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Andy Kaufman's Nostrils
Andy Kaufman was on stage reading aloud a copy of The Kafka Effekt by D Harlan Wilson when his head exploded. The crowd cheered and clapped as they thought it was a part of the performance, although I myself doubted this, regarding it as some kind of freakish accident, like Chappaquiddick. Bits of his head and face and brain flew out over the auditorium, and as they did so I was very swift in thrusting out my hand just in time to capture his nostrils in my sweating palm. Glancing around, I spotted that everyone was in a state of agitation, and so I sneaked away and out of the place, shoving my features into the cool outside air.
I walked a couple of blocks and then stopped to examine my prize under a streetlamp. The lamp wasn't on as it was mid afternoon but who gives a shit. The nostrils looked pretty amazing, small black holes with tufts of tiny hairs clinging to each dark tunnel. I felt quite privileged that I had acquired these from Andy Kaufman, and believing that he would not require them any longer as his head had exploded I pocketed the nostrils and stepped on my way, whistling Framed by the Sensational Alex Harvey Band.
I think I must have gone twenty-eight steps when I noticed Babylonius Orgasm approaching. He was almost upon me when I realized my error. I hadn't gone twenty-eight steps at all, I had miscalculated. I had only gone twenty-six steps! I emitted a long cold yell of frustration and deep horror, only becoming silent when Babylonius Orgasm finally reached me.
"Hey, Dumbfuck, how's it going?" said Babylonius Orgasm. His hair was standing on end and it reminded me of the Taj Mahal.
"Okay, how are you?"
"Pretty cool, dude. Hey, guess what I have inside my bag, Dumbfuck!"
"Delta Goodrem's eyelashes?"
"Johnny Depp's fish tank?"
"Well how the fucking hell should I know, you moron???"
"Wrong, Dumbfuck," said Babylonius Orgasm. "I have Justin Timberlake's anal tract inside my bag!"
"You're right. Wanna see?"
He started to unzip his bag but the smell was horrible so I told him I didn't wish to see Justin Timberlake's anal tract. He appeared disturbed and his body language was telling me that it was going to rain on November the 4th, which was almost four months away.
"Guess what I have in my pocket," I teased him.
"Michael Jordan's throat?"
"No. I have Andy Kaufman's nostrils in my pocket."
"You're right. Wanna see?"
"Wow, yeah, cool beans, dude."
I plucked the black objects from out of my pocket and showed him. They felt damp and sticky on my palm, and yet I felt a strange affinity towards them, as if they had been destined for me my entire lifetime.
"These are so cool, man, where did you get them?"
I told him where I had got them and I could tell he was utterly impressed. He began to fire all sorts of questions at me. What color were Andy Kaufman's brains? How much of The Kafka Effekt by D Harlan Wilson had he read out loud to the audience? Why is water always wet? However before I was able to reply I heard a commotion in the distance. Babylonius Orgasm at once appeared quite perturbed, as he is a rather neurotic individual, but then I spotted the familiar black wavy hairstyle bobbing about as a lone figure plodded up the hill. My insides started to leap around inside me when I realized it was Andy Kaufman himself.
I didn't wait around to discover how he had magically reconstructed his head and features; instead I darted off in the direction of someplace else. If Andy Kaufman wanted his nostrils back he would have to damn well catch me first of all.
I ran past Haberdashery Street and into 4th and 44th, where a collection of haberdashery stores were situated, then through Avenue Avenue, waving and nodding at the haberdashers who were loitering outside their stores, past Ridiculous Road where I witnessed a mass fist fight between a group of haberdashery assistants. I was out of puff and was forced to stop outside John F Kennedy's Haberdashery store on the corner of Main and Whimsical. As I tried to catch my breath I was amazed to find that Andy Kaufman was a mere two seconds behind me.
"You bastard!" he yelled. "I want my nostrils back!"
I stared at him and saw that his head and face had been put back together with nails and sticky tape. He reminded me of the Frankenstein monster, only non-fictional. His nose appeared quite strange without nostrils.
"How did you know I have your nostrils?" I demanded in between nervous gulps of humid air.
Andy Kaufman produced a small modular device from out of his pocket. It contained a number of flashing pulses and red buttons and digital displays. He grinned as he showed it to me.
"What is that?" I asked, my eyebrow arched.
"It's my personal nostril indicator. Now hand them over!"
I realized at this point that Andy Kaufman was a madman and a lunatic, and that's why I like him so much, but I was reluctant to hand over the nostrils. I plucked them out of my pocket, placed the right one on to the ground, and jumped into it. I slid past the hairs and the slimy mucus as I entered into the abyss that was Andy Kaufman's right nostril, and when I landed on a level plain I started to run as fast as my weary legs could take me.
I'd been on the go a few seconds when I became aware of a lonely figure racing after me. It was none other than Andy Kaufman himself! Not wishing to consider the implications of the dark-haired comic genius entering his own nostril I continued my flight. It was slippery underfoot because of the gloop and gunk that existed inside Andy Kaufman's nostril, the deeper I ventured the more goo there seemed to be, and I almost lost my footing but managed to stay on my feet. My pursuer wasn't so fortunate though. I listened to his beastly shriek as he slipped behind me and landed with a thud on to the glunk-filled surface of his inner nostril.
I seized the opportunity upon noticing that I had travelled almost a full circle and was nearing the entrance to the nostril once again. With Andy Kaufman struggling to regain his footing in the darkness I dashed out into the fresh air, and then stooped to pick up the nostril and dropped it back into my pocket before rushing away into the distance. I ran all the way home, proud of my achievement in evading my hero and capturing both his nostrils.
I awoke on the settee that I don't remember owning. I felt as though I had slept for a million years but upon observing the cuckoo clock on the wall of my apartment I learnt that I had slept for sixteen hours.
Sixteen hours! How in the world had I managed to sleep for sixteen hours? God only knows, however because of my purely scientific attitude toward religion and the existence of such an all-ruling entity I wasn't about to ask him.
Someone knocked at my door with an unearthly rap. I was taken aback, and the budgie squawked a few times, even though I don't recall the budgie's name at all. I hauled myself off the settee and stumbled along the hall to the front door, then opened it. Standing before me was my neighbor Mr Velociraptor.
"How dare you knock at my door with an unearthly rap!" I screamed.
Mr Velociraptor shrunk back in fright before apologising and tossing the unearthly rap across the corridor. He then held up a newspaper and said, "Dumbfuck, have you seen this?"
I studied the newspaper, and at once the headline yelled out at me.
Andy Kaufman's Nostrils Stolen
"Jesus Christ!" I cried out, although I don't believe in the Son of God either, which stands to reason if I don't believe in the existence of God as an all-ruling entity.
Mr Velociraptor then unveiled a second newspaper and held it in front of him for my scrutiny. Again the headline caught my attention immediately.
Kaufman Disappears Up His Own Nostril
"Holy Mother of an all-ruling entity whose existence I don't believe in!" I shouted.
I don't really believe that Mr Velociraptor was enjoying this but he produced another newspaper and held it aloft for my inspection.
Steelers Lose Again
My grief was complete, and I started to sob wildly and ram my head against the wall, only to be interrupted by my neighbor showing me a fourth newspaper.
Have You Seen This Man?
Nostril Thief Exposed
To my utter shock there was a large photograph of myself splashed across the front of the page for everyone to see.
"Oh no!" I moaned, and contemplated suicide, although this was quite normal for me.
It all came back to me then. I fished inside my pocket and found the nostrils, cold and damp and dark. I held them in my palm for Mr Velociraptor to see.
"Bloody bloody!" he cried. "So it's true then? You really have stolen them!"
I invited him inside and told him the whole tale, and he almost nodded off a couple of times, and so did I to be truthful. The entire episode sounded too absurd, similar to when my other neighbor Mr Pussikeskus swallowed his bicycle, but the two black holes in my hand were proof that it was a true story indeed.
"So is Andy Kaufman still in there?" asked Mr Velociraptor.
"What?" I queried.
"Is he still inside the nostril? Did he ever come out?"
I felt a sudden jolt to my heart. "Holy crocodile! He never came out. He's still in there!"
Mr Velociraptor whistled, but not a tune or anything like a tune. I inspected the two objects in my hand. They didn't appear special in any way, just a couple of dark spots, but within one of them was a full-sized human being with a patched-up head and no holes at the bottom of his nose. It was just like my wedding night. I didn't know what to do!
So I placed the nostrils on to the carpet and climbed into the right one. Once more I encountered the dank atmosphere and eerie darkness of Andy Kaufman's nostril. I didn't know what I would do when I found him, I just wanted to see whether he was there or not. A weird off-stink surrounded me, but I persevered, trudging onwards along the slippery maelstrom.
Then to my amazement Mr Velociraptor came tumbling into the hole behind me. I had nearly forgotten he was in my apartment such was my plight. I attempted to call out to him, and in a friendly manner, not a formal way, but I became perturbed because I couldn't remember his first name!
"Mr Velociraptor," I said in a controlled voice. "I wish to apologise, with all my heart and soul, for I cannot remember your first name in the slightest. I am a shambolic and hopeless man! Please don't take this personally. I have had this embarrassing problem ever since early childhood. Indeed, there have been moments when I have forgotten my own first name, and sometimes even my surname. Yes! How can I make it up to you? You can sleep with my wife if you wish to. Yes you can, free of charge. And you don't have to reveal your first name, not at all. I am doomed never to realize what it might be. It could be the most beautiful name in the entire universe but I don't deserve to know it, no I don't. I would rather go blind than know it; I would rather allow some sadistic maniac to tear off my testicles with a pair of pliers. In fact, I want you to pull them off. Come on, do it now. I beg you!"
I unzipped my pants and produced my limp member and scrotum sac. It was black inside Andy Kaufman's nostril but my private bits and pieces could be made out rather clearly. Mr Velociraptor was wearing a horrible frown. And I couldn't remember his first name!
"Do you have some pliers?" I asked.
Mr Velociraptor sighed. "Dumbfuck, I don't really wish to remove your testicles at all. And I don't mind you not remembering my first name. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I never told you my first name in the first place? Have you ever wondered about that?"
"Well you ought to, because I don't have a first name at all!"
I gulped. No first name! What an unfortunate human being!
"Mr Velociraptor," I said, changing the subject dramatically, "please go back, this is too dangerous for you. Andy Kaufman is a maniac of the first water!"
"Dumbfuck, never fear. Nostrils do not frighten me. In fact, one of my secret pastimes is nostril-holing, the latest dangerous sport."
"What? Tell me you're kidding me, Mr Velociraptor!"
"I'm not kidding at all, Dumbfuck, I'm madly serious. Nostril holing is a serious business. All kinds of famous people go in for it, including Shaquille O'Neal, Orlando Bloom, Anna Kournikova, and Gregor Samsa."
"Gregor Samsa? But he's a fictitious character!"
"Well so are you, Dumbfuck."
I had no answer to this retort, so I continued my journey into Andy Kaufman's nostril, entering further into the bleak darkness. I felt Mr Velociraptor's presence behind me, his heavy breathing on my neck. I admit that I was very afraid, but I tried to be courageous in the company of my friend and neighbor. However when I turned a slight corner and observed the human figure lurking there I let out a terrible shriek.
"Why did you let out a terrible shriek?" asked Mr Velociraptor.
"Look!" I said, pointing into the gloom and the murk. "A person!"
"Is it Andy Kaufman?"
I peered at the man, and couldn't see any traces of nails or sticky tape upon his head and face, and so I concluded that it wasn't Andy Kaufman at all.
"No, I don't think it's Andy Kaufman. If it were he he would be upon me by now. No, this is another person entirely."
Mr Velociraptor stepped in front of me and studied the dark figure. He was sitting against the wall of the nostril reading a newspaper, and I gulped upon seeing the headline.
Fictitious Character Steals Andy Kaufman's Nostrils
"Who is it?" I whispered to Mr Velociraptor.
"It's Gregor Samsa. I'm certain of it."
The man then spotted us, and folded up his newspaper before standing to greet us.
"Hello!" he boomed.
A welcoming smirk spread over his face, but then something weird started to happen, and the foundations of Andy Kaufman's nostrils shook horribly.
"Oh no, not again!" yelped Gregor Samsa, and in seconds he had transformed into a giant insect.
He wiggled his thorax at us before scurrying off into the bowels of the nostril. I gazed in amazement at this bizarre spectacle.
"C'est la vie," said Mr Velociraptor.
Before either of us could say Stranger on the Loose another figure came galloping around the bend. His head was stuck together with nails and sticky tape. Yes, this was Andy Kaufman, and he was heading right at us, his fists clenched and spittle bubbling from his lips.
"Shit!" cried Mr Velociraptor. "What shall we do, Dumbfuck?"
My thinking was swift, which makes a pleasant change. "Follow me," I screeched, and jumped into my own nostril.
It was even darker inside there, and I was begging for a flashlight or something similar, as I started to run as fast as my legs would carry me, deep into the heart of my nostril. I heard someone fall in behind me, but still I continued on, not looking back.
It was dank and greasy underfoot, and I nearly slipped a number of times, but my sneakers held a steady grip. My plan was to run a full circle and exit through the hole into which I had leapt. I seemed to be sprinting for a long time, with no sign of the exit, and then it hit me. Unlike Andy Kaufman's nostrils, mine were still a part of my face, and so the further I ventured the deeper I entered inside my own being. I was trapped!
I stopped abruptly, and looking back I spotted Andy Kaufman approaching, a look of fury on his face. He was almost upon me, and the second before he hit me I stepped aside, and watched as he hurtled into the womb of my nostril. His cries appeared far away, and I tentatively peered into the blackness. It seemed that he had reached a steep embankment and had fallen down into Christ knows where. There was no way he was going to get out; it was a sheer drop into a dark nothingness. I called out to him and his reply was very faint. I had no chance of helping him, and there was nothing left for me to do except go back along the passage through which I had entered and exit that way.
I was sitting in Dr Zagduma's waiting room when I suddenly realized that I hadn't noticed Mr Velociraptor come out of Andy Kaufman's nostril. It was too late to consider this fact in detail because the voluptuous Mrs Vvvv called me into the surgery.
Dr Zagduma was wearing his Dr Doom outfit today. I was pleased about this as he hadn't been himself lately and I had become worried about him. I sat in the chair at his desk and watched his eyes behind the metal-plate mask. The eyeballs were moving around. He was alive!
"What seems to be the trouble, Dumbfuck?" he enquired. Well he was a doctor after all.
"I have Andy Kaufman stuck up my nostril," I explained.
"So? What do you want me to do about it?"
"You're a doctor, cure me, you bastard!"
"I can make life very unpleasant for you, Dumbfuck," he said with an evil grin.
"Life is always very unpleasant."
"Correct. Okay, let's take a look."
Dr Zagduma came around the desk, pulled open my nostril and stuck his head inside. I could hear him humming Man on the Moon by REM, then some seconds later he pulled his head out and returned to his chair at the other side of the desk. He regarded me sternly.
"Dumbfuck, you have Andy Kaufman stuck inside your nostril," he told me.
"I already know that, you moron!"
Dr Zagduma ignored my insult because I reckoned he was used to it by now.
"He's slipped down the back of your nostril and is clinging to the side of your right adenoid," he said. "He's lodged there and is trying desperately to break free but with no joy. And his face and head appear to have been reassembled."
I didn't really want to go into that at this time.
"So can you get him out?" I asked.
Dr Zagduma stared at a painting that hung in a frame upon the far wall of his surgery. It consisted of a series of white lines upon a white background. To me it appeared all white, but Dr Zagduma insisted that it was a work of art and that if you studied it long enough you could see different colors like yellow, puce, aquamarine, and crimson, plus the outline of a cockroach. Everyone who has seen it thinks it's all white like I do.
"I can get him out," said the doctor eventually.
He danced a jig on the way to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small container, which he handed over to me.
"What's this?" I said.
Dr Zagduma grimaced. "Pepper," he said. "Just take a good sniff and all your dreams will come true."
I didn't realize he was such a genius. I took the container and held it up to my nose and inhaled deeply. Water gathered in my eyes as the pepper took effect. After a few seconds my nose began to itch like crazy inside, and it wasn't long before I started a sneezing fit. I couldn't stop once I started, one came after the other in quick succession, mad sneezes that could have blown down a house, and after about the sixth or seventh humdinger a crazy figure fell out of my left nostril and tumbled on to the floor.
I was shocked, because it wasn't Andy Kaufman, it was Mr Velociraptor.
"What happened to you?" I screamed, my nose still prickly.
Mr Velociraptor assembled his wits before answering. "I followed you into your nostril," he explained, "but unfortunately I leapt into your left nostril and not the one you jumped into. Then my shoe lace got knotted with a nose hair and I was stuck."
"Dummy," I said, and then let out another whopper of a sneeze.
Andy Kaufman toppled from my nostril and turned two somersaults before landing in a lump upon the carpet. He appeared disorientated and fuming with a deep, dark rage. I sneezed again all over his fuzzy hair and filled it with spittle and phlegm. He glared at me.
"I want my nostrils back!" he demanded.
I shrank back, and sneezed once more. Andy Kaufman seemed angrier than ever, and I began to feel a little guilty at holding on to his precious nostrils, after all he required them for respiratory reasons if nothing else. I pushed my hand into my pocket, and was about to hand them over when his head exploded.
Bits of brain and gristle flew in all directions, his eyeballs, lips, tongue, and ears scattering all over the room, along with everything else. Then I was amazed when a giant insect clambered out of his open neck.
"Gregor Samsa!" cried Mr Velociraptor.
Dr Zagduma fainted.
The insect, Gregor Samsa, lifted its feelers in the air and looked around with its big bug-eyes, then crept silently from the room on its eight spindly legs. I gazed down at the broken figure of the headless Andy Kaufman, and then turned to Mr Velociraptor.
"Got any nails and sticky tape?" I asked.
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