Sarah Lucas woke up one morning to find her room covered in genitalia. On first glance, the genitalia was all human, but as her eyes kept piercing through the fuzzy cobweb of recent sleep, Sarah could see that this was in fact not the case. The genitalia (and Sarah was quite an expert on the subject) was way too exotic, bizarre, inexplicable. Some of it could belong to porcupines, to giant hedgehogs, to unicorns, to creatures from Mars.
Sarah Lucas was greatly animated. Her first intention was to call the police, but it was soon replaced by another one: to call her manager and set up a London exhibition for next Sunday. In the end, she decided against both. Partly because all the sockets in her room now strongly resembled vaginas (which meant she could hardly plug in her discharged mobile phone) and partly because the moment she picked up her Blackberry from the bedside table, the Blackberry turned out to be a ridiculously huge penis with what seemed and felt like a monstrously stiff erection.
Sarah got out of bed. She wanted to believe that hers was a case of an extremely high postmodernist fever, but the more she familiarized herself with what insisted to be her room, the less it looked like some particularly fucked-up hallucination. Oddly, all was in place: the Oriental vase, her working tools, her hat, the beautiful disarray of her works – it’s just that by some divine or devilish will it had all turned overnight into this amazing mess of cocks and pussies. Sarah was again and again reminded of that typewriter scene in Cronenberg’s adaptation of Naked Lunch… The Oriental vase was a true sensation. To say that she had never seen (or, indeed, imagined) anything quite like that would have been a gross understatement. This was monumental, this could humble a mammoth.
She cast a heavy but already sleepless glance in the direction of her bed. Yes, that too. Jesus, what kind of female (bar Mother Earth, of course) could possess that?!
Did Sarah enjoy it all? Did she consider this… interesting, exciting, alluring? In some strange way she did. The whole thing looked kind of breathtaking, artsy and edgy to the point of total delirium. But there was some restless feeling, too. What if it wasn’t just this room of hers that had genitalia spread all over it? What about the kitchen? What about the forks and the cups? What if a saggy pair of walrus testicles was now hanging from the ceiling in every room of her apartment? Instead of her exquisite chandeliers? Her imagination kept painting the labialized toilet bowl. No, she couldn’t possibly bring herself to that. No way.
Sarah made her second move of the morning and immediately stepped onto something. She looked down. The strangely soft and inflated pencil ejaculated lavishly all over her bare feet. Now this was disgusting. What else was disgusting? Well, the fact that it was all her yesterday’s work. Her sculptures, her sketches, even a couple of still-life paintings. Ruined now, mutilated, gone, dead, turned real.
And then Sarah remembered something. Her drawings! Her childhood drawings were stuffed somewhere under her bed, and without thinking twice Sarah Lucas selflessly threw herself on the floor (which, thankfully, still looked like the floor). There was a long cancerous pause before Sarah reemerged with a dusty, yellow roll of paper.
- Intact, – uttered Sarah, trying to spread it open.
She couldn’t. In her very own hands, right there and then, the roll of paper was slowly but mercilessly turning itself into a ridiculously huge… banana.
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