Category: Stichomancy Prompts

However the Tessabot Really Met Viscount Arlo

  • by jenhypnotically bland
  • whose frantic masturbation he had heard through the privy door
  • Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?
  • “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,”
  • a shock he could not have been able to imagine

Tune in next time part 547    Click Here for Earlier Installments

However the Tessabot really met Viscount Arlo, it was sure to be hypnotically bland. I tried to make my version of events that way as well. Without much success, I must admit, due to the still-partial hypnotic grip Tessa had on my brain.

I spun a sordid tale of a college educated Viscount (me) riding the bus with the roommate whose frantic masturbation he had heard through the privy door that very morning, and how it led that college educated Viscount (still me) to look for an excuse to disembark the bus, no matter how much he enjoyed riding buses in general.

“Oh, god, do you think this town has a taco truck?” I asked, giving myself a comical Svenborgian accent. I pretended to see one out the window and said to my masturbation enthusiast of a roommate, “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,” even though I really didn’t care what he thought of me, “but I’m going to go get a taco.” And I slipped trough the bus doors just before they closed.

“You don’t have to act it out, silly!” said Tessa. “Hurry up and get to the part with me!”

Reverting to the third person to speak of myself seemed to allow me a bit more leeway from her hypnotic control. “The college educated viscount turned from the receding bus and experienced a shock he could not have been able to imagine happening to him. There before him, in a dress made of the same stuff they make lava lamps of, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.”

Was the officiant even listening to my story?

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The Officiant Spun On His Heel

  • by Kentdrunk before dawn
  • a very polite way of putting it
  • almost smell the romance
  • I’m a college educated person
  • likes to ride the bus

Tune in next time part 546     Click Here for Earlier Installments

The officiant spun on his heel, waving for us to follow him. “Let’s get you crazy kids to the chapel and do this thing, because I know you both want to be drunk before dawn.” He laughed like a B-movie mad scientist, then said, “I know that’s a very polite way of putting it, but then I am a man of the cloth.”

The Tessabot nudged me with her elbow. “I bet you can almost smell the romance,” she muttered. But she gave me another nudge to start walking. We trailed behind the self-proclaimed man of the occultist cloth, following a winding path through a forest of fragrant fir trees. I all but forgot my Goldfishing mission, so contented was I to be strolling arm-in-arm with Tessa among these lovely woods. But I had to regain my autonomy.

The so-called priest glanced back and asked, “So, how did you two meet?”

Before the Tessabot could respond with the prepared lie, I made my move. I was quite sure I’d recovered the ability to speak.

“I’m a college educated person,” I said, “who likes to ride the bus.”

My speech center wasn’t yet totally unscrambled. Tessa smiled deviously and said, “Oh, I love how you tell this story! Please, go on darling.”

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“Take That Wig from Arlo”

  • by jenPlus, we have tiaras
  • Your princess of a husband
  • I stamp hers and she stamps mine
  • black hair cut rather short
  • “I am *deeply* involved in the occult,”

Tune in next time part 545     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Take that wig from Arlo and put it on yourself,” Tessa said.

I really didn’t want to do that. The red hair looked quite sweaty. But I was still under the Tessabot’s hypnotic control, so I complied.

“Excellent,” she said. “Now you can stand in the Viscount’s place during the wedding ceremony, so that his family and guests will not become suspicious. The wig should go a long way to disguising you. Plus, we have tiaras that we’re both supposed to wear…”

“No!” cried Arlo. “Your princess of a husband-to-be is me, not him! He’s already married to Fleur! He can’t marry you as well! I won’t stand for it!”

“Jason,” Tessa said, “take the Viscount into the bungalow and shut him up. The guests will be arriving shortly.”

Then she told me the details of the Svenborgian royal wedding rite, and made me memorize them. The most important part is when we exchange passports in place of rings. I stamp hers and she stamps mine, and then it’s official. Though how official a marriage between an already married man and a robot could be was a question I couldn’t answer.

A man with black hair cut rather short approached. “I am deeply involved in the occult,” he said, gesturing to some arcane symbols carved into his short hair. “And I will be conducting the ceremony today. You’re looking quite resplendent, Viscount. I’d been told you were an unattractive man, but I seem to have been misinformed.”

I still couldn’t speak, so I nodded as regally as I could without dislodging the sweaty red wig, and continued my furious Goldfishing. I needed to shake Tessa’s post-hypnotic control.

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I Wanted to Say So Many Things

  • by Kentcemented to the top of my mouth
  • Or maybe you do
  • technique I call “Goldfishing”
  • People were actually pretty impressed when I told them
  • caused by “human error.”

Tune in next time part 544     Click Here for Earlier Installments

I wanted to say so many things, things I should have said to Tessa years ago. Things I should have said to the real Tessa, and this wasn’t her. But it didn’t matter, because when I tried to speak it felt like I had a bald snow tire cemented to the top of my mouth. From her smile, I could tell that the Tessabot was pleased with this post-hypnotic outcome.

“You don’t know what trouble you’re about to cause,” sniveled Arlo. “Or maybe you do, and you just don’t care.”

Trouble for you can only be a good thing, I thought. I thought it real loud, because I still couldn’t talk. With a bit of patience I knew I’d overcome the mental block through a technique I call “Goldfishing” that I taught myself when I was in detention at the Academy. People were actually pretty impressed when I told them I’d used the time so productively. It certainly helped to divert suspicion about the bus accidents befalling faculty members who assigned me detention, all of which were officially said to have been caused by “human error.”

But for the time being, I was mostly under Tessa’s control. The Tessabot, who couldn’t feel love. What she had me do next came as quite a shock.

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“I’m Plenty Sleep-Deprived”

  • by jenmy French is *shocking*
  • could give you a turnip
  • basically moving garlic juice around my mouth
  • denied that he had any plans to leave his wife
  • short of getting pregnant or deliberately getting in trouble

Tune in next time part 543     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I’m plenty sleep-deprived,” I said.

Tessa told Jason to hang onto Arlo’s ankle, then faced me and stared into my eyes. She started murmuring in French, and while my French is shockingly bad for someone educated in a boarding school, I was able to follow most of what she said as she adjusted her alpha waves to sync up with mine. It was oddly hypnotic.

Or perhaps actually hypnotic. The next thing I knew, I was awakening from a trance and Tessa was smiling like a cat who could give you a turnip, but has chosen not to. Obviously she had deciphered the secret message in her memory banks. She gave me a wink, and then turned to the viscount who was still writhing in the damp grass.

“Arlo, I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but kissing you is as enjoyable as basically moving garlic juice around my mouth. And I’m allergic to garlic.”

Arlo sniveled, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me for him!” (indicating me). “He’s married, you know, and he has frequently denied that he had any plans to leave his wife!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Tessa said. “Because I’m a robot, and short of getting pregnant or deliberately getting in trouble with the laws of reality some other way, I don’t have to worry about petty human emotions, such as love.”

Even knowing this wasn’t the true Tessa, it hurt to hear her say such things.

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“Hang On,” Jason Said

  • by Kenta rainy, thundery night
  • we had the wrong mutagens
  • “How long can you go without sleep?”
  • eating pasta barehanded
  • if you call out his name

Tune in next time part 542     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Hang on,” Jason said, still staring at his thumb. “I think a little of the color did come off.”

Arlo squawked as the Tessabot wrenched his foot upwards so she could study the tattoo on the sole. “At higher magnification, multiple layers are apparent. The underlying design does appear to be a real tattoo, with a durable marker of some kind used to apply the lyrics over it. The original tattoo is also writing of some kind, but tiny.”

“You’re hallucinating,” Arlo grunted. “It’s just the wedding rap lyrics.”

“Tessa,” I interjected, “tell us what it says.”

She emitted a descending warble that ended with what was unmistakably, “cha-cha-cha.” She cleared her throat. “A direct translation from Low Svenborgian might not be possible. To summarize, it’s a fable concerning a sort of genie. They say that if you call out his name thrice while eating pasta barehanded he will appear and grant you seven half-wishes.”

“This has to be a coded message,” I muttered. From the shifty looks both Jason and Arlo threw me, I knew I had muttered too loud.

But Tessa nodded. She asked me, “How long can you go without sleep?”

“Never made it more than four days. Why?”

“She wants the half-wishes for herself!” Arlo snarled. “Don’t listen to her.”

I shook my head at him. I looked to Tessa and waited.

“It’s not a message,” she said. “It’s a key to something stored in my memory, something that should now be fully accessible to me but I guess we had the wrong mutagens in the lab the night they were encrypting that data. It must have been a rainy, thundery night.” She stared into the middle distance, still hanging onto Arlo’s ankle. “Anyway, there is still a chance to unlock it if I can sync up with someone’s alpha waves, which is easier to do when you’re sufficiently sleep-deprived.”

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The Lyrics Tattooed on the Bottom of the Viscount’s Foot

  • by jenhalfway around the world
  • Shouldn’t you be working?
  • all but impossible to achieve with paint
  • my new sex buddy
  • give a really miserable look

Tune in next time part 541     Click Here for Earlier Installments

The lyrics tattooed on the bottom of the viscount’s foot were from one of the many songs Jason performed at my wedding to Fleur. The ceremony and celebrations had lasted two weeks and taken place halfway around the world at the White House. I didn’t remember the viscount being present, as he claimed, but there had been quite a large crowd.

“Shouldn’t you be working? On new lyrics?” I asked Jason. “Instead of critiquing these old ones?”

“I don’t think that’s even a real tattoo,” Jason said. He licked his thumb and scrubbed at the words on Arlo’s ticklish tootsie, but they did not smear. It was the sort of effect that is all but impossible to achieve with paint, implying that it was truly inked there.

Between squeals of laughter, Arlo pulled off his wig and threw it at Jason. “Buy a guy a drink first! The way you’re massaging me makes you seem like my new sex buddy!”

That comment made Jason give a really miserable look to his thumb. “Anyone got any hand sanitizer?” he asked.

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The Tessabot Hauled Off One of Viscount Arlo’s Boots

  • by KentHow delightfully ugly you are
  • couldn’t hear any sounds inside
  • gave the metal pole a firm kick
  • cupped a hand over her mouth
  • “I’m being misquoted.”

Tune in next time part 540     Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Tessabot hauled off one of Viscount Arlo’s boots, which were in fact Henry’s boots, and flung it in our direction. He was apoplectic, but she calmly spoke as she focused on the second boot.

“How delightfully ugly you are with only one foot uncovered,” she lilted. Although her words were clear enough to me, Arlo thrashed and gibbered as if he couldn’t hear any sounds inside his crooked wig. He scrabbled for a handhold and managed to grab the leg of a swingset near the bungalow. Jason jogged out from the front porch and gave the metal pole a firm kick, jolting Arlo loose. In that same moment the Tessabot obtained the second boot, but rather than toss it over for Henry she dropped it and cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Jason, look!” she exclaimed. “The viscount has your lyrics tattooed on the sole of his foot.”

She held the squirming viscount’s ankle still in her unbreakable grip so Jason could study it. He huffed. “I’m being misquoted.”

“Untrue!” howled Arlo. “I was at that wedding! I was there when you rapped those words.”

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Henry Blinked at the Quarter in his Palm

  • by jen“I want you to know something.”
  • cheerfully retorted
  • stop looking at your hand
  • harken back to the bygone days
  • grotesque and uncomfortable

Tune in next time part 539     Click Here for Earlier Installments

Henry blinked at the quarter in his palm. Without looking at me he said, “I want you to know something.”

I waited, but he did not continue. “If that’s all, then get a move on,” I cheerfully retorted. But he stood still, eyes riveted to his palm. “Hey, Henry, stop looking at your hand. It’s getting a little weird.”

“I’m an accountant you know,” he said in hushed awe. “But everything is electronic now. Coins like this harken back to the bygone days of my youth, back when money was a promise, not the grotesque and uncomfortable thing it is now.”

“Speaking of grotesque and uncomfortable,” I said, pointing to the Viscount where he lay in the grass, red wig askew, bleating at Tessa not to take his fancy footwear.

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The Groom-To-Be Stood

  • by Kent— who the hell are you praying to?
  • red, very curly, chin length
  • STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, WIG-HATER!
  • thigh-high boots
  • pressing it into his palm and reminding him

Tune in next time part 538     Click Here for Earlier Installments

The groom-to-be stood in the damp grass several yards away, and at first I didn’t recognize him. But then he spoke, his nasal, sneering tone unmistakable as he hectored a kneeling attendant. “None of this looks right! Do it again — who the hell are you praying to? the god of non-suckitude? — on your feet and get to work!” That guy is such a dick.

I hadn’t immediately realized it was Viscount Arlo because of the lustrous hair, red, very curly, chin length, that covered his head. The attendant had yet to arise, stammering beseechingly for details about the problems. “STOP ASKING QUESTIONS, WIG-HATER!” Arlo bellowed, and the man scrambled away.

“That’s mine!” Tessa hissed, pointing to the wig.

“And those are mine!” Henry aimed an accusing finger at the thigh-high boots hugging Arlo’s legs.

“Shush!” I hissed at both of them.

“It’s okay,” Tessa said with a grin. “I got this.” She cleared her throat and strode toward the viscount. “How about a little bad luck, you dick.”

Arlo whirled her way, gasping. The red wig spun an extra quarter-revolution to obscure his face. “Why aren’t you dressed!” he screamed through the curls.

“I’ve had a reboot,” Tessa yelled back, “and now so! Will! YOU!” She lunged for his feet, hauling them aloft and dumping Arlo on his ass as she stood back up.

“Looks like the show’s going to be canceled,” I muttered to Henry. “But on the other hand, maybe you’ll get your boots back. You should call the rest of your crew and give them a heads up.” I took a quarter out of my pocket, pressing it into his palm and reminding him that there was a pay phone in the hedge maze.

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