Tagged: actual human thumb

Standing Just Inside the Door

  • by jengirl with brown hair
  • People do.
  • no one knows where he went
  • “There are balloons.”
  • thinking it was kind of funny

Tune in next time part 207                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Standing just inside the door was a girl with brown hair and a bright orange pinkie on her left hand. That was a sign that she was a very high ranking Pinkie Swear, and also tough. She’d endured the agony of having her entire little finger tattooed a shade of orange too bright for most hunters to look upon. It’s hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily do that, but people do. People do.

“I can tell you’re not Jason,” she said, taking in my crocs, “but you’re probably looking for him. He was here about half an hour ago and no one knows where he went. We were preparing to celebrate his tattoo ritual,” she gestured around the black-lit room. “There are balloons.”

“Yes there are,” I agreed. The floor was knee deep with them, all glowing under the unnatural illumination.

I was thinking it was kind of funny that the Pinks expected Jason to pledge fealty, when for as long as I could remember he’d been more of a thumb wrestling kind of guy. Back at the Academy, he’d been thumb wrestling champion four years running.

If there’s one thing my association with my twin had taught me, it was that you should never trust a thumb wrestler. It takes a certain psychopathy to excel at the sport.

Had Jason’s foray in this group been benign? Was he merely studying this foreign faction the way Dian Fossey studied gorillas? Or had his mission been more sinister?

I looked around at all the fanciful balloons. What might Jason have hidden beneath their glowing childish joy?

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I Threw a Glance at the Closed Door

  • by jengood-natured patience and gentle eye-rolling
  • embedded into the skin
  • it sounds insane
  • he never intended to record it himself
  • so predictably ritualistic

Tune in next time part 105                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I threw a glance at the closed door to the ultrasound room where my wife and her sister presumably still were, getting high as fuck on those funky smoked mushrooms. That couldn’t be good for the babies, could it?

I kept my hand over my mouth to make sure I didn’t ask that question out loud.

When I looked back at my one-time prom date I found her full of good-natured patience and gentle eye-rolling, which was disconcerting since she had metal spikes embedded into the skin of her eyelids that stuck out like armored eyelashes. I know it sounds insane, but Myxolemia always had a flair for the dramatic.

“The president sent me,” Myxolemia said in response to my questioning look. “I’m the ambassador to Contraria these days. Thor wanted me to deliver a message, but he never intended to record it himself.” She handed me a thumb drive in the shape of an actual human thumb. “Freya did it for him.”

I wondered which of my siblings had truly sent this mysterious message, and why any of them would be taking an interest in my fate at this late date.

Myxolemia held out her hand. I fished in my pocket and gave her a §12 coin. She rolled her eyes less gently and I remembered that in Contraria it is customary to tip an ambassador with a song. Everything in this damn country is so predictably ritualistic! Right down to how many verses I was to sing, based on the social importance of the message’s sender, and which foot I was to stand on while I sang.

I did the calculations, took a deep breath, lifted my right foot, and began.

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