Paintings of Adam and Eve show that each has a belly button (navel or umbilicus). Think about it.
Exiled. Naked. He looked up the apple tree. Boredom and a talkative, nagging woman were his punishment. His sin; questioning the existence of The Enigma after another cruel desert storm. Eden is a vegetative hell hole that offered nothing else but trees and fruit. He missed home. He missed the food, the camels, the dryness, the mirages, the confusion and his dysfunctional polygamous family unit. His father was a rolling stone that gathered no moss but a lot of fungi and virus that explained the old man’s loose nuts, the boils on the mothers’ lips and their itchy vaginas.
“Hey Adam, you are the man and by default the smarter of the pair?” Eve asked as she plucked an apple from the tree.
“Go figure,” why wouldn’t she just keep quiet? Did she have to ask those questions; closed yet wide open questions. Questions that led to more questions that he alone had to answer.
“Alright,” apple in hand bent over his head, naked, her privates covered by a mass of kinky-curly black hair. She had abnormally large areolae that made her breasts look like half-rotten coconuts. He did not like looking at her. He closed his eyes.
“Adam, I think that worms come from an apple. They do not infest an apple. Instead the apple gives birth to them. You know, like a mother after nine ripe months?”
“No Eve, I do not know.”
“Adam, you liar,” she stands straight.
“You do not have to keep saying my name every time you speak. It’s just the two of us here, you milk- less goat.” He rolled over and lay on his stomach. A man should not be forced to look up at a woman, especially when she is standing upright and nude.
“Adam, why are you so unkind?” She asked and sat next to him slightly bothered by the shade of the tree. She missed the desert heat. Why did The Enigma choose her to start a cursed race with this unimaginative sod?
“I am not unkind. You talk too much and think only when you are asleep. What would it cost me to have you quiet for…say…an entire moon?”
“Adam, you could help me prove that an apple mothers a worm or twin worms or triplet worms or a multitude of worms. I am certain that it will be a groundbreaking theory. A theory a lot like the Chicken-Egg Theory that puzzles your father.”
“You are as crazy as he is, I can see. Where do you suppose you will put that apple. There is no place here that is not already infested by worms that will eat your silly apple. The ground is burrowed with them, the tress and flower bushes camouflage them…Really, Eve? Do you want to prove that the worm is so ungrateful as to eat his own mother?”
She looked around. He was right. Defeated she transferred her eyes to his bare back and left them there, transfixed. An hour went by. He was grateful for the quiet.
“Adam, I have it!” she yelled, fell on her back, laughed, waved her legs instead of her arms, swung her arms instead of her legs, created unnecessary commotion.
“Holy Enigma! Affray! Affray! Why shout and kick? ” Her shrilly proclamation had interfered with his peace.
“Adam, if you want me quiet, we will have to put the apple on your back. You do not have worms…and well, if you do, they cannot wiggle out through your skin and attack the apple before it bears.”
“Adam. Let us strike a saliva handshake- disgusting body fluids type of deal. Binding and hard to go back on. I will shut my trap if you let the apple sit on your back for an entire moon.”
“How will I function? Release my bladder? Eat my food? Stretch my limbs?”
“Okay, Adam, I will take those four questions and assume that you don’t want the deal. I, consequently, will keep talking. I will talk without ceasing. Rumble, nag, chatter, squeak and shriek till the day or night you die.”
He knew she was capable.
“Alright, we have a binding contract.”
Adam spit on his hand. Eve wiped her pudenda then her armpits. They shook hands.
She put the apple on his back. He was happy for the calm but wondered if he would still be fine after the moon and whether after that same moon, he would have to bear her probably stinky loud mouth again?
Linda Musita © 2011