Category: Stichomancy Prompts

The Place To Stow Gordon

  • by Kent— which, by the way, is their normal state —
  • set of handcuff keys
  • she had on those damn falsies
  • “Just pretty much the basics.”
  • sound waves, not X-rays

Tune in next time part 222                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

The place to stow Gordon turned out to be Isaac’s apartment in the building across the street. She had a rabbit hutch in the bathroom, which became a goose hutch.

Isaac took my hand and led me into the next room. “Now I need you to see if my cheeks are rosy — which, by the way, is their normal state — or if there’s any bruising or other damage.” From her cleavage she pulled a set of handcuff keys on a silver chain. She took off the chain and handed me the keys, then turned around and bent over.

I discovered a keyhole in her belt, and, hoping I was reading this situation correctly, inserted the key. Her pants fell off, revealing a foam-rubber prosthetic posterior. How would she have even felt Gordon’s nip on her rump, if she had on those damn falsies?

“So far, so good,” I said. “Although, not exactly what I expected. What’s this for?”

“Just pretty much the basics.”

That was evidently thought to be a valid response.

“Well, everything I see here is intact. Not rosy, as such.”

“You’re not done with your examination, doctor.”

Her weird foundation garment also needed the handcuff key to unhook it. At which point I could assure her that the goose hadn’t goosed her too hard. Everything looked fine. In fact, I was at a loss to understand why she wore a fake butt over such a nice real one.

One phrase was printed on the inside of the prosthesis, which I was still trying to decode when Isaac offered to examine my cheeks, just to be safe. She fluttered her eyes at me. “After all, you were in the room with that goose too.”

For the next two hours, I didn’t get many chances to concentrate. But I made sure to memorize the words I’d seen inside her artificial derriere.

“sound waves, not X-rays.”

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I Have Always Been a Man

  • by jenmistrusted his own senses more
  • What kind of candy was it?
  • I hope they jammed their fingers into him
  • “The Devil’s at the bottom of it, I’m sure.”
  • My arse is killing me.

Tune in next time part 221                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I have always been a man who mistrusted his own senses more than most people do, largely due to all the mind games and psychedelics my parents employed in my upbringing, but I was sure that there was a candy bar strapped to the leg of Gordon the goose. What kind of candy was it? It was vitally important that I find out. It was likely the key to everything. If Esmerelda had resorted to something as dusty and disused as the washerwoman’s code, it only made sense that the confectioner’s code was also in play.

As the gander continued to rub against Isaac’s pants, I crouched and deftly unstrapped the candy bar from his scaly leg. The wrapper was unfamiliar, but the lettering looked Tibetan. Whoever sent this message, I hope they jammed their fingers into Himalayan mittens before frostbite set in.

Isaac peered at the exotic candy in my hand, her eyes wide. “The Devil’s at the bottom of it, I’m sure.”

“The Devil” is what a lot of people called my father.

Gordon didn’t like being ignored. With a loud honk he nipped Isaac. She yelped and scolded the bird, then stood rubbing her rump. “We need to get out of here, find a place to stow Gordon. My arse is killing me. You’ll need to check it for me to make sure he didn’t break the skin.”

While the thought of examining Isaac’s arse would normally have been quite intriguing, I was currently much more concerned about the chocolate bar in my hand. I remembered John’s childhood spent in the Tibetan monastery. If the message really had been sent by my father, things were very dire indeed.

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Being Reminded of Great Hammer

  • by Kentadrift in a sea of conflicting emotions
  • “If he ever comes back, I’ll poison him.”
  • a silent, internal chuckle
  • I had scarcely begun
  • “I mean, it’s not a homing pigeon.”

Tune in next time part 220                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Being reminded of Great Hammer set me adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he’d been more of a brother to me than any of my blood relatives. On the other hand, he was probably the one who betrayed my father. I mean, someone had to do it, and in all likelihood it would have been me eventually.

Thor’s position on the matter was unambiguous: “If he ever comes back, I’ll poison him.” I knew he meant it, too, and I knew how easy it would be for him to do it. Everyone knew of Great Hammer’s fatal weakness for soup. I remembered him in his corner before a match, blowing on his soup, and a silent, internal chuckle clunked against the roof of my mouth.

“You didn’t answer me,” Isaac groused. “What does it mean?”

If I didn’t say something to misdirect her, there was a chance Isaac could land too close to the truth on her own. I had scarcely begun to draw the breath with which to misdirect her when a loud honking sound and a blast of feathers interrupted.

“Gordon!” Isaac exclaimed. “I never expected to see you again.”

A goose ran around her legs. It stopped and curled its neck against her thigh, stretching its wings forward. If I didn’t know better I would think it was hugging her.

“I set Gordon free from the roof of this building two weeks ago,” Isaac explained.

“Then is it really so weird it came back?”

“I mean, it’s not a homing pigeon.”

“Wait, what’s that thing on Gordon’s leg?” I asked.

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Some Members of My Extended Family

  • by jentried to convey everything by grimaces
  • probably view it as an escape
  • floating upon the surface like corks
  • the launderette they owned
  • We did find a hammer.

Tune in next time part 219                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Some members of my extended family tried to convey everything by grimaces, Svenborgian UnderDuchess Esmerelda among them. I tuned out the impossibly red dress and focused on her face. I hoped to discover a message in the minute details of the arrangement of her lips, but the image was too blurry.

If the world saw this footage of my father, a man who was supposed to be dead, they would probably view it as an escape. Never mind that he’d never been convicted of anything, or even charged. Certain factions of the public thought my family untouchable, and they resented us for it. They saw life as an ocean, and to them we were floating upon the surface like corks while they struggled against drowning in the undertow. Another way of looking at it is that they saw us as going through life on the gentle cycle in the launderette they owned in this analogy, while they were stuck in the lint trap.

Lint trap!

I tore my eyes away from Esmerelda’s enigmatic face and looked again at her red dress. How could I have forgotten the old washerwoman’s code? It was ancient, taught to first years at the Academy and rarely mentioned after. But still, I should have remembered sooner.

Isaac saw the dawning comprehension on my face. “What does it mean?” she demanded.

“We did find a hammer.” I could hardly believe it. The message could only be referring to retired professional wrestler Great Hammer, my brother Thor’s some-time lover. With any luck, Isaac would assume Esmerelda had been at the hardware store.

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“It Doesn’t Matter Who I Am”

  • by Kentexposed a critical flaw
  • feared her family’s disapproval
  • “Oh there! There! Beautiful!”
  • far more than even the worst nosebleed
  • in elementary school during

Tune in next time part 218                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“It doesn’t matter who I am, everything I’ve told you is true.” Isaac put her hands on her hips. “What matters is what you’re going to do about it.”

“Everything?” I asked. Isaac wilted. “One detail of your little tirade exposed a critical flaw in your charade. Father’s silk allergy isn’t common knowledge, and he does pass signals with a linen pocket square sometimes. It’s not a hard mistake to make, but anyone with true inside intel would know better. Are you even a Swear? Or just someone who feared her family’s disapproval if she didn’t sign up with one radical faction or another?”

“It’s nothing like that. I’m a true believer. A warrior! And if my info traveled here by a roundabout route, that doesn’t make it wrong.”

“Play that video again. Something just clicked in my head.”

Isaac took out her phone and complied unhappily.

“Oh there! There! Beautiful!” I paused the clip. “See what Esmerelda is wearing?”

“It’s a dress.”

“A red dress, which she’d never be seen in, not after the incident. She tried to sue Stephen King, you know. The way the red liquid stained her gown, stained her mind. It was an embarrassment beyond comprehension, far more than even the worst nosebleed in elementary school during the talent show with all the parents watching, filming.” I studied the frozen image. “But that is her, so the question we must ask ourselves is, what message is that dress trying to convey?”

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Your Father is Attempting to Reenter the United States of Australia

  • by jenattempting to reenter the United States
  • pulled his silk handkerchief over his head
  • a new consignment of victims
  • and not shed one tear
  • “Witches. They pretend to be witches.”

Tune in next time part 217                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Your father is attempting to reenter the United States of Australia, as he calls it,” Isaac said. “He stood on his hotel balcony yesterday and pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, a signal to his cohorts that he is ready for a new consignment of victims.” She glared at me. “I don’t know how you can stand there and not shed one tear over the fates of all those innocents.”

“You still haven’t told me who you are, or where your information comes from,” I replied. “My family has many enemies, the worst of whom have their followers convinced they have open lines of communication with the spirits of the dead.” Isaac looked confused, so I clarified. “Witches. They pretend to be witches.”

“You think I’m a witch?”

“Of course not. But maybe you do.” I looked her up and down. Maybe she wasn’t from the Guild of Fire Eaters at all. “Or maybe you just take your orders from one.”

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You Can Call Me Isaac

  • by KentNo, Isaac, you know the rules
  • Well — you’re in luck!
  • female cannibal in modern attire
  • vast working knowledge of serial killers
  • conceal her nudity from strangers

Tune in next time part 216                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“You can call me Isaac,” she replied. Then she threw her head back and laughed. A full minute later she said, “You know, like on–”

“No, Isaac, you know the rules. You’re not allowed to explain your own 80s TV references.”

“… because he was the bartender,” Isaac sulked.

“Listen,” I said, “you have no idea the kind of week I’m having. Actually, it’s been a lot longer than that. I can’t even remember the last time I ate a real meal.”

“Well — you’re in luck!” Isaac said, her mood brightening again. “Just back through that door, in the auxiliary kitchen, you can have a feast. The former chef was a female cannibal in modern attire, with a vast working knowledge of serial killers.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered. “Seriously, I need answers more than food right now.” Especially food that might have once had a driver’s license.

“Her attire was *exceptionally* modern,” Isaac plowed on. “It was really just the notion of clothing, as expressed by its lack. But she did wear an apron when she cooked.”

“To protect herself from grease splatters?”

“No, to conceal her nudity from strangers in the kitchen, who were mostly health inspectors. It didn’t work too well, though, not wrapping around the back. But she never got reported. You know. Cannibal.”

“Isaac? No more games. Tell me who you really are, and how you know so much about my family.”

The bartender put her phone away and drew in a deep breath.

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I Played the Blurry Surveillance Tape Once Again

  • by jenblurry surveillance tape
  • discovering who they are
  • “Look, Esmerelda!” she whispered.
  • eye contact during a fingerbang
  • unsettling history with women

Tune in next time part 215                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I played the blurry surveillance tape once again, studying the individuals with my father in hopes of discovering who they are.

The bartender watched over my shoulder. “Look, Esmerelda!” she whispered.

She was right. Leading the group up the zeppelin’s umbilical ramp was my brother Jim’s wife, Esmerelda, UnderDuchess of Svenborgia — a woman my father once assured me demanded unblinking eye contact during a fingerbang.

The more I tell you of my story, the more clear it becomes that every person in my family has an unsettling history with women.

But how did the bartender know who Esmerelda was? How did she know anything of this?

“Who are you?” I asked, readying myself for a fight.

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Show Me The Video Again

  • by Kenta crow cawed
  • and where is it now?
  • the key was missing
  • How very sad indeed!
  • sucked exactly as much ass as you’d imagine

Tune in next time part 214                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Show me the video again,” I said, and the bartender took out her phone and played it. Now that we were in a quiet space, I could hear the audio that went with the baffling images. There was some random crowd noise, and then a crow cawed. It was the unmistakable caw of the blue-footed crow, a rare species found only in the swamps and fens surrounding Pittsburghistan.

I squinted at the bartender. “The zeppelin was in Contraria when this was shot, and where is it now?”

She shrugged. “The zeppelin’s departure was delayed because after getting everybody on board they noticed that the key was missing. That’s all I know.”

“How sad for us not knowing where dear old dad was late to.”

“How very sad indeed!” She chuckled.

Being confined in a smelly room with a sarcastic Pinkie Swear wasn’t turning out to be as much fun as I hoped. Rather, it sucked exactly as much ass as you’d imagine.

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Looking at the Scalpel

  • by jennot in any way compromise your sister
  • three sons and two daughters
  • rural lava fields
  • asked Henri how his vacation was going
  • now that I’ve read it

Tune in next time part 213                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Looking at the scalpel I remembered my father’s last words to me, Jason, Jim, Jemma, and Jemima: “I would not in any way compromise your sister against her wishes. You know how Freya is. She’s game for anything! I can’t believe that of all my children I have three sons and two daughters who are so uptight and inhibited. You five should try to be more openminded like your other siblings. Why, when I was a youth in the rural lava fields of Iceland, it was anything goes! Our little village was a popular holiday destination for broad-minded Frenchmen, and they taught me much. It was always educational when I ‘asked Henri how his vacation was going‘– if you know what I mean. But you handed me this petition, and now that I’ve read it I think that you don’t, in fact, know what I mean.”

He shook his head and expelled the lot of us from the Oval Office. I don’t know about my siblings, but I never saw my father again.

Until today.

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