An interview with Clovis Clementine
This interview originally appears at:
http://www.michelleabbott.com/clovis....
An Interview with Clovis Clementine, the title character from the story “Clovis Clementine.” The story appears in the Flying House 2012 Anthology and as the lead story in "God’s Naked Will," the debut story collection to be released September 15th, 2013 by Burnt Bridge Press from New Orleans, San Francisco.
August 22, 2013. Word Count 1112.
Tell me about your parents?
I never met my mother. The bitch tried to ring my neck the moment after I was born when that stupid-ass doctor said I had a cloven-hoof because I was missing a big-toe and my other toes were webbed pairs with a gap in between them.
My father died in prison as a result of the statutory rape and incest charges he faced after the affair with my mother, his brother’s daughter. He wrote me a few times from prison, basically blaming my mother for what happened and saying he’d never have gone to prison if she’d just had an abortion.
My Aunt Ruth and Uncle Clarence raised me until Clarence died, then just Aunt Ruth.
At the foot-washing after you were baptized, you became sexually aroused when your Aunt Ruth’s blouse became sheer after getting wet while she washed your feet. She was practically your mother. How could you have seen her as a sexual target?
She was not my mother, and she was the only good-looking piece of ass around. Ruth was beautiful, with long, carrot-red hair, wide hips and a narrow waist. Her breasts were small, and many times she wore only a slip or a chemise under her blouse. She never realized that when she preached her nipples got hard or that she moved her hips like a stripper I’d seen on Television once. She was the sexiest creature I had ever seen. I used to watch her masturbate from outside her window when she still lived at the chapel after Uncle Clarence had died. She was an intensely sexual person and had a hard time dealing with his loss. And yes, preachers masturbate—even lady preachers. The voices told me to go help her, but I never did. But watching her naked like that nearly drove me mad.
Are you possessed by demons?
I even know all of their names. Of course, I guess that depends on your definition of possessed. I see them. They talk to me. They hit me and leave cuts and bruises on my body. The doctors never believed it wasn’t me cutting myself. They whisper in my ears. I only gave in that one time when they told me to kill Benny rice at school that day. He was tormenting me and I snapped his neck like a stalk of celery. I smile every time I think of the look on his face. In the after life his neck is still broken and he can’t control where he looks. It is awesome! The demons kept telling me to rape Ruth—that she would be a great lay, but I couldn’t do it. The presence around her of the Angels was always too powerful. If she was ever going to have sex with me, she would have to ask.
How do you see sounds?
I really don’t know. I just do. That night I committed suicide was wild. The light from the moon disintegrated into laser beams of light floating around the cemetery, and my screams were cannonballs bouncing off the trees like steel marbles in a pinball machine. It was awesome! Then the Colonel rose up from the other cadavers and helped me out and I blew my brains all over the living room wall.
I wish I hadn’t done that now because Aunt Ruth was devastated when she found me and later took her own life too. But I never see her, and that is odd.
Did you really think the rapture had happened when you fell into that empty grave?
Fuck yeah! I’d heard about that shit all of my life, man. I used to go home from church scared shitless every Sunday night, but then the voices would tell me I had nothing to worry about and I’d finally go to sleep.
Is demon-possession real? Does it cause mental illness? Or are the mentally-ill accused of being possessed simply as a witch-hunt—as an excuse to explain the failure of modern medicine to deal with the disease?
If you believe in the Bible, you must believe in the devil and his demons. I met him personally after I committed suicide. I don’t want to talk about that now. I’ve also met John Milton, the poet, and I know now his book was based upon visions revealed to him by the same demons that tormented me. In the New Testament Christ himself cast out demons while here on earth. You can’t just say it isn’t so because modern medicine has created a term called “schizophrenia” to classify all mental illness. Now that’s insane! But your question is like which came first—the egg or the chicken. According to the bible the chicken came first as God created all the creatures and placed them in the Garden. Demons are real and they walk with us everyday. They take many forms to disguise themselves. They may come in the form of addictions or illness or flat-out possession—like in my case. A fool believes he is followed only by angels, but the devil is there, shadowing every step you take.
Are there vampires and zombies?
LOL! Those are just my buddies in different forms.
Will we ever see you again?
Yes. My author plans to expand my story into a novel. He wants to explore the connection between possession and religion, sexuality and death. I am too perfect a character for him to simply let die. Besides, I am haunting him now the way the demons he created in my story haunted me. I won’t leave him alone until he writes my novel.
Are things better for you now?
No one understands the living hell of the mentally ill. Although life for us is a cruel joke, we share the same passion for life as anyone else. I used to love to go for a drive in my car whenever I had one. I loved a beautiful fall morning, or the chill of a winter afternoon, or the warmth of a spring day. But my illness made me miserable, and death eventually gave me all knowledge. Now I know and understand everything, so I am getting along much better now and spending eternity getting even with those still living who tormented me and added to my living hell.
So, yes! Things are much better now.
http://www.michelleabbott.com/clovis....
An Interview with Clovis Clementine, the title character from the story “Clovis Clementine.” The story appears in the Flying House 2012 Anthology and as the lead story in "God’s Naked Will," the debut story collection to be released September 15th, 2013 by Burnt Bridge Press from New Orleans, San Francisco.
August 22, 2013. Word Count 1112.
Tell me about your parents?
I never met my mother. The bitch tried to ring my neck the moment after I was born when that stupid-ass doctor said I had a cloven-hoof because I was missing a big-toe and my other toes were webbed pairs with a gap in between them.
My father died in prison as a result of the statutory rape and incest charges he faced after the affair with my mother, his brother’s daughter. He wrote me a few times from prison, basically blaming my mother for what happened and saying he’d never have gone to prison if she’d just had an abortion.
My Aunt Ruth and Uncle Clarence raised me until Clarence died, then just Aunt Ruth.
At the foot-washing after you were baptized, you became sexually aroused when your Aunt Ruth’s blouse became sheer after getting wet while she washed your feet. She was practically your mother. How could you have seen her as a sexual target?
She was not my mother, and she was the only good-looking piece of ass around. Ruth was beautiful, with long, carrot-red hair, wide hips and a narrow waist. Her breasts were small, and many times she wore only a slip or a chemise under her blouse. She never realized that when she preached her nipples got hard or that she moved her hips like a stripper I’d seen on Television once. She was the sexiest creature I had ever seen. I used to watch her masturbate from outside her window when she still lived at the chapel after Uncle Clarence had died. She was an intensely sexual person and had a hard time dealing with his loss. And yes, preachers masturbate—even lady preachers. The voices told me to go help her, but I never did. But watching her naked like that nearly drove me mad.
Are you possessed by demons?
I even know all of their names. Of course, I guess that depends on your definition of possessed. I see them. They talk to me. They hit me and leave cuts and bruises on my body. The doctors never believed it wasn’t me cutting myself. They whisper in my ears. I only gave in that one time when they told me to kill Benny rice at school that day. He was tormenting me and I snapped his neck like a stalk of celery. I smile every time I think of the look on his face. In the after life his neck is still broken and he can’t control where he looks. It is awesome! The demons kept telling me to rape Ruth—that she would be a great lay, but I couldn’t do it. The presence around her of the Angels was always too powerful. If she was ever going to have sex with me, she would have to ask.
How do you see sounds?
I really don’t know. I just do. That night I committed suicide was wild. The light from the moon disintegrated into laser beams of light floating around the cemetery, and my screams were cannonballs bouncing off the trees like steel marbles in a pinball machine. It was awesome! Then the Colonel rose up from the other cadavers and helped me out and I blew my brains all over the living room wall.
I wish I hadn’t done that now because Aunt Ruth was devastated when she found me and later took her own life too. But I never see her, and that is odd.
Did you really think the rapture had happened when you fell into that empty grave?
Fuck yeah! I’d heard about that shit all of my life, man. I used to go home from church scared shitless every Sunday night, but then the voices would tell me I had nothing to worry about and I’d finally go to sleep.
Is demon-possession real? Does it cause mental illness? Or are the mentally-ill accused of being possessed simply as a witch-hunt—as an excuse to explain the failure of modern medicine to deal with the disease?
If you believe in the Bible, you must believe in the devil and his demons. I met him personally after I committed suicide. I don’t want to talk about that now. I’ve also met John Milton, the poet, and I know now his book was based upon visions revealed to him by the same demons that tormented me. In the New Testament Christ himself cast out demons while here on earth. You can’t just say it isn’t so because modern medicine has created a term called “schizophrenia” to classify all mental illness. Now that’s insane! But your question is like which came first—the egg or the chicken. According to the bible the chicken came first as God created all the creatures and placed them in the Garden. Demons are real and they walk with us everyday. They take many forms to disguise themselves. They may come in the form of addictions or illness or flat-out possession—like in my case. A fool believes he is followed only by angels, but the devil is there, shadowing every step you take.
Are there vampires and zombies?
LOL! Those are just my buddies in different forms.
Will we ever see you again?
Yes. My author plans to expand my story into a novel. He wants to explore the connection between possession and religion, sexuality and death. I am too perfect a character for him to simply let die. Besides, I am haunting him now the way the demons he created in my story haunted me. I won’t leave him alone until he writes my novel.
Are things better for you now?
No one understands the living hell of the mentally ill. Although life for us is a cruel joke, we share the same passion for life as anyone else. I used to love to go for a drive in my car whenever I had one. I loved a beautiful fall morning, or the chill of a winter afternoon, or the warmth of a spring day. But my illness made me miserable, and death eventually gave me all knowledge. Now I know and understand everything, so I am getting along much better now and spending eternity getting even with those still living who tormented me and added to my living hell.
So, yes! Things are much better now.
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