In Praise of Three Spotted Hyenas—A Novel—(Part Two)

In Praise of Three Spotted Hyenas—A Novel—(Part Two)

The three spotted hyenas are not much to look at. In fact, they are quite hideous: dirty, uncouth, degenerate. They are also pathologically monolingual. And if Allāt is the devil incarnate: a jejune brunette, a femme-bête qui aime faire la bête, a connasse who looks like a Gorgon; al-Uzzā is an hypochondriaque to boot, a mediocre actress who uses her migraine to seek pity during departmental meetings, a kind of virgin iron pants without the virginity, a fausse bourgeoise; in fine, a vulgar hypocrite who resembles an Egyptian vulture, especially when she walks or laughs. As to Manāt, all that can be said about her is that she is a cold-blooded brown-haired monster, a frigid nun with lips like Marilyn Monroe’s and eyes like Caligula’s; in sum, an Al Capone in a skirt. None of the three spotted hyenas is be trusted, of course. After all, how can one depend on spotted hyenas for honor, civility or decency or sense for that matter.

À suivre…