Tagged: weapon

“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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My Getup

  • by Kentunimaginative weapons
  • this is not the time to be shy
  • until the approaching equinox
  • An American named Henderson had other ideas
  • is best read in complete silence

Tune in next time part 160                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

My getup made me feel vulnerable and dangerous at the same time. Unlike guns, knives, and other unimaginative weapons, the spikes on my leather collar and codpiece would make any tussles I got into quite memorable. But it made any room I stood in feel rather drafty. I tried to look casual, telling myself “this is not the time to be shy.”

“Will you three get moving?” Jenkins snarled. “Do you think I want to keep this idiot pinned until the approaching equinox?”

“This way,” Heinrich said. He hefted a trapdoor and motioned for me to go first. The tunnels underneath TinselTown were originally meant for use by the “elves” employed in the park. An American named Henderson had other ideas. He wrote them all down, and that is one book which is best read in complete silence.

“Heinrich, let’s discuss this,” I said.

“Shove him in!” Svetlana screamed. “The plan is falling behind schedule!”

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