Tagged: zeppelin

I Awoke With Bleary Vision

  • by Kentlook at all the hip movement
  • escaped through the tunnel system
  • (Chum, chum, chum)
  • a bonus grandma
  • no longer necessary to rely on insects for most outfits

Tune in next time part 894      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I awoke with bleary vision and a head filled with unclean dreams. My head was pounding too hard for me to shake away the dream-residue without my skull flying to pieces, so I was left to puzzle out which memories were real. Surely the enormous velvet bed where Fleur laid me must have been a confabulation.

But, no. It loomed over the cramped husband-bed where I found myself, with numerous hens for companionship. They scratched at the sumptuous bedding and shot me beady, disapproving looks. As if it was my fault there were no worms or seeds tucked among the folds.

That meant we must be about to arrive in Colloquillia, unless we were already there. I sat up, straining for a view out the modern windows. Not that I’d recognize the country even if I did manage to get a look outside. I slumped back in disappointment, setting off a blizzard of chicken feathers.

“What are we doing in your quarters?” I bellowed. “You said we were bound for steerage, for a party.”

She came into view around the prow of the mammoth bed. “And it thrilled me to look at all the hip movements you performed as you eagerly staggered along. If I’d told you the truth, you might have broken away and escaped through the tunnel system that permeates my airship. Even I don’t have it all mapped out. There’s something in there making an ominous sound, like this:” She paused to demonstrate the noise (Chum, chum, chum) conveying its ominousness mainly via her eyebrows as her pleasing contralto voice couldn’t manage alone.

I sighed. “You said something about a summit?”

Fleur nodded as she adjusted an earring. “And I need you as an interpreter. Otherwise, I’ll just have to take it literally when the ambassador mentions having a bonus grandma or finding it no longer necessary to rely on insects for most outfits.”

I laughed, which made my headache worse. “You do realize that my Colloquillian is rustier than a beached trawler in the Salton Sea.”

“Sounds like you’ll do just fine,” she replied.

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“You’re Too Drunk”

  • by jenCleopatra’s 20-foot-long velvet barge
  • with its modern windows
  • recalled antediluvian monsters
  • an embarrassing experience for everyone involved.
  • Where are these live chickens coming from?

Tune in next time part 893      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“You’re too drunk to even be fun,” Fleur said. She dragged me through the airship to her suite. Her grand bed was modeled after Cleopatra’s 20-foot-long velvet barge. I was not permitted to sleep in it, though. Instead, my wife tucked me into the small husband-bed that sat by the footboard like a pet basket, and whispered about how this suite, with its modern windows and elaborate wallpaper, recalled antediluvian monsters and gothic horrors, and how the design meeting with the first decorator was an embarrassing experience for everyone involved.

“The second decorator really nailed my vision, don’t you agree?” She seemed genuinely pleased. “Get some sleep.” She tapped me on the forehead. “When you awaken you will be surrounded by live chickens, all ready to lay your breakfast.”

“Fleur,” I mumbled through sleepy lips. “Where are these live chickens coming from?”

“Colloquilia. We’ll be arriving exactly on time for the summit, assuming the winds cooperate.”

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Aha! Thought I

  • by Kentdescribed in orientation documents as “human lasagna.”
  • a ritual in which
  • how sarcasm works
  • no one wants to hook up with a lemon-scented lizard-person
  • All claws and teeth

Tune in next time part 892      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Aha! thought I, that confirms that Yolanda is there. But not alone. I remembered a bit of detail then about yodeler subculture, something that didn’t actually come up in my time at Enigma Fortress but was described in the orientation documents as “human lasagna.” It was a ritual in which the yodelers would layer themselves and then “bake” together in a sweaty pile. I wondered, would an airship journey be an appropriate occasion to observe this custom?

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you no matter how you’re dressed,” Fleur said haughtily.

I was drunk, but not too drunk to know how sarcasm works, so I shot back, “And I’m sure no one wants to hook up with a lemon-scented lizard-person no matter how you’re dressed.” Evidently I was too drunk to know when to just keep quiet.

Fleur did sometimes seem like a lizard-person. All claws and teeth and cold, shimmery scaly armor plating. As she gazed at me with intense calmness, I wondered what it would take to make that cold blood of hers boil.

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“Of Course They’re Super Flattering!”

  • by jenfeel like an enchanted goddess with a delicious secret
  • glittery bedazzled applique shirts
  • You are your mother’s daughter.
  • tenderly kissing her father-in-law
  • bizarre and frequent tradition

Tune in next time part 891      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Of course they’re super flattering!” I said of my pleated pants. “They make me feel like an enchanted goddess with a delicious secret.”

Fleur’s eyebrow could not go any higher.

I drunkenly went on. “The only thing more flattering, in fact, is my collection of glittery bedazzled applique shirts.”

My wife sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter. I’ve never known a president to wear more rhinestones. Hell, I’ve never known a country singer to wear more.”

The bubbles popping in my brain made me reckless. “How rude! Are you the kind of girl to be tenderly kissing her father-in-law with that mouth? I know your country has a lot of bizarre and frequent traditions, but c’mon!”

“Just how drunk are you?” Fleur huffed. “Wear the damn pants if you want to. We’ll see how impressed Yolanda and the others are.”

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“Why is the Bartender Wearing a Smurf Mask?”

  • by jenflair for the outrageous
  • routine handling at the post office
  • Now you know.
  • a maze of twisty little urine puddles
  • diamond-scented bubbles

Tune in next time part 889      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Why is the bartender wearing a smurf mask?” I asked.

“One must have a flair for the outrageous to work in my speakeasy,” Fleur explained, as if to a child. “Nothing about this enterprise is normal. It’s clandestine! Procuring quality eggnog is not as easy as assuring your letter gets routine handling at the post office by simply affixing a rodent pelt to the corner. It requires finesse and connections and a penchant for the dramatic.”

“Rodent pelts? I guess that explains why my letters never get delivered.”

“Now you know.”

As Fleur filled a mug for herself from the nozzle, I noticed something else about the smurf-masked man on the floor. “I think there’s something wrong with him,” I said. “See all the pee?” The man was in the middle of a maze of twisty little urine puddles, all frozen to the icy floor. All the eggnog I’d ingested had filled my brain with diamond-scented bubbles, and I was pretty sure I was still officially stupid. Perhaps this was all normal? Or… “You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

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Fleur Straightened the Styrofoam Toilets

  • by jenideal winter drink for people
  • how to shave his back hair
  • Probably between sips
  • main delivery method: squirting
  • speak nicely to the elephant

Tune in next time part 887      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Fleur straightened the styrofoam toilets, then said, “Come on. You look like you could use a drink.”

I wanted to protest that what I needed was food and a good night’s sleep, but I knew she wouldn’t listen.

My wife grabbed my elbow and tugged me over to the back wall of the bathroom. She rotated the toilet paper holder back and forth like the dial of a combination lock, and when she was done, a section of the wall swung open like a vault door. I hoped I’d memorized the combination correctly.

The room we entered was an ice bar. Every surface was carved from ice, and the lighting was all blue. I’d heard rumors that some Royal Contrarian Airships housed eggnog speakeasies, but I hadn’t believed it. Eggnog, despite being the ideal winter drink for people who enjoy nutmeg and warm alcoholic custard, was forbidden in Contraria. Legend had it that William Penn IV got so drunk on the stuff on the eve of his wedding that he forgot how to shave his back hair. Not only that but he proposed to three other women. (Probably between sips of his favorite boozy beverage.) The next day he was viciously hungover, and married all four women in a single ceremony. His new wives were very upset (more about his hairy back than the polygamy) the honeymoon was a disaster, and the beverage was banned in Contraria forever. At least officially.

Fleur plunked me down on a chunk of ice, reached behind the bar, and grabbed a keg nozzle. That’s the other thing about Contrarian eggnog. The main delivery method: squirting directly into one’s mouth.

I shook my head. The last thing I needed right now was alcohol. I needed to keep the few wits I had about me.

“Come on,” Fleur cajoled. “Open up and speak nicely to the elephant.” Which is what Contrarian’s say in place of ‘here comes the airplane’ when they’re trying to get a child to eat.

I opened my mouth to protest that I was not a toddler, and instantly had a mouthful of warm, boozy, eggy froth. My wife, it turns out, had a lot of experience with elephants.

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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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As My Classmate

  • by Kentstraw hat bonfires were started
  • I once tried to change a light bulb
  • sexual misadventure
  • stuck an electrified prod up there
  • always wore the craziest shorts

Tune in next time part 882      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As my classmate from The Academy, Small Dennis couldn’t expect me to believe his sorry story. He was probably just counting on me to play along, but I wondered if perhaps there was a message for me embedded in what he was saying to Fleur.

I thought about the numbers he’d mentioned. Six, five, and “almost six”… Wasn’t much to go on, but in light of how he was (un)dressed I thought it might make sense to try the BareCheeks cipher. Which would make the message “straw hat,” which seemed like nonsense until I remembered what happened in my junior year, how the gym got burned down. Fleur wouldn’t know how the straw hat bonfires were started because she wasn’t there. She might have heard the rumor that her half-brother William Penn XII once tried to change a light bulb during a sexual misadventure, maybe even the part when his coital partner stuck an electrified prod up there, but it seemed unlikely she knew all the details.

I was now convinced that Small Dennis wanted me to know something without letting Fleur hear it, probably something about the so-called mission that he was babbling about a few minutes ago. Now I just needed to suss out the rest of the message. Would it have something to do with William Penn XII? I struggled to remember other things about him from back in the day. He always wore the craziest shorts. I wished he was here to lend a pair to Small Dennis.

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It’s Standard Practice on Contrarian Airships

  • by jen“That’s a cute name.”
  • ghostly fingerprint
  • is nearly six foot five and describes himself as a “fairy from outer space”
  • almost six years in prison
  • wish not to be stabbed

Tune in next time part 881      Click Here for Earlier Installments

It’s standard practice on Contrarian airships to have bathroom fixtures made of styrofoam — it saves a lot of weight. What was unusual about these styrofoam potties is that they weren’t attached to the floor, the plumbing, or anything else. What could Fleur be up to with a room full of decoy commodes?

“Put down the toilet, Small Dennis,” I muttered.

“Small Dennis?” Fleur chuckled. “That’s a cute name.”

“I’m not actually all that small,” Small Dennis huffed. He’d been gripping the faux porcelain so hard that when he let go, he left behind ghostly fingerprints in the styrofoam. “Is it my fault my mom married a guy with his own son named Dennis who is nearly six foot five and describes himself as a ‘fairy from outer space’ and who had spent almost six years in prison for assault? He claimed the moniker Big Dennis, and as I wish not to be stabbed, I grudgingly accepted Small Dennis as mine.”

I’d never heard Small Dennis say so much, and I doubted the truth of almost all of what he’d said. If he was trying to prey on Fleur’s tender feminine nature, I wished him luck.

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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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