Pellonpaa and the burning holiday 'rection

[Lautremont]

Pellonpaa and the burning holiday 'rection
A story to give a new meaning to Christmas
By Atlas King

Pellonpaa was more than usually dissipated this morning, having spent the better part of the previous night exploring the right and wrong of this and that, and seeking to break through the shabby palisades of truth, while not coincidentally inhaling a larger than normal number of the small but strong liquers he favoured; he now felt he knew first-hand the rough tenderness of fate's bristle brush. His eyes were lingonberries, his tongue a horse blanket; there was a parade of rhinocerous beetles in his head, searching painfully for a way out. He was a broken spider crab, spewed unceremoniously on the tarry shingle of the morning. And to top it all off, there was a burning `rection in his bed.

He tried to piece together the events of the night before. It was difficult. They had fragmented into he-knew-not-how-many new realities. Images floated through his head, as transient and insubstantial as ghosts. Which of them represented the whole truth, if any, he could not say.

The burning 'rection flopped over suddenly like a frying fish. Pellonpaa edged up against the headboard of the bed and drew his legs up tightly to his chest, as far from the 'rection as he could get. Faint Christmas music drifted in through the window, and Pellonpaa cocked his shaking head slightly to listen. A thin moan escaped his lips. His hands were curled into talons; he gripped his bony knees for dear life.

(snip)

The rest of this extremely odd story can be found here: http://www.themanitoban.com/1998-1999/1209/f2.html

Perhaps some of you will find it as bizarrely entertaining as I do.