The Last Supper OR How Obese People Stand
By P. Kindersley
* All the issues are, I assure you, current and important.

Guest List
1. Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra -"these are our salad days"
2. Mario Lanza
3. Sam Fox
4. Mandy
5. Petula
6. Apollo
7. Jesus (super-dishy whites and piercing azure iris')
8. Mary (Mom can come then)
9. Jane Fonda + amphetamines
10. Salome
11. Babs, Queen of Hawaii
12. Reverend Gary Davies
13. Kirstie Alley


    Mandy was dressed regally in bright purple trousers and an indigo poncho, her hair dyed a shimmering violet. She also sported a stunning pair of    5purple (adj. emphasising style often at the expense of thought) reeboks. Her huge perspex disc earrings flashed in all there purple glory as she spoke animatedly to her bezzie girlfriend Petula. Not wanting to be outdone in the matching department, Petula was wearing a splendid, baggy blue trouser suit. Her light blue wash hair and lapis lazuli jewellery set off the outfit wonderfully. They were of course American. Both widowed 3 years ago when their husbands Marty and Doc drowned, due to their manhandling of a clipper just off the Southern Islands. Petula an   &d Mandy had decided on Europe this year. They were discussing Condoleeza Rice, and how honey makes orientals live to 309.

Various clip on earring designs for the larger lady;
A1             A2       B1           B2          C1           C2        D1*        D2*

All 1/8th of actual size, all com in Fuchsia, Cornflower Blue, Eau de Nil, Edelweiss, Summer Corn and Onyx.                                                                       *D1& D2, Last Supper Specials
     Mary sat, unconsciously playing with the roulade on her plate,    πswitching her gaze between her son and the two american ladies to his right. Why had Jesus invited them?, they really lowered the tone of the whole evening. She bought the fork up to her mouth, unaware that the piece of salmon she had coiled around it had dropped back onto the plate. Loud American twangs boomed down the table, it really was too much. At least Jesus' seating plan was all right, she was next to Jane. She starred down at the pile of macrobiotic bricks topped with a single strawberry on Ms. Fonda's plate, then embarrassed back at her own roulade. She never could keep to diets. Mary glanced back to Jane, she was talking gaily with Salome to her left, Mary's gaze lingered on  Jane's perfect muscular thighs, encased in their blue shining spandex. Blue had always been her colour, now it seemed everyone was wearing it, even that ghastly fat American bitch at the other end of the table. At least Jane could pull it off. Mary no longe    r tried, she had gone for, as usual, a tried and tested black Hampstead Bazaar creation that covered a multitude of sins. She followed, not that she'd admit it, Ms. Fonda's routines daily, but never managed to regain her former body. She'd given up. The videos were now so much part of her routine she did them anyway, always with a pain au chocolat in one hand. The thought of chocolate bought her round and she looked up for any signs of dessert, forgetting they had only just started eating. She caught Liz's eye. How embarrassing, it had been her idea to invite her, on a whim, and Jesus in drawing up the seating plan had bunged her right at the end of the table, squeezed in next to the huge Mario. Aware that their eyes had met, Mary quickly starred back at her plate, and the now mangled, uneaten roulade. Liz looked as though she understood only too well the situation. It went without saying that Mario should be invited. Though Mary always found that kind of faux italian-American so uncouth, he was after all Jes   ◊us' godfather, why Joseph had insisted she'll never know. It was probably because of that 'Funiculi Funicula' song, a fave of his, but he'd never admit it to Mary. They were both however  genuinely surprised when he accepted, of course he wasn't as famous then, but still he was somewhat of a local celebrity. Now however, since his ballooning weight and old sound (he hasn't been in the top 40 for over 7 years) he existed more as a celebrity in the light of his now famous godson. Mary did not begrudge him this, everyone needs a foot up when they are struggling, it was however Jesus' constant inclusion of 'Pa Mario', as he called him, in all his family and social affairs that got on her tits. And to be honest, the sight of such a huge oaf of a man gorging himself on, her, well their food made her sick.
    She looked down, again toying with her salmon. She tore a piece off the roll and looked left, down her side of the table, oh God, she thought, she had forgotten jesus had   · invited that fat actress Kirstie, well there's a match for Mario, she laughed. Jesus turned from his conversation and gave her a piercing stare, she must have laughed out loud. Turning back she saw Kirstie frozen, roll in mouth, staring back. She didn't care, that fat cow, was, in Mary's' opinion, lucky to be here, in fact, she thought, eventually getting a bit of salmon into her mouth, what the fuck is she doing here. Mary had been so intent on staring at those has-beens Mario, Liz and kirstie, stuffing themselves, ( lucky they didn't have to share a tooth, they'd never get that much food down them), that she had overlooked another guest, directly to Jesus left. He must have arrived late, she thought, odd of her not to notice a hunk like that. She skimmed the table for competition, she could discount the two fat American bitches, and kirstie, Liz and the Reverend immediately, that Sam was a dyke, she was sure. It was only Jane and Salome she was really worried about. She glanc   ‡ed back at the man, muscular, but not too muscly, just her type. Why had Jesus insisted on this ridiculous table set out, she thought, it made it quite impossible to interact with anyone but your immediate left or right. She knew Jesus wouldn't try to talk to her, especially with that man next to him, and Jane, well she seemed to have found her bosom companion in Salome. What they had to talk about, she didn't know. Salome was probably jumping on the bandwagon and making a God awful fitness video like all these D-list Celebs. Shoving a heaped forkful into her mouth, Mary turned her attention back to her food.
    Fuck it, thought Kirstie, what a table of boring cunts, why the fuck had she accepted. She knew full well why, who could refuse an invitation from Jesus. And she always thought it possible, that if she got him a little drunk, and, oh what's the use, she looked at her plate already empty, fucking nouveau cuisine. She reached out and sought comfort in the bread basket. Why     though, she speculated, has Jesus sat her next to this boring fuck,? vicar Bary, or Gary. Surely there was some sort of seating plan, and he could see that this sad old queer and her had nothing in common, and why the fuck was he wearing a fucking cassock?. She could feel her thoughts turning her cheeks red, she ripped the roll in two with her teeth, and why the fuck did Mary keep staring at her? Was this some sort of sick publicity stunt she was pulling, Oh look, we got that fat actress to come to our party and eat all the fucking rolls. Clam down, she thought, chewing on the dough, trying not to think of the yeast connection.  She hardly knew anyone there, well she knew Jane, but she doubted if Jane would count her as a friend, they had been quite close, but jane had advised her not to do Cheers, since then they only talked at formal occasions. She'd bought Jane's first video, she laughed, she remembered throwing doughnuts at the television. She never imagined then that she'd get so large. I still get thous   ˇands of letters from admirers every day, she said, but she was only fooling herself, when was the last time she got laid?. She surveyed the men at the table. Five men to eight women, bastards, and they all looked queer, the priest next to her, definitely a shirt lifter, she thought, and that tubby rich fuck next along, also dubious. That only left jesus and that hunk, she didn't count Mario, who looked sad, almost as though he knew what everyone was thinking. I wouldn't say no to either of them she thought, or both, a glucose drip appearing at the corner of her mouth.
    That vile woman is dribbling again he thought, she looks like a moody bitch, probably her weight or menopause. He being a reverend was used to these kind of people, he tended to ignore them. It was an odd mix of people he thought, he was here, of course, as one of the oldest friends of the family, not of course that he was past his sell by, like some he could mention, God forbid. He picked up a piece of the fish in front of him, no one seemed   ˇ to be enjoying it much, what was Jesus thinking when he drew up the guest list?. Probably that interfering old cow Mary, standing over him, never could say no to her. Be strong, defy her, he used to say to him, since he was but a babe, and such an attractive baby, but Jesus always did what she said. Charming man to his right though, Babs, he said his name was, queen of hawaii, I'll warrant jesus made the seating plan, they were getting on like a house on fire, he was a man who knew what a cassock was for. He chuckled. strange he thought, how no one knew who he was, he always thought it had been quite a hit, that fat Itie, Mario had even sung it a few years back, awful rendition, didn't even make top 40, if memory serves, yet he still got a tidy sum from it. Jesus had always said it was one of his favourites, such a nice boy, and what a handsome man, he starred over at him, and then realised Babs was talking to him, "What's that, eh?" he said to the queen, keeping one eye on Jesus, and, who's that?, what a d   ˇish. Attractive people attract attractive people he thought, giving all his attention back to Babs.
    Its weird like, thought Sam, I'm stuck between a fat singing legend and a fat American cow and I'm eating curled up salmon. The simple things in life never ceased to amaze Sam, she always thought she'd have made an excellent doctor, she knew about anatomy anyway, that was one of her jokes, but she didn't feel like telling it to any of her 'fat friends'. She'd just eat, then when they got up from this ridiculous table she could mingle and talk to interesting people. She wanted to chat to Elizabeth Taylor, but screaming over Mario, first name now, eh, was too much effort. what a gorgeous head-dress she had on though, bet it's real gold as well, definitely a wig though. Eyes must've taken hours, bet she has slaves though. sam dreamed of being a star like Elizabeth Taylor, God, she'd love to whack her servants one with a comb or something. If those fat cows didn't stop talking about honey i'm gonna whack 'em one,     then  she softened, they were actually quite sweet, sitting there in their matching outfits, just wanting to live forever. God, she wouldn't, especially if she looked that haggard.  She felt squashed and claustrophobic and looking over at Mary, she thought she looked the same. 'Course she didn't know Mary, she'd also been in Novembers Hello though, when there'd been a special on Sam Fox does reality T.V. again, gorgeous pictures, her, not Mary. It was weird to think how she'd got to the party, I mean, all the others seem to be old friends. She'd only met Jesus a few months ago at London Gay Pride, she'd been performing, and he'd been touring the U.K., they'd become real close, like brothers. He'd phone up from the tour bus for a chat now and then, God, he is such a sweetie, she thought, he was even still wearing the signet ring she'd given him, with a fox motif. It was on his little finger, flashing whenever he lifted his right hand. God, she needed some more wine, she felt like a bit of a lush, but looking    ˇover at Mario, she realised she was just having a good time, not drowning anything, though , if his size was anything to go by, it'd take a long time. She piled the last morsel of creamy salmon into her mouth, looking sideways she caught Mary's eye out of the corner of hers, she knew all about Mary. jesus had told her everything, control freak bitch, Sam had given some of her own special advice on dealing with women like that, he'd have no more trouble.
    The first course was duly removed, Kirstie grabbing at the half eaten roll she'd been using to clean the plate, before it was taken away. Everyone was silent, except for Mandy and petula,
    "well of course on mountains, the bees are different" said Mandy before also going quiet. They all sat in silence until it was broken by the swing of the saloon doors as the next course was brought in by the nubian slaves, carefully balancing the dishes on their heads. There was a slight intake of breath, especially audible from the right hand side of the table, as before     each of them, upon a silver dish, was placed a lobster on a bed of watercress, complete with cracker devices, with which to break the crustaceans shell and remove its succulent flesh. Salome licked her lips and turned her plate so that the lobster faced her, its dark onyx eyes staring into hers, its whiskers almost tickling her face.
    Why she'd been invited was still a mystery, but the invitation had simply been too exciting to pass by. A last supper, thirteen a dinner, she loved it, her stepfather always accused her of being morbid, and maybe she was, so what. She set about cracking the lobsters claws and then each of its legs, even the smallest, which provided little meat, she was aware of everyone starring, but she loved the attention. She'd gone to the same primary school as jesus, and some secondary, until she left, she never did like school too much. oh, teasing boys is fun, don't get me wrong, but when you reach the age of 12 you yearn for more. That more came, not for the first time, but the first tim    e in  school, on a pile of coals with the maths teacher Mr. Taylor, on the 19th of May, she liked to remember dates, it reminded her how advanced she was at such a young age. The teacher of course was sacked, but it was advised that she also 'explore other education possibilities', her parents had merely laughed and decided that that was enough schooling for their precious Salome. She had of course, attended many dance schools, opting for jazz and modern, rather than that dreary and frankly, painful ballet. She had even achieved quite some notoriety in the area of performance art, for which she was awarded the coveted Saucier Newcomer award for two years running. The sight of her coal covered naked body however, still prevented the headmaster from putting her name on the list of famous ex-pupils, not that she minded, they all knew who she was anyway. why only next week she gave an exclusive to OK on her new house, no secrets were revealed, not that she had any. She was sat in-between some God awful queen, and   „ Jane Fonda, she'd always admired her, but they'd never met. Salome belonged more to the new class of young celebrity and rarely frequented the same gatherings as Jane. She ripped a strip of flesh from the smallest of the legs, it had been worthwhile snapping it open after all. Her full lips sucked in the meat in a seductive yet ladylike manner, she intended to constantly reinvent herself, a bit like Jane.  She'd even contemplated a workout video, well it was practically in the pipeline, 'loose weight with the seven veils'  or some crap like that. It would no doubt be a hit, more likely amongst men than female weight losers of course, but that's what she wanted. Jane had said how over half her fan base were men, and laughed, she's cheekier than you'd expect, lucky she got over all the french husbands, new-wave political crap, that was a phase Salome would happily pass by.
    Petula looked on stunned at the lobster in front of her, she didn't know if she had the strength of body or m    ind to crack or cut the beast open. She looked at her companion, she too seemed to be in a quandary, though eventually cracking it with her knife, like a dagger. Petula, still unsure if she was capable of such brutality, looked around for guidance. The man to her left had somehow gracefully opened his and was enjoying its flesh whilst continuing his conversation. She settled for a piece of watercress to calm her nerves. She saw the ridiculous Englishwoman to her right struggling, and felt more dignified having been defeated. What an excitement it had been for her and Mandy to receive the invitation in the post. Doc, Marty and Joseph had always played golf together and although always civil, they'd never really been that close to Mary. Touring America, Jesus had apparently bumped into Frank, Mandy's son, and on hearing that Mandy and herself were in europe had insisted on inviting them to dinner. And what a grand occasion, Elizabeth Taylor was there, looking she must say, a fright. And Mario, she'd had a crush     on him, way back. If only these celebrities took some advice from our Oriental friends, she though, instead of running off after fan diets and extreme surgery. She must admit, Jane was looking good, just the same as last time she'd seen her at the Dallas golfing wives Sue-Ellen Memorial Ball, what fun that had been. though not nearly as many stars as at this tiny table. But wasn't it a curious seating arrangement, mandy had commented on it immediately, and she was right. Sometimes wealth goes to your head I'd said. Mary hadn't said one word to them yet, but I guess she must be very busy, being the hostess and all. She glanced over to her right, if she wasn't mistaken that was the Reverend Gary davies, oh what a captivating preacher, he'd brought tears to her eyes in church, and that lovely song he'd written. 'Cocaine Blues', she still had the 45', oh we simply must talk to him,
    "Say Mandy, isn't that Gary Davies over there?"
    What a bore mary is thought Jane. What a fucking bore they all are. she toyed with     the claw in front of her . Lobster, she could of guessed, what a fucking predictable bore. I think I even recognise those fucking tourists at the other end of the table, what was Mary playing at. She'd been friends with Mary back when they'd done Barbarella, she'd been fun, they'd had fun, but they'd grown apart nw. Mary was a boring emotionless cow now, and poor Jesus having to put with her. well at least Salome's fun, lot of potential too, if she doesn't do that God awful fitness video project.  It always makes me laugh that I am still the queen of fitness videos, no one can outsell me. I couldn't believe it when I saw that bitch Raquel release one, she's a trumped up, sucked out plastic whore, but hey. Jane accidentally snapped a leg, Salome turned towards her. She is a beautiful girl, thought Jane, that pout will get her far, and taking your clothes off helps. The way she seems to kiss each bit of food before eating it. She must be a friend of Jesus, I always had good looking friends too. Jesus hasn't be   ˛en very sociable, been engrossed in that gorgeous hunk next to him, don't blame him, though if he turns nelly I might just have to kill myself. Might have to anyway if the party goes on like this. God, Mary looks like a shrivelled ass, glad time hasn't taken its toll on me like that. I can see her looking at my body, glad I chose this spandex number tonight, and in blue, who got the last laugh now. Time for another pill I think, I'll never get this lobster down me, what was she thinking, daft cow.
    Fuck you all, Mario thought as he looked around. He felt everyone looking at him, yes he was fat, yes he ate like a pig, but he was happy, not like some boring pilled up cunts he could mention. Have they put me at the fat boring tosser end of the table or something. Liz, she really is a pig, I was a film star  too you know, you don't have to let yourself go that much. He crammed some more lobster into his mouth, took a swig of wine and ripped a sprig of watercress out of his teeth. He laughed, maybe you have to l    et yourself to really enjoy yourself. Him, Liz and Kirstie, they'd all been to the classes, the workouts, the surgery, but did they care, no, fuck it, fuck you Jane. We like it, you pilled up hussy. He angrily gulped more wine. She must be at the wrong side of the table, he thought looking at Sam
    "swap with Kirstie" he said out load, Sam looked confused and continued eating, Kirstie didn't even look up. No one cared what he said. He liked it that way. Jesus invited him to everything and he could sit there being embarrassing, because no one cared. He was a happier man since he'd realised that. He wanted to turn to Liz and tell her 'no one cares, but he didn't. She did care, slumped over her lobster staring at her reflection in the silver dish. He laughed at h    is opinions, changing every minute, that, he thought, is what comes of not having a care in the world. That's why, he fancied, Jesus liked to have him around so much.
    READ ON SQUIRE- I will - And I, I will continue to write...
    "Don't you do drag?- but with your face...yes...the sideburns are a bit much...put on some make-up and go out"
    "stop stalling... what became of the last supper?, what happened to the rest of them?"
    "Elizabeth kissed Jesus, she always was a Judas, that has the role she always played...teasing in her wonder bra, great cones to prick and deflate men."
    "But no men were deflated by her at supper?, were they?"
    "yes, this was her final good-bye, she, Liz, must make one final killing, her greatest screen moment"
    "But there was no camera to witness her"
    "there were twelve others, but, remember also the camera is always watching, always filming, each one of us has our own film. who knows who or how to see it, now or in the future"
    "Surely Elizabeth is some sort of prophet if she real    ised this, and should be praised, above even Jesus himself? And now that he is dead, what of him?"
    "Now he is dead he is immortal like the deceased stars of the screen, he will be seen again and again."
    "Let us then hope that for prosperity and history's sake, they do not edit him"
    "But who would watch rolls and rolls of unedited footage?, Now put on your make-up and we'll go out"
    "But what of the rest of them?"
    "You really don't want to go out in the world, do you?, are you afraid?"
    "No, not afraid, but I care for others, what happened to them?"
    "You don't really care, you just don't want to leave, don't you care for YOUR future?"
    "Yes, but what of theirs?"
    "If I tell you, will you go out?"
    "All right, they either became to fat and lived forever in reality T.V. or stayed thin and were immortalised in their own films or fitness videos"
    "Even Mary"
    "Even Mary, and Apollo, and Salome"
    "How come I have never seen them before?"
    "You don't know where to look, if only you'd listened more to Li    z"
    "If Elizabeth Taylor knows, why does she keep it a secret?"
    "She doesn't keep it secret"
    "But you too seem to know where to look"
    "Look into her life"
    "Her films?"
    "Her films, her life, they are one and the same, as I have said"
    "O.K.,But who are you?"
    "I, Paul , am the editor of the National Enquirer, now go out, and not back on your promise"

Be guided by a wink from the great eye itself, never may you loose your way.

    This is too much, where can I hide from this madness, my lips ache thinking about it. But surely it is no lie, as the prophecy foretold: 'WHEN A BAKERS DOZEN OF ARTS OWN FRUITS DE MER ARE SACRIFICED TO THE PROMISED FEW, ORGANISED BY THE PROMISED ONE, IT WILL BEGIN' - but which great seer was it who prophesied that, Cleopatra, hence Elizabeth Taylor, or Jakonaan, who's lips were bitten off by salome- oh this is too much, soon the moon will turn red and our one shared eye will be taken away by an invisible man, who can say what happened at that last supper.
    I fear the story will ne   ˇver end satisfactorily, so I have written a letter (see fig. 1) to my loved one, i hope he feels the same, though I have never told him of my feelings. It is sad to think that when my true emotions are known to him, I will be no more, such is life, death!. Well, I bequeath to him my unedited rolls of film, may nothing be hidden between us, may our footage be spliced and edited together to form a happy marriage in celluloid. I, Paul, entrust you, Liz, the grand editor. Thank you

    fig. 1
    My ode to you- you are so fit when you play the title role, in Alfred Hitchcocks film 'Psycho'. (how come you never look as attractive in any of your other films?) I'm glad your beauty was immortalised in that film, yes I think you're fruity and I fancy you rotten in that role. I am the man for you, you are the man for me. I could even accept you duel personality, your mum's OK really. And that Marion was a big old slapper anyway, showing her bra off, sleeping with married men, stealing money, she deserved to die.    ≤We could sit by the swamp eating nuts together ( I could watch your mouth eating forever), arm in arm as we watch cars disappear into the quagmire, it would be so romantic. Trust me Norman, you need a companion, a man about the house. To make you milk and sandwiches for a change. We could really get the hotel off the ground, its really famous now, and people would pay loads for the thrill of staying there. We can make all the beds and breakfasts , its not so much work for two. We'd make loads of money and be able to enjoy ourselves. With me around, I'll make sure you don't get distracted by mother and accidentally kill people. But if you did, I'd understand it, they'd probably deserve it anyway. And if we moved to a different state we could even become Mr. & Mr. Bates, what do you say?,
            I eagerly await your reply my love,
                Yours always
    A few pages cannot hurt a fly
    I can't sleep. I was awoken by a frightful dream   ∞. Isabella Blow did approach me, and upon her head a lobster began to move, as she came closer, its onyx eyes pierced mine, and I burnt, as red as it, it didn't need to use its fearful claws, because it was all powerful. Could it be that Elizabeth Taylor is herself a lobster, the thought is too horrible. Tis true only the sick do dream, the perversions of the night are too amazing for a pure mind, too terrible for a virgin to imagine, too fierce for a babe of only a few years to invent. Yet I am subjected to them nightly, oh help me,
Plastic surgery live with nurse Mama Cass. The curious case of Elizabeth Taylor going in for routine botox and coming out with.... a new Hymen.
    "Doctor, this syringe is bent, the operation, cannot, must not continue"
    "But nurse, Ms. Taylor needs her botox"
    "We'll just replace her hymen instead then"
    "Oh hymen, goddess of marriage"
To be continued...

Herod addressing the newly inserted Hymen: O    h Goddess of marriage, why are thou not out, batting your golden eyelids upon the moon.
Hymen: I fear to tread from what I know, Liz doesn't go around riding horses you know, and I enjoy novels, I rehearse quietly inside.
Herod: But it is monstrous for you to be cooped up in your attic all day and all night with no company.
Hymen: Aye, 'tis that, but I dare not venture out, but i have the occasional friend, with whom to chat and pass the time, I enjoy my food, novels, especially those by Daphne Du Maurier, and of course, I have my writing.
Herod: Oh fair Hymen, that I could know what you wrote, that I could hear but one sentence of your prose from your own fair, soft lips.
Hymen: You charm me, you must not look upon me thus.
Herod: But I am transfixed, your     golden eyelids reflecting the moon a thousand times.
Hymen: I saw once, a man in a red fez cycle past erratically.
Herod: Oh Hymen, Goddess of marriage, that is music to my ears, utter it again, I beseech you.
Hymen: I feel that alone I cannot satisfy, will you that I summon my three sisters?
    The sisters were duly summoned, but proved too much for both Herod and Liz, and in an indescribable scene of golden eye shadow the story ends.
    "Their story perhaps, but not that of the last supper"
    "Still you are not satisfied"
    "What of the two old ladies?, why were they even invited in the first place?"
    "Where you never warned of what would spawn from the coupling of brother and sister?"
    "I went to school in a village, I've seen it with my own two eyes the results     of incest, don't belittle my experiences"
    "Sorry, but I would of thought you'd have realised their significance, especially when their position in the curious constellation is taken into account"
    "Well they were in between Apollo and Samantha, Petula on the left next to Apollo, Mandy on the right next to Sam"
    "You see"
    "Well then you are indeed slow, perhaps you too spawn from an incestuous coupling. Good bye"
    "Wait, you can't just insult me and leave. Have the last word and then not justify it"

Explain Yooself
    After this second meeting with the editor great turmoil descended on the life of our hero, and indeed the world around him. Great typhoons blew and women in Japan were forced to take part-time jobs (arubaito). This all helped to make th    ings even more unclear in the mind of our protagonist. When, just as he thought he was grasping the understanding needed to finish the story of the last supper, piece together the final pieces of the jigsaw, this happens. The Typhoon increased and became a hurricane and was given a name, but Paul paid no attention to current affairs and the name slipped by unnoticed.
    "Go out, stop stalling, your 'work' will come to nothing"
    "There you are!, Explain?.."
    "I am always here, as is the camera rolling"
    "What am I to make of all these nonsense clues?"
    "Go out!"
    The spectre refused to reply further, can his only wish be for the investigation to be discontinued, this itself makes it all more appealing, and surely it IS of world wide importance to EVERYTHING. Flora and fauna will be forever changed if this story is pieced together and concluded.
    Many sleepless nights have been spent by great minds pondering this question, yet Paul had no trouble in sleeping that evening. And it is then that pieces started slotti    ng together (see fig. 2). What is the significance of the woman eating pizza, she as well is a larger lady, the plot thickens.

Fig. 2
    Perspex earrings jangle in the wind as thick thighs teeter on ridiculously high stilettos, its dawn of a new day. The stilettos are strapped to my feet, ten inch spikes, as I sway like an apartment block (mansion)
    "Run, run" she shouts, I look behind me, she's there, blood dripping from her mouth, bits of flesh falling from her teeth as she pursues me. Salome's beautifu   Ål face distorted by blood, she has bitten off his lips. I start to run, I don't want to get my clothes dirty. It's so hard to run in the heels, but I must, faster, faster, before she catches me, I must run, I'm going to fall. Surely this is some horrible dream. I'm staggering forwards, how can I escape. She catches up with me, a strand of fleshy gore drops from one of her once shiny white teeth.
    "Why do you run? you see its quite impossible"
    "Why have you encased me in these spikes?"
    "So you may know how I feel"
    "But you are a beast not a woman"
    "Like the Lobster", her eyes batted, spraying gold eye shadow upon the situation. When it cleared so did the minds of those around, still as it settled, nothing was solved.
    "Everyone has their eye shadow on, all dolled up like regular little Miss Taylor's, now aren't we" said the editor. "Now I want you to go out and spread the eye shado   Üw" he sighed "For we all know that it is in the shadow that we bury our dead"
    "Dead, dead, then surely the story is coming to an end and all shall be revealed"
    "Don't be stupid, people die every second, dead, another, another, another, four already, and still no end to the story."
    "But celebrities, when they die we need an exclusive, like Wally Harper, he died, where's his exclusive?, show me"

    Brush your hair one hundred times a day, brush your hair one hundred times a day. This had been their mantra, she believed that, if like Holly and so many others she did this, her hair would be the talk of all Egypt. One Hundred times a day,     bonnie and bright and gay. All their days had started out like this, mundane, boring, yet by the evening their actions would help change the world as we know it, yet how we still do not know. Will the secret ever be revealed, will the camera ever stop rolling, who knows?, tune in next week for the concluding (hopefully) part of 'The Last Supper' by P. Kindersley.

    "Bring me the head of Jane Fonda and I will bite off her lips" he demanded in his dream that night, "Now you have no body you will have no income"
    "People like me for my brains, but I'm rich enough anyway, I don't care"
    "But I will bite off your lips, it will be hard for you to talk and your brains will be trapped"
    "You can't rid the world of Jane Fonda, no matter what you do, you stupid fool"
    "I don't want to rid the world of you, I just want to exercise my power over you"
    "You have no power"
    "Yes I do and so does everyone else, we play you, fast forward you, stop you, reverse you, pause you, you act out OUR fantasies at OUR whims, we own yo    u Jane"
    "Don't be ridiculous, I am my own woman"
    "We can make you curl your  pubic bone indefinitely, repeat, repeat, repeat, we can watch your hot cross buns and wank, you whore"
    "You are horrible, your mother was right, I wish you would bite off my ears instead"
    "Do you really think that'll help, you're like Madonna, we've all fucked you"
    "Why are you tormenting me"
    "Because I can"
    "That's no reason"
    "I'm just proving that only the sick dream"
    "But we're all perverted, you're nothing special"
He bites off her lips, they are two red macrobiotic bricks, she dies of shock, but lives on through the screen tormenting her tormentor forever more. The guests from the last supper can never be got rid of.
    "Nor can anyone"
    "I'm not talking to you again, it's a waste of the one tooth I share with my brothers"
    "At least you have no use for the eye"
    "But who knows what it's being used for if I don't have it?"
    "you really are selfish'
    "Why, you have eyes and teeth, if I'm not mistaken"
    "How do you know"
    "    Fuck off, just fuck off, please"
    "Bye, sleep well"
    "Fuck off"

    All alone again, should he go out?, will it help further his investigations into the last supper, or will it distract him even more?. There was pizza for dinner, and pasta too. The pizza was home-made and square, it didn't drip with cheese like the girls, covering her thighs with oily cheese. That was it, it was cheese not custard, both come at the end of the meal, how easily confused. Suddenly he could see the camera, and the man who was holding it, about 40, not unattractive, short, shaved head to disguise his balding. He was gone. But it had been his confusion that made him visible. Why and how is everyone becoming invisible?, is it connected with the case?. Yes case. That's what it is, a case, I'm a detective, Mario can sing the theme tune, Kirstie can be my leading lady. Things are taking a turn , but for the truth, who can tell.
    I THINK I SHOULD SLEEP, but my biro makes such a lovely noise- echoed through the SPRINGS of the bed, it's     transferred directly from pen to ear, from thought to page to brain, my hand is shouting back at me, scratching my own words into my mind compelling me to reply. But how can you fail without a purpose. You [one] can, but I won't.

    The supper started out in all innocence, a gathering to celebrate celebrity, hosted by himself, Jesus. Yet sexual undertones were creeping through, and with the voicing of gross dreams these undertones surfaced and ran rampant through the land, like the unnamed typhoon. It sucks i    n, oozing yellow creams and liquids, encompassing all of Gods creations. As it moves off mainland Honshu towards the sea it starts a tsunami, so great that all Neptune's beasts are stirred. Try as they might no dolphin can bring anyone to safety, dolphin friendly tuna no longer exists. From the sea comes the salmon, rolled up in the tornado, and presented as the first course. A discourse with the entree is the only way to find out about the diners, beware though, and always take a spare tooth pick.
    "What d    o you feel when your legs and body are cracked open, revealing you naked?"
    "By nature I am both a masochist and an exhibitionist"
    "So you readily give yourself up for fine dining?"
    "Eating me is not fine dining, I make it hard for you, you struggle, because I too am a sadist"
    "Which perversions do you not subscribe too?"
    "Have you ever been eaten?"
    "I think not"
    "There is no greater joy than to give up ones life, to live through another"
    "But only later to be...expelled"
    "From whence we all came"
    "Is there anything to be learned from you, you not only sat in front of each guest, your onyx eyes fixed upon them, but you were witness to and creator of many great moments in the worlds history (see Sister Wendy)"
    "I have only one thing to say, but I doubt you will be able to understand it, unless you've willingly given yourself up to be eaten"
    "That is..."
    "Look only to the man on your right"
    "That's it?"
    "Have you ever been eaten?"
    "That's all" On saying that he clapped his claws like castan    ets and returned to the uncontrollable force of the unnamed hurricane. More experience than was expected or can be gathered in so few years is needed to piece together this jigsaw. The puzzle lies, perhaps in the awareness that one is getting larger and larger, yet one doesn't do anything about it and then, on being told one is morbidly obese, wonders how it happened. If I were but half of Mario's size I would realise something was wrong and do something about it, he thought to himself.   
    The author is still to much of a simple fellow to make a diagnosis from the facts, bear with him dear reader , yet if you  are also still in the dark about this case, my guess is that you are still below the age at which Salome demanded her first head, and received it.
    "And what of the reverend, did he sit back in silence while the world succumbed to debauchery? Surely there were confessions made to him" This fact had not gone unnoticed by others, being a man of the cloth he was surely counselling the others. He was just an    d good and pure, yet some unease crept into the minds of people around him. For one could tell from his face that he too was a man who dreamt. The eyebrows almost met, only separated by a deep crease. The short wisps of hair protruding from the nostril. The thin upper lip. It all added to this conclusion. Is it true that he is not as pure as his cassock proclaims?. Many have crawled from below it.
    "I have written a hit song you know" said the Reverend,
    "As a warning to others?"
    "Yes, something like that"   
    'Was it from personal experience that you got the story?"
    "Well partially"
    "So the rest from dreams?"
    "You are deliberately trying to catch me out, I pity you, I'm an old man, I don't need to be caught out, I have no secrets, I have realised it is all on film anyway"
    "So you admit!, but to what?"
    "I don't admit, I simply live, I have no worries that what I do might be wrong, because the mere fact that I, a priest do it, makes it right"
    "That's chopped logic"
    "Maybe, but it's logic"
    "So dreaming is no sin"
    "When done by me, no."
    "So what is a sin"   
    "Whatever others want to be guilty of, but I have no time for guilt, only pleasure"
    I sat before a huge screen, the film begin to roll, I saw the reverends lips ooze the same glucose perversion that t   Ähe whole case was beginning to be drenched in. Next shot- Apollo, standing naked, his firm young body being watched by a thousand eyes, all spawning from the reverends own two.
    "Everything returns ... you'll see" said the reverend, while his song began to play in the background. Jesus, also naked, joined Apollo, and together they started throwing and catching a ball. The reverend, getting excited, his cassock steaming, reached out suddenly, violently striking the ball as he reached for their young bodies, looking was no longer enough. The ball flew with great force, ricochet off the side of the screen and hit Jesus in the head. as he fell to the ground the reverend reached out to soften his fall. Blood was flowing from his head, gushing out upon the clean white screen. Apollo looked on in disbelief, then fell to his knees, grasping his weeping face. The reverend tried to cry, but hi   Às tears were sticky, like custard, the substance soon covered his face, his eyelids gluing together, he could no longer see. The two naked boys wept, one tears, one blood, and from his blood, flowers started to grow, tall, bright, red. And although it was his dream the reverend could not see them, however hard he tried to prise his eyes open, he couldn't see. He was oozing the glucose liquid, as he lifted his cassock it dripped from the sharp points of his dagger like heels. I ran from the cinema.
    The case had started to turn nasty, I knew it would, just not when, I looked at my watch, I had time for one drink, before I too must go to bed and face my own dreams. To sleep per chance to dream. I stopped at a bar, neon lights screamed out obscenities, a woman dressed in blue rushed down the steps into the cellar. I followed. The room inside was surprisingly well lit, and filled with american tourists. A piano player was playing Ma Vie En Rose, the Grace jones     version, in the corner at a baby blue baby grand. I sat at a six sided table in the corner and ordered a daiquiri, spitting the complementary olives stones into the silver dish provided. My daiquiri arrived, the lime refreshed me, I felt I could face my dreams.
    "Are you Paul?"
    "Yes, why?"
    "I'm Mario Lanza, maybe I can help you"
    "You can indeed, sit down. What are you drinking?"
    "Veuve Cliquot, a bottle. I'm a big man"
    "Why are so many people in this case so large?, sorry, do you mind my asking?"
    "When you grow, after a certain age, you can only grow out"
    "Surely not, there are many thin older people, my grandmother for example"
    "When you are constantly expected to impress, sometimes it is easier without speaking"
    "Why not use outrageous clothes, or make-up, say"
    "So you know about the eye shadow"
    "Gold, yes, gold, I remember, why is it so significant?"
    "It always has been"
    "But in this case?"
    "You tell me detective?"
STOP, this is not a det    ective case, I merely wanted to know how the story ends.
    "But it's a famous story"
    "Not this version"
    "This remake can't be that different"
    "Didn't I say fuck off, this is a different fucking story, I'm involved, fuck off, ed"
    "It's your story now is it"
    "Yeah, got a problem, fuck off"
He wasn't angry at Mario per se, just the whole situation, it wasn't even about the last supper anymore, it was about an answer. The piano player had stopped and the juke box was playing 'San Francisco' by the Village People. A few people had started dancing, the glitter ball slowly spinning, echoing the beat in a thousand little lights splattered on everyone, everything. Mario was slumped into the corner, the bottle of champagne finished. Some old women in the opposite corner pointed and took a picture. The flash made him sit up, revived, he started to sing.
Rev: "That's my song, someone remembers it"
    "Shut up you pervert"
    "But we're all perverts, you're just like me, so is Mario, so is Jesus, we all are, there is no n   ˇormal, except us, don't you see. They started it, fucking there brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers"
    "That's extreme, there are different degrees of perversion surely"
    "To many there are just perverts, no chilli scale for us, get used to it"
    "But by your ruling, they are perverts too"
    "Yes, they just don't realise it, it's  a sad life, hiding yourself away behind morals"
    "Like religion"
    "I don't hide behind it, I'm using it, I am well and truly part of it, don't you see anything. Call yourself a detective?"
    "Paedophile, paedophile" He shouted, chasing him down the stairs. Don't stop us, don't stop us, won't you stay till tomorrow baby, one last dance. The huge staircase, spiralling, but in squares, down , down. It's easy to call people names, and satisfying, he felt better, he wanted a name for everything. And one name in particular, the answer to the case. He fell drunken at the bottom of the stairs, how many drinks had he had? He didn't care, he started crying, tears came easily after drink. The dri   Çnk seemed to have gone straight to his eyes, streaming he thought of the  bleeding boys head. What would grow from his tears. Suddenly he felt warmth in his crotch, the urine crawled down his trouser leg, warming and wetting him, he let it happen, he didn't care, couldn't move. It felt comfortable for a few minutes, then it started to get cold. The image of the beautiful boy turned into that of the bitten lips, talking to him, talking at him. From the bar above came the muffled sound of Andy Williams caressing the juke box.
    Lips: "Have two people had to loose their lips, while you just lie there pissing yourself, stewing in your own juices, I can hardly pronounce because of you. It's all your fault, don't you realise what's happens in front of the camera is your fault, not the directors"
    "I haven't wet the bed for ages, even before I last did drag, give me a break"
    "Every time I sp    eak, I drip. I feel guilty, I feel ashamed, like you should, dripping in your own piss, at least blood is more dignified"
    "Leave me alone, I know who you are, fuck off back to where you live"
    "Don't even try to forget me"
He ripped off his trousers and underpants, discarding them on the grass. He started to walk, it was freezing, but he couldn't feel it. Someone else's body was feeling it, he just walked. Mary tucked him into bed.
    "Remember" she said "If you don't wet the bed for a whole week, seven days in a row, you get a my little pony" she kissed him on the eyelids and left the room, remembering to leave the light on.
    When he awoke the story continued to get darker. He looked in front of him, lying on the bed were two brown balls surrounded by a yellow  sticky matter, half dried onto the bed covers. The balls were made of meat. But they hadn't eaten meat, only fish. Two large meatballs, he must have thrown them up in the night. On top of that he couldn't remember his dreams, he was sure he'd had them   ¸. It made him sick, no longer would he dream of the young girl making hats. "Why is no-one helpful"
    Sam: "They are being helpful, you're just being ignorant, stuck in your own world. You care what happens to others do you?"
    "Yes I do, I want to know what happens?"
    "Just so you can be satisfied, like the large bird with a spider in York Minster. I want doesn't get"
    "What! Yes, satisfied"
    "You realise you'll just feel like after a wank, was it worth it?, OK while it lasted, but you'll still feel crap"
    "You're no help either you know, I thought somehow you'd understand"
    "Why, because, I was a page 3 stunner, turned lesbian, is that why you like me? Turn to me now"
    "You sounded sympathetic"
    "You are pathetic, you thought it was a comedy, now what's happening? Who's in control now?"
    "Why is everyone so negative?"
    "Who is everyone Paul"
    I left my room, I wouldn't return, it was dirty now, I wish I'd never started this case. My thoughts went over all the clues, were my dreams clues? Of course they we   ˛re. I went back to the man at the pool, at least now it was on paper if I needed it.
    Why were they sitting in a row, so they were forced to speak only to there neighbours? So certain people couldn't talk? They were like a panel of judges, yet I was the one analysing them, wasn't I? Each one has something to say, we all interact, but not with everyone. Like life, we talk to those close to us, on our left, on our right, but we can only look at the ones further away. He imagined them all wedged in like books with the two bookends Liz and Kirstie, both, beauties, both now fat and tired, holding it all together.
    Liz: "Who the fuck are you, and who the fuck are you calling tired?"
    "Come on, you're ancient. Don't you look at pictures of your old self and wish you were dead"
    "Fuck off, I am my old self. You'll be old and haggard one day too, you fucker. You don't look so good anyway"
    "Why so personal, this is an investigation"
    "Shove it up your conceited fucked arse"
    "Aren't you going to help me?"
    "You ar   åe so passive, always expecting things to happen too you. I'm not gonna fuck you, go out and fuck someone"
    "You heard me you asshole, stop bothering us"
    "Why do you all want me to go out?"
    She looked fierce so he dropped that line of questioning into the see. The hurricane had passed and many rare fish were being washed up on the shores of Japan. Dead whales arrived in their kitchens, and they no longer had to pretend they were killed for scientific research. They could eat its meat for all the meals of the day without the fear of animal cruelty organisations phoning up or picketing the restaurant.
    Kirstie was in her usual spot in the corner of the restaurant, under the blue glow of the fish tank. She liked it here, they had a picture of her on the wall, shaking hands with Takamiya-san, the proprietor. It was the photo used in the National Enquirer with the caption 'We're the ones w   Åho make her the FAT actress' but she didn't care. She was there for the all you can eat buffet, it served office hours, and she was in there like a salaryman every tuesday from nine to five.
    "What'ya eating today Kirstie?"
    "I'm going to start with this beef thing"
    "Why are all the people in this case so fat?" The candles in the restaurant all spluttered and flickered before extinguishing, they were only for show anyway.
    "Look OK, Japanese food is really healthy, lots of fresh veg, seaweed and not many carbs, if you stay off the rice"
    "This investigation is getting nowhere" I said and turned to leave, as I did she batted her eyelids and a few flakes of gold fell onto her plate, and were quickly engulfed in the teriyaki sauce. Had I imagined it. She must know something more. I decided to question her before she had any more plum wine.
    "You know why I'm questioning you, don't you?    "
    "Because of  the last supper. Yes. But why, What happened?"
    "I don't know, that's why I'm trying to find out. Everything is a blank after the entree. And only you and the other twelve who were there can help me"
    "And the camera"
    "And the fucking camera"
    "Don't swear at me. Go away. I want to enjoy my maki, did you know they were originally eaten by gamblers, like sandwiches"
    "Fuck you too"
    "No. Fuck you"
    "You're all together in this, I know you are. Why me"
    "Why you. God. You really are a fool. Having nice dreams are ya?"
    He needed sex. There was still no reply from Norman in the post and the bleeding boy was filling his dreams. His bleeding was no longer terrible though, it was just part of him now, like his penis. Sam was right he didn't feel satisfied, he would never know how that bird in York Minster feels. He longed to be fat.
    From below a billowing christening frock worn by Jane Fonda came a long red umbilical cord, I dreamt. Attached to the end of the cord were seven animals, only one sto   ıod out clearly, a deer. It's name was Satisfied.
    As he awoke he realised his dreams were being planted especially to confuse him. He rushed beck to the restaurant, the room was still filled with the blue green glow from the large fish tank, but there were no longer any fish in it. A television set behind a beaded curtain was on standby, the red light piercing the blue air. Takamiya-san had retired but there was a note, bound in gold wire.
    Dear Paul
        It is very cold, I long for the sun!!
        Is Germany your wife's favourite town?
            see you soon,
                Love Kaori.
Why were people asking him questions now, he was the investigator , what happened at the last supper? I realise that these notes are becoming more inquisitive and less factual, I will try to simply state the facts and hope that the answers will come from there without the need for more questions. I have, for this purpose, summoned forth Clio from her sisters, with the hope that her writing and to a lesser extent, tapestry skills will aid    e my search for the truth.
    They sat in a field together, it was surrounded on three sides by a fence and on one side by the river, it was empty but one could tell cows had been grazing there recently. Clio was beautiful, why must her nurse accompany her everywhere? When he was with Clio the case was lost, but he didn't care, he would get lost in her face. Happily. Her huge eyes, soft, yet piercing, beaconed him to a different place beyond her, beyond him. He felt the grass, in it he could feel a small soft    ˛animal, very still, perhaps a rabbit, it was so soft, like the furs he liked to wear. He couldn't quite grab the animal, for as soon as he felt the soft fur it moved, or was it him moving? It kept avoiding his grasp, yet it was not frustrating, each touch was worth it. Watched over by Clio, he played with the grass and fur, listening to it, responding to it, hiding in it, playing elements. He felt like an explorer, and each blade was a new exotic plant or beast, so soft yet so unattainable, like Clio herself. Slowly the grass prismed in front of him like a Kaleidoscope and he fell asleep as if hypnotised. He awoke for the second time to the smell of piss, he was in a toilet cubicle and the walls, custard yellow cubes were melting downwards through the floo    r. "Stupid bitch, Clio, Clio" It was dripping everywhere, he could feel it running down his thighs, only the toilet itself wasn't moving. "I hate you bitch" he tried to shout "Bitch, bitch" he couldn't say anything else. He didn't want to look, but everything was dripping. He closed his eyes, only to see the insides of his eyelids oozing the glucose liquid. There was no going back, he screamed, he had to be answered, he needed to find the answer. once he knew what it was he could handle it, how can you handle the unknown. Perhaps that's what he tried with Clio, "Bitch". The door flung open and there she stood, clasping her book, in the corner of her perfect pointy mouth was a drop of the stuff. Her eyes, still huge were hard and condemning. She saw him lookin    g at her mouth and quickly licked her lips, pushing the drop into her mouth and swallowing like a reptile. He tongue moved with such speed across her lips he wasn't sure if there had ever been anything there.
    "I have eight sisters, do you want to meet them?"
    "Fuck off you bitch, why are you trying to distract me from my purpose?"
    "I think they'd love to meet you" she said and laughed He looked around, the cubicle was still oozing, there was no point throwing up, he knew what would come out.
    "Go out"
    For once  he was right. I got up and walked out of the toilets and onto the road, the tarmac was a rusty light red. My feet felt heavy and the ground hard, we were pushing against each other. After a few minutes I noticed a car crawling slowly beside me, the window rolled down, a balding man sat behind the wheel.
    Herod: "Dance for me"
    "Fuck off", is that all I say to people now?
    "I'll  give you whatever you want"
    "The head of Clio, bring me the head of Clio on a silver plate, and I will crack it open"
    "    Dance for me and I'll give it to you"
He got into the back of the car and they drove through the town, past the swimming pool, cameras banned, towards the harbour. Every town has a harbour. Herod showed him onto a boat and they entered a cabin. All wood. He stood there while Herod got out a camera from a box marked 'sun, sea & sand'.
    "Strip" he removed his clothes and stood there, he couldn't argue, he'd pushed all his energy into the road. He knew what he wanted.
    "Masturbate" The little red light on the camera went on and it started recording. He held his penis and started moving his hand slowly. He continued unenthusiastically until he started to get hard. He thought of Norman, of Clio, together. He imagined himself alone, he was enjoying himself, forgetting the camera, so close to him, recording everything. The ship swayed slightly. The sea was still moving in the wake of the hurricane. His hand slipped into a comfortable, remembered boyhood position, like holding a fountain pen. His other hand started     to stroke himself, up and down the centre of his chest, splitting him symmetrically. Herod kept behind the camera the whole time, his eyes never saw it first hand. After a few minutes he began to ejaculate, silently his built up tension flew out of him. Satisfied. The sticky liquid landing on the ships wooden floor, on the camera, on Herod. Sam was wrong, it did help. He saw it now, the answer was clear to him. He leaned back on his heals, naked but not embarrassed. Herod too was satisfied, he had a video to p   ±lay, fast forward, rewind and pause forever. What was captured on the film wasn't just come, it was the answer this case, the riddle of the last supper. How long will it last.

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     Fig 1* ív'   *Don't worry 'tis but a dream, my dear, you will soon awake to my gentle kiss and we shall live forever more in Arcadie. But what, a dream!?, thou dreamest? maybe 'tis that thou are not as pure as I was lead to believe, bee'st thou still a virgin? I can check thou know'est?, if it is true that thou dream'st thou can stay in'st thine perverted slumber forever more, thine sinful sleep shall not be interrupted by me. Thou ist nothing but a harlot, a whore, with thine filthy dreams, that is where thou canst stay forever more, in thine perverted dreams
      Fig 2 íx(    i am from an all boys school shs is from an all girls school we met in a clump of bushes near a wall in a churchyard she is obese and eats pizza im in total awe of her i think shes great yet i leave her in search of the man i met at a swimming pool in the port i wanted to sleep with him i wanted him he was silent but he masturbated for me on me she was still eating pizza she gave me a piece covered in cheese dripping off it she has dark curly hair surrounding her round face she wants to be with me she comes from an all girls school

here is the eye
of the beholder,
guard it with
your life, don't
even give it
to Elizabeth
Taylor, even
if she gets
down on her
knees and
implores you,
even if she
kisses your
feet, keep
this eye
keep it