“William Showed Me a Picture of You”

  • by jenhair was a different color
  • stressful enough without it becoming a spectator sport
  • predicted it would be impossible
  • with a stranger lying next to me
  • Talk about awkward…

Tune in next time part 435      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“William showed me a picture of you,” said Yesterday. “In it your hair was a different color. Blond, I think you Americans call it.”

“That was a long time ago.” I murmured into her ear.

She gestured for me to continue as she slipped out of her fur cape.

I was still naked from earlier, so I had no undressing to do. “I used to sometimes bleach my hair. I have an identical twin, and when I was less easily mistaken for him, Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.”

“Then why don’t you bleach it now?” She tugged at the zipper of her silver lame jumpsuit, exposing a vee of dark brown skin.

“My twin started bleaching his, too. He likes to be mistaken for me.”

Yesterday’s jumpsuit pooled on the floor around her ankles like a puddle of mercury. With a smile she took hold of me and led me to the bed. As soon as she was sure she had my undivided attention, she called toward the corridor, “Send in the notary and the witnesses.”

“What?”

The door opened, and in came two men and two women wearing the uniforms of the mountain garrison under my command.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Well obviously everything needs to be done properly if the blood feud is to be annulled. The Warlord and your wife would hardly accept the gift of just any random babies. We must observe the proper rituals and file the proper paperwork for every step of the process.”

I looked in dismay at the quartet gathered around my bed. One stood at each corner, clear-eyed and attentive. Making love to my wife’s half-brother’s wife was going to be stressful enough without it becoming a spectator sport. Before today I would have predicted it would be impossible for my sex life to become more convoluted than it already was, but Yesterday’s arrival proved such predictions wrong. Here I was, in a remote mountain outpost, during a blizzard, with a stranger lying next to me, naked and waiting for me to impregnate her, while four uniformed soldiers waited to play their roles in a centuries old ceremony. Talk about awkward…

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Deadlines Are Spooky — Sp•°ky!

Late October might seem like a fine time to talk about ghosts a whole bunch, but here in the Writing Cave it’s time for us to lay aside the Ghost Story and resume our focus on the current WIP, aka Sibling of Music Novel.

We really do need to knuckle down and get this draft completed. We recently took stock of how much of the outline remains, and determined that we’re about 75% of the way done with the writing. This was happy news, because from down in the trenches (what, your writing cave doesn’t have trenches?) it was hard to tell exactly what point we had reached. It’s felt like we’ve been “about halfway” for a long time now. Getting a better handle on our progress has also made it easier not to be stressed out over the burgeoning word count. It’s a big’un, sure, but probably not destined to be as outsized as we feared.

But no matter how much closer to done we find ourselves to be, it’s not done done, and unless we do that knuckling down thing it never will be. So, without much further ado, we must get back to it.

A writing partner is someone who buys the Halloween candy ahead of time so you don’t end up handing out individual frozen peas to the kids on your doorstep.

“Pleased To Make Your Acquaintance”

  • by Kentit’s definitely probably most likely
  • lives with his reindeer-herder father
  • So, bullshit and hogwash.
  • vivid, annihilating heat
  • foreseeing the hideous reality which awaited them

Tune in next time part 434      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Yesterday,” I said.

“But you’re making it today,” YoYo quipped.

William Penn XII favored her with an indulgent smile. “I think we should leave my wife and brother-in-law to get to know one another better, don’t you?” He stepped forward and offered YoYo his elbow. She linked arms with him and cooed about how dashing his cheek numerals looked as they glided out the door.

Whenever you hear tales about a family that’s rife with tawdry intrigue, it’s definitely probably most likely mine.

Yesterday performed the 720-degree curtsy of the eastern noble houses. Etiquette demanded that I reply with the bow of morning, noon, and night, which I had technically never done. But that bow was essentially indistinguishable from doing the worm, which I had much practice with.

“William is my second husband,” Yesterday said to me while I undulated across the floor. “My first ran off in disgrace and now lives with his reindeer-herder father. That’s the official story, but there never were any reindeer in the eastern provinces. So, bullshit and hogwash.”

“Are you and William happy?” I asked, rising and kissing her hand.

“No, but we are content. When it is time to rut we do so with vivid, annihilating heat, and the rest of the time we each have our own hobbies. His latest hobby would appear to involve yodeling.” She caressed my cheek, gazing at it in fascination. “What about you and Fleur? I know what William says, but…” She kissed my un-calligraphed skin. “I want to hear what you say.”

“Well,” I said, “she sent me off to this remote outpost. That should give you the basic tenor of our marriage.” Yesterday was smiling up at me. I kissed her gently on the lips, and though she didn’t kiss back she kept smiling. “What happens now?”

She licked her lips again. “Now, you tell me of how this fortress came to be built. I can’t believe the workers carried out their job without foreseeing the hideous reality which awaited them once it was done.” And then, she kissed me, hard, making sure I could not, in fact, tell her any such thing.

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The Elaborate Calligraphic Numerals

  • by jenshe washed it
  • something was lurking in the shadows
  • These guys can kiss my ass.
  • She’s a beautiful angel
  • um… yesterday

Tune in next time part 433      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The elaborate calligraphic numerals tattooed in gold on the lurker’s cheek identified him immediately as my brother-in-law. “So, William Penn XII, we meet at last.”

“I would have been at the wedding,” he replied with shrug, “except that I have a sworn blood feud with both my father and Fleur. My mother filed all the paperwork when I was but a babe in arms, and you know how Contrarians are about rituals and formalities and all that.” He stroked his cheek. “Mother also gave me this tattoo when I was too young to object.” When he saw my horrified expression he rushed to add, “She washed it first, of course. My cheek, I mean. She was very hygienic, my mum. I’ll give her that.”

I heard a rustling noise. Something was lurking in the shadows behind this man who had been lurking in the shadows.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I’m sure you’re aware of how highly in demand your ‘exotic substance’ is. I’m afraid that’s my doing.”

The fox appeared from under the bed just long enough to give us a look that said, “These guys can kiss my ass.” He then disappeared again.

“What a lovely fox,” said William.

“Forget about the fox,” I said. “What’s this about you being the one who wants my semen?”

William sighed. “It’s the only way for me to break the blood oath. Well,” he tilted his head and pursed his lips, “the easiest way.” He could see my confusion so he went on. “The easiest way for a Contrarian second-born to nullify a blood feud with the firstborn and heir is to present the firstborn their own firstborn.”

“What?” asked YoYo, which meant I didn’t have to.

William explained, “If my sister’s husband gets my wife pregnant and we give the resultant offspring to Fleur to add to her royal brood, then this ridiculous blood feud will be declared null and void and I will be free to enjoy the life of leisure I am entitled to as prince.”

“Wait,” I said. “You want me to get your wife pregnant?”

“I was hoping to do it without bothering you overmuch, which is why I sent agents to collect samples. I envisioned an in vitro conception. It seems, though, that my orders became garbled.”

“Does Fleur know about this?” I asked.

“Does it really matter?” He waved a hand toward YoYo. “I know you and Fleur have an understanding. Here, meet my wife.” He reached back into the darkness and pulled forward the second lurking figure. “She’s a beautiful angel, wouldn’t you say?”

She truly was lovely, with dark skin and black hair. “What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Um… Yesterday,” she said, licking her lips.

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On The Mean Streets

Our recent trip to NYC was great, as we’ve already mentioned, and we learned several things about our story’s locations that will help us enrich (and sometimes correct) the descriptions. Some details might even impact the action.

We’re decidedly not going to start rewriting stuff that’s already done, though. We have our notes, and we’ll take the new info into account going forward, but that’s just the thing — we will keep going forward. There will be a second draft.

It’s inspiring to stand where our characters stand. It’s wonderful to be able to do it together.

YoYo Hadn’t Actually Brought Along Any Whipped Cream

  • by Kentstill stiff and salt-stained
  • “Or someone did, anyway.”
  • swaying and bumping in the unclean air
  • an act of obscure sentimentality
  • His vague smile

Tune in next time part 432      Click Here for Earlier Installments

YoYo hadn’t actually brought along any whipped cream, but she did find inventive ways to use the chair. That it took longer than ten minutes didn’t bother me, or her.

Afterwards I was hesitant to don my uniform, because it was still stiff and salt-stained from my journey to Disco Island. But the fabrics were clean, supple and pressed. “You washed my uniform,” I said, but YoYo looked nervously puzzled. “Or someone did, anyway.”

She shrugged and went over to the window to watch the blizzard, hugging herself. “My jeans are too tight, I will not put them back on.” She stood naked, swaying and bumping in the unclean air.

“Where’s that smoke coming from?” I asked. YoYo shrugged some more, and then a deep voice from across the dim room said, “My cigar. Sorry, I’ll put it out.”

YoYo yelped and grabbed a blanket from my bed to cover herself as we both turned to find the person who’d spoken. The shadows at that end of the room made it all but impossible to discern the figure who leaned against the wall, and the lingering cigar smoke didn’t help.

“Heh,” came the stranger’s raspy laugh. “Sending you to this outpost was nothing but an act of obscure sentimentality on your wife’s part. But now, to call you away so suddenly. Doesn’t it make you wonder what she doesn’t want you to see?”

“Identify yourself,” I demanded. “You are speaking to a general of the Contrarian Mountain Garrisons, and you will show proper respect.”

The man leaned forward, out of the murky corner. His vague smile told me that he knew I didn’t recognize him, but the tattoo on his cheek told me who he was all the same.

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“Summon My Zeppelin”

  • by jengoing utterly numb
  • light fixtures had long ago been stolen
  • with such instructors
  • with just ten minutes and a chair
  • kill him and eat him

Tune in next time part 431      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Summon my zeppelin,” I ordered.

“I’m sorry to say that there’s a blizzard,” said YoYo, not sounding sorry at all. “Your zeppelin is grounded. You will be alerted immediately when it is safe to take to the skies. In the meantime, these jeans are so tight my bottom is going utterly numb. Surely you’d like to help me remove them.”

“Perhaps some other time.” I groped about in the dimness. “Dammit, where’s the light switch?”

“It’s right here,” said YoYo. “But it won’t do you any good.” She explained that the light fixtures had long ago been stolen by marauding Harmonians. “Now about these jeans.”

“If I’m to act as Harry’s lawyer, I need to brush up on Contrarian Law.”

YoYo placed my hands upon her zipper. “I’ve heard that you were educated at The Hopscotch Academy. With such instructors as they have there I’m sure you know more about Contrarian Law than most Contrarian lawyers.”

“There’s no way that’s possible. All things Contrarian are ridiculously complicated.” I looked sternly at her. “What game are you playing, Yolanda?”

“I will show you, with just ten minutes and a chair, and maybe a little bit of whipped cream.”

The thought of YoYo (or myself) covered in whipped cream was too much, and I gave in. The snow was too heavy for my zeppelin to return me to my wife, it was too dark to study for my upcoming legal duties, I had already had sex with YoYo and survived, so no matter what her plan was I felt pretty safe. Plus if she was naked it would be easy to search her for hidden weapons.

“Just once more,” I said, stripping her tight jeans off. “After all, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“If Harry is found guilty his accusers are allowed to kill him and eat him,” YoYo purred, pushing me back onto my feather mattress and startling the fox.

I guess it’s a good thing I never liked Harry very much anyway.

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We Can Be Taught

The purpose of our recent trip to New York wasn’t to spend a lovely afternoon with our agent — that was an immensely enjoyable bonus. The true purpose of our visit was to scope out locales that figure in some of what we’re writing. What we’re currently writing, no less. Yes, we can learn — this time we didn’t wait until the draft was all the way done before heading out to do recon. This time we’re in the middle. Perhaps someday in the future we’ll be organized enough to conduct our location scouting before we start writing at all.

The need for this research took us by surprise. We’ve been to New York before — more than once! — plus, there are a million pictures online to fill in the gaps in our knowledge. We thought we were all good, but once we set fingers to keyboards we discovered more and more details that were a little too fuzzy for comfort. Details that our google-fu was inadequate to turn up.

The specifics of where we went and why are on a need-to-know basis, but we’ll share a tidbit that’s not too spoilery: verifying certain facts entailed renting a rowboat in Central Park. In the process, we verified that working a set of oars brings out the creative side of many New Yorkers.

We really do hope to be able to stay put for a while now, and focus on the actual writing. A writing partner is someone to enjoy a romantic getaway with under the guise of research.

“Well, Let’s Hear It”

  • by Kenteven the violinists
  • insisted that he call his attorney
  • It wasn’t natural.
  • as if he had touched a Leyden jar.
  • over her tight white elastic panties

Tune in next time part 430      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Well, let’s hear it,” I said before I thought things through. Yolanda the Yodeler commenced delivering the message at full volume, sending the poor fox scurrying under the bed.

The urgent message stated, “Isolde hasn’t seen Harry in three days, ever since the incident at the cotillion. Most of the orchestra side with Harry, and even the violinists insisted that he call his attorney. But Harry’s attorney vanished last winter during a blizzard of duct tape. Everyone agrees our enemies had something to do with that storm. It wasn’t natural. The Minister of Trapeze caught one of the flakes on his tongue and jumped as if he had touched a Leyden jar. Thus you must abandon your post in the Paradoxica Mountains and return to the capital to act as Harry’s lawyer.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

YoYo nodded. A sly smile made itself comfy on her face like a cat stretching out for a nap as she posed to call my attention to the non-regulation jeans she wore over her tight white elastic panties that I remembered from our time aboard the zeppelin (which were regulation in every way).

The fox poked its head out from under the bed and whimpered at me.

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Alone in My Mountain Fortress Chamber

  • by jenfell into a troubled sleep
  • brushing her wine glass
  • save it, asswipe
  • I thought about the gradient
  • three-legged races, dunk tanks

Tune in next time part 429      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Alone in my mountain fortress chamber, I fell into a troubled sleep. I woke to a squeaking noise, like that a woman makes by brushing her wine glass rim with a damp finger. As my sleep-clouded eyes cleared, I saw that it was merely the fox rubbing his nose on the windowpane. “Save it, asswipe,” I grumbled, throwing my pillow at the beast. “It’s the middle of the night.”

The fox looked at me smugly and curled up to sleep on the pillow, leaving me with nothing to rest my head upon. Would I be able to capture the animal? I could grab it and throw it out into the snow and finally sleep in peace. But then I thought about the gradient of the slope, how the Paradoxica Mountains were practically vertical, and I knew such a toss would likely be fatal to the poor creature. I sighed and laid back on my feather mattress. Surely there were things more uncomfortable than sleeping sans pillow. Things like circuses, three-legged races, dunk tanks…

I tucked my arm under my head and drifted off.

In the morning, blinding sunlight flooded my quarters. YoYo stood at the foot of my bed. When she saw that I was awake, she said, “I have an urgent message from your wife.”

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