[I encountered an Hendrix College professor in front of River Rock Realty on Kavanaugh Blvd. We enjoyed a meandering conversation, but eventually he told me a remarkable Civil War tale from the wilderness of West Virginia]
The battle was about to be joined in some remote swath of woods in West Virginia.
Both sides consisted of inexperienced, young country boys. According to his story, the terror of impending combat was met with systematic spasms of homosexual frenzy. Through North and South camps, front lines would dissolve into clutches of explicit fraternal union a mile long, crossing without regard through enemy lines. Maddened, grimaced soldiers frantically and communally groped each other amongst the fumes of homosexual panic moldering upon the leafy forest floor.
This frenzy was broken only by their belly’s pangs of hunger. Without warning, their euphoric grasping lust transformed into gluttonous rage! Cannibalistic droves of naked soldiers rampaged the hills, gnawing the flesh of the last remaining decent human beings in West Virginia. No longer were there distinctions between Union and Confederate. It was simply a wilderness riot of lust, hunger and naked, meaningless aggression. The ferocious onslaught of depravity was matched only by the unprecedented level of cowardice by everyone involved. [Read on…]
He continued to tell me that even after the Civil War was long over, many renegade soldiers continued in this new, alternate lifestyle. One man in particular flourished in it. John Klotter was a John Brown look-alike who, many decades later, spawned a large herd of progeny, each of whom emulated his behavior and revered him as his god. John had close to 100 such offspring (or grand-offspring.) Each was the product of rape/gender-misidentification.
On many occasions, West Virginians found themselves enjoying the beautiful, natural vistas of rolling countryside one minute, only to find themselves overrun by a herd of 100 naked, pastie, feral human-beings the next. This herd (dubbed The John-Klott or just The Klott) was known to pour out of the woods inexplicably; with little notice, like a dam bursting. One would hear the thunder of crunching tree branches and see wavering tree tops and then the The Klott would emerge from the tree line and swarm into the pasture toward them.
They each wore long, straggly “civil war beards” but no clothing. They had dirty, pale skin, lanky arms and legs, with nearly bald, peach-fuzzy heads. They looked like those twenty-something males you see at alternative music venues today. (A friend once pointed at two such characters in a bar and whispered: “Fetid Gnomes.”) The Fetid Gnomes of The Klott were selfish, mean, soulless and always looking for sex. And they did so like a single organism.
The Klott’s constituent members (The Klotters) would flail their arms and jockey for position within the tight swarm as it negotiated corners in pursuit of food, or a love interest. Each craved to be the first to befoul the next sex-crime victim with his demented effluence, a tremendous personal achievement.
Incidentally, the professor said that while rampaging, if a Klotter were to trip and fall, the rest of the Klott would stop, surround their fallen brother and take their pleasure upon him before continuing their onslaught against civilization.
[The professor stopped here. He promised to finish the story, if our paths ever crossed again.]
