Tagged: bonus points

Furry Boots Could Have Learned About Jason’s Tongue Tattoo

  • by Kentchandelier hanging from a brass pole
  • the more exotic and outlandish the names
  • they believe that their teeth would fall out
  • except for their own wives
  • unlimited foot massages

Tune in next time part 504      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Furry Boots could have learned about Jason’s tongue tattoo in any number of ways, or just guessed. It proved nothing. But her use — well, misuse — of the bog-roll cipher showed that she did have some connection to the biz. I had to find out more about her.

“What’s your angle?” I asked her.

“Timmy and Mabel swung on the chandelier hanging from a brass pole,” she recited confidently. It was another code, of course, and again she was taking liberties with deploying it. According to protocol, there should be an actual chandelier present, with nametags dangling among the crystal beads. The message itself is conveyed in the tags, and the more exotic and outlandish the names the larger the squad of assassins targeting the recipient. Being in Timmy-and-Mabel danger didn’t worry me too much.

I opted to turn the tables. “Colloquillian men never cross their eyes, because they believe that their teeth would fall out if they did.” Would Furry Boots be able to decode my message?

She replied, “And they won’t look at anyone’s feet, except for their own wives‘, which they gaze at all night long.”

I looked her up and down. Her response was, at best, inconclusive. The proper countersign would have referenced toenails, but she had seemingly grasped that I was talking about the traditional Colloquillian wedding vow of unlimited foot massages.

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I Did Not Kiss the Yeti

  • by jendude deserves a crown
  • should have been written on toilet tissue
  • be a couple publicly
  • “I actually looked at it
  • , not just snow.

Tune in next time part 503      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I did not kiss the yeti.

I would have been willing to if it would make the damn auction move faster, but the yeti wasn’t into it. She recoiled. While she argued about propriety with the furry-boots woman, I ducked under the buffet table and retrieved her headband. She snapped it back in place and stomped off. The furry-boots woman said to me, “If she’s married, dude deserves a crown for putting up with her.”

I froze. It was a coded message that should have been written on toilet tissue and passed discreetly between dance partners. Hearing it spoken aloud I wasn’t sure how to respond. Was it just a coincidence, or was this woman really saying that she wanted to be a couple publicly with me? I’d never met her before, but perhaps she and Jason were engaged in a secret romance.

Furry Boots herded me into the corner. “I can tell by your tongue that you’re not Jason,” she murmured. “I actually looked at it really closely and saw the golden tattoos.”

I didn’t want to admit to not being Jason. “How do you presume to know so much about the tongues of my brother and myself?”

“I know so much about Jason’s tongue because he licks many things off of me, not just snow. Jason’s tongue has a blue tattoo, but none in gold.”

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I Moved Through the Crowd in the Cavern

  • by KentThe one thing I think I know about German
  • I’m not fucking Rembrandt.
  • enough sharp medals to slit my throat
  • did not have a telephone herself
  • “Go ahead, kiss her.”

Tune in next time part 502      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I moved through the crowd in the cavern, trying to look casual and avoid stepping on any toes either figuratively or literally. My climbing boots could do some real damage.

The reason for the lackadaisical bidding revealed itself as I mingled. The auction of my brother Jim was, for many attendees, merely a pretext under which to meet for other forms of business. I overheard arms deals, drug deals, and stolen-art deals. The one thing I think I know about Germany’s art scene, I learned by eavesdropping on two men who were both wearing eyepatches and monocles. And that thing is, German collectors will never give a fuck about my paintings because I’m not fucking Rembrandt.

Even in my uniform, wearing enough sharp medals to slit my throat if I sneezed wrong, I felt a bit underdressed in this crowd. But not compared to the next individual I bumped into, the yeti midwife who was no longer even wearing her rainbow headband. In fact, that was what she was looking for, somehow recognizing me from our chat in the break room even without my yeti costume. She didn’t seem too mad, maybe a bit embarrassed to be interrupting me about it, explaining that she would have called but she didn’t know my number and actually did not have a telephone herself. I stalled, trying to work out what was going to happen when she looked under the buffet table. Could I just flat-out tell her, since the discarded costume apparently wouldn’t matter to her? It felt risky.

So, my conversation with the yeti midwife continued awkwardly, each of us seeming equally flustered and unsure of ourselves, until a woman in a green satin gown and thigh-high furry boots leaned over to me and said, “Go ahead, kiss her.”

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My Yeti Costume was Uncomfortable and No Longer Necessary

  • by jengiven as a a gift to assorted emperors
  • playful gleam in his dark eyes
  • you are rubbing your shin
  • hardly the strangest or rudest
  • only one manservant

Tune in next time part 501      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My yeti costume was uncomfortable and no longer necessary now that Tatiana had given birth. Everyone here thought I was Jason anyway. I wiggled out of the sweaty fur sheath, which was a difficult thing to do underneath the buffet table. I snatched up my mountaineering boots and put them back on, then crawled to the far end of the table and emerged surreptitiously from my hiding place.

The bidding was up to $2,256,004, and creeping higher.

I heard a very pompous voice that I recognized as King Woody say, “Gherkins like these were given as a gift to assorted emperors and empresses, such as my mother Empress Holly.” He had a playful gleam in his dark eyes, and was standing far too close to Maxine.

“Excuse me,” Maxine said. “But you are rubbing your shin against my thigh and I would like you to stop.”

Woody laughed. “I’m sure it’s hardly the strangest or rudest thing to rub up against you, my dear.”

Maxine alerted a yeti security guard, and it took only one manservant to escort the rude, blustering royal from the auction.

With one fewer bidder, maybe things would move more quickly now.

“Two million two hundred fifty six thousand and five!”

I sighed.

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Another Way You Can Tell

Our weird and wonderful writing-prompt chain story journey has reached an exciting milestone — our 500th episode! If you’ve been around here a while you know how we approach these centenary increments: Jen and Kent share the keyboard and alternate the prompt phrases. Also, we choose a specific source for the prompt rather than using our awesome generator. (You should really check it out!)

In honor of hitting the half-thousand mark, this time out we’ve extracted all the prompt phrases from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which we watched again on our most recent night off. The movie provided us with tons of fodder, so much so that Jen had to winnow it down to just ten items. Kent randomized the order, and here we go!

  • this outrageous accent
  • carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock
  • quite indefatigable
  • you have to know these things when you’re a king
  • shrubberies are my trade
  • farcical aquatic ceremony
  • exciting underwear
  • this isn’t my nose
  • silly knees-bent running about
  • nibble your bum

Tune in next time part 499 & 500      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Another way you can tell Troy and Trent apart is by their toes. Trent’s toe muscles have this outrageous accentuation from his years of ballet, and looking at the toes of the faux-yeti standing before me as he scratched himself, I knew instantly that it was Trent pretending to be Troy. His beefy foot-digits traced the words of Oksana’s manifesto, carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock of the cavern’s floor.

While I pondered my brother’s toes, the bidding continued at a leisurely pace, creeping ever higher. As an auctioneer, Oksana was quite indefatigable. From my station beneath the table, I overheard someone pompously remarking to John, “Sometimes it takes a week to finish the bidding on the first item. Doesn’t do to rush in right at the start, dear boy.” John muttered something I couldn’t hear. But the reply was, “Mother warned me, while I was still a prince, that you have to know these things when you’re a king.” He slurped loudly from a beverage.

“And what are you king of?” John asked.

“Boxwoods, my dear boy! Boxwoods! They call me King Woody. Shrubberies are my family legacy and shrubberies are my trade.”

“Well,” John huffed, “if it takes as long as you say, the spring thaw will make a farcical aquatic ceremony of things in here.”

“But it will be worth it,” King Woody assured drunkenly. “Rumor has it that Jim has some very exciting underwear beneath his fashionable trousers.” The table over me lurched as John used it to keep his balance. King Woody’s laughter drowned in another slurp from his drink, then he said thickly, “I’ll bet you’ve got a nose for such things!”

“But this isn’t my nose,” John said levelly, moving around to Trent’s side of the table.

If I didn’t want to spend the remainder of the auction trapped under the buffet table, I had to get John and Trent to move away. If I did the snowcock cry again, John would undoubtedly start his silly knees-bent running about routine, but did I dare risk the chance that Trent would look under the table in search of the bird?

Luckily, King Woody seemed to pick up on John’s subtle hints. He shuffled away, trying to save face by exclaiming, “I’ll leave the rest of the crudités for you, then, so you can nibble your bumpy gherkin and imagine how demeaning it will feel to lose this auction to me!”

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“And Why Are You Barefoot?”

  • by Kent“There was, like, a big puddle.”
  • It is a crepuscular melange
  • questionably fashionable folk costumes
  • and octopus finger
  • no need to dress up

Tune in next time part 498      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“And why are you barefoot?” John demanded of Troy.

“There was, like, a big puddle.” Several seconds passed in silence before Troy continued. “So, like, my yeti feet got all wet. I wouldn’t have walked through it, but I needed to take the shortcut so I wouldn’t miss the crepes suzettes. The ninja union gets these guys really good craft services, especially for breakfast. I saw the descrtiption of it posted in the breakroom — ‘It is a crepuscular melange of sweetness to greet the dawn.’ But you have to be near the front of the line to get any.”

“Two million two thousand two hundred and twenty!” John yelled. To Troy he said, “These renegade garrisons and their questionably fashionable folk costumes. The fur is simply impractical.”

“It’s great for keeping warm in the snow,” Troy disagreed amicably. “The catering for lunch is good, too. Stuffed pork wings and octopus fingers.”

“Shut up about the food,” John snapped. “Let’s just finish this job and go home, and there’ll be no need to dress up like creepy alpine apes anymore.”

“I might stick with it,” Troy said, using his left foot to scratch his right ankle.

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An Expensive Snakeskin Jacket and a Notoriously Bad Memory

  • by jenon her face and neck
  • “Look at that thing, man.”
  • strange suction-cup-shaped marks
  • sees my face
  • nickname was Cookie

Tune in next time part 497      Click Here for Earlier Installments

An expensive snakeskin jacket and a notoriously bad memory? There was only one person John could think he was talking to, my brother Troy. Troy, whose nickname was Cookie, looked exactly like his twin Trent, but he didn’t look much like me. “As soon as John sees my face and its total lack of strange suction-cup-shaped marks, he’ll know I’m not Troy,” I thought. “Or Trent for that matter, but Trent is known for his exceptionally sharp memory and his ludicrously expensive but little-worn crocodile skin jacket. It’s easy to tell them apart.” Worse than John discovering that he was not talking to Troy would be having John discover he was not talking to Troy by discovering the real Troy. I needed a distraction so I could get away from John and observe from a distance.

“Look at that thing, man.” I pointed to a woman on the other side of the cavern with a large tattoo on her face and neck. When John turned away, I ducked under the buffet table. And none too soon. Almost immediately a pair of bare feet approached, sticking out of white yeti pants.

“Why are we bothering to bid on Jim?” Troy asked. He didn’t even try to do a yeti voice.

John’s voice was exasperated. “We just talked about this! Your memory is a shambles!”

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“Why Spend a Dime on Jim”

  • by Kentrearranged her hair
  • green plastic frog goggles
  • Thirteen people have been arrested
  • $1,100 snakeskin jacket that you never wear but like to tell other people you have
  • secret society of possibly murderous, mega-wealthy hedonists

Tune in next time part 496      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Why spend a dime on Jim,” I asked, maintaining my yeti voice in case John didn’t already know my identity, “if it’s the clarinet we care about? We just need to find it first.”

John shook his head violently. “We discussed this!” So, he thought I was someone else. “The map to its location was the wig on the mannequin at Blinkie’s Overalls, but someone rearranged her hair to obscure the coordinates. The only clue about who did it was the green plastic frog goggles found at the scene. We bribed the local constabulary to do our dirty work. Thirteen people have been arrested, including the guy who stole that $1,100 snakeskin jacket that you never wear but like to tell other people you have, but we’re no closer to our real goal. And for that reason, we are trying to infiltrate this secret society of possibly murderous, mega-wealthy hedonists.” He squinted at me. “I’m continually surprised by how poor your memory is.”

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The Silver Serving Tray Upon Which Tatiana had Given Birth

  • by jenonce I was barefoot
  • someone else’s eyebrows?
  • Brodie did the calculation
  • a clarinet of his own design
  • some unlikely and very large costars

Tune in next time part 495      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The silver serving tray upon which Tatiana had given birth was whisked away along with her and the infants, and soon the auction had returned to normal. Or at least as normal as the auctioning of a hallucinating man to the highest bidding secret agent, in a cavern entirely staffed by yeti can be. My instincts told me to either halt the sale of my brother, or simply leave. But Jim had told me, pre-hallucinogens, that he wanted the auction to proceed. And Tatiana, mother to my newest children, had told me to keep bidding. Meanwhile, Fleur and my other infants were back at Enigma Fortress, vulnerable to whatever plan her husband Harry and that dick Arlo had cooking, and my own wife had demanded my presence back in the capital as soon as the skies were clear enough for my war-zeppelin to fly. It was a lot to think about.

The bidding continued at a leisurely pace around me as I tried to work out my next move, but my feet were too hot and I couldn’t concentrate. Under my big hairy yeti feet I was still wearing my clunky wooden hiking boots. No wonder my feet were so sweaty. I ducked into a corner, stripped from the ankles down, and, once I was barefoot, felt much better.

John sidled up to me, fully recovered from his Snowcock freakout, and gave me a shrewd look. I tried to give it right back, but I was wearing a yeti mask, and, have you ever tried to wiggle someone else’s eyebrows? It was like that.

John leaned in and said into my mask’s earhole, “Brodie did the calculation, and we ought to be able to outbid everyone here, assuming we can stay awake long enough. I know you don’t think he’s worth the expense, but Jim has a clarinet of his own design, and we need to get our hands on it before some unlikely and very large costars do.” He nodded meaningfully at the other yeti.

This was all extremely interesting, but just who did John think he was talking to? A ninja-yeti? A yeti-ninja? Did he think I was Jason? Did he know I was me? Or was there someone else specific he expected to meet at this auction, disguised as a bald-footed yeti?

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Tatiana Gestured For Magnus

  • by KentI am really creeped out by
  • the safest ever built
  • the crowd wore black towels in lieu of formalwear
  • never occurred to me to wonder
  • If Axl Rose showed up to rent an apartment from you

Tune in next time part 494      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tatiana gestured for Magnus to get closer, closer, for increased skin contact. No sensible person would want Magnus, and his cufflinks, anywhere near the site of new life’s emergence into the world. If Axl Rose showed up to rent an apartment from you, you’d be happier to see him than anyone should have been about Magnus’s participation. It never occurred to me to wonder about his prior connection to Tatiana, but in hindsight there must have been one.

I hung back, awaiting the arrival of yet more of my children into the world. Meanwhile the bidding on my brother Jim continued. My mind drifted to another surreal auction I’d attended with similar acoustics. Rather than in a cavern it had been at a natatorium. The items up for bid were quite exclusive, so the crowd wore black towels in lieu of formalwear.

My reminiscing was interrupted by the healthy cry of a newborn baby, and then another. I gathered them to my furry bossom and smiled at them, but of course they couldn’t see my real face and their screams became more urgent. “They’re hungry,” I said in my gruff midwife’s voice and handed them back to Tatiana. “Or else they’re afraid that I am.” My joke didn’t get any laughs.

“Two million two thousand ninety eight!” Tatiana called out as she nursed the twins. Magnus suddenly swept back onto the scene, leaving me disappointed I hadn’t savored his absence. The two yeti carrying a palanquin behind him sized me up as they set the conveyance down for Tatiana to board it.

“Is that thing safe?” I gruffed.

“It is the safest ever built with such a high level of recycled content,” Magnus proclaimed proudly. To this day, I am really creeped out by the memory of his smug expression.

Tatiana leaned perilously out over the side of the platform as the yeti bearers raised it again. She locked eyes with me, even through the mask. “Keep bidding!” she implored.

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