Tagged: horse

If I Recalled Correctly

  • by jenan ostrich almost killed Johnny
  • “Ineffable!”
  • used only for hand-to-hand combat
  • circled his thumbs
  • part of me is starting to think maybe I might be kind of ready to think about

Tune in next time part 883      Click Here for Earlier Installments

If I recalled correctly, it was also William Penn XII who started a stampede of the Academy’s livestock that time when an ostrich almost killed Johnny (as John was known in his youth). Was Small Dennis trying to warn me that William was planning an ostrich stampede in the petting zoo? I hadn’t spent much time with my brother-in-law, but it didn’t seem like the sort of thing he would do.

Perhaps I should incorporate the 12 from William’s name into my BareCheeks deciphering? If I did that the message became “Ineffable!”

That’s the sort of word we at the Academy used only for hand-to-hand combat. Surely Small Dennis would not be so bold as to throw a word such as Ineffable around willynilly. I straightened up to my full height and studied Small Dennis’s hands. My eyes circled his thumbs several times before I concluded I had nothing to fear from him. His thumbs were as small as the rest of him.

Was I reading too much into this? Was the BareCheeks cipher a red herring?

Part of me is starting to think maybe I might be kind of ready to think about maybe getting out of the spy business. It does a real number on my head sometimes.

When was the last time I’d slept? Or eaten?

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I Had Small Dennis in a Headlock

  • by jenruled out butterflies, moths, and fungus
  • eyes did pry and tongues did wag
  • his eccentricities, average looks, and careless dress
  • It was a bizarre message
  • brave enough to pee in the bathroom all by myself

Tune in next time part 879      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I had Small Dennis in a headlock inside the horse costume, when the bathroom door opened and someone entered. Small Dennis and I froze. We were so tangled up inside the costume that neither of us could see who it was.

The only voice that I less wanted to hear than Titania’s spoke. “Honestly,” my wife said with a chuckle, “Don’t you think I’m brave enough to pee in the bathroom all by myself?”

It was a bizarre message to hear from Fleur. She wasn’t normally one for repartee.

“Stand up,” she said, and when we’d done so she unzipped our costume and pulled it off. The fresh air was amazing, but my wife’s incredulous laughter stung.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked.

She pointed at Small Dennis and his lack of pants. “I’m laughing at his eccentricities, average looks, and careless dress. And you, in such a compromising position with him. The last time something like this happened, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. I’m sure you remember.”

Remember I did. It was an exceedingly embarrassing memory, and it made my stomach feel fluttery and strange. I tried to figure out how best to describe the sensation, and I ruled out butterflies, moths, and fungus, but couldn’t pin it down.

“Do you actually have to pee, Fleur? Or do you want to hear about what the clowns are planning?”

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I Assure You

  • by jenentirely appropriate for you to laugh
  • screamer extraordinaire
  • The weird part is what I *do* with the pizzas.
  • did more than have dinner together. Duh.
  • rub his mouth on my head

Tune in next time part 877      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I assure you, dear reader, that it is entirely appropriate for you to laugh when you picture me attempting to cut my way out of a two-man horse costume using a battery-powered nose hair trimmer. Go ahead and laugh even harder when I tell you my attempt failed. You see, Small Dennis was a screamer extraordinaire, and as soon as he saw what I was up to, he let loose an ear-splitting yelp. While the corduroy costume we shared, and the bathroom walls, would dampen his cries somewhat, I couldn’t take the chance of him drawing Titania to our position. I turned off the trimmer.

“Dude!” I whisper-yelled. “Doesn’t it feel like we’ve been trapped in this horse costume together for months?”

“Yes,” he hissed back. “I could swear we’ve been sweatin’ it up in this thing since, like, November. But that doesn’t matter! The mission matters!”

I sighed. It had been a long time since I’d worked with anyone so dedicated to his cause. “Tell me about this mission of yours.” I hoped he’d be so distracted in the telling that he wouldn’t notice me trying to unstick the zipper. I cautiously slipped my hand out through the hole under the tail.

“I can’t tell you the details, but it involves the pizzeria code. I have to send a message. The weird part is what I *do* with the pizzas. You know, after the message has been sent.”

The pizzeria code was popular among philandering spouses. They wanted their pizza parties to look innocent to outside eyes, but of course the cheaters did more than have dinner together. Duh. My own father had developed the code years before I was born, and he was one of the few to use it outside of extramarital shenanigans (he used it for those, too, of course). Was Small Dennis in league with my evil father? Or just having an affair?

I managed to get the zipper unjammed, and inched it slowly along. I was trying to keep Small Dennis from noticing, but I failed. He tried to whirl around indignantly, but since we were confined together inside a constricting cloth prison, he did something much more like rub his mouth on my head.

He then pounced on me and we fell to the floor in a tangle of sweaty brown corduroy.

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Small Dennis Slapped My Hand Away From the Zipper

  • by Kentcut off into shorts
  • clothing choice that I would be comfortable with
  • very soggy newspapers
  • a matching, facing toilet for when you can’t get off the john but have to lean over one at the same time
  • Three words… Nose Hair Trimmer.

Tune in next time part 876      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Small Dennis slapped my hand away from the zipper. “You’re jeopardizing the missions!” he hissed.

I ground my molars. The horse costume might have been tolerable if it had been cut off into shorts, but that still wouldn’t be a clothing choice that I would be comfortable with under the circumstances.

The best I could do was keep backpedaling and drag Small Dennis along with me. He put up a bit of a fight about that, but his resistance was comparable to a curtain of very soggy newspapers. I managed to bump open a door with my hip, and dragged us through it into what turned out to be a bathroom. But its setup was unconventional to say the least. There were two toilets and no partitions, meaning (possibly) that your conversational partner would have someplace to sit, or (more likely) you’d have available a matching, facing toilet for when you can’t get off the john but have to lean over one at the same time.

I hurried to explore the rest of the space before Small Dennis felt inspired.

On a shelf under the mirror, at last I spotted something truly useful in my current predicament. Three words… Nose Hair Trimmer.

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I Needed Two Things

  • by jennot *that* devoted to the future of air travel
  • and wiggling it, just a little?
  • not happy gargoyles
  • multiple kinds of puppets, all operated by
  • it would be a shining white box

Tune in next time part 875      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I needed two things: fresh air, and time to think. If I could get out of this blasted horse costume I’d have both, so that became my priority. Without Big Dennis across my back, I stood a better chance of eluding Titania. I stepped backwards as fast as I could toward the corner, dragging Small Dennis along for the moment.

“She was about to say where the ninja-clowns keep their blimp plans!” Small Dennis whined.

“Well my dude, it turns out I’m not *that* devoted to the future of air travel espionage.” I tried to stand up, but the horse costume didn’t release and I was still attached to Small Dennis.

“It’s not all about you, you know.”

I was getting really frustrated at still being tethered in close proximity to Small Dennis’s sweaty naked bum. “I need to get out of here. Can you try grabbing the zipper and wiggling it, just a little?”

“No.”

“No? Don’t you want–”

“What I want doesn’t matter. I’m on a mission. Something I thought you would understand. But I guess everyone was right at the Academy. They always said your family was a bunch of gargoyles, and not happy gargoyles either!”

This was news to me. I didn’t remember ever being called a gargoyle. The closest insult I could recall was when we were compared to multiple kinds of puppets, all operated by feral chimps. Which, you may note, is nothing whatsoever like a bunch of gargoyles.

“I’m on a mission of my own, Small Dennis.” That wasn’t exactly true, but if he believed me it would get me out of this humid tube of corduroy and give me a chance to decide whether the bigger threat lay in the clown-ninjas and their hot tub parties, or in their plans to abscond with all the airship’s bananas. I didn’t know where I would go to do my thinking, but wherever it was, it would be a shining white box of clean fresh air compared to my current surroundings.

I tried to get a hand free to jiggle the zipper before Titania rounded the corner and found us.

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My Encounter with Small Dennis’s Naked Rump

  • by jeneyes stinging
  • I don’t like this woman for a variety of reasons
  • no choir boy
  • gymnastically arranging their bodies
  • in a relatively sanitary fashion

Tune in next time part 873      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My encounter with Small Dennis’s naked rump left my eyes stinging and my ears ringing. I stepped backwards as quickly as I could and strongly considered just taking my half of the horse suit and bolting. But I couldn’t do that. It was my job to collect intelligence and figure out what Titania was up to. I don’t like this woman for a variety of reasons, but chief among them at this moment was that her presence kept me trapped inside a corduroy tube with my face mere inches from another dude’s ass. I’m no choir boy, and I don’t care about other people gymnastically arranging their bodies in whatever configurations please them (as long as it’s done in a relatively sanitary fashion), but Small Dennis was very much not my type.

On my back, Big Dennis stirred.

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We Careened Through the Hallways of the Airship

  • by jenscreamed out loud the name of a specific fruit
  • a spectacularly alarming painting
  • dipped in poison
  • taste just like cotton candy at first
  • working that oddly lumpy, peculiar body

Tune in next time part 853      Click Here for Earlier Installments

We careened through the hallways of the airship, and each time we reached a corner, Titania screamed out loud the name of a specific fruit so that we would know which way to turn: mango for left, papaya for right. It was the old Fruitmonger’s Cipher, but with a tropical twist that had me wondering which organization she was working for.

“Lychee!” Titania cried, and we came to an abrupt stop. “That,” she continued as she dismounted, “is a spectacularly alarming painting.”

I knew which one she must mean: the coronation portrait of Fleur’s grandmother looked like it had been painted with a brush that was dipped in poison instead of paint. And that’s because, per Contrarian custom, it was. As a country they are overly concerned about enemies ingesting the Artwork of State, and so all coronation portraits are painted with poisons of various hues. To be sure of killing the rogue art-devourers, the poisons all taste just like cotton candy at first. Fleur’s grandmother’s portrait was especially ominous because of the toothmarks in the upper right corner.

While Titania contemplated the gruesome likeness of the equally gruesome warlord’s consort, I shimmied my rump in hopes of dislodging Big Dennis from my back. I was working that oddly lumpy, peculiar body of a horse costume like my life depended on it when I finally felt Big Dennis’s weight shift. I squatted halfway, hoping to drop him on his head hard enough to keep him unconscious, but not hard enough to draw the attention of the Crystal Clown.

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Ed Attended the Matinee Performance

  • by jenEd combed the circus
  • like dead men’s knuckles
  • a boiled egg rolled away
  • the unlucky and the morally dyslexic
  • came up to his armpits
  • a small pudgy thing with a huge curved bone

Ed attended the matinee performance of the Circus of the Unlucky and the Morally Dyslexic and had the misfortune to be pulled out of the audience by one of the clowns, a small pudgy thing with a huge curved bone through his nose, and a rainbow wig. The skit he was shanghaied into ended with the audience roaring, and Ed buried in a pile of food that came up to his armpits and soiled his new souvenir t-shirt while a boiled egg rolled away and was trampled by a miniature pony. Its crackling shell made a noise like dead men’s knuckles.

A female clown led Ed backstage to get cleaned up, and they began a passionate affair. Every evening after the final performance, Ed combed the circus girl’s hair in a display of affection.

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The Cattle, Too, Were Gone

  • by jenwrapped their heirloom weapons
  • fought in the Trojan War, but not very well
  • “Are you saying I’ve grown fat?”
  • The cattle, too, were gone
  • She was warmer on the horse’s back
  • her lack of enthusiasm

“The cattle, too, were gone by the time I mended the hole in the fence,” Bridget said, and I noted her lack of enthusiasm.

“Are you saying I’ve grown fat?” I asked, trying to lighten her mood with a little joke.

She smiled. “You’re fit as ever, darling.” Then she shivered like a warrior who fought in the Trojan War, but not very well. She was warmer on the horse’s back than she was now, dismounted and standing in the snow without the equine’s heat to warm her.

I quickly shed my anorak and wrapped her in it as master fencers wrapped their heirloom weapons between matches. She meant more to me than their antique epees did to them, and I willingly sacrificed my own comfort for hers.

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Tracy Clutched Her Skull in Agony

  1. k-avatarCharacter – equestrian
  2. Setting – the moors
  3. Object – halter
  4. Situation – blinding headache

Tracy clutched her skull in agony, wrapping her arms around her head to ward off further dashings as Seawind galloped heedless across the moors with Tracy’s leg thrust through the stirrup.

She knew the mare was too spooked to stop, might plunge over the approaching cliff. She had to regain control. She shouted, “Seawind! Whoa!” and coughed as soil and grass flew into her mouth. Desperate, she risked reaching with one hand. She heaved her torso upwards and strained after the halter. Seawind’s pulsating movement threw her about, the leather straps slipping her fingers three times before offering a hold.

Tracy clambered up the animal’s flank, drawing her weight off her leg and pulling it free. Seawind veered and Tracy tumbled into the heather, and then the horse went riderless over the lip.

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