FORVM » Print-Ausgabe » Jahrgänge 1968 - 1981 » Jahrgang 1981 » No. 329/330 » Sonne Nr. 3
Brian Spray

»Marco Prolo«

Fragment aus der Aussteiger-Oper »The Fall of Metropolis« des Wiener Rockers Brian Spray

Marco Prolo is commissioned by the Pope to deliver an urgent message to the President of Austria, who is located in his glittering Presidential Mansion in Vienna, the most Eastern point of Western Europe. Marco Prolo’s path to the President is very rough and dangerous, at one point he is badly beaten and robbed of all his money and possessions by the Stapo, the halfcriminal secret-police of the President; he is left to die.

Fortunately, the Lord has mercy on him, and his badly beaten remains are discovered by the three commandoes from the Anarchistisches Basis Committee, they take him to their hearts, and help his recovery, and pledge to aid him in his quest and protect him in his journey to the Eastern End of the Empire.

He quickly recovers and continues his voyage under the guidance and protection of the A.B.C. Commandoes. They travel on and come to a point where the East meets with the West. There they decide to rest for the night, they set up camp. The A.B.C. Commandoes, exhausted and in need of a good night’s rest bid Marco Prolo a good and peaceful sleep and they retire to their tents.

Marco sees the menacing silhouette of a woman on a nearby dune and moves to investigate the mysterious shape of what appears before him. Like the fish eating the worm from the hook, he is lured into a trap. Marco turns around to see the A.B.C. Camp besieged on all sides by a squad of deadly Kobras, and in one flash of thunder and lighting, the 3 A.B.C. Commandoes are brutally murdered by the merciless Kobras of Death.

Marco in a fit of rage and anger, in attempt to avenge the senseless massacre, thrusts his sword into each of the Kobras, before they can proceed to rob the dead of all their possessions. The deadly Kobras lost in their murderous euphoria became the victims of their own murderous brutality at the point of Marco’s sword.

Marco turns his attention once more to the seductive silhouette which had diverted his attention from the invasion of the deadly Kobra squad, and as a result led to the death of his comrades. He runs to the foot of the dune and stares up in amazement to see the figure of a princess, dressed in the uniform of a Commander in Chief of the Kobras.

MARCO PROLO: You are the subject of my wrath, beautiful princess, your life is a book which already has been read and cast aside.

PRINCESS INCEST: I am the Princess Incest and as a heir to the presidential throne I am neither your nor anybody’s subject. And you are Marco Prolo, I assume, the highly trained terrorist from the Vatican. You are defending your interests very well, Mr. Prolo, you were a good pupil. But, remember, you didn’t learn a thing from our teacher in the Eastern hemisphere.

MARCO PROLO: I am inclined to extend my terrorist skills and put an end to you, Princess Promiscuous.

PRINCESS INCEST: Wait a minute, Prolo, you shall do as I say. Put that sword away, and take off your blood stained shirt, do as I say! Listen very carefully, Prolo, if you cannot lay your eggs in the golden way you shall be the one who shall be nothing more than a memory, understood?

MARCO PROLO: What do you mean, Incest?

PRINCESS INCEST: Take your trousers down, come over here and fuck me.

MARCO PROLO: It’s true, I never learned a thing from your teachers in the East, but I may oblige.

(After a short time)

PRINCESS INCEST: Why are you fucking me like I am some fucking whore, huh?

MARCO PROLO: I’m sorry Incest, but you’re about as innocent as the Virgin Mary was, when she had an orgy with the 12 Apostles, would you like more to fuck with your dead comrades? (She slaps Prolo)

PRINCESS INCEST: Your golden eggs have saved your life, Prolo. Now, you shall be my saviour until I have no longer use for you.

MARCO PROLO: Hand over the gun, Incest!

PRINCESS INCEST: Fuck me again and it’s yours, Prolo. (They do it again)

PRINCESS INCEST: You’re a little out of order, Prolo, but slowly you will recognize that so far east you can trust no beast! (She hits him on the head, starts to cry, and sings softly)

I heard that there is a new peace-maker, a prophet and a problem breaker, he stands in a guru’s shoes, he’s free to do with you what he choose, Charismatic Dictator, you can do anything, Charismatic Dictator you can let the boys in.

Mama thought that you cold save her, her children said they wanted to rape her, Papa didn’t have no choice, he shivers at the sound of your voice.

Charismatic Dictator you can anything, Charismatic Dictator, you can let the boys in.

You operate a manipulator, censorship in all the newspapers, you got nothing left to conceal, you make the kids forget what is real, Charismatic Dictator, you can do anything, Charismatic Dictator, you can let the boys in. (Prolo wakes up at the palace of Princess Incest)

PRINCESS INCEST: I beg your forgiveness Master Prolo, but as Christ, strung out on the cross had mercy on his oppressors, surely it’s not too much to ask from you, and besides, I couldn’t bear to let you leave me, your every wish is my command, Marco.

MARCO PROLO: Go shit whith your corrupt politics, Incest, the words from your governmental mouth are only worthy for the ears of a deaf man. If my wish is your command then the weapons in the murderous hands of your Kobra Commandoes should be confiscated and destroyed and this psychological war of suppression of the people should cease. It’s a Prolo’s world, Incest!

PRINCESS INCEST: That’s all very well, Prolo, but how do we protect our law officers from these Anarchistic Barbarians without good weapons? They are plundering our shops, terrorizing innocent citizens, and giving our insurance companies very much overtime!

MARCO PROLO: Proceed with your judicial brutality, Incest, those with the guns on their hips have become the judges, and their victims with blood on their lips shall nevertheless sing the bloody songs to spread the horrific evidence written note by note on the massive scale of your atrocities. Belsen was a gas and everyone is the victim of his own fatal Incest. (He begins to sing):

Maybe you’ll find yourself on another star, maybe you’ll get killed by a fast car; passion is out of fashion, you’re so afraid of the seed, the cells are dead inside your head, can’t you feel the need. Why, why, no-body knows why, nobody knows why, why, why, nobody knows why, no-body knows why. Maybe you’ll get infected by someone sick, someday you’ll get stung by a sharp prick, motion is just a notion, although your legs are so long, you’re paralysed up to your eyes, but you’re feeling so strong, why, why (etc). My resistance to you is so weak, maybe I’m in love with you in the music, I’m so sick of you with all your pride and greed, the cells are dead inside your head, you’re beginning to bleed, why, why no-body knows why, no-body knows why.

PRINCESS INCEST: These ugly, desperate, degenerate Anarchist rebels are correct in one belief that in total destruction lies the certainty of solution. On this hypothesis it is the preoccupation of our Kobra security forces to suppress those who rebel and eliminate them if elimination proves to be necessary. Only under the whip of a master with a strong hand can order be maintained. Sometimes the lion-tamer must kill the beast who questions his authority or he himself will be killed.

MARCO PROLO: The wild beast in mankind is destined to rebel against the authority of your murderous regime, Incest, before he, too, is locked up behind the bars of your prison cells. For he, who craves to be free, death is more inviting than to live from one day to the next at the mercy of your butchers. Why don’t you give the deadly Kobra the marching orders and put the wretched ugly losers out of their misery because he who chooses the path which leads to your guns chooses his own extermination, so exterminate! But before, do look closely at the Kobra Commandoes and if your sight does not betray you, you shall see much uglier, much more wretched and much more degenerated creatures than any one of the rebels. Instead of guns the rebels have tools, instead of rank they have knowledge, and instead of hate they have love which instead of the constant contamination could cultivate fresh growth in the consciousness of humanity ... at every confrontation your Kobra and his colleagues are blessed with the secret host of the rebel’s saliva spat full in his face. Your Kobra is too proud to accept this blessing, his pride goes so far and is so detestable as to justify genocide.

(He spits in her face, she spits back, then they kiss)

MARCO PROLO: Your celluloid, schizoid, faschoid, nazi society is so close to death, Incest.

PRINCESS INCEST: But promise you will stay with me, Prolo, when the President abdicates I shall be omnipotent and you shall be my guiding light — we shall buy a rocket-ship that can orbit the earth at the speed of light and you could spend 40 days in the celestial wilderness and when you return to earth you would be the undisputed saviour of mankind!

MARCO PROLO: That would only make me dizzy and give me terrible indigestion, Incest, and besides, I have very important work to do here on earth instead of hanging out in space! By the way, where does the President live, I’m already a week behind schedule, the Pope shall be losing his patience with me, he’s relying on a prompt report to send St. Peter, because, as the whole of Europe knows, the President’s life is in grave danger.

Doctor: Next one please ... Ah Mister Schmidt!

Patient: Doctor, my eyesight is so bad and the glasses you gave me are too weak.

Doctor: Take down your trousers ... ah ha ... a relatively clear case of excessive masturbation. Stop this excess and come again next week to see me.

Next week:

Doctor: Where is your white stick, Mr. Schmidt?

Patient: I did not need to bring it because my eyesight is improving so quickly that I am almost recovered from blindness.

Doctor: Very good, Mr. Schmidt, I don’t think you require any further treatment, but come again next week that we can trace the development.

Next week:

Patient: Where are you doctor, ah. I’m sorry, I’m late, but I had difficulty finding the exit in the Underground.

Doctor: Eh, I assume you have once again contracted the symptoms of your illness, Mr. Schmidt. You are losing your sight, Mr Schmidt and this means you have once again been masturbating excessively.

Patient: You may be right, doctor, yesterday I could see everything around me almost perfectly. But nothing of what I could see, gave more pleasure than my perverted sexual phantasies.



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