Category: Stichomancy Prompts

Zeus Pamplemousse Spun On His Heel

  • by Kentmeld them together with jam
  • I pushed the oily rag into his mouth
  • decked out in an elaborate costume
  • beyond that I guess we’re just hoping for the best
  • keeps sticking his foot in his mouth

Tune in next time part 750      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Zeus Pamplemousse spun on his heel to face us, creating a dramatic swirl of his heavy cape. He said, “Do you know that you can mask the tastes of even the most powerful sedatives if you meld them together with jam and nuts? Of course, if your target’s not hungry it does no good to know this, which I contemplated as I pushed the oily rag into his mouth.”

“Who are you talking about?” I demanded, not letting my nakedness deter me from raising my voice.

“Her therapist, naturally,” Zeus replied coolly. For him to show up here, decked out in an elaborate costume (although it was probably everyday-wear for the King of the Moon) and confess so blithely to his involvement in a kidnapping, was so outlandish it made me wonder if he might be a member of my family somehow.

Tessa growled. Zeus cocked one eyebrow and said, “Now now, he was fine when I left him. I made sure there were enough air holes, and beyond that I guess we’re just hoping for the best. And of course, I need something from you in exchange for his location. But honestly, I wonder why you take advice from a man who keeps sticking his foot in his mouth. Literally. Made it very awkward to put the rag in.”

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I had Loved Tessa for Years

  • by jenby the time I reached my adolescence
  • just a feather duster for company
  • of hazy European origin
  • hands moving upwards
  • took turns holding crowns above their heads

Tune in next time part 749      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I had loved Tessa for years and years. By the time I reached my adolescence‘s midpoint I was infatuated with her, and the feeling had never fully abated. Never mind that she once locked me in the janitor’s closet with just a feather duster for company. Never mind that she’d kissed my brother, that she’d been engaged to John — perhaps still was! Never mind that I was married to Fleur (And Hildegard. And Chartreuse Pamplemousse.), and had an uncountable number of children, many of them with her sisters. Never mind all of it. Over the past few minutes I had become sure that this was the real Tessa, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Before the person in the corridor could enter my quarters, I leapt from the bed and flung the door open. I was counting on the element of surprise, and there was definitely a lot of it, I just didn’t expect to be the one who was most surprised.

“Put some pants on,” said Zeus Pamplemousse. “Or don’t.” He strode into my chamber like a magician taking the stage, his black velvet cloak swooshing dramatically. Tessa stared at him, openmouthed.

Everyone knew about Zeus Pamplemousse, but few people had ever met him. He first rose to fame (or infamy) when he participated in a ceremony of hazy European origin wherein he and his wife Blanchisseuse kept their hands moving upwards and downwards at all times, and took turns holding crowns above their heads, after which they declared themselves the sovereigns of the moon.

And now the Moon King — perhaps my father-in-law — was on my wife’s airship, and I was naked. This had to be a massive breach of protocol.

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I Held One Finger

  • by KentI’m not fucking Rembrandt.
  • is kind of a ding-dong
  • leotard out of my butt
  • the murder charges were dropped
  • “Shut the hell up.”

Tune in next time part 748      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I held one finger up to Tessa’s lips as the footsteps grew nearer. We both held our breath waiting to see who would burst through the door, but the footsteps kept going along the hallway. I needed a silent way to tell Tessa to hide under the bed while I went out to check on the children. But of all the esoteric nonverbal codes we both learned at the Academy, none of them seemed to suit our situation. I grabbed the airship stationery pad from my nightstand, and found that Tessa’s continuing pelvic undulations made it impossible to remember how to spell any useful words. So I tried to draw a picture of those instructions.

After studying the page for several thrusts, Tessa whispered, “Clearly I’m not fucking Rembrandt. Now are you going to help me search for my therapist, or am I going to have to play rough?”

I shushed her again, but my eyes rolling back in my head robbed the command of authority. Tessa’s breathy whisper nearly sent me over the edge. “I wouldn’t worry about that sister-in-law of yours. She is kind of a ding-dong, you must admit. Although, I guess I should be nicer since she did help me pull my leotard out of my butt not too long ago.”

I went over the edge. Tessa quickly put a pillow over my face to muffle my incohate expressions of ecstasy. She held it there for what felt like a very long time, and as I was on the verge of passing out I wondered how she would evade capture unless the murder charges were dropped. But the pillow lifted away and I got oxygen, and the whole line of speculation became moot.

“This isn’t playing rough?” I asked softly.

Tessa hissed, “Shut the hell up.” She raised herself up from my chest, listening. “That definitely isn’t Isolde out in the hallway.”

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I Climbed Out of the Bathtub

  • by jenShhh, don’t tell anyone!
  • the chirps and squeals that he makes
  • As a fan of miniatures
  • overcoming my frog phobia with hypnosis
  • The only thing he never changed was his shoes.

Tune in next time part 747      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I climbed out of the bathtub with Tessa in my arms and carried her into the bedroom. I shut the door behind us for a little privacy.

“Where are your clothes?” I asked. “You should get out of here before Isolde comes back. I’ll meet you later.”

Tessa shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere until I get what I came for.” She ran her hand down my still-dripping torso and gave me a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be quick. Shhh, don’t tell anyone!” She pushed me onto the bed.

In the bathroom I heard splashing and giggles as Fleur played with the infants. “Tessa…”

“That son of yours is quite a happy fellow. Just ignore the chirps and squeals that he makes.” I found her argument quite persuasive as she climbed on top of me. I still didn’t know whether this was the true Tessa, or one of the TSS-A units. If it was a robot, it was impeccably programmed to move just like my beloved. It also shared her penchant for awkwardly timed announcements. “As a fan of miniatures in general, I should find babies adorable, but they remind me so much of frogs.” This was said as she arched her back just so. “I’ve been overcoming my frog phobia with hypnosis, though, with the help of a very qualified therapist. Or I was anyway, before he went missing. He changed my mind about holding grudges, he changed my whole outlook on revenge. He changed so many things! The only thing he never changed was his shoes.” She gave an exultant cry and collapsed onto my chest. Her next words were muffled by my chest hair. “You can imagine how alarming it was when I arrived for my appointment and he wasn’t there, but his Birkenstocks were.” She sat up and looked me in the eye. “Tell me you’ll help me find him.”

Before I could even ask any questions about this mysterious therapist, I heard footsteps in the hall outside my door. Had Isolde returned so soon?

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What It All Came Down To

  • by Kentwhose first language is French
  • lapdance of failure
  • singing the national anthem of an imaginary country
  • grapes in the hothouse
  • had a ventriloquist doll as a boy

Tune in next time part 746      Click Here for Earlier Installments

What it all came down to was whether or not Fleur was stoned enough to overlook the gaping holes in my argument. Studying her eyes, I felt the odds were in my favor. And the longer I delayed, the more the THC-laced camembert would wear off and the less chance of getting away with it.

I tugged Tessa’s elbow, raising her into view. As she sat up, I suddenly recalled that I had a ventriloquist doll as a boy, so I perched Tessa on my leg. For a second I felt like poor, doomed Mingus Mint, and I hoped that my performance wouldn’t be as wooden. Fleur stared uncomprehending, and Tessa’s eyes shot nervously in my direction. I leaned close to Tessa’s ear and said, “You’ll need to curtsey, but not right away.”

To Fleur, I said, “I bet you didn’t know I can throw my voice.” I put my hand on the back of Tessa’s head and threaded my fingers through her hair. Trying not to move my lips, I hissed, “Now you talk. I can’t really throw my voice.”

Tessa tossed me a sly look, then, working her jaw robotically and imitating my voice, she said, “There’s more bubbles in this tub than grapes in the hothouse.” Fleur giggled, confusion still ruling her eyes. Tessa got rolling, and I couldn’t stop her. She did a tight five, culminating with singing the national anthem of an imaginary country. It was holding Fleur’s attention, but was it winning her over? The whole act could turn out to be a lapdance of failure.

Tessa rose into a crouching, nude curtsey, staying low enough for me to retain my hold on her scalp. Fleur, whose first language is French, clapped and said, “Magnifique! C’est très drôle.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” I said. “Now I suppose I should go put my doll away.”

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When You Picture the Ensuite Bathroom

  • by jenone of those quiet, picturesque places
  • an unfettered clusterfuck
  • unless they hug me first
  • saving up for a pet snake
  • odd and possibly charming

Tune in next time part 745      Click Here for Earlier Installments

When you picture the ensuite bathroom of a General’s stateroom on a Royal Contrarian airship, I’m sure you envision one of those quiet, picturesque places full of bamboo and soothing colors where one can relax after a long day of Generalizing. Would that it were. My ensuite bathroom was about to host an unfettered clusterfuck if my wife discovered Tessa in the tub with us. Fleur and I have an understanding, but that only goes so far. I haven’t reviewed the paperwork in a while, but I’m pretty sure that I’m not supposed to have anyone else join us in the bathtub unless they hug me first and curtsey to her. Tessa had, in fact, thrown herself upon me with all the fervency of someone who’d spent years saving up for a pet snake only to arrive at the reptilarium on two-for-one day. That surely counted as a hug. But she had not curtsied to Fleur. Perhaps she could do so now? There was a chance Fleur would find the gesture odd and possibly charming enough to forgive the breach in etiquette. It might be our only chance, since it seemed she was never planning to exit the tub. It also might backfire spectacularly.

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“She’ll Be Forced To Eat Snow”

  • by KentIt’s winter.
  • brief encounter with Rebecca
  • (pomegranates?)
  • freeballin’ with a fanny pack on
  • felt like a caveman discovering fire

Tune in next time part 744      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“She’ll be forced to eat snow,” Fleur explained, as if I had requested clarification, “because of the snow. On the ground. It’s winter. In Prague, it’s winter. Oh, shit. Now I remember. Rebecca always spends the winter in Prague.”

“Do you mean, that Rebecca?”

Fleur nodded sullenly.

Oh, shit, indeed. I had only partial recall of my own brief encounter with Rebecca, just enough to know it had involved fruit (pomegranates?) and a whole lotta freeballin’ with a fanny pack on.

“In that case,” I said, “maybe you should stop her before she reaches the bridge.” This was it, at last. This was how I would rid my bathroom of interlopers before Tessa’s presence was discovered. I felt like a caveman discovering fire as I pictured Fleur’s departing, sudsy backside.

“Nah,” Fleur said. “I’m sure it won’t be so bad. I bet she doesn’t even remember what we were fighting over.”

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Isolde Ignored Fleur’s Command

  • by jenThank god for vinyl upholstery.
  • time flows uphill
  • The same, of course, is true of bandits.
  • forced to eat snow
  • yelled what was obviously an insult

Tune in next time part 743      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde ignored Fleur’s command and just stood in the bathroom doorway.

“Go! To! The! Bridge!” Fleur repeated, punctuating each word with a hearty splash of bathwater. “Take! Me! To! Prague!” Isolde dodged, and most of the water landed on my bedroom furniture. Thank god for vinyl upholstery.

Isolde finally said, “Fine!” and stomped away. She called back over her shoulder, “But you’ll regret it when you remember who lives in Prague these days!”

Fleur was quivering with indignation. While she seethed and grumbled about her sister’s insubordination, I signaled Tessa to get a quick breath of air. Hopefully I would be able to get my wife out of the tub before we reached the Czech Republic. Who knew how long the side-trip would take us? When you’re on a zeppelin time flows uphill, or so it seems. The same, of course, is true of bandits. On a zeppelin, bandits always flow uphill. But you knew that.

“Regret!” Fleur cried belatedly. “Regret! We’ll see who has regrets, dear sister, when you’re forced to eat snow!” And then she yelled what was obviously an insult.

“Maybe you should go with her and make sure she tells the pilot the correct thing,” I said, while wondering who Isolde had been talking about. Who, exactly, lives in Prague these days?

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“Why Would Anyone”

  • by Kentfled Australia in a fake beard
  • you’re boring, baby
  • left behind four fully grown hippopotamuses
  • My fingers are too stubby for such delicate work
  • “Prague is a city,” she said firmly.

Tune in next time part 742      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Why would anyone leave a cheese hamper — especially such a heavy one — in the billiard room?” Isolde asked. Oddly enough, I was ready with an answer.

“They must have stolen it, and the fuzz was closing in.” I elaborated by relating the tale of when my cousin fled Australia in a fake beard being worn by my much larger cousin, but I didn’t get far before I caught that look on Isolde’s face. The look says “you’re boring, baby” and it didn’t waver even when I mentioned that my cousins left behind four fully grown hippopotamuses.

Fleur pinched her nose. She said, “I think one of those diapers needs changing. You do it. My fingers are too stubby for such delicate work.”

“Well, in that case,” I ventured hopefully, “perhaps you’d like to get out of the tub now that it’s been contaminated. That diaper looks pretty waterlogged.”

Fleur was still holding her nose. “Prague is a city,” she said firmly.

“No, I said waterlogged.”

She ignored me. “And I want to go there right now. Isolde, go to the bridge and tell them I want a Bohemian spa day.”

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“Perhaps They Have More Camembert”

  • by jenMy shaman and I
  • Since being bludgeoned by the octopus
  • not, however, universally popular among actual rappers
  • “Screw you guys, I’m going home.”
  • with a plaster cast of her dead husband’s hand

Tune in next time part 741      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Perhaps they have more camembert in the galley,” I said as calmly as I could. I tried to arrange the babies above water and my legs underwater to thwart Fleur’s probing hands. The last thing I needed was for her to find Tessa now.

“My shaman and Isolde both told me today would be a good day,” Fleur pouted. “Since being bludgeoned by the octopus at the zamboni entrance is a good omen, I believed them. Like a fool.” She stared into my eyes and said forlornly, “The magic camembert is gone. Jason ate all of it but that one last piece.”

I should have foreseen that. THC-laced cheeses are hot on the wedding rap circuit, even if they are not, however, universally popular among actual rappers. “Is Jason still aboard?” I asked. “You could have him searched for any cheese he might be smuggling.”

“No,” Fleur said. “When I wouldn’t let him have that last wedge, he said, ‘Screw you guys, I’m going home.’ and strapped on a parachute.”

I was desperate to get the sisters out of my bathroom so I could get Tessa out of my bathtub. I was so desperate that I decided to lie. “On my rounds earlier I saw a cheese hamper under the portrait of your grandmother. You know, the one with a plaster cast of her dead husband’s hand on top of her head.”

“Her coronation portrait?” Fleur was intrigued. The drugs in her system were working in my favor. “I’ll send someone to check.”

“Don’t you think you had better go yourself? You don’t want anyone else to bogart it. Isolde can go with you to help you carry it. It looked like an awfully heavy cheese hamper.”

My gorgeous sister-in-law cocked one eyebrow at me. Perhaps I’d pushed things too far.

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