jewelled navels

by lotus rose

Ha ha ha. She awoke and rolled.

Santa had spoken to her last night, even though she had been sure he wasn't real. He'd stolen cookies, upturned chairs. But he'd left a jewel for her navel.

And hahaha, she thought.

Jewels were power. They'd always been. From Cleopatra on the Nile, to the present day. They were shining, twinkling emblems of power.

She slipped it into the cavern of her belly button, legacy of her birth. Writhing, crawling, itching, burning. It pierced into her. She felt the sharp flash of pain, then the rush to her head.

Now it felt good. And hahahah, she thought as warm, red blood trickled down her lower tummy, her cute lower tummy.

And she sang this song as she hummed and shook:

Yummy yummy yummy there's a jewel in my tummy, a jewel that Santa gave to me. Yummy yummy yummy there's a jewel in my tummy and it's time for the world to see.

Her green eyes twinkled deviously and she seemed to have a rosy glow in her cheeks as she prepared to show herself to the world. She carefully cut a beautiful hole in her shirt.

She went to work.

Her favorite coworker saw her and her head almost unscrewed off her neck from the double-take. "Candice!" her coworker said. "You look marvelous!"

Candice smiled so big, the top of her head almost fell off, then she said, "I know." Then she pointed at the jewel in her navel, which sparkled like a star.

But Candice felt that there was something missing. Her jewelled navel had yet to reach its full potential.

See, Candice had a Philosophy. She felt the world was made up of nice people who mean well. She worshipped the dimpled god.

There was meaning in the dimple.

See, a dimple, is a cavern, much like a navel. But a dimple is different. It is the result of imperfect musculature and appears when someone smiles.

In essence, it is an imperfection that appears when we feel joy. It is an imperfection that is considered cute.

A navel is also considered cute, and is also a cavern. Dimples and navels are diametrically opposed.

People with deep navels have no dimples. People with big dimples have shallow navels.

People with big dimples are constantly, ecstaticly happy. People with exceptionally deep navels are very deep people indeed, prone to melancholy, and lost in constant thought.

Candice had always had a deep navel.

Candice felt the world was a horrid failure. Poverty and disease. War. Violence. Ignorance. It both depressed and infuriated her. Donning the navel jewelry was an act of aggression projected inward.

It collected and focused in her gut.

For the first time in her life, as if it were a talking mouth, her navel was speaking to her.

At first it was unintelligible, and said things like, glubglubglubglubblubglub blubglub

But that was only its learning stage, as, like an infant, it learned to speak.

Then, one day, it said, "Momma."

Then it said, "Momma, society is ruled by structures of power. Nietzsche realized this truth and spoke of the ‘will to power,' a natural instinct in man to dominate those who are weaker. Candice, I am speaking to you today to empower your will to power. Seek your power and the world will be solved."

Her and her navel had more and more conversations. One day, her navel told her the meaning of life: "It all starts in the womb. In the womb, we are all attached to our mother, a ‘woman.' ‘Womb' and ‘Woman' are similar words, and understandably so. And here's the secret. Remove the ‘man' from ‘Woman' and what do you have? That's right: ‘Wom' . . . now, add the state of ‘b'ing and you go back to the womb. So, man must be removed from the face of the planet in order to return woman to the state of ‘b'ing, which is the womb."

It made so much sense, she didn't know why she hadn't figured it out before.

She decided to kill all the men on the planet, one by one.

But after killing a few guys, she realized that it would take forever.

She had to go straight to the top. Her navel encouraged her.

So Candice sought out the world dictator. Her navel told her that the dictator was actually the antichrist.

It took a few years, but she finally managed to get herself alone with him in his office.

His shirt was immaculately white, shining gloriously. With a smug look, his eyes roved up and down her, lingering on the hole in her shirt out from which her jewel twinkled.

The dictator of the world smiled big. His dimples were huge.

Her navel was whispering to her: "Money is power. The quest for power is a game. Add ‘game' to ‘money.' What do you have? That's right. ‘Monogamy.' Monogamy is the way to power. You must bond with this dictator."

Then her navel was goading her: rub tummies rub tummies rub tummies. . . .

She lifted her shirt up to expose her tummy. She looked at the dictator and he knew what she wanted. He lifted his shirt up, revealing his paunch. She stared at his belly in disbelief, for the dictator's belly was smooth--he was navelless.

She walked up to the dictator and began sliding her tummy against his. He began to slide as well, until they were rhythmically sliding up and down against each other.

Then the dictator shouted out in pain.

He backed away and stood there with a gaping hole in his paunch. The coils of his intestines flopped onto the floor. They writhed like snakes then rose up into the air and did a magical, enchanting air dance.

She looked to her navel for explanation.

Her navel said, "What do you think the ‘L' in ‘Navel' stands for?"

"Love in my tummy?"

"No, it stands for ‘Lies,' because that's all I've been telling you. Take the ‘L' away and what do you have? ‘Nave.' Cuz that's what I am, a knave. Incidentally, have you ever thought of how ‘Navel' sounds a lot like ‘Evil'? And for that matter, have you ever thought about how ‘Santa' and ‘Satan' have the same letters?"

Candice struggled to understand what her navel was saying to her.

Her navel said, "I'm the antichrist."

"If you're the antichrist, then who is. . . ."

Her navel gave forth a huge belly laugh.