Tagged: boat

I Didn’t Like the Way Hildegard Kept Insisting We were Married

  • by jenattempting to impose a sense of order and restraint on what is inherently an indulgent act
  • I was in a very famous TV show
  • a clown doll that sings
  • took them to a houseboat
  • complicated and bizarre

Tune in next time part 631      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I didn’t like the way Hildegard kept insisting we were married, but I liked even less how she kept trying to help me pee. She assured me she was merely attempting to impose a sense of order and restraint on what is inherently an indulgent act. I disagreed that solo urination was indulgent at all. If we were, in fact, legally married, this was proof that it would never work.

“Tell me about yourself,” I said, hoping she’d get distracted and I’d be able to pee in peace.

“When I was a child I was in a very famous TV show here in Bumpengrynd. My costars were a clown doll that sings German folk songs, and a little old sea captain. The sea captain collected orphans, including myself and the singing clown doll, and took them to a houseboat in the lagoon where he made us all wear wooden shoes while he cooked spaghetti, wrote sinister poems, and painted imaginary landscapes.”

“It sounds complicated and bizarre.” I said. “What was it called?”

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I Had Been on the Academy’s Beatnik Team

  • by jenplease sing that
  • signal when you want me to stop
  • I just don’t feel like giving hugs
  • lasted for two weeks
  • a snow-covered archipelago

Tune in next time part 585    Click Here for Earlier Installments

I had been on the Academy’s Beatnik Team, but it had been years since I’d tapped the skins. To stall I said, “Please sing that request, Captain.”

He slid his sunglasses down his nose and glared at me until I got myself seated comfortably crosslegged with the bongos nestled between my knees. My fingertips tingled in anticipation. “Wave to signal when you want me to stop,” I said, and began. The rhythms came back to me immediately. It was way-out, Daddy-O. You dig?

The captain waved his hand in my face and I finished with a flourish. “You can ride with me,” the captain said, standing. “I just don’t feel like giving hugs or kisses or anything like that.” He went to the railing and untied the boat from the pier.

We left the harbor of the piratical island with no difficulties at all, which was a welcome surprise. Our journey lasted for two weeks, and I never learned the name of either the yacht or her captain. But I did play a lot of bongos.

At the end of our two-week sail we spotted a snow-covered archipelago, unfamiliar to me and to Tessa.

“This is where you get off,” the anonymous captain declared.

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The Fisherman Winked at Me and Made a Complicated Hand Sign

  • by jenI’ve been doing it my whole life and it’s hard to stop.
  • and paid plenty
  • the more toxin it has accumulated
  • like magnified mops
  • this is just how they unload timber in Canada

Tune in next time part 401      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The fisherman winked at me and made a complicated hand sign that told me he had spent time at the Academy. I didn’t want to talk about our shared Alma Mater. I’ve been doing it my whole life and it’s hard to stop... especially when I keep running into fellow graduates. The Hopscotch Academy exacted a toll from its alumni. I’d paid, and paid plenty, and now all I wanted was the freedom to live my life on my own terms.

“What sort of fish are you catching today?” I asked to change the subject.

“Well none anymore,” the fisherman said gruffly. “But before you came along I hauled in a whole school of Inimical Mopfish.” He opened a hatch in the deck and pointed inside. “The bigger the fish, the more toxin it has accumulated.”

I peered inside and saw a swarm of ugly gray tentacles, like magnified mops with strands as long as my arm. I struggled to keep the revulsion out of my voice. “Are they edible?”

“Hell no. But their toxin is a powerful euphoric, with only a few dozen side effects. Very popular as a party drug.”

I nudged the hatch closed with my foot. Above us the zeppelin had slowed and on the horizon I saw a rocky promontory. “Is that Disco Island?” I asked.

The fisherman nodded, wary. “No offense General, but I’m not taking my vessel to that blighted hellscape. It’s full of mimes.”

“But that’s where my brother is heading,” I said. “And I need to get there, too.”

“You look like a strong swimmer.”

Five minutes later he was lowering me into the water on the end of a large metal hook. “Don’t overthink it,” he said. “This is just how they unload timber in Canada.”

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My Commandeered Catamaran

  • by jennegotiate the terms of his surrender
  • liquid French toast
  • shoes I never want to walk a mile in
  • … nothing but tai chi.
  • anything except mustaches

Tune in next time part 397      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My commandeered catamaran raced across the waves. I kept my eyes on the sky, searching for Jim’s zeppelin. Assuming I was able to find him, would I be able to negotiate the terms of his surrender? Or would we fight until one of us, hopefully him, was the color and consistency of liquid French toast? Jim’s feet are small, making his footwear shoes I never want to walk a mile in, but this had little effect on his fighting prowess. The Academy tried to make him learn various martial arts, but he would do nothing… nothing but tai chi. My brother was a tai chi master, and in hand-to-hand (or foot-to-foot) combat, he was invulnerable to anything except mustaches. And I probably didn’t have time to grow an adequate one before our inevitable showdown.

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I Clapped My Hand Over John’s Mouth

  • by jenI’ll keep you company
  • how many bottles of unguent and liquor
  • made little use of his arms in speaking
  • letting it pour through her fingers
  • washed it in a nearby puddle

Tune in next time part 317      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I clapped my hand over John’s mouth to silence him. When I looked over my shoulder, Xylona was already out of the plane and darting away toward a hiding place.

“I’ll keep you company,” I thought. I kept one hand clamped over John’s mouth while I used the other to reach between us and unbuckle my seatbelt. John’s oily thighs provided enough lubrication that once I was free, I backflipped out of the front cockpit and into the rear one my aunt had so recently deserted, then over the side to land on the flight deck on my bare feet. Above me, John continued to sleep-warble about Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines. I sprinted after Xylona.

“Seize him!” a phlegmy voice cried, and I was quickly surrounded by bulky men in Contrarian Royal Navy uniforms, brandishing scimitars. As they herded me around to the front of the plane, John’s singing finally stopped. I saw another cadre of guards prizing him out of the cockpit while he looked around groggily. The rain picked up, making me shiver.

Soon John and I stood side by side, scimitar points in our backs. In front of us stood Viscount Arlo, and my heavily pregnant wife Fleur. They both wore resplendent Contrarian ceremonial pajamas, and they were shielded from the rain by an enormous red and gold umbrella held aloft by three servants.

“Oh,” Fleur sighed when she saw me. “It’s you.” She batted her eyelashes at the viscount. “Help me remember, Arlo daring, how many bottles of unguent and liquor you and I have enjoyed in bed together these past few months. I’m sure my husband will want a full accounting.”

Like most Svenborgians, Viscount Arlo generally made little use of is arms in speaking. He stood stiff and rigid, his single eye taking me in at a glance. He sniffed. “More unguent than liquor, due to your delicate condition. It was quite the opposite when I was involved with ZsaZsa.”

That guy is such a dick. Why else would he make such a point of his affair with my mother?

Fleur reached into the pocket of Arlo’s pajamas and withdrew a flask. She spun the cap off and sniffed the liquid inside before tipping the bottle and letting it pour through her fingers and puddle in her palm. She stepped forward, causing her entire retinue to lurch after her to keep her covered by the umbrella. She stood in front of me and said lazily, “According to Contrarian tradition, I am to anoint you with ceremonial wine upon your return. This will have to do.” She slapped me once on each cheek.

While I blinked the fumes out of my eyes, she licked a few drops of the sickly sweet alcohol off her hand and then washed it in a nearby puddle.

“My contractions are three minutes apart,” she said. “Let us adjourn to the birthing chamber to begin the ceremony.”

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“Shut Up and Let Me Fly the Plane”

  • by jenand waited.
  • every single one’s got a story to tell
  • trying to enjoy sex together
  • textured, oily surface
  • getting a little bit slick

Tune in next time part 315      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Shut up and let me fly the plane,” Xylona said.

And so I did. I shut up and waited. Soon John fell asleep, leaning back against my chest, so while I waited I let my hands roam about the cockpit, identifying all of the controls by touch. I wanted to be ready to wrest control of the aircraft from my aunt if it seemed like she was going to betray me. I have so many enemies, and every single one’s got a story to tell, I’m sure, about why they have it in for me.

I wished there was one person I could trust. Just one person who I didn’t have to worry about plotting to kill me while trying to enjoy sex together.

Of course I didn’t want that person to be my aunt. I’d just be happy if my aunt wasn’t actively trying to kill me while I was trapped in a biplane she was piloting. I sighed.

My exploring right hand encountered a textured, oily surface that I could not identify. After a moment of prodding I identified it as John’s bare thigh and moved on.

“We’ll be landing momentarily.” Xylona’s voice crackled through the headset. “The landing strip is getting a little bit slick from all the rain, so buckle up.”

I looked down over the side and saw no land anywhere, just a speck on the water that rapidly grew as we swooped closer. It was an aircraft carrier. A black and gold aircraft carrier with a majestic zeppelin tethered to the prow.

This was Fleur’s personal craft. I counted backwards on my fingers and realized she would be due to give birth to our twins any day now.

I gulped, remembering the prophecy.

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I Could No Longer Smell the Sewage We Were Adrift Upon

  • by jenbut because of the fog
  • “We can work this out.”
  • smell the woodsmoke
  • the tune was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
  • aspect of Wikipedia that I dislike

Tune in next time part 283                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I could no longer smell the sewage we were adrift upon, but because of the fog that rose from it I was unable to forget it was there. When we finally escaped I would have to take, just, like, all the showers.

Tesla napped, curled up on her side of the swan boat’s bench. I wanted to wake her up and work with her to figure out a way out of our dilemma. I would say something really persuasive and motivating like, “We can work this out.” But Tesla was a sound sleeper and so I didn’t get a chance to even try before we rounded a long, lazy corner and I could finally see the light at the end of the sewer pipe. We were so close to freedom I could even smell the woodsmoke coming in through the grate.

Our swan came to a sludgy stop against the grate. I left Tesla sleeping while I peered out and tried to make sense of what I saw. We were still on my brothers’ island, of course, so I had to be careful.

The smoke came from an enormous bonfire around which danced a dozen mimes in ceremonial garb. The song was one I’d heard many times growing up. The lyrics, sung by someone I couldn’t see, were nothing you’d recognize, but the tune was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

I tried once to research this song, but all trace of it had been erased from the internet. That is the aspect of Wikipedia that I dislike the most, its willingness to delete any page that the Guild of Fire Eaters demands.

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Magic Spells Were Way Outside My Area of Expertise

  • by jenif they intend to keep their trousers on
  • he likes to sing along
  • army of gargoyle angels
  • astroturf vest
  • “I was very much surprised.”

Tune in next time part 281                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Magic spells were way outside my area of expertise. At the Academy that sort of thing is studied only by nerds, and only then if they intend to keep their trousers on until well after graduation. Tesla had never struck me as that sort of girl. It made me wonder where she got her information.

Whether or not there was magic involved, the weird, robed dude was waving a bug sprayer around and I really didn’t want to get a faceful of whatever he had on offer. I slowed my pedaling to a pace that kept us even with the boat ramp despite the current, but I didn’t approach.

“You know this guy?” I asked Tesla.

“Oh come on, you must remember him!” she said. “He was at the Academy at the same time we were. He likes to sing along with that group of students that sounds like an army of gargoyle angels.”

“You mean the choir?” The Academy was not known for its arts programs.

She snapped the fingers of both hands and pointed at me. “That’s what they called themselves! Remember how they always wore those astroturf vests?”

“The first time I saw them perform,” I said, “I was very much surprised.”

I squinted through the murk at the madman on the shore. He and his conspiracy theories and his fancy squirt gun were all that stood between me and an escape from the sewer. I decided to go for it. I didn’t believe in magic, and I could hold my breath for a really long time, at least long enough to get past him. With much determination I applied my feet to the swan boat’s pedals.

“No!” Tesla shrieked.

She reached down between my legs, and with surprising strength, twisted the pedal mechanism into a knot. We immediately began drifting with the current, away from the boat ramp.

It was then that I realized that I was up shit creek without a pedal.

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I Tried to Psych Myself Up

  • by jenthere will be bubbles
  • adjacent to the boat ramp
  • rubbed his hands with unspeakable glee
  • broadcasting their raw footage
  • (read: your crotch)

Tune in next time part 279                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I tried to psych myself up for my upcoming swim in the sewage. “When you stir the shit there will be bubbles,” I muttered. “It’s inevitable.”

Before letting go of my leather strap, I clenched every orifice I had.

I counted to three and released my grip.

I fell about two feet before my heels jarred on a narrow metal catwalk that spanned the mineshaft. My breath gushed out and my feet stung from the impact. At least I wasn’t swimming in shit.

I looked to one end of the catwalk where it seemed to disappear into a tunnel in the wall. I looked the other way and saw a dark-cloaked figure hurrying away from me, Tesla over his shoulder.

I gave chase as quickly as my sore feet would allow. When I reached the wall I encountered steep metal stairs leading down toward the poop smell, and a few flights ahead of me I could make out Tesla’s abductor/rescuer. I followed.

We descended for several minutes, the stench growing with each step. At the bottom I stood on an algae-covered boulder adjacent to the boat ramp where the cloaked figure was lowering Tesla’s unconscious form into a fanciful, swan-shaped pedal boat. That task completed, he stood and rubbed his hands with unspeakable glee. He preened for the security cameras along the ceiling that were broadcasting their raw footage of the raw sewage to who knew where.

The cloaked figure spotted me and said, “Don’t come any closer or I’ll kick you in your tender giblets (read: your crotch).”

As if I didn’t know what tender giblets were.

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I Remained in the Brig for Days

  • by jenringing of church bells
  • until the helicopter came
  • a very pretty demonstration
  • for it is poisoned
  • decorated with curtains of a saffron hue

Tune In Next Time Part 30                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I remained in the brig for days. During that time I saw no one, not a single pirate, ninja, or mime. I ate so much cotton candy I began to hallucinate that my prison was a small cottage decorated with curtains of a saffron hue, and filled with the sound of the ringing of church bells.

As my stupor ebbed away, I said out loud, “Don’t be fooled. This is a very pretty demonstration of the effects of iocaine poisoning, for it is poisoned cotton candy, of course. Poisoned by the duplicitous Jorgensen.”

I repeated the phrase over and over until the helicopter came and I failed to hear any footsteps on the deck above my head. That could mean only one thing: the ninja envoys had arrived. Would Tessa be with them? Would John? Would Heinrich?

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