Tagged: clothes

“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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Two Tessabots, at Least

  • by jenemitting sad noises
  • ear-penetrating intensity
  • virtually impossible to do it with just one person
  • the glacier that once covered New York City
  • very individualized

Tune in next time part 529      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Two Tessabots, at least. Who knew how many there could actually be? I stood guard over her as she rebooted, emitting sad noises as I contemplated whether I would ever see the real Tessa again. Whether there had ever been a real Tessa.

The robot before me beeped three times, and then played an alert message at ear-penetrating intensity. “This TSS-A Unit will be online in 29 seconds. The automatic self-destruct requires a double manual override, and it is virtually impossible to do it with just one person, so good luck.” The alert voice was well-known to me, and covered my heart with a layer of icy dread as thick as the glacier that once covered New York City back in the 80s. This Tessabot was sent to me personally, a very individualized form of revenge.

“Two of the override switches are between her fourth and fifth toes,” the alert continued. “But I’m not going to tell you where the other two are.”

I looked in dismay at the intricately laced high-heeled boots adorning Tessa’s feet.

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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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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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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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“Elderberries?”

  • by jenalso a valid tactic
  • “No. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
  • He and his family all do it together
  • I guess I have some doppelgängers
  • mink cufflinks

Tune in next time part 491      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Elderberries?” I was incredulous. “You know what else is also a valid tactic? Actual medical care.” I grabbed the yeti midwife’s elbow and tried to pull her to her feet. “Come on.”

“No. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She curled her lip. “Or the ridiculous humans.” She pried my hand off her elbow with surprising strength, and handed me a plastic zipper bag full of tiny, dark purple berries. “Now fuck off and let me enjoy my coffee break, or I’ll report you to the union.”

Whether she was talking about the yeti union or the ninja union, I wanted nothing to do with them. I snatched her rainbow-striped headband and hurried from the room. Tatiana was probably too distracted to notice that I was not an actual yeti midwife, and if I wore the uniform she would probably do what I told her.

I retraced my route to the auction chamber. The bidding was at $2,000,682 and creeping higher. A small crowd had gathered around Tatiana as she labored while continuing her attempts to purchase my brother in the name of her sister. As I pushed my way through the onlookers, I overheard a number of them speculating about who had gotten her pregnant.

“The star charts dictated that it be Jason,” John said. “But his twin was the best we could do.”

“Oh, you were there!” cried Maxine. “How auspicious!”

“He and his family all do it together,” said a foppish man in a fur cape. “Espionage, I mean. Did you know that today’s prize, Jim, is a member of that family? It really is too much!”

“Two million seven hundred and one!” cried Tatiana. Then she spotted me in my disguise. “You look familiar,” she said suspiciously.

“I guess I have some doppelgängers,” I said, trying to imitate the gruff tone of the yeti. I held up my baggie of elderberries. “Let’s get you somewhere comfortable to deliver those babies.”

“I’ll provide the skin contact!” cried the fur-cape man. He tossed his cape aside, revealing himself to be wearing only a mink speedo and crisp white cuffs held in place on his wrists by mink cufflinks.

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Oksana Switched on her Microphone

  • by jensqueezed between so many
  • lick your palm
  • big clown shoes to fill
  • more smock than frock
  • just weeks before the baby was due

Tune in next time part 487      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Oksana switched on her microphone and stepped up onto a dais to begin the auction. She gestured, and Jim was brought to her, squeezed between so many yeti-ninjas there was no chance of him escaping.

“Thank you for the warmup act, Jason,” she said. “I’ll be around later to lick your palm, as we say in Colloquillia.” Addressing the whole crowd of international spies and ne’er-do-wells, she went on, “Today’s merchandise has such big clown shoes to fill, and such tiny feet to do it with!”

Two yetis lifted Jim, and a third pulled his shoes off. As one, the crowd gasped.

I felt a knot in my stomach. Which clown was Oksana talking about? The Crystal Clown, perhaps? The auctioneeress kept up her patter, describing my brother’s many features and body parts.

Tatiana appeared at my elbow. She was usually a very stylish woman, but today’s garment was more smock than frock, a shapeless sack that hung from her shoulders, skimmed over her pregnant belly, and was barely long enough to cover her panties. It was a daring amount of leg to show just weeks before the baby was due. Or babies, as was more likely the case with me as the father. I thought back over the past several months and tried to calculate the number of children I might have on the way.

Tatiana whispered, “Let’s pool our funds. I’m sure Titania will let you have Jim when she’s done with him.” She chuckled. “Or what’s left of him.”

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