AUSHERMAN'S MANY CONTRIBUTIONS TO
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Golding's Lithium Coda
by Stephen Ausherman
In 1954 William Golding, still reeling in depression over conclusions he'd drawn from his own work, checked
himself into a psychiatric facility. There, with the aid of experimental antidepressants, he penned a brief
extension to his now famous classic, Lord of the Flies. At the request of his family, it remained sealed in his
medical records, not to be released until the fiftieth anniversary of his novel. However, as the deadline for the
LOTF Golden Edition draws near, some family members insist that the records remain closed. Determined as
they are to keep the so-called 'Lithium Coda' in the dark, we've obtained a copy. This final scene appears
below in its entirety.
------
Spying the cruiser, the officer suddenly remembered his mission. Presently he spoke.
"Jolly good news, boys. Aboard that ship, I have ever so much iced cream and candies. It's all meant for the
American troops in North Africa, but I think we ought to enjoy it now."
The children cheered, all a-bubble with decorous excitement.
At once, two phantom shadows emerged from the burning thickets. Silhouetted against the flickering flames,
they appeared the color of a storm cloud, and smoke billowed around them. The littluns screamed a scream
of fright and desperation.
Ralph pushed back his fair hair and squinted at the approaching beasts. There came a rushing gasp from his
lips.
Samneric gazed with wide eyes. A look of recognition swept over their face.
"It's, it's--"
"Is it?"
"It is!"
"Piggy!"
"Simon!"
Ralph wrapped the fat boy in a manly embrace. "Piggy! I thought you were dead! Your auntie will be ever so
pleased that you are still alive."
"Sucks to my auntie," Piggy said. He grinned mischievously, pleased despite himself. "I don't never want to go
back to the Home Counties."
"And Simon," Jack said, "didn't we spear you to death in a tribal ritual gone too far?"
"No," Simon replied. "You missed."
Percival Wemys Madison's senses finally returned to him. "Then, then wherever have you been?" he asked.
Simon looked at him dumbly. For a moment he had a fleeting picture of the strange glamour that he'd been
sharing with Piggy whilst the others set fire to the island and ran hither and thither like pigs in a pig run.
"We stayed with a family," Piggy at last spoke. "They live on the other side of the island. Their name is
Robinson and they're Swiss. They have the most fanciful accommodations with wondrous amenities. Oh so
many chocolates, and they've trained monkeys to clean and cook, and launder stockings and knickers!"
At that point, the other children noticed Piggy's and Simon's pressed uniforms and clean stockings, and they
felt shame for their own matted hair, unwiped noses and filthy bodies--still naked, save for the pigments and
mud.
With a look of profound disbelief, the officer observed the two boys. He knew, as a rule, when people were
telling the truth, but his instincts failed him now and doubt settled over his eyes like a grim shadow. He spoke
in a confounded voice unbecoming of an officer.
"Chocolates? From the Swiss? I've never heard anything so strange." He pondered the idea for a moment.
"Swiss chocolate. I say, was it any good?"
"Yes sir," Simon exclaimed. "It's wacco!"
"Quite wizard," Piggy agreed, smacking his lips.
"Well then," the officer spoke, choosing his words carefully. "We shall use the artillery aboard the cruiser to
conquer the Swiss, then we'll have their chocolates for ourselves!"
"No," Jack said. "That would be cruel. Let's offer them some of our candies. Maybe then they'll share theirs."
The other boys very much liked Jack's idea, and they rejoiced in it. "Hurrah!" they cheered thrice.
The officer, surrounded by these noises, was moved and a little embarrassed. His eyes focused on something
beyond them, on the burning wreckage of the island. "What about the flames?" he asked. "Won't they destroy
the Swiss and all their chocolate anyway?"
Piggy laughed the innocent laugh of a child. "They're not flames at all!" he said loudly, and he dashed into the
sweeping orange mass. Bit by bit, they consumed him. They alighted by his runnels of sweat and drank. They
tickled under his nostrils and played leap-frog on his shoulders. "They're just butterflies! It's the annual
migration of butterflies, and they've all gathered here!"
The other children rushed in to join him. Together they placed their hands squarely on their hips and danced a
most wondrous jig. And Piggy, he danced the best of them all.
The officer, sensing the fat child's profound wisdom, bowed down before him, for truly he was Lord of the
Butterflies. He soaked in this wisdom until he discerned that verily, the true nature of man is good. Yes, very
good indeed.
Oh happy day, he sang. Oh happy day.
---
by Stephen Ausherman
In 1954 William Golding, still reeling in depression over conclusions he'd drawn from his own work, checked
himself into a psychiatric facility. There, with the aid of experimental antidepressants, he penned a brief
extension to his now famous classic, Lord of the Flies. At the request of his family, it remained sealed in his
medical records, not to be released until the fiftieth anniversary of his novel. However, as the deadline for the
LOTF Golden Edition draws near, some family members insist that the records remain closed. Determined as
they are to keep the so-called 'Lithium Coda' in the dark, we've obtained a copy. This final scene appears
below in its entirety.
------
Spying the cruiser, the officer suddenly remembered his mission. Presently he spoke.
"Jolly good news, boys. Aboard that ship, I have ever so much iced cream and candies. It's all meant for the
American troops in North Africa, but I think we ought to enjoy it now."
The children cheered, all a-bubble with decorous excitement.
At once, two phantom shadows emerged from the burning thickets. Silhouetted against the flickering flames,
they appeared the color of a storm cloud, and smoke billowed around them. The littluns screamed a scream
of fright and desperation.
Ralph pushed back his fair hair and squinted at the approaching beasts. There came a rushing gasp from his
lips.
Samneric gazed with wide eyes. A look of recognition swept over their face.
"It's, it's--"
"Is it?"
"It is!"
"Piggy!"
"Simon!"
Ralph wrapped the fat boy in a manly embrace. "Piggy! I thought you were dead! Your auntie will be ever so
pleased that you are still alive."
"Sucks to my auntie," Piggy said. He grinned mischievously, pleased despite himself. "I don't never want to go
back to the Home Counties."
"And Simon," Jack said, "didn't we spear you to death in a tribal ritual gone too far?"
"No," Simon replied. "You missed."
Percival Wemys Madison's senses finally returned to him. "Then, then wherever have you been?" he asked.
Simon looked at him dumbly. For a moment he had a fleeting picture of the strange glamour that he'd been
sharing with Piggy whilst the others set fire to the island and ran hither and thither like pigs in a pig run.
"We stayed with a family," Piggy at last spoke. "They live on the other side of the island. Their name is
Robinson and they're Swiss. They have the most fanciful accommodations with wondrous amenities. Oh so
many chocolates, and they've trained monkeys to clean and cook, and launder stockings and knickers!"
At that point, the other children noticed Piggy's and Simon's pressed uniforms and clean stockings, and they
felt shame for their own matted hair, unwiped noses and filthy bodies--still naked, save for the pigments and
mud.
With a look of profound disbelief, the officer observed the two boys. He knew, as a rule, when people were
telling the truth, but his instincts failed him now and doubt settled over his eyes like a grim shadow. He spoke
in a confounded voice unbecoming of an officer.
"Chocolates? From the Swiss? I've never heard anything so strange." He pondered the idea for a moment.
"Swiss chocolate. I say, was it any good?"
"Yes sir," Simon exclaimed. "It's wacco!"
"Quite wizard," Piggy agreed, smacking his lips.
"Well then," the officer spoke, choosing his words carefully. "We shall use the artillery aboard the cruiser to
conquer the Swiss, then we'll have their chocolates for ourselves!"
"No," Jack said. "That would be cruel. Let's offer them some of our candies. Maybe then they'll share theirs."
The other boys very much liked Jack's idea, and they rejoiced in it. "Hurrah!" they cheered thrice.
The officer, surrounded by these noises, was moved and a little embarrassed. His eyes focused on something
beyond them, on the burning wreckage of the island. "What about the flames?" he asked. "Won't they destroy
the Swiss and all their chocolate anyway?"
Piggy laughed the innocent laugh of a child. "They're not flames at all!" he said loudly, and he dashed into the
sweeping orange mass. Bit by bit, they consumed him. They alighted by his runnels of sweat and drank. They
tickled under his nostrils and played leap-frog on his shoulders. "They're just butterflies! It's the annual
migration of butterflies, and they've all gathered here!"
The other children rushed in to join him. Together they placed their hands squarely on their hips and danced a
most wondrous jig. And Piggy, he danced the best of them all.
The officer, sensing the fat child's profound wisdom, bowed down before him, for truly he was Lord of the
Butterflies. He soaked in this wisdom until he discerned that verily, the true nature of man is good. Yes, very
good indeed.
Oh happy day, he sang. Oh happy day.
---
|| HOLIDAY 12.22.05 |
What I Want for X-mas . . .
Stephen Ausherman: For Christmas I want the
mainstream media to stop prefacing my name with
'ex-rebel,' 'alleged assassin,' 'surviving conspirator'
and 'former dictator,' and start focusing on my more
recent accomplishments.
What I Want for X-mas . . .
Stephen Ausherman: For Christmas I want the
mainstream media to stop prefacing my name with
'ex-rebel,' 'alleged assassin,' 'surviving conspirator'
and 'former dictator,' and start focusing on my more
recent accomplishments.
New Year's Resolutions
Stephen Ausherman: Reduce fatwa declarations to three per week;
Step up my petition against the Oscar committee for neglecting Richard
Pryor's virtuoso performance in Superman III; Refrain from pimping
my website.
Stephen Ausherman: Reduce fatwa declarations to three per week;
Step up my petition against the Oscar committee for neglecting Richard
Pryor's virtuoso performance in Superman III; Refrain from pimping
my website.
