“Hold Up There Jem”
proven he could take an ass-whipping- bitter cold assailed me.
- a rush of fluid suddenly filling the back of my throat
- fought it out with carsickness
- “Hey. Hey. Hey!”
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“Hold up there, Jem. It’s not time for that yet.” Jemma and Jemima both looked to him for clarification — was it not yet time to release me, or not yet time to wave hand-drawn mime erotica in my face?
“Our brother Jason here has proven he could take an ass-whipping on multiple occasions. Ain’t that the truth?” Jim put on thick insulated gloves as he spoke, then lifted a steel canister off one of the lab benches. He set it in my lap in place of Clyde, then opened the lid. Fog surged over the lip and flowed like lava down the sides. As the chill vapor reached my legs, bitter cold assailed me.
“Don’t hurt Jason!” Jemma cried. She tried to move the canister but without the mitts she couldn’t pick it up.
Jim chuckled. “Oh, I ain’t gonna hurt anybody, least of all Jason.” He popped the lid back on the canister and stooped before me to collect it. He stared me in the eye. “Ain’t that right?” Once the cryogenic hazard was cleared away, he instructed Jem and Jem to do more cobra yoga. “But this time, it’s all for our brother.”
Jemma and Jemima looked sad, but they obeyed and began their contorting, sinuous dance. I wondered why this ploy gave Jim such a wicked grin, but only for a moment. At point-blank range, with no mimes to absorb any of it, a double dose of cobra yoga was overwhelming. In seconds I was queasy, and then more than queasy, a rush of fluid suddenly filling the back of my throat. The girls were relentless, slipping into a trance as I fought it out with carsickness raised to the power of mystical snake venom. The nausea progressed to a kind of hyper-vertigo, and from there to a red-out.
“Hey. Hey. Hey!”
The hand shaking me awake was attached to a stranger.
bonus points for using them in order