Tagged: bonus points

John Reared From the Water

  • by jen— however bad a person you may think I am —
  • place on 53rd Street
  • “I tried to save her,”
  • the child’s umbrella
  • something from a Mary Shelley nightmare

Tune In Next Time Part 4                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

John reared from the water like something from a Mary Shelley nightmare, with a harpoon instead of the usual lightning rod. He waved the thing over his head like the child’s umbrella he stole in our first caper together, then flung it at the receding zodiac. Or maybe he was aiming for Tessa’s back. In either case, he missed. The harpoon lanced into the waves and struck bottom, then stood there quivering in the flashing neon and surf.

“I tried to save her,” John muttered, “from you and from herself. And this is the thanks I get?”

“She’s going to the place on 53rd Street,” I said. “You can’t let her get there John — however bad a person you may think I am — you can’t let her. You know how much trouble we’ll both be in if she gets her hands on it! How much trouble the world will be in!”

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The C.A.T. Pounced

  • k-avatardragging its squeaking prey into the shadows
  • attached by hose
  • seems outright tacky to me
  • seems, like, hard and stuff.
  • choked and blinded him

The C.A.T. pounced on the R.A.T., scanning us with infrared beams before dragging its squeaking prey into the shadows to be disassembled. Each Cybernetic Autonomous Tiger installed throughout the catacombs was unique. This one had exposed bronze gears in its shoulders, and was attached by hose and cable to a plate in the wall. The Robotic Accessory Tarantulas infesting the place were probably all different too, but they scuttled too fast to get a good look.

“Setting mechanized beasts to seize and devour others of their kind seems outright tacky to me,” Whinstone said. He always complained. It was like he couldn’t help it, like he was programmed to do it. I had stopped listening years ago.

“I say, it’s improper!” he persisted.

I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard. “Yeah, but dealing with the bot-bugs any other way seems, like, hard and stuff. Maybe even dangerous. At least the C.A.T.s won’t bother living things.”

An eight-legged C.A.T. dropped silently from the ceiling onto Whinstone’s head, and sprayed something in his face that choked and blinded him. It retracted, taking Whinstone up with it into the darkness of the vaulted passageway.

Well, that explained the complaining. And put a stop to it. Huh.

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Überslut666

  • by jenmummified in a sitting position
  • broadcasting their raw footage
  • I’d vote to set her adrift
  • “online BFF”
  • lunged forward upon his face

Überslut666 was my “online BFF” for, like, three whole months, but then yesterday I tuned into her cam feed and saw her having sex with my “online boyfriend,” just broadcasting their raw footage for everyone to see, and, like, she lunged forward upon his face and everything, and it was soooo embarrassing, and if it were up to me I’d vote to set her adrift on an ice floe and let her turn into an ice mummy, only her berg would be so small she’d be mummified in a sitting position!

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Then There’s The One

  • k-avatarWendy and Peter Pan get engaged
  • endless bodies all in a row
  • It’s not an escort service.
  • come on people, we’re almost there
  • ignorant, psycho dickheads

Then there’s the one where Wendy and Peter Pan get engaged in an argument about how many Lost Boys it would take to reach from Neverland to London if you laid them out, endless bodies all in a row. Very metaphysical and macabre. Not one of the better episodes.

My personal fave is the one where they go to Hook’s lair. Hook has given up piracy and become a pimp, so the ship in the cavern is all done up with red lanterns. It’s not an escort service. There’s nothing classy about it. He makes Wendy a job offer, but jealous Tinkerbell swoops in and takes the position instead. Soon her side business of dealing dust has earned her enough to boot Hook off his own ship and take over.

Only one more season to go, and it’s all stuff I haven’t seen yet. Come on, people, we’re almost there! Our binge will be complete!

Okay, fine, wimp out after only 46 hours. I’ll finish it up by myself. Who needs you ignorant, psycho dickheads anyway!

Wait, they recast Tink? Now Peter’s a cop in Boston? And Wendy’s little cousin is moving in? Man, this show really jumped the crocodile.

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Never Have I

  • by jen— of course kids tell scary stories about them
  • I would have been prepared for the screams
  • my knives a blur in my hands
  • mistrusted my own senses more
  • Listening.

Never have I mistrusted my own senses more than the time I was on Iron Chef and the secret ingredient that I had to build every course of my meal around was revealed to be grasshoppers. Ah grasshoppers — of course kids tell scary stories about them, but I love them. They’re best, in my opinion, sautéd in a little olive oil and tossed with sea salt. The fact that I love this food that is generally reviled had me doubting myself strongly.

When the pedestal displaying the secret ingredient finished its rise from below the floor, and the fog cleared, I ran to collect my share of the lovely green bugs. To my surprise they were still alive. I hadn’t expected that. I felt a little guilty discussing my recipe plan with my sous chefs because it felt like the grasshoppers were watching us. Observing. Listening.

If I’d had time to think I would have been prepared for the screams of all the tiny bugs when I threw them in the blender with a chopped avocado and hit purée. The sound quickly died, along with the grasshoppers, and I left the blender whirling away as I moved on to my next dish. I wanted to show off a little, so I dumped a handful of the lively bugs onto my cutting board and went after them, my knives a blur in my hands until every last specimen was bisected and tossed into the wok along with a hefty portion of ginger root.

In addition to my grasshopper smoothie appetizer, and grasshopper ginger stir fry, I concocted a delicious grasshopper tempura, and made caramel popcorn with pecans and grasshoppers for a whimsical desert.

Suck it, Iron Chef Morimoto! My cuisine reined supreme!

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We Are Certain The Contaminant is Biological

  • k-avataris biological in nature
  • the gentleman bowed
  • indicated the formation of the first crystals
  • certain dark and dirty chambers
  • but the Impala is a spacious automobile

“We are certain the contaminant is biological in nature,” I was advised, and the gentleman bowed as he told me the news and indicated the formation of the first crystals in certain dark and dirty chambers of the passenger compartment, “and, we fear, quite virulent,” the dapper mechanic went on, “but the Impala is a spacious automobile, so just stay out of the affected zones and you’ll be fine.”

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It Was The Kind of Memory

  • k-avatarmadly dig at your ears with a Q-Tip
  • endless chain of consequences
  • the submersible’s robotic arm
  • aka the Maine lobster
  • a solitary llama was squeezed in

It was the kind of memory that makes you want to madly dig at your ears with a Q-Tip, or with a fork, some implement that can eradicate it from your head. One little lapse that led to an endless chain of consequences and ever deepening despair, depths both figurative and literal. Allowing the code book to be thrown overboard, which meant the message from HQ couldn’t be deciphered and the ambassador’s questions couldn’t be answered. Now, a mile below the stormy surface, using the submersible’s robotic arm to retrieve the errant codex from the muck. Hoping to complete the task quickly and avoid a run-in with the armored patrol sub of Jack Rabies, aka the Maine Lobster. The ambassador knows more than he’s telling you, has some disturbing personal stake in the outcome. At his insistence, a solitary llama was squeezed in with you on the tiny sub. Fortunately, it knows how to operate the sonar array.

 

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As the Butler

  • by jenonly marginally shorter than the average man
  • he hissed
  • came from the heart and not from the lips
  • the butler put my cloak
  • I know you may be skeptical

As the butler put my cloak in the closet he hissed, “I know you may be skeptical, but I am only marginally shorter than the average man,” but the sound came from the heart and not from the lips, for there is no way to truly hiss a phrase with so few sibilant sounds in it.

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The Burly Man Grabbed My Hand

  • by jenshook it till it rang
  • I don’t know you, and I don’t want to
  • shaped like a yellow submarine
  • a first look at the primate HQ
  • “Oh, and David Copperfield too.”

The burly man grabbed my hand and shook it till it rang, clanking all my metal bracelets together and causing me to think, “I don’t know you, and I don’t want to!” When he finally released his grip, the back of my hand sported a bruise shaped like a yellow submarine, only not the one the Beatles sang about. It was shaped like the canary yellow submersible the undersea explorers used when they finally, after years of searching, located the lost aquatic gorilla habitat and got a first look at the primate HQ complex. I’m sure you’ve seen the video.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the burly man said, trying to look down my blouse. When he noticed my boyfriend standing right beside me, he added dismissively, “Oh, and David Copperfield too.”

That’s when my boyfriend, who is named David, but not Copperfield, punched the burly man in the eye, leaving a mark that more resembled a map of Antarctica than any underwater vehicle I’ve ever seen.

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They Have No Lawyers

  • k-avatarthey have no lawyers
  • No wonder she attracts me
  • to see up close how he builds
  • nocturnal emissions
  • examining the dead sailors

They have no lawyers in this country. Instead, disputes are settled with feats of strength, and with games of chance.

They have no lawyers, but they have judges. Someone must decree the victor, proclaim which is the stronger or luckier man.

Grizelda is a judge. They are all women, the judges in this country, but Grizelda is the only one I know of who is also a prostitute. No wonder she attracts me.

When presiding, she always spends one night with each man. This allows her to see up close how he builds his rationale, and gives her the opportunity to read the truth in his nocturnal emissions.

Examining the dead sailors bobbing next to my lifeboat, I hope Grizelda will take my case.

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