Mr. Fountleroy Is Coming

If you’re in the habit of keeping up with the literary comings and goings of our fair city, you’ve probably noticed that controversial author Miles Fountleroy will be here later in the summer to read from his yet unpublished book, “Miles of Bowels,” which addresses the complex range of emotions he’s experienced since his most recent botched attempt at ritual suicide.

For those of you who are not familiar with Mr. Fountleroy’s work, I’ve prepared a selected bibliography so that you might acquaint yourselves prior to his visit. Provided you’re not offended by racism, necrophilia, bestiality, incest, animal sacrifice, spontaneous human combustion, abuse of the elderly, Satan worship or local news anchors (among other things), I highly advise that you check out the following.

Suck Me Off, Mandingo (1964): This story of homosexual slave traders was almost immediately hailed as one most offensive in history by critics the world over. Subsequently, it was banned everywhere but Canada, where apparently there was no one proficient enough in English to understand just how truly hateful it was. It’s still popular as a children’s bedtime story in parts of Manitoba.

The Rise and Fall of Mr. Domo-Erection (1982): Purportedly a revenge tale for estranged lover Yoko Ono, with whom he had a tryst during one of her many temporary splits with John Lennon, this is actually considered by many to be Fountleroy’s most sentimental book, replete as it is with passages like this one:

I’ll fuck your ass like an A-bomb on Nagasaki, trip on your mushroom cloud as sparks fly from your cunt like a lawn edger nicking the sidewalk, a boy mowing the grass for the first time.

Despite his penchant for mixed metaphors, sexist rhetoric and the book’s dismal sales, Fountleroy actually managed to sell the movie rights to Mr. Erection. A production was launched in the mid 80s, though the project was abandoned midway through shooting, as the book’s pivotal scenes depicting zero gravity abortion proved too expensive to film.

The Day I Raped and Murdered Bridget Jones and Pissed on Her Diary (1999): Fountleroy is still embroiled in bitter litigation with Bridget Jones’s Diary author Helen Fielding over this retelling of the pudgy British everywomen’s story from the point of view of a stalker who eventually kidnaps, tortures and kills Ms. Jones—over the course of 35 agonizing years. Fountleroy maintains his innocence, citing “artistic license, freedom of speech,” and the fact that “Bridget Jones was a disgusting whore who deserved exactly what she got.” Apparently, there was some confusion on the part of Mr. Fountleroy, as he was under the impression that Bridget Jones was a real person he’d dated in the late 60s.

Fuck You, Flower (2002): This collection of early nature poems represents Fountleroy’s only published work in the form. While the imagery is often a bit stark and inaccessible (as in “Trees That Don’t Look Like Trees”), there are still moments of genuine insight and tenderness, as in “Hills Like Huge Tits” and “The Sunrise From a Port-O-Let.” A first in modern letters, three of the poems here are accompanied by “Scratch ‘N Sniff” images.

In closing, I’d like to mention that should you attend the reading, it’s not advisable to make direct eye contact with Mr. Fountleroy, nor to address him without first identifying yourself by the name of the member of the Illinios Supreme Court circa 1947 to whom you are closest in height. (Apparently, he researched the state judiciary for a report in sixth grade and would hate to see such a feat of memory go in vain—which is certainly understandable.)

Also, there will be no flash photography allowed.