Tagged: if you know what I mean

I Tried to Banish All Memories of Roxie

  • by jenflexed, wet and warm
  • “Stick knives in dead people.”
  • in real time
  • so violently that his bones clattered
  • It’s a confounded nuisance

Tune in next time part 481      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I tried to banish all memories of Roxie under my desk, muscles flexed, wet and warm mouth poised just so… but it was, literally, quite hard. Luckily the names Roxie and Oksana sound quite similar, so I just repeated my last mumbled utterance, only with one important edit.

“What was that, Oksie?”

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, eyes narrowed. She circled me, scrutinizing, comparing me to the photos of Jason on her phone.

I lisped, “Stick knives in dead people.” That was a Colloquialism I had picked up from my former lover. It meant something like “I want to jump your bones in real time.”

Oksana cocked one of her thick black eyebrows. Meanwhile, Jim startled so violently that his bones clattered. He tried to cover his reaction with another drug-induced bird call.

“I’ve heard you were bold, Jason,” Oksana said. “But I had no idea just how bold. Unfortunately for you, I’m not at all interested in stabbing corpses.” Her eyes flicked to Jim and back. “At least not with you.”

It’s a confounded nuisance having Jim for a brother,” I said, trying to sound disappointed. “But if you like him so much, why are you selling him?”

bonus points for using them in order

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Those Erotic Hiccups

  • by jen(yeah, I sleep naked at home — so what?)
  • — the matter is laid before me
  • probably some electric phenomenon
  • wearing a multi-layered chiffon skirt
  • walk a poodle along the East River

Tune In Next Time Part 14                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Those erotic hiccups, probably some electric phenomenon in her brain caused by the time Tessa got a shock while we were doing it in a tank of electric eels, were a huge distraction. I tried to block the thoughts of our aquarium escapade, only to have them replaced by memories of the time the electric blanket shorted out during one of our sweatier encounters. That time Tessa had been wearing a multi-layered chiffon skirt, I had been naked (yeah, I sleep naked at home — so what?) and we both got quite a jolt.

“Hic!”

“Hold the wheel steady, Tessa, I need to close my eyes for a minute.”

“O-hic!-kay”

I had to meditate on the plan. I turned on cruise control to maintain our 5 mph speed. As soon as Tessa had the steering wheel I dropped my hands to my knees in the Gyan Mudra pose and boom — the matter is laid before me in perfect clarity. I can see around all the corners, anticipate every potential pitfall, predict John’s most likely actions.

I held my thoughts in order and slowly opened my eyes.

“The first thing we need to do,” I said to Tessa, “is make John walk a poodle along the East River, if you know what I mean.”

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Aureliano is Really Quite Masculine

  • by jenalthough his solid chin is clear of any hair
  • with a canine-skin collar
  • “Big Apple” cufflinks
  • dark blue eyes and a beautiful belly
  • overruled by Judge Maurice

Aureliano is really quite masculine, although his solid chin is clear of any hair, his chest as well. He has dark blue eyes, and a beautiful bellybutton rests in the center of his rock-hard abs. Dancing at my bachelorette party with a canine-skin collar around his thick, manly neck, and absolutely nothing else on but Chippendales style faux-cuffs decorated with “Big Apple” cufflinks, he is the very definition of virility.

“What the heck,” I say to myself, “I’m not married yet!”

I throw caution and my clothes to the wind and smile enticingly at Aureliano. He smiles back, but our tryst is overruled by Judge Maurice, which is what Aureliano calls his penis, which refuses to cooperate, if you know what I mean.

I tip him well anyway, to ensure he doesn’t mention this to my fiancé Dirk tomorrow when Aureliano stands beside him as best man at our wedding.

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“Good Evening”

  • by jenred micro-fleece pajamas
  • no one could touch me, not even myself!
  • Prime Minister’s Question Time
  • you want them to smell
  • competitive sort of interaction

“Good evening and welcome to Prime Minister’s Question Time. I’m your host, Margaret Thatcher. The first question tonight comes from Rune Skelley who tweets, “Prime Minister, I’m in the market for a quality pair of red micro-fleece pajamas. What should I look for when shopping?”

“Well, Rune Skelley, the most important thing is that you want them to smell new, and not as if they had been worn during any competitive sort of interaction with a member of the opposite sex. I’m sure you understand what I’m alluding to. I myself used to own a pair of Union Jack micro-fleece pajamas and eventually, after many long nights in Parliament, they smelled so badly that no one could touch me, not even myself!

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Silver Maple Turned

  • k-avatarhis “jurisdiction”
  • her flushed face
  • the old woman
  • first choice
  • silver maple

Silver Maple turned her flushed face up to see how Judge Watkins was reacting to her ministrations to his “jurisdiction.” Paying the fine would have been her first choice, but this option wasn’t so bad. The old woman knew all the tricks, literally. Judge Watkins would get off, and so would she.

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For the First Time in My Life

  • by jenswooning to the floor of the hospital
  • I was committing a sin
  • fantastically gilded and filagreed
  • stifling fumes from the damp earth
  • mute and inglorious
  • would a number of men so dragged a corpse

For the first time in my life I was committing a sin, and I decided that I wanted to do it memorably, and commit the most fantastically gilded and filagreed sin in history, a sin that would leave battle-hardered surgeons mute and ingloriously swooning to the floor of the hospital where they would breathe deeply of the stifling fumes from the damp earth and wonderingly ask one another under what circumstances could or would a number of men so dragged a corpse as artfully as I, metaphorically speaking.

 

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Reggie Was Growing Disenchanted

  • by jen“Blowing hard on his face,”
  • from a roadside zoo in Florida
  • order his midnight niblets
  • or ugly or evil
  • his particular phobia is length
  • forced to labor in the vineyards
  • Attacking me, mind you!

Reggie was growing disenchanted with the casting process for the Hieronymus Warhol movie.

“Does he have references?” she asked of an actor hoping to play the hero.

“Yes,” signed Jen. “But they’re from a roadside zoo in Florida.”

Reggie snorted and tossed the headshot aside. “He is not outrageous or ugly or evil-smelling enough, plus his particular phobia is length, if you know what I mean. He’ll never work as Hero.”

“He should be forced to labor in the vineyards until he no longer desires an acting career,” agreed Jen.

Jen picked up the next headshot from the pile beside the margaritas. She whistled and handed it to Reggie.

“Blowing hard on his face,” Reggie said, “is how I would like to start my morning.”

“Why don’t you order his midnight niblets and see where it leads?” said Jen.

Reggie smirked. “I would if I didn’t need to worry about Naveen’s jealousy attacking. Attacking me, mind you! If Naveen’s jealousy would settle for only attacking this handsome actor, it might be worth a try.”

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Varnishing My Study

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • varnishing my study
  • like calling a leg a “limb”
  • each kill a man
  • a stuffed owl
  • I am still on a merry-go-round

Kent’s Take

Even after completing my hazing ritual and varnishing my studyI am still on a merry-go-round of ennui, riding a stuffed owl of disenfranchisement, pondering why we must each kill a man with a harmonica to gain entry into this occult club, puzzling over whether it means the harmonica is to be the weapon or if the victim must have it on him (I covered both bases, just to play it safe), and vexed by habits of linguistic imprecision (like calling a leg a “limb”) in a world where language is already so rife with ambiguity and clouded meanings.

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Jen’s Take

by jenJohannes Van Der Oppenstüffel, the reclusive Dutch billionaire, was sponsoring a competition to choose his next bodyguard. The first task he assigned the hopefuls was to scour the grounds of his immense estate in search of a stuffed owl. Once that was accomplished, he told those who remained, “You will each travel to a foreign city and you will each kill a man named either Karl or Geoffrey. When the task is completed, you will call me with the details. And when I say ‘details’ I mean I want you to be specific. Nothing like calling a leg a ‘limb’ will be allowed.”

Five hours later the first call came.

I am still on a merry-go-round in the Tivoli park in Copenhagen” came the rough voice, “but Karl is dead, his head crushed by a cotton candy machine.”

“Excellent,” replied Johannes. “Return to Amsterdam immediately to take up your duties. You will begin by varnishing my study. If you know what I mean.”

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Enchanted Mariner Ducks

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • enchanted mariner ducks
  • striped scarlet luminescent work-coats
  • low relief with pubic hair
  • the feathery roots of his water hyacinths
  • “Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me!”
  • tear a larynx

Kent’s Take

I sat in Doctor Entenman’s waiting room, hoping the décor wasn’t indicative of his qualifications as an otolaryngologist. All the others in town were closed for the holiday. The artworks showed truly horrific taste, made more sickening by the realization that the good doctor was himself the artist. A garish neon abstract took up most of the wall facing me, and was accompanied by a plaque bearing its title: “In which the enchanted mariner ducks out of the saloon to escape constables attired in striped scarlet luminescent work-coats.” Above my head was a matted atrocity, a low relief with pubic hair, evidently meant to signify the feathery roots of his water hyacinths. I heard raised voices, first a woman shrieking something about being behind schedule, and then a man bellowing “Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me!” I supposed I’d chosen a bad week to tear a larynx.

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Jen’s Take

by jenThe great artist and his assistant stood by in their striped scarlet luminescent work-coats while the phalanx of critics examined his latest creation.

“You say it’s called ‘enchanted mariner ducks,’ and yet I detect nothing of the waterfowl in its design,” said the most unctuous of the bunch, a man known to be overly fond of the feathery roots of his water hyacinths, if you know what I mean.

“Curious, isn’t it,” said Hieronymus Warhol.

“This is clearly a bas-relief, and yet under ‘medium’ you have declared that it is ‘low relief with pubic hair.’ Not only is that not a real medium, it’s also disgusting!”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” replied Warhol.

“Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me!” cried the critic.

“As soon as you tear a larynx,” drawled the artist. “Preferably your own.”

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Desdemona Smiled

  • by jenbut they still had logs enough
  • this was a popular shrine
  • the doorway of the weaving shed
  • platters of root vegetables
  • He is brisk in bed.
  • the stick he was using

Desdemona smiled and gestured to her crotch. “This was a popular shrine when I was younger. Now the fickle young men prefer others. But they still had logs enough for my purposes in the house of the elders, I found.

“Take Igor for instance,” Desdemona said of her most recent suitor. “He is brisk in bed. The stick he was using, if you’ll pardon the expression, gave more pleasure than all the platters of root vegetables stacked in the doorway of the weaving shed for winter ever could. If you know what I mean.”

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