Tagged: clothes

“Jessamin’s Twin is Benjamin”

  • by jenpolitical performance art
  • puked up feathers
  • Just be glad you don’t have to wear them.
  • cold, damp, and comfortable
  • complete with all the hot-dog inspired accessories

Tune in next time part 597    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Jessamin’s twin is Benjamin,” I said. “Where she excels at villainy, he’s obsessed with political performance art. The last piece of his that I saw had him wearing a wad of puked up feathers to represent America’s relationship with the Canary Islands. Before his performance he said to me, ‘Just be glad you don’t have to wear them. They’re cold, damp, and comfortable enough to not cause lasting damage, but just barely.’ I told him nobody was making him wear them, and he told me I was wrong. His muse demanded that he dress that way, complete with all the hot-dog inspired accessories, and the mittens.” I shook my head.

“Why are you telling me about Benjamin?” Tessa asked.

“Wherever Jessamin goes, Benjamin follows. We’ll likely run into both of them and I want you to know what to expect.”

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Poisoned? By Someone Named Joey?

  • by jenwith a twist!
  • morally questionable reality show
  • secretly follows them underwater
  • you look like hell
  • I see where she picked up her fashion sense

Tune in next time part 583    Click Here for Earlier Installments

Poisoned? By someone named Joey? I had assumed — nay hoped! — that Jeff was murdered by his brother Arlo, and that I would be able to send my dickish viscount nemesis to prison forever. I had not expected Jeff’s to be a story with a twist!

Jeff told me about meeting Joey when they were both contestants on a morally questionable reality show called Tontine. In addition to encouraging the cast to try to kill each other, the producers suggested they skinny dip while a camera submarine secretly follows them underwater, filming everything. Now that I knew Arlo was not involved in his death, I really wished Jeff would be quiet, but he would not shut up.

Tessa hurtled us around a final chicane and brought the motorcycle to a screeching halt on the quayside. I leapt from the sidecar, amazed that we had survived our wild ride.

I stumbled into a stevedore who took one look at me and said, “You look like hell.” Tessa joined us and the rude fellow said dismissively, “I see where she picked up her fashion sense. You two look like a couple of horny necromancers.”

“Thank you!” enthused Tessa. She grabbed my hand and dragged me down the pier.

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As We Marched Around the Baron’s Sitting Room

  • by jenmost nudists prefer
  • Don’t bite down.
  • looked like horny necromancers
  • also very picky about scents
  • adorable genius

Tune in next time part 579    Click Here for Earlier Installments

As we marched around the Baron’s sitting room, I became aware that Tessa’s footsteps were tapping out a coded message — one intended just for me. I tapped my own reply, “Oh, Tessa, you adorable genius!”

Her message to me was a warning that she was going to emit a potent knockout gas, and that I ought to hold my breath. In addition to not wanting to be rendered unconscious again, I’m also very picky about scents. Knockout gas invariable smells sickly sweet, and I appreciated the heads-up.

A rapid shuffling of her feet signaled the countdown. I took a deep lungful of air, or as deep as I could manage with her elbows still pressed into my sides. She winked at me, and then jets of compressed gas erupted from both of her ears. One blasted Baron von Dimpleheimer, and the other Brandita. In seconds they had both crumpled to the floor.

Tessa hoisted me and hurried to the kitchen where the air was clear. “We need to change our clothes and get out of here,” she said.

A rope ladder led up to von Dimpleheimer’s bedroom, and there we raided his wardrobe. Let’s just say that his tastes are eccentric. By the time we were dressed we looked like horny necromancers. Tessa shoved a set of diamond-encrusted dentures in my mouth to complete my disguise. “Those will shatter your real teeth if you’re not careful. So, you know. Don’t bite down.”

I felt that our getups were too flashy, that they would attract attention rather than allow us to go unnoticed. As most nudists prefer a lack of clothing, I prefer to keep my disguises simple. I wanted to explain my spycraft philosophy to Tessa, but the damned false teeth made it impossible.

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I Sipped My Martini

  • by jenfinger communicated a nervous quivering
  • a thrill of hatred
  • undoubtedly incredible ceremonial attire
  • kissing my ass ever since
  • I don’t know anything about weather

Tune in next time part 567    Click Here for Earlier Installments

I sipped my martini and kept my eye on the exits, exuding as much swaggering braggadocio as was humanly possible in order to sell my Jason impression. It was going really well. Only my left little finger communicated a nervous quivering to those observant enough to spot it.

Jason slipped out of the bathroom, and a thrill of hatred ran through me at the sight of his ridiculous red wig. He ducked into the elevator to go up to the honeymoon suite and check out the bathroom. Would he first don the aquatic version of Arlo’s undoubtedly incredible ceremonial attire, or just dive in naked?

I noticed that Tessa was dancing her way toward the patio door. Trusting that she would make her own escape and meet me outside, I threw back the rest of my martini and ducked through the fire door.

And ran straight into Brady, whom I’d last seen at the fountain when I’d first arrived on this pirate-infested island.

“There you are!” he said. “Kabbadan Scrim has been kissing my ass ever since you ran off with the nurse and that bear, trying to get me to tell him the secrets of my weather control machine, but you and I both know I failed meteorology. I don’t know anything about weather control!”

“Then you picked the wrong scam, Brady.” I spotted Tessa lurking impatiently near the corner. “Good luck. I really have to go.”

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“There You Are, Arlo”

  • by jenit’s not really hypnosis
  • makes choo-choo noises
  • famous for being stubborn
  • in ill-fitted clothes
  • both sucking on lollipops

Tune in next time part 563    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“There you are, Arlo,” the new arrival said, looking at Jason who was now dressed as me dressed as the Viscount. It was the best man who had earlier given the roasty toast. “That was some bachelor party last night! If you’re lucky, I won’t tell Tessa all the details. But you know what they say, it’s not really hypnosis unless someone makes choo-choo noises when he hears the magic word.” He sneered and said, “Avocado!” while pointing at Jason.

My brother is famous for being stubborn about only making train sounds when they were integral to his raps, and for a moment I thought we might be found out. But with a painful-looking eyeroll he began hooting like a steam engine in ill-fitted clothes and a ridiculous red wig.

The best man guffawed.

Jason might not get an opportunity to check out the honeymoon suite’s bathroom, but that was his problem. As long as he had this guy distracted I could make my getaway. As I ducked through the door the locomotive breathing stopped. I glanced back over my shoulder at the ersatz Viscount and his attendant and saw them both sucking on lollipops.

I shuddered. That was not something I would want to do in a bathroom.

Now all I had to do was steal the bride away from her wedding reception and find a way off this pirate-infested island.

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All This Talk of Limericks

  • by jentantamount to intellectual masturbation
  • big buttery buns
  • it would be embarrassing
  • you experience rapid hair growth
  • in a tartan frock

Tune in next time part 559     Click Here for Earlier Installments

All this talk of limericks reminded me that the woman beside me was not the real Tessa, but merely a robot duplicate. The real Tessa hates limericks. She considers reciting them tantamount to intellectual masturbation. No matter how much the Tessabot looked like the woman I loved, I couldn’t forget the truth. The big buttery buns beneath this wedding costume were not the big buttery buns I pined for, and it would be embarrassing to be so caught up in surface appearances that I forgot that.

I squared my shoulders and cut the “cake.” I closed my eyes and opened my mouth so the Tessabot could feed me a bite. I shuddered. The cake tasted like some foul concoction that would make you experience rapid hair growth in places where you don’t want hair. I was able to spit it into a napkin unchewed, but my tongue was now numb. The Tessabot happily chewed and swallowed her mouthful, more evidence that she was not the woman I loved.

At that moment Jason arrived in a tartan frock, carrying a platter upon which rested a goose, also in a tartan frock.

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“Tell Him Everything About the Club”

  • by jenthere were X-rays
  • official uniform for all real estate agents everywhere
  • “I see it clearly! It is a volcano.”
  • serial killer baseball cards
  • worn by Cleopatra

Tune in next time part 549     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Tell him everything about the club,” I goaded, to keep Tessa talking.

“The theme of the club was ‘hospitals’,” she said. “And there were X-rays over all the lights, which gave everything a blueish glow. The staff all wore white lab coats, but every other patron in the place, besides the Viscount and myself, were dressed in gold jackets, which everyone knows is the official uniform for all real estate agents everywhere.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why the agents decided to have their convention at a bar called Hospital, but we were surrounded, weren’t we darling?”

It was my turn to pick up the tale again. “Oh yes, simply surrounded. And one of them pointed to Tessa’s lava lamp dress and said, ‘I see it clearly! It is a volcano.’ Which made the rest of them give us the once-over suspiciously, like they’d seen our faces in a pack of serial killer baseball cards or something. Most unsettling. But I charmed them by telling them it was the very same volcano dress worn by Cleopatra at her coronation.”

Tessa giggled. “They were amazed! So amazed they declared me Queen of All Real Estate Agents! They held my coronation immediately. I still have the ceremonial gold jacket at home.”

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However the Tessabot Really Met Viscount Arlo

  • by jenhypnotically bland
  • whose frantic masturbation he had heard through the privy door
  • Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?
  • “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,”
  • a shock he could not have been able to imagine

Tune in next time part 547    Click Here for Earlier Installments

However the Tessabot really met Viscount Arlo, it was sure to be hypnotically bland. I tried to make my version of events that way as well. Without much success, I must admit, due to the still-partial hypnotic grip Tessa had on my brain.

I spun a sordid tale of a college educated Viscount (me) riding the bus with the roommate whose frantic masturbation he had heard through the privy door that very morning, and how it led that college educated Viscount (still me) to look for an excuse to disembark the bus, no matter how much he enjoyed riding buses in general.

“Oh, god, do you think this town has a taco truck?” I asked, giving myself a comical Svenborgian accent. I pretended to see one out the window and said to my masturbation enthusiast of a roommate, “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,” even though I really didn’t care what he thought of me, “but I’m going to go get a taco.” And I slipped trough the bus doors just before they closed.

“You don’t have to act it out, silly!” said Tessa. “Hurry up and get to the part with me!”

Reverting to the third person to speak of myself seemed to allow me a bit more leeway from her hypnotic control. “The college educated viscount turned from the receding bus and experienced a shock he could not have been able to imagine happening to him. There before him, in a dress made of the same stuff they make lava lamps of, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.”

Was the officiant even listening to my story?

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“We Need to Get Out of Here”

  • by jenIt’s a Rolex
  • silver-haired thief
  • what I get for respecting vocations
  • small jar of nutmeg in the nightstand
  • looked like steak tartar

Tune in next time part 535      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“We need to get out of here,” I said. “Change into something less conspicuous than that wedding dress.”

I crossed to the closet and opened it, but it was empty. Likewise the dresser drawers. The only thing I found in the whole room was a long filmy scarf with a gaudy gold men’s watch wrapped up inside.

“It’s a Rolex,” Tessa explained. “I stole it from a silver-haired thief who in turn stole it from my husband-to-be. The thief was very cross with me. He said that he would never dream of stealing from another thief, but, quote, that’s what I get for respecting vocations, unquote.” She smiled. “I reminded him that there’s no honor among thieves, and bid him farewell. I want to sell it to finance my escape from from my fiancé.”

She unzipped her wedding dress and let it fall to the floor, then wrapped herself in the scarf. It was adequate to cover her undergarments, but not much more. She strapped the clunky watch to her wrist.

“Hand me that small jar of nutmeg in the nightstand drawer,” she said.

I did, and she rubbed in on her cheeks like blush until they smelled like cookies and looked like steak tartar.

“No one will recognize me now!” she enthused.

“Be careful with that nutmeg,” I warned. “Too much can cause hallucinations.”

“I know!” she giggled. “Why do you think I keep it in the nightstand?”

If my suspicions were correct about who she was meant to marry, I couldn’t even blame her. That guy was such a dick.

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As I Slid My Fingers Between Tessa’s Toes

  • by jenwhen the sun has gone down and the owls are serenading you
  • huddling together for warmth
  • well you *are* drunk
  • when a woman comes to you in black lingerie
  • proper use of grenade launchers

Tune in next time part 531      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As I slid my fingers between Tessa’s toes in search of the manual override switches, she giggled and tried to jerk her feet away. I had to grab her by the ankle to hold her foot still, and at last found the first switch. As I depressed it, Tessa shrieked with laughter and collapsed, winding up on her bottom on the floor in a poofy ocean of white satin. I quickly found the corresponding switch on her other foot. As soon as I depressed it, Tessa’s mirth switched off. She leaned forward and took my face in her hands. She said, “Tonight, when the sun has gone down and the owls are serenading you, and you and your lover are huddling together for warmth under the stars and the moon and the owlsong, promise you will call your brother and tell him I love him, Jason. Promise me!”

“If you love him, why are you marrying someone else?” I lisped. “And if you were a robot, where would your self-destruct override switches be?”

“Well you are drunk, I do declare!” Tessa huffed. She sat back and said, “Would you even know what to do when a woman comes to you in black lingerie and offers to teach you the proper use of grenade launchers?”

“Who’s asking?” I said. It seemed like a code phrase, but it wasn’t one I recognized.

Tessa slipped her wedding dress strap off her shoulder, exposing a black bra.

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