Tagged: father

“Are You Getting Out of Here?”

  • by jen“Should I come with you?’
  • “Rap rap-rap rap-rap rap-ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, rap!”
  • you can’t do it in less than six hours
  • had (merely in playfulness) drawn his bayonet
  • I don’t remember what day of the week it was

Tune in next time part 237                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Are you getting out of here?” Darlene asked, still rocking her hips. “Should I come with you?” She gazed at the trio on the bed. “Or..?”

“Well I’m certainly not sticking around to watch,” I replied.

From the tangle of nude limbs I heard a female voice repeating, “Rap rap-rap rap-rap rap-ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, rap!” It sounded like someone trying to speak morse code, which is something they teach at the Academy. You can learn it, but you can’t do it in less than six hours, so the course usually takes two days. But I did it in one. While my brain tried to catch all the nuances and decode the message, my eyes had the unenviable task of tracing out all the ways the three lovers were intertwined in order to see which woman’s mouth was free to speak unencumbered.

I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t witnessing sex. That my father, a famous general, had (merely in playfulness) drawn his bayonet. But I wasn’t buying it.

I don’t remember what day of the week it was when I learned spoken morse code, but I was glad my advisor had insisted. What I was hearing today was not merely one Svenborgian sister speaking, but the two of them alternating to pass along a most astounding message about my wife and Viscount Arlo.

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At My Father’s Statement

  • by Kentto peep between the curtains
  • exposed him
  • just a mess inside that car
  • although she didn’t even own a car
  • seemed to me, judging from his fingers,

Tune in next time part 232                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

At my father’s statement, questions took flight in my mind like a flock of startled birds. But now was not the time to seek those answers.

“You know, the world thinks you’re dead,” I said. “Supposing it turned out they were right after all?” He sat down heavily on the mattress. “Glad to see I have your attention. Sit there and behave for a minute and we’ll get this over with. You have to stop,” I glanced at the naked woman, “renting affection.”

The Asian woman scampered through a gap in the velvet along the wall. She turned back to peep between the curtains, just a face levitating in the blackness of the room. “That is not what it is!” she cried. “I’m not a prostitute. We’re good friends. Last night, I complained that he never exposed himself to me. So, he did.”

Father’s wheezing laughter grated on my eardrums. “In a New York minute, I did! Man, things were just a mess inside that car.” Father’s eyes drifted closed.

I snapped my fingers. “Stay with us, you pervert.”

“We were in a car together,” he went on in a dreamy voice, “although she didn’t even own a car according to my security team.”

“It was stolen,” the face in the curtains giggled. Father giggled back.

I turned to Cleopatra and Esmerelda. “Sounds like you’re mistaken about the abuse of treasury funds. Now I need to talk to my father about some family business.”

The sisters stood with their arms folded. Unconvinced.

I turned back to Father and snapped my fingers at him some more. I wanted to make him explain about Mom and the one-eyed Svenborgian, but suddenly I was unconvinced, too. Which meant I was pretty convinced I couldn’t believe anything he told me, so there was no reason to bother asking. Because I noticed a clue I had overlooked before, a clue that told me there was more to this story. Because it seemed to me, judging from his fingers, that my father had recently been handling a lot of currency.

I looked at the Asian woman and narrowed my eyes. “You,” I said, “tell me the truth about what’s going on here.”

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At the End of a Long, Dank Hallway

  • by jenWe have a ghost, you know.
  • for a few ostentatious minutes
  • “A kidnapper?”
  • though it was badly damaged
  • my bunkmate has malaria

Tune in next time part 231                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

At the end of a long, dank hallway, Esmerelda pressed her eyeball against a retinal scanner and a thick metal panel slid open. The room beyond had black velvet covering every surface, including the floor. Our footsteps were silent as we entered.

The room was lit only by a spotlight that was focused on a raised platform — an island of black velvet in a sea of the same. Upon that platform, which was most likely a bed, lay the nude forms of my father and an Asian woman. Her black hair blended with the velvet, giving her head the unsettling appearance of being incomplete. She coughed.

My father sat up and grumbled, “I think my bunkmate has malaria. Get me a different girl.”

Esmerelda shoved me forward, hissing, “Tell him no more whores!”

When I was a child I had a good relationship with my father, though it was badly damaged through the years by his reckless behavior. Would he listen to me now?

“What’s this?” my father demanded when he caught sight of me. “A kidnapper?”

“No such luck, old man,” I said. And then I stood there while, for a few ostentatious minutes, he stomped around on the bed, bellowing about respect, neglecting to cover his nudity, waving his arms all around. The Asian girl rolled herself onto the floor and stood up. I was relieved to see she did in fact possess an entire head.

I gave Dad some time to tire himself out and work through the familiar first act of his usual tirade. When he finally paused for breath, I said, “We have a ghost, you know. A ghost of a chance of getting you out of here alive. Viscount Arlo is in league with the Contrarians.”

“Arlo?”

“You know, the bald Svenborgian with the eye patch.”

All the hair on my father’s body stood up. I know because he was still naked. “That guy is such a dick,” he said. “I don’t know what your mother ever saw in him.”

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