Blood of Mugwump: A Tiresian Tale of Incest

By Doug Rice

Rice's parasitical language is akin to the acts of those naked 18th century pirates of desire. In Blood of Mugwump, Rice cannibalizes the likes of Joyce, Faulkner, Burroughs, Eliot, and a whole host of angelic others. Now trapped inside a kinetic body that is always changing from male to female, Doug Rice (the youngest Mugwump) sets out to discover himself in his sister's body. All the while the familial matriarch, Grandma Mugwump, feeds on the flesh of young Doug. Once through the looking glass, Doug realizes that Caddie (his polysexual Faulknerian nightmare of a sister) is more terrifying and holy than the average saint. A frenzied sexual virus, genetically conveyed, mutates and possesses the meat of Doug's and Caddie's bodies forcing them to love each other in unspeakable, yet classical, ways. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: University of Alabama Press
• Release date: Nov 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781573668668

Book preview

Hoard

Routine One:

ON EATING BLOOD AND ON BEING A GIRL

He stood looking. His eyes staring out. And his sister, my sister me, Caddie, gave into it all at once by slightly shifting her weight from one hip to the other. Off center in the frames of my looking. The side of her face caught in his gaze. Ticking wristwatches ticking—I could hear them ticking—exploded, shattered walls and sent the snakes that were her hair into a frenzied dance. This body is familiar to me. In the long ago, I had been trapped in this body. Beyond speech. My mouth on Caddie. Her blood. Caddie has been here with me before: tumbling, swimming, surfacing. I am your sister. She carried her black cunt to his mouth. This cannot be me falling to his knees. My blood in her mouth, she brutally destroyed all of that which he could no longer see of himself in the mirror, mirror on the wall. Nobody speaking, Caddie inside all those words. Inherited realms of passions. Stop it this second. He kept struggling, desperately trying to kill my sister.

Her fist fucked the past out of that mirror. Bled our mother out of her cunt into my cock. My fear fathered nonsense. My fear, I was afraid, sliced her to pieces. Her fingers dug deep up inside of me. Backed me against the mirror. Pushed her cunt into my thoughts. Slammed me against her memory. Thinking, ticking. Not me becoming but my sister’s flesh arresting me. I am in this house right now. I know, my God, I know the name of this house. Grandma Mugwump on top of God fucking Him in my house. I am going to, I want to stick my fingers into the frantic screams of Caddie’s hair. He knew then, as she moved her body away from him, that she would be more difficult to murder than he had at first imagined.

The looking glass echoed the sound of her pleasure. In time, where are you? On my knees. Caddie handcuffed my wrists. Punished my mouth, set my cunt free for her cock to enter me. She pressed her strong cunt over his open mouth and began eating away at his words. Stealing me, making me into a woman, a desire for tongue. Those snakes that were her hair crawled down his throat. Don’t breathe. Not a word of this to anyone. Snakes from my sister’s monstrous cunt swallowed my mouth drowning the word that in the beginning was the flesh. My sister wanted and wanted. There I was, me a girl. She stood fingering her desires, twirling her hair. Time stuttered. Watches, unknown hands.

Caddie began again the penetrating of me. Write this down. Someone is bound to find it. Discover me out of my flesh. She had made me out of her blood, out of her mouth, her cunt, her words. Cunt. Gang banged by the ancestors of our delirious past. Troubled history. She kept breathing in me, through me, all over me. Caddie became dust in my hand, blood in my mouth. The mud of her cunt covering, thick, my flesh, the skin of words skating away. Until at last I am never here anymore.

Once before she had locked him away in what she had called her cunt and he had been forced to take her cock into his mouth. Just, I just can’t remember when my blood turned to that of a man, no longer a woman. My stomach, my womb alive, crawling with Caddie’s snakes. Her words pushed against my skin. I know that I wanted her to put her cock up inside of me and the more I thought of her cock, the wetter I became thinking if only she would slide her cock up inside of me if only I could feel her knowing she was up inside of me.

They had found ways to fuck, cry banshee-like, with nothing in between. Are you in there, Doug? At that time, back then, she was in there. By this time (having swallowed all of her words), Caddie had released my mouth and pushed his face down into the carpet. Back into time, she mounts him here and now quietly from behind. Screaming, where there was no wilderness. My sister, jailed savage, entered. Thrusting into the past of our family. My tongue confused, tossed out of her womb. Into her memory. I remember her thinking I am a girl. Forgetting all those names. Dead. To become dead, she bled him. Her hairy cunt attacking him relentlessly. Her teeth grabbed at my silence, deep and strong.

Pain shot straight up through my entire body. I came to know quickly that God was now and forever. Grandma Mugwump had warned Caddie to keep her teeth away from my words. Be careful, you are not by nature my real daughter. Late at night I tripped into Caddie’s room. God fucking Caddie, mixing me into the mud of Caddie’s bed. My nose began to bleed. In fire without pain. Grandma Mugwump breathing, ranting against her dreams, dead desires. Two fillings popped out of my teeth.

My face exploded against the wall, Feel this heat, this blood. This is you, hysterical bitch dreaming of a cock, of blood without a name. Her mouth whispering, whispering into my ear. She cut me. These are knives that once upon a time were her words. I’ve taken your mouth and filled it hard with my cock. This ain’t the disguises of history happening to you. No, not old books and dying teachers. The wall was breaking open my skull. You want my history scattered around inside of your head? This history of the night? Stirring the roots that you are trying to kill? Blood spilling all around us. Blood thrown onto the wall by the force of her will and my words shattering. Is this the blood that can kill? Or is this the blood of Grandma, the blood of Caddie? Does Mom bleed? My ears stunned and confused by the speed and the pain. Lips speaking. In the beginning, God gave me a cock and played Caddie’s spirits on top of me, my cock and Caddie’s mouth. She is not God. I felt what God said not to feel. The serpent always looking, never tired. In the mirror I am not my sister. She put her tongue, without care, into my mouth and spoke in words that frightened God.

Caddie, miraculously still, continued, between my thighs, to chew away at my flesh. In blood the names became my father. She pulled me out of the names. In the name of. Mother. But. Father. Red the white blood cells are. Brother. And. Sister. Grandma Mugwump never once gave birth, not real birth. She circled our mother’s bed, fell into our mother’s embrace, late night rodeo, and bit our mother. Gave birth to me and Caddie. All of these words mixing with the air. Bleeding me undead, disappearing me quickly into out of the mirror. The mirror on the wall. Bloody and singing. Handcuffed to my sister’s funny little ideas. She made me sing without looking in the mirror at the words. What was left of me stood at the corner of Seventh and Penn waiting for the bus.

At 7:35, Doug Rice arrived home; his mother in flames. Immediately she began fumbling with his buttons. All those buttons. Using her fingers, grown monstrously erect with evil desires rooted in that dark mud from around the tree at the center of the back yard, she twisted and tore at those buttons. Almost in tears, she whispered something about the buttons, about not thinking that buttons could protect the flesh outside the mirrors. Then, nearly exhausted, she arrived. Her uncanny smile licked Doug’s curious flesh-like words.

In a matter of minutes, winged chariots at the back of her throat, she devoured her son’s queer cock. She sliced him dead center between his thighs. Removed him into memory, imagined placing her hard tongue on what had at one time been his wet cunt. She returned, gave him back, out of the past, to God who struggled in prayer at his feet. God praying to God. Sprung out of God’s flesh Caddie made me cunt. Doug saw his shadow. Stuck in disappeared time and unwritten flesh. A woman unknown to language. Not the fool of his father giving birth without speech. I swam my mother’s body. Between my thighs I felt the misery of pain.

The first time I had ever been a girl, is a girl, my very own fingers played with me. The skill of a cunning amateur lost in the rush of the flesh. Time turning, looking out at her. He saw his flesh on her chin. Time tricked the mirror and disappeared into the blood down his neck, down his flat, hairy chest down into his cunt. Pray for us. Pray for us now and at the hour. Down. Amen. I made a tongue out of the hours. I stole from her but she was not me, only wanted to be her flesh. And used this tongue to write across her body. My belly ached under the pressure of my fingers. The pained tattoos of the