“There You Are”

  • by Kentthe soft, fleshy calf of a human leg
  • what appeared to be a love affair
  • was a braggart
  • Once, and only once, in his life
  • “Really, Winifred.”

Tune in next time part 134                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“There you are!” Tara yelled.

“Come quick!” Taylor yelled.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Tanya hissed. “But get dressed first. You know our master can’t abide seeing the soft, fleshy calf of a human leg.”

The sisters swarmed Tallulah, scrambling to put clothing on her in what appeared to be a love affair among sapphic mannequins. John was a braggart when it came to erotic adventures, but this restroom kerfuffle topped anything he ever claimed. It was a sight a man could only see one time. Once, and only once, in his life. Unless he spent a lot of time around Tallulah, Taylor, Tara, and Tanya.

The four sisters left, passing through the bathroom door in a clot of willowy limbs.

From the spy gear in the discarded disguise on the floor came a reproachful exclamation.

“Really, Winifred.”

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Tallulah Kept Me Confined to the Bathroom All Night

  • by jenkissed each other good morning
  • she was going to carry a hammer to work
  • four years earlier, nearly to the day
  • another human skull
  • Oh hell

Tune in next time part 133                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tallulah kept me confined to the bathroom all night. Between the arms merchants and their monkey robot plans out in the dining room, the occasional visits from the busybody janitor, the knowledge that my wife could discover us any minute, and the unhinged look in Tallulah’s eyes and her talk of blood — well, let’s just say that I was having trouble wrapping things up.

With superhuman stamina and dedication, Tallulah saw things through to the bitter end. When it finally happened, we kissed each other good morning and, at last, disengaged.

The next thing I knew Tallulah was glaring at my crotch and angrily telling the voice from the camera that there was no way she was going to “carry a hammer to work” again tonight.

I thought back to the last time she’d carried my hammer. It was four years earlier, nearly to the day. Tessa had left me and I was on a bender. I had just ordered my favorite drink when Tallulah joined me at the bar. “Don’t tell me you’re having another Human Skull. Those things will kill you.”

The rest of that night was a blur, much like the last night, and, really, every night with Tallulah.

I struggled to my feet and was trying to make myself look presentable when the door flew open, admitting Taylor, Tara, and Tanya, Tallulah’s younger sisters. On their own they were formidable – working as a team, deadly. And they followed Tallulah’s orders to a T.

“Oh hell,” I said.

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Like a Swiss Clock

r-avatarSon of Science Novel may not be progressing as quickly as we would like, but it is progressing smoothly. Everything is lining up just the way it should.

Jen whipped up a dozen or so stubs before actual writing began, and when we started to run low she was able to leave the prose composition in Kent’s capable hands and get the next batch of them ready. It takes a little bit of planning to map out which of us is going to write which upcoming scene, but as usually happens with a novel, each of us has gravitated toward certain characters. And, due to good planning at the outlining stage, point-of-view scenes for each character are somewhat staggered which has resulted in us seamlessly passing the baton back and forth. Wow, that’s a terrible metaphor.

Anyway.

This week Kent was working his way through a complicated scene while Jen did her best to confuse Google with her research topics. She got the answers she needed just in time for Kent to need to do some research, which meant one of us was always adding to the word count.

Having a writing partner brings some challenges, but this past month has really demonstrated for us what a useful thing it is to have one.

I’m Not Going To Help You

  • by Kent“No! You will!”
  • creepy claymation ballet
  • something had come out of her body
  • “Take off your shirt, please.”
  • no idea how much blood

Tune in next time part 132                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I’m not going to help you topple any governments,” I said.

“No! You will!” Tallulah shouted.

“I’m retired,” I grunted. The janitor tipped his hat as he left, and I had to look away from that amused hunger in his eyes. So I ended up facing the mirror, where I saw my erotic predicament altered by the rapid flickering of the fluorescent lights into a creepy claymation ballet.

A glint in the mirror drew my gaze to the floor where Tallulah’s many layers of disguise all lay in macabre disarray. Specifically to the Tessa disguise, which looked much like Tessa would if she were napping on the floor after something had come out of her body and taken most of her insides with it. The glint came from the wig. It seemed to be a camera, and it was maneuvering for a better angle as I stared at its reflection.

“Take off your shirt, please.” The voice was tinny.

“He already did,” Tallulah said. “I made the same mistake the first time. But it’s just hair.”

“That’s it,” I said. “This has to stop.”

Tallulah clenched her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. She whispered to me, “There will be blood if we don’t see this through. You have no idea how much blood.”

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“My Husband is President of the United States”

  • by jenwe’re crawling into your bed
  • skating together and holding hands
  • had not originated from her
  • the Rorschach inkblot
  • Don’t be mealy-mouthed about it.

Tune in next time part 131                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“My husband is the president of the United States,” Tallulah breathed in my ear. “Not some Contrarian janitor.” She looked over her shoulder at our dapperly uniformed audience. “Although now that you mention it…”

“Wait,” I said. “You’re married to Thor? Since when?”

Tallulah threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t be mealy-mouthed about it. Your family has such hangups!” Her unusual blue-black eyes met mine. “You’re blushing like the Rorschach inkblots they used to show me, back at the academy.” She began her relentless gyrations upon me again, and I was helpless to resist.

A clearing of the throat broke my trance and I looked at Tallulah, but the sound had not originated from her. The janitor said, “You two look really happy, skating together and holding hands, or whatever it is you call that, but I need you to move. There’s a big clog in the ladies’ room.”

Tallulah used my joystick to steer me away from the door and into one of the stalls. “The minute we’re done here we’re leaving this place and we’re crawling into your bed, and we’re not leaving it for a week.”

My eyes crossed at the thought, but I managed to stammer, “But Thor’s in trouble. His blimp was hijacked by the Vegan Separatists.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She increased the speed and intensity of her movements into an erotic frenzy. “I hired them! Working together, you and I will topple the governments of both the US and Contraria! Just like we talked about back in kindergarten!”

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Thankfulness

r-avatarYesterday was Thanksgiving, and that meant there wasn’t a lot happening in the writing cave. But there was plenty of family time, and Lady Marzipan got to meet her first kitty cat! Today we lunge back into fictioning, to start burning off some of the gazillion extra calories we took in at the feast.

Kent and Jen are each thankful to have a wonderful writing partner, for the load sharing and the brainstorming, and the occasional chaining to their desks. (Kent is grateful, furthermore, for a writing partner with phenomenal baking skills.)

I Waddled to the Bathroom Door

  • by Kentmixes my metaphors like a martini
  • ritualistic signature
  • People are disgusting.
  • recovered his shiny silk hat
  • removed the latex gloves

Tune in next time part 130                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I waddled to the bathroom door, with Tallulah ecstatically aboard for the ride. Sure enough, no lock. I managed to jam one of my discarded shoes underneath, and then leaned back on the door to use our combined weight as a further impediment to unannounced entrances.

I wanted to ask her why she thought her husband might barge in on us. I wanted to ask her why she tracked me down in Contraria, why all the disguises. I had more questions than a one-armed paper-hanger on a frozen pond. Having sex with Tallulah always mixes my metaphors like a martini on roller skates. So, none of my questions were likely to get asked, much less answered, for a little while.

No longer constrained by hiding within my oversized clothing, she had room to execute her ritualistic signature finishing move. I was glad the door was sturdy, and the floor not too slippery, and that Tallulah toned down her usual yodeling crescendo.

I was on the verge of my own crescendo when one of the stalls swung open. The janitor had been cleaning that toilet the entire time. He tutted, then said, “People are disgusting.” The job in there had evidently been strenuous. He mopped his forehead, then recovered his shiny silk hat and long red cape from the hook on the back of the stall door.

Looking in our direction, he slowly removed the latex gloves. He sneered.

“Um,” I said as Tallulah purred against my neck and writhed against the rest of me. “Is your husband by any chance a janitor?”

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The Whispering Waiter Withdrew

  • by jenfour kinds of bird: chicken, turkey, ostrich, and goose
  • “I’m going to tell you something, honey.”
  • very enchanting conversational powers
  • “Ooo boy!”
  • a sleek little black bra

Tune in next time part 129                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The whispering waiter withdrew. The name he’d given was a familiar one because it was not his. It was instead one of the standard aliases used by the agency. If I had a dollar for every “Graham Crackers” I had met in the course of my career, I’d be able to buy four kinds of bird: chicken, turkey, ostrich, and goose.

I nibbled my smore politely and listened to the gossiping of the arms merchants. Inside my jacket, Tallulah began squeezing again. Her message this time was, “I’m going to tell you something, honey.” She may be the most dangerous woman in the world, but she has very enchanting conversational powers when she’s hidden inside ones clothes, and what she told me — well, honey, I’ll just say that it sent me straight back to the restroom.

“Ooo boy!” she cooed as soon as we were alone again. She quickly stripped the both of us.

It took her a while. Underneath the old man costume she’d had the Svetlana getup, and beneath that was the Tessa disguise. Now she wore only her Tallulah uniform, which consisted of a sleek little black bra and nothing else.

“Lock the door,” she ordered. “We can’t risk my husband walking in on us. Or your wife. Or Graham Crackers.”

She clambered aboard and got down to business before I could tell her the door had no lock.

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Captain’s Log

r-avatarThanksgiving can’t possibly be next week, can it?

It can? Oh. Well. In that case, it must be time for a progress report.

Here in SkelleyCo Amalgamated Fictions’ world famous Writing Cave we recently passed the 20,000 word mark on Son of Science Novel. 20,000 words is a great start, but we feel a little guilty over not being further along. With two of us writing we should have reached this milestone a while ago, but we do have a fine array of excuses. Between contracting the plague, suffering through election angst, spending time with visitors, and the occasional surprise trip to Philadelphia, we haven’t been able to spend as many evenings in the prose mines as swift progress demands.

Jen has been lamenting the way our writing schedule worked out this year, which precludes curling up in the Auxiliary Writing Cave during the dreary winter months to brainstorm and plot our next project. We still have to write most of the first and all of the second novels we planned out that way last year. It would be technically possible, though foolhardy, to pause the writing and spend the dark months detailing our future exploits. Instead we’ve devised a scheme that should allow us to relocate our compositional endeavors to our cozy annex at least part of the time. We have one laptop, and with the kids away at school we can co-opt one of the desktop machines left behind. A little bit of creative furniture arrangement, et voila! As long as we can get Kent to spend at least as much time focused on the keyboard as on poking the fire with a metal stick, we’ll be golden.

Tallulah Signalled Me So Frantically

  • by Kentcan’t you hear the thunder?
  • there’s a man with a gun over there
  • with great firmness
  • Our plans worked to perfection
  • his was a familiar name

Tune in next time part 128                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tallulah signalled me so frantically I thought I might need to fake another coughing fit. The message was, “Can’t you hear the thunder?” which I recognized from the agency codebook. The meaning: “Shut up before I strangle you from inside your own fancy clothes!” The agency had a very comprehensive codebook.

The waiter remained calm. He said, “Sir, there’s a man with a gun over there. And over there, and there, and there… all the way around your table.” He plated my dessert with great firmness, and as he set it before he said, “Our plans worked to perfection, but then so did our adversaries’. This is how it is sometimes.” He deftly knocked my fork off the table, and stooping to pick it up put his face near enough my ear introduce himself in a discreet whisper.

His was a familiar name.

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