠一块帘子布。他的家人也不来探望。在电话上，他说他的父母多么想立即干掉他的海军大哥。

在电话上，他说起前一天他只是有点晕乎乎的。在家中自己卧室里，无所事事地躺的床上。点着蜡烛，翻着些旧色情杂志，他正准备打个飞机。而这是在他收到了那位海军大哥的来信之后，知道了那个关于阿拉伯人打飞机的有用的提示之后。这个孩子看了看周围有没有什么趁手的东西。圆珠笔太粗了。铅笔也太粗而且很糙。但是，蜡烛滴着油的那一侧，隆起来一长条又细又滑的蜡，这应该能行。于是他用指尖把那一长条隆起的蜡抠了下来。然后用手掌搓一搓，搓得又长又滑又细。

晕晕乎乎色色眯眯的他，把这条蜡从尿道口深深地送进小鸡鸡。在外面还露出一长段蜡，他就干开了。

即使现在，他还是认为那些阿拉伯人真他妈聪明。他们完全重新创造了打飞机的方式。平躺在床上，感觉越来越爽，他已经顾不上那根蜡条。再那么来一下就要把精液挤出来的时候，那条蜡已经没有伸出来了。

这条细细的蜡棒已经滑了进去，完完全全的进去了。进得太深以致尿道里已经感觉不到它的存在。

他妈妈在楼下喊他吃晚饭，叫他马上下楼。这个蜡棒仔和那个萝卜仔虽然是不同的人，但是都过着差不多的日子。

这个孩子是从晚饭后开始肚子疼的。他觉得蜡会在体内溶化，然后尿出来。但是，接着他的腰又开始疼起来，是他的肾。他甚至都站不直了。

这个孩子在医院病床上讲着电话，背景里可以听到铃声响了起来，人们开始尖叫，好戏开演了。

X光片显示出问题的真相，有个又长又细的东西，对折弯在他的膀胱里。他体内的这个又长又细的V型物体，正在从他尿中积聚着各种矿物质。它正变得又大又粗，外面覆着一层钙质结晶，在里面撞来撞去快要把膀胱的内膜戳破了，还阻塞了他的小便。他的肾只能使劲憋住。勉强从小鸡鸡里滴出来几滴，还红红的渗着血。

这个小孩和他的父母，一家子人，看着这张黑色的X光片，医生和护士站在一旁，看着这个发着白光的大大的V字型蜡条。他只好从实招来，那个阿拉伯人打飞机的方式，那封他在海军服役的大哥写给他的信。

在电话的那头，此刻，他哭了起来。

他们用他读大学的钱支付了膀胱手术的费用。一个愚蠢的错误，现在他再也成不了律师了。

把什么东西插进自己体内，或者把你自己插进什么东西。一根小鸡鸡里的蜡烛，或者一根绞索里的脑袋，我们都知道会有大麻烦。

让我惹上大麻烦的那件事，我称其为珍珠潜水。是指在水下打飞机，坐在我家游泳池深水那边的底部。深吸一口气，我潜到底部，脱掉泳裤。我可以在下面坐个两三分钟、甚至四分钟。

仅仅是为了打飞机，我练就了巨大的肺活量。如果我有自己的房子，我会整个下午一直不停地做。直到最终炮弹发射，我的精液，悬浮在水里，形成一坨坨又大又肥乳白色的块块儿。

然后再潜入水，把它们都抓起来，集拢来，一把一把用毛巾擦掉。这就是为什么它叫作珍珠潜水。不过，即便池水有氯消毒，我还是很替妹妹担心。或者，天哪，还有我妈妈。

那曾经是世界上我最恐惧的事：我那尚保有童贞尚未成年的妹妹，觉得自己长得越来越胖，然后生下一个长着两个脑袋的脑残婴儿。两个脑袋都跟我长得一样。我，既是爸爸又是叔叔。

往往，发生在你身上的绝不是你最担心的事情。

珍珠潜水最棒的部分在于泳池有个接通过滤网和循环泵的进水口，可以光着屁股坐上去。

正如法国人所说：谁不爱吸屁屁的感觉？

同样，一分钟前你不过是个自爽的小孩，一分钟后你将永远做不成律师了。

这一分钟，我坐在池底，透过头顶八英尺（译注：2米44）的池水，淡蓝色的天空波浪起伏。世界一片寂静，只听到自己的心跳。我的黄纹泳裤绕在我的脖子上以保证安全，以防有朋友或邻居或什么人忽然出现问我为什么跷了橄榄球训练。这个泳池进水孔一直吸着，我还把自己瘦瘦白白的屁股在那周围蹭来蹭去。

这一分钟，我还氧气充足，手里握着鸡鸡。父母上班去了，妹妹学芭蕾去了。几个小时内都不会有人回家。

我的手让我又爽了一把。停一停，我游上来大吸一口气，再下潜沉到池底。

一遍又一遍。

这肯定是为什么女孩喜欢坐在你的脸上，那种抽吸的感觉就像在大一场永远大不完的便。鸡鸡硬着屁屁吸着，我才不需要什么呼吸。耳里响着自己的心跳，我一直呆到开始眼冒金星。双腿伸直，膝盖后面一直贴着混凝土的池底都有点擦伤了。脚尖开始变得瘀青，脚趾手指也长时间泡水皱了起来。

然后，就让它来吧。一团又大又白的，喷薄而出的，珍珠。

然后，我需要些空气。但是当我想起来的时候，却不行，我站不起来了。我的屁股被吸住了。

急护人员会告诉你，每年大约有150人会这样被卡住，被一个循环水泵吸住。可能吸进去的是你的头发，也可能是你的屁股，然后你就会淹死。每年都有一堆人这样。他们大多数在佛罗里达。

只不过人们不会去谈论。即使是法国人也不是什么都说。

抬起膝盖，收起一只脚，我可以半站起来了，但是我发现什么东西用力拽着我的屁股。再把另一只脚收过来，蹬一下池底。然后我什么也踢不到了，既碰不到混凝土池底，也没有浮出水面。

我只能踢着水，两手乱扒，可能还差一半就出水面了，但不能再高了。心跳在我脑袋里越来越响越来越快。

只觉得眼前白光乱窜，我回头一看。。。但一切太不合理：一条粗绳，像是一条蛇，青白色的表面交错缠绕着血管，从排水口连上来咬着我的屁股。那些血管有的还在往外冒血，红色的血液在水里显得发黑，从这条蛇苍白的表皮上的小裂口漂散出来。血迹渐渐晕开，消失在水中。透过这条蛇薄薄的青白色的表皮，可以看见里面是一坨坨半消化的食物。

唯一合理的解释是：这是个恐怖的海怪，一条海蛇怪，某种从不出现在光天化日之下的东西。它一直潜伏在池底的排水口里，伺机要吃掉我。

所以。。。我踢它，踢它滑腻的富有弹性的鼓着疙瘩的表面和血管，然而似乎把更多东西从排水口拉了出来。现在大概有我的腿那么长了，但还是紧紧连着我的屁眼。再踢一下，我又离呼吸到空气更近了一寸。仍然能感觉到蛇在拖着我的屁股，但是我离脱险又近了一寸。

从蛇身上纠结的肿块里，还能看到玉米粒和花生粒。能看到一个长条的亮橙色的小球。就像是那种我爸逼我吃的维他命大药丸，那种为了帮我增重，帮我拿到橄榄球队奖学金，那种富含铁和Ω -3不饱和脂肪酸的大药丸。

正是看到了那颗维他命丸救了我的命。

原来这不是一条蛇。这是我的大肠，是我的结肠从里面翻了出来。也就是医生所说的，脱垂。原来是我的肠子被吸进了排水口。

救护人员会告诉你，一个游泳池的水泵每分钟抽八十加仑（译注：约300升）的水，那大约有400磅（译注：约180公斤）的压力。大问题是我们的内脏是连通在一起的，屁眼只是嘴巴的另一端。如果我放任不管，让水泵持续运转–把我的内脏都扯出来–最后会抽到我的舌头。试想一下屙一陀400磅的屎，你就能明白这为什么会把你从里到外翻过来了。

我能告诉你的是，肠子感觉不到疼，不像皮肤那样有痛觉。那些正在消化的东西，医生称之为排泄物的东西。在高一点的地方，到处是这些半流体的半消化物，包着一层薄薄的黏黏的脏东西，上面还点缀着些玉米、花生和圆圆的青豆。

就是这混杂着血和玉米，屎和精液以及花生的汤水浮在我的周围。即便是我的肠子正被从屁股里扯出来，也不知里面还剩下多少，即便是这样，我最想要的还是穿回我的泳裤。

上帝保佑我的家人不会看到我的小鸡鸡。

我一手抱著屁股，另一只手把我的黄纹泳裤从脖子上拉下来。尽管，穿上是不可能的。

如果你想体验摸到肠子的感觉，可以去买一包羊皮避孕套。拿一个出来，展开，包上花生酱，涂上润滑油，抓住放进水里。然后，试着撕扯，试着把它撕成两半。但是它太韧太有弹性，滑腻腻的让你抓不住。

一个羊皮套套，就是一条肠子。

你现在明白我要对付的是什么了吧。

你松手一秒钟，然后，内脏就会被掏空。

你为了一口空气，游向水面，然后，内脏就会被掏空。

你不游，然后，就会淹死。

这是一个抉择，现在就死，还是过一分钟再死。

我的父母下班回来将发现一个赤裸着的巨大胎儿，蜷缩成一团，漂浮在后院泳池混浊的水里，臀部栓着一根由血管和肠子纠结成的粗绳。与那些自慰的时候上吊的孩子不一样。这个可是他们十三年前从医院抱回来的宝贝，这个可是他们寄予了厚望，要拿橄榄球队奖学金拿MBA学位的孩子，是老了会照顾他们的孩子。这可是他们全部的希望与梦想。现在浮在这里，光着身子，死了。而在他周围，全是大颗大颗乳白色的珍珠般的精液。

要么，我的父母将发现我裹着血染的毛巾，摔倒在从泳池走到厨房电话的途中，那破破烂烂被撕碎的肠子还从我的黄纹泳裤的裤腿垂下来。

这就是那些法国人也不愿谈起的事情。

那个在海军的大哥，他还教给我们一个好词儿，一句俄国话。我们说”恨不得要头上长个洞一样需要。。。”俄国人则说”恨不得要屁眼里长牙齿一样需要。。。”

Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse

听过那些关于落入陷阱的动物如何咬断自己的腿求生的故事，其实，任何一只土狼都会告诉你，只要狠狠心咬下去就可以死里逃生了。

见鬼。。。即便你是俄国人，某天你也恨不得能长那些牙齿。

否则的话，你要做的只能是–把身子转过来。用手肘勾住膝盖，把大腿拉近你的脸。然后，咬自己的屁股。你快没气儿了，你会愿意咬任何能让你呼吸到下一口空气的东西。

这不是你在第一次约会想要告诉一个女孩的东西，如果你还想跟她亲亲晚安的话。

如果我告诉你它尝起来像什么，你将永远永远不会再想吃鱿鱼。

很难说哪一样让我的父母觉得更恶心：是我惹上麻烦的方式，还是我是自救的方式。出院后，我妈妈说：”你不知道你都干了些啥，亲爱的。你晕过去了。”然后她学会了怎么做水煮蛋。

所有那些人都为我觉得恶心，或者为我感到遗憾。。。

我也恨不得屁眼里能长牙齿。

现在人们总说我看起来太瘦了。在宴会上人们会静下来，为我不吃他们煮的炖肉而生气。炖肉会要了我的命，烤火腿也会。任何吃的东西在我肠子里转悠几个小时出来还是食物。家常煮蚕豆或是大块的金枪鱼，我站起来发现它们还是原样躺在马桶里。

经过深度肠切除的手术后，你对肉不会消化得很好。大多数人有五英尺（译注：1米5）长的大肠。我幸运地还剩六英寸（译注：15厘米）。因此，我再也不可能拿到橄榄球队奖学金了，也不可能去读MBA了。我的那两个朋友，蜡棒仔和萝卜仔，他们都长大，长得又高又壮，但是我再也没能比13岁那天的我再重上一磅。

另一个大问题是我的父母为了那个游泳池花了不少钱。最后我爸只是告诉那个修理工，那是一条狗，是家里的狗掉进去淹死了，尸体被吸进了水泵。即便是在那个修理工打开过滤箱，从中扯出一段橡胶管，一卷里面还有颗橙色维他命丸的水水的肠子的时候，即便是这样，我爸还是在说”这狗真他妈混蛋”。

即使是从我楼上的窗子里，也可以听到我爸爸说话的声音，”让那狗单独呆一秒钟都不行。。。”

然后，我的妹妹月经没来。

即使在他们换了池水之后，在他们卖了房子全家搬到另一个州之后，在我的妹妹堕胎之后，即使那样，我的家人也再没提起过这件事。

从来没有。

那就是我们的看不见的萝卜。

好了。你现在可以好好的深深的吸一口气了。

我还是不行。

完。

（附上精彩的原文）：

Guts

Inhale.

Take in as much air as you can.

This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, andthen just a little bit longer. So listen as fast as you can.

A friend of mine, when he was thirteen years old he heard about“pegging.” This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo.Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can haveexplosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend’s a little sexmaniac. He’s always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. Hegoes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a littleprivate research. Then he pictures how it’s going to look at thesupermarket checkstand, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rollingdown the conveyer belt toward the grocery store cashier. All theshoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening hehas planned.

So, my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline.

Like he’s going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.

At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers itwith grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm.Nothing happens except it hurts.

Then, this kid, his mom yells it’s suppertime. She says to come down, right now.

He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.

After dinner, he goes to find the carrot and it’s gone. All his dirtyclothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry.No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paringknife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.

This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting forhis folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now he’s grownup, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, everybirthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents’grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them.

That something too awful to name.

People in France have a phrase: “Spirit of the Stairway.” In French:Esprit de l’escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, butit’s too late. Say you’re at a party and someone insults you. You haveto say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you saysomething lame. But the moment you leave the party…

As you start down the stairway, then — magic. You come up with theperfect thing you should’ve said. The perfect crippling put-down.

That’s the Spirit of the Stairway.

The trouble is even the French don’t have a phrase for the stupidthings you actually do say under pressure. Those stupid, desperatethings you actually think or do.

Some deeds are too low to even get a name. Too low to even get talked about.

Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that mostof the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while theybeat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around the kid’sneck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead.Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put somepants on their kid. They made it look… better. Intentional at least. Theregular kind of sad, teen suicide.

Another friend of mine, a kid from school, his older brother in theNavy said how guys in the Middle East jack off different than we dohere. This brother was stationed in some camel country where the publicmarket sells what could be fancy letter openers. Each fancy tool is justa thin rod of polished brass or silver, maybe as long as your hand,with a big tip at one end, either a big metal ball or the kind of fancycarved handle you’d see on a sword. This Navy brother says how Arab guysget their dick hard and then insert this metal rod inside the wholelength of their boner. They jack off with the rod inside, and it makesgetting off so much better. More intense.

It’s this big brother who travels around the world, sending back French phrases. Russian phrases. Helpful jack-off tips.

After this, the little brother, one day he doesn’t show up at school.That night, he calls to ask if I’ll pick up his homework for the nextcouple weeks. Because he’s in the hospital.

He’s got to share a room with old people getting their guts workedon. He says how they all have to share the same television. All he’s gotfor privacy is a curtain. His folks don’t come and visit. On the phone,he says how right now his folks could just kill his big brother in theNavy.

On the phone, the kid says how — the day before — he was just alittle stoned. At home in his bedroom, he was flopped on the bed. He waslighting a candle and flipping through some old porno magazines,getting ready to beat off. This is after he’s heard from his Navybrother. That helpful hint about how Arabs beat off. The kid looksaround for something that might do the job. A ball-point pen’s too big. Apencil’s too big and rough. But dripped down the side of the candle,there’s a thin, smooth ridge of wax that just might work. With just thetip of one finger, this kid snaps the long ridge of wax off the candle.He rolls it smooth between the palms of his hands. Long and smooth andthin.

Stoned and horny, he slips it down inside, deeper and deeper into thepiss slit of his boner. With a good hank of the wax still poking outthe top, he gets to work.

Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty damn smart. They’vetotally re-invented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things aregetting so good, this kid can’t keep track of the wax. He’s one goodsqueeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn’t sticking out anymore.

The thin wax rod, it’s slipped inside. All the way inside. So deepinside he can’t even feel the lump of it inside his piss tube.

From downstairs, his mom shouts it’s suppertime. She says to comedown, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people,but we all live pretty much the same life.

It’s after dinner when the kid’s guts start to hurt. It’s wax so hefigured it would just melt inside him and he’d pee it out. Now his backhurts. His kidneys. He can’t stand straight.

This kid talking on the phone from his hospital bed, in the background you can hear bells ding, people screaming. Game shows.

The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent doubleinside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it’s collecting allthe minerals in his piss. It’s getting bigger and more rough, coatedwith crystals of calcium, it’s bumping around, ripping up the softlining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneysare backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.

This kid and his folks, his whole family, them looking at the blackX-ray with the doctor and the nurses standing there, the big V of waxglowing white for everybody to see, he has to tell the truth. The wayArabs get off. What his big brother wrote him from the Navy.

On the phone, right now, he starts to cry.

They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mistake, and now he’ll never be a lawyer.

Sticking stuff inside yourself. Sticking yourself inside stuff. Acandle in your dick or your head in a noose, we knew it was going to bebig trouble.

What got me in trouble, I called it Pearl Diving. This meant whackingoff underwater, sitting on the bottom at the deep end of my parents’swimming pool. With one deep breath, I’d kick my way to the bottom andslip off my swim trucks. I’d sit down there for two, three, fourminutes.

Just from jacking off, I had huge lung capacity. If I had the houseto myself, I’d do this all afternoon. After I’d finally pump out mystuff, my sperm, it would hang there in big, fat, milky gobs.

After that was more diving, to catch it all. To collect it and wipeeach handful in a towel. That’s why it was called Pearl Diving. Evenwith chlorine, there was my sister to worry about. Or, Christ almighty,my Mom.

That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister,thinking she’s just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headedretard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father AND theuncle.

In the end, it’s never what you worry about that gets you.

The best part of Pearl Diving was the inlet port for the swimmingpool filter and the circulation pump. The best part was getting nakedand sitting on it.

As the French would say: Who doesn’t like getting their butt sucked?

Still, one minute you’re just a kid getting off, and the next minute you’ll never be a lawyer.

One minute, I’m settling on the pool bottom, and the sky is wavy,light blue through eight feet of water above my head. The world issilent except for the heartbeat in my ears. My yellow-striped swimtrunks are looped around my neck for safe keeping, just in case afriend, a neighbor, anybody shows up to ask why I skipped footballpractice. The steady suck of the pool inlet hole is lapping at me andI’m grinding my skinny white ass around on that feeling.

One minute, I’ve got enough air, and my dick’s in my hand. My folksare gone at their work and my sister’s got ballet. Nobody’s supposed tobe home for hours.

My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch another big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom.

I do this again and again.

This must be why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is liketaking a dump that never ends. My dick hard and getting my butt eatenout, I do not need air. My heartbeat in my ears, I stay under untilbright stars of light start worming around in my eyes. My legs straightout, the back of each knee rubbed raw against the concrete bottom. Mytoes are turning blue, my toes and fingers wrinkled from being so longin the water.

And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls.

It’s then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can’t. I can’t get my feet under me. My ass is stuck.

Emergency paramedics will tell you that every year about 150 peopleget stuck this way, sucked by a circulation pump. Get your long haircaught, or your ass, and you’re going to drown. Every year, tons ofpeople do. Most of them in Florida.

People just don’t talk about it. Not even French people talk about EVERYTHING.

Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to halfstanding when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other footunder me, I kick off against the bottom. I’m kicking free, not touchingthe concrete, but not getting to the air, either.

Still kicking water, thrashing with both arms, I’m maybe halfway tothe surface but not going higher. The heartbeat inside my head gettingloud and fast.

The bright sparks of light crossing and criss-crossing my eyes, Iturn and look back… but it doesn’t make sense. This thick rope, somekind of snake, blue-white and braided with veins has come up out of thepool drain and it’s holding onto my butt. Some of the veins are leakingblood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from littlerips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearingin the water, and inside the snake’s thin, blue-white skin you can seelumps of some half-digested meal.

That’s the only way this makes sense. Some horrible sea monster, asea serpent, something that’s never seen the light of day, it’s beenhiding in the dark bottom of the pool drain, waiting to eat me.

So… I kick at it, at the slippery, rubbery knotted skin and veins ofit, and more of it seems to pull out of the pool drain. It’s maybe aslong as my leg now, but still holding tight around my butthole. Withanother kick, I’m an inch closer to getting another breath. Stillfeeling the snake tug at my ass, I’m an inch closer to my escape.

Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see along bright-orange ball. It’s the kind of horse-pill vitamin my Dadmakes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship.With extra iron and omega-three fatty acids.

It’s seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.

It’s not a snake. It’s my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me.What doctors call, prolapsed. It’s my guts sucked into the drain.

Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons ofwater every minute. That’s about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problemis we’re all connected together inside. Your ass is just the far end ofyour mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working – unraveling my insides— until it’s got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound shit, and youcan see how this might turn you inside out.

What I can tell you is your guts don’t feel much pain. Not the wayyour skin feels pain. The stuff you’re digesting, doctor’s call it fecalmatter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin runny mess studded withcorn and peanuts and round green peas.

That’s all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanutsfloating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my ass, me holdingonto what’s left, even then my first want is to somehow get my swimsuitback on.

God forbid my folks see my dick.

My one hand holding a fist around my ass, my other hand snags myyellow-striped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still,getting into them is impossible.

You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lamb-skincondoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smearit with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then, try to tear it.Try to pull it in half. It’s too tough and rubbery. It’s so slimy youcan’t hold on.

A lamb-skin condom, that’s just plain old intestine.

You can see what I’m up against.

You let go for a second, and you’re gutted.

You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you’re gutted.

You don’t swim, and you drown.

It’s a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.

What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in onitself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tetheredto the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite ofa kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the babythey brought home from the hospital thirteen years ago. Here’s the kidthey hoped would snag a football scholarship and get an MBA. Who’d carefor them in their old age. Here’s all their hopes and dreams. Floatinghere, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm.

Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel,collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen telephone, the ragged,torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellow-stripedswim trunks.

What even the French won’t talk about.

That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. ARussian phrase. The way we say: “I need that like I need a hole in myhead…” Russian people say: “I need that like I need teeth in myasshole…”

Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse

Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off theirleg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell outof being dead.

Hell… even if you’re Russian, some day you just might want those teeth.

Otherwise, what you have to do is — you have to twist around. Youhook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. Youbite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air, and you will chewthrough anything to get that next breath.

It’s not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night.

If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.

It’s hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I’d gotin trouble or how I’d saved myself. After the hospital, my Mom said,“You didn’t know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock.” And shelearned how to cook poached eggs.

All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me…

I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.

Nowadays, people always tell me I look too skinny. People at dinnerparties get all quiet and pissed off when I don’t eat the pot roast theycooked. Pot roast kills me. Baked ham. Anything that hangs aroundinside my guts for longer than a couple hours, it comes out still food.Home-cooked lima beans or chunk light tuna fish, I’ll stand up and findit still sitting there in the toilet.

After you have a radical bowel resectioning, you don’t digest meat sogreat. Most people, you have five feet of large intestine. I’m lucky tohave my six inches. So I never got a football scholarship. Never got anMBA. Both my friends, the wax kid and the carrot kid, they grew up, gotbig, but I’ve never weighed a pound more than I did that day when I wasthirteen.

Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for thatswimming pool. In the end my Dad just told the pool guy it was a dog.The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into thepump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fishedout a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitaminpill still inside, even then, my Dad just said, “That dog was fuckingnuts.”

Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my Dad say, “We couldn’t trust that dog alone for a second…”

Then my sister missed her period.

Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house andwe moved to another state, after my sister’s abortion, even then myfolks never mentioned it again.

Ever.

That is our invisible carrot.

You. Now you can take a good, deep breath.

I still have not.

End

原文出处：http://www.yeeyan.com/articles/view/foxbok/25539/dz

感谢译者foxbok的精彩译文！

后话：其实读这篇文章的时候我心里一直是有个阴影的。。。上学期，传说（传说，只是传说。。。），我们学校研究生宿舍死了一个男生，是死在浴室里的，被发现的时候他是把自己吊在浴室淋浴喷头横着的铁杆上面的……当时我不理解为什么会这样。。。今天看到这篇文章我才明白。。。好吧大家无视我上述的话吧，我的后记让这篇文章变得更加阴暗了。。。无视吧无视吧，传说，只是传说。。。。