Tagged: clothes

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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With Great Effort

  • by jenin the bathroom blowdrying her hair
  • still the only one to know
  • newly engaged couple
  • not gonna let you do that to Maxine
  • cause her bosoms to jiggle and sway

Tune in next time part 485      Click Here for Earlier Installments

With great effort I kept the disgust off my face. Of course I knew what medicine bottles this madwoman was talking about. I’d seen them on my mother’s nightstand when I searched her bedroom right before I moved out of the White House for good. Mother was in the bathroom blowdrying her hair at the time, and I never mentioned what I found to anyone. In fact I’m still the only one to know that terrible secret. I should have done something at the time, but Fleur and I were a newly engaged couple, just hours away from our lengthy wedding ceremony and I had bigger things to worry about.

Tatiana swooped in beside me and said, “Jason! I can tell by the set of your eyebrows that you’re about to burst into rap, and I’m not gonna let you do that to Maxine with no warning. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself from dancing, which would cause her bosoms to jiggle and sway. It would disrupt the entire auction.”

So, the puffer coat woman was Maxine. It was a name I had heard before.

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“When Does This Damn Auction Start?”

  • by jenlocated at the base of your spine
  • enough face cream
  • Sorry honey!
  • a language that literally no one
  • a picture of you in the folder

Tune in next time part 479      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“When does this damn auction start?” I bellowed, striding into the cavern. “Don’t tell me I missed it!” I tried to act as cocky and entitled as the diplomats and spymasters my mother tended to hang out with. My wooden climbing boots gave me a stilted, clattering gait.

My brashness startled Oksana’s yeti minions. Their ninja training took over, and startled ninjas always freeze and attempt to camouflage themselves. I was suddenly surrounded by a forest of frozen yeti statues.

“Jason!” cried Jim in faux-surprise. “You bastard!” And then he made another bird call, this one decidedly less Himalayan.

Oksana straightened her spine and approached me. “You’re not late at all. In fact you’re early. I have to double check your identity, of course. I’m sure you understand. I have a picture of you in the folder of auction material on my phone, which I will now pull out of my cleavage.” She did so. While she compared me to the photo of my twin on her phone, she muttered to herself in Colloquillian, a language that literally no one outside of Colloquillia knew. Except for me. I had a Colloquillian lover years ago, who taught me the basics, after making me promise never to use my knowledge for espionage. That was a promise I now had to break. Sorry honey!

What Oksana was muttering wasn’t very enlightening, though. Something along the lines of “with enough face cream I guess literally anyone can stay youthful.”

I kept my mouth shut while she perused me, so that she wouldn’t see the golden tattoos on my tongue. My brother and I tended to copy each other’s distinguishing features, but as far as I knew, Jason didn’t have those. At least not yet.

“Now Jason, in order to confirm that it is you and not your twin, I need to see the crescent-shaped scar located at the base of your spine.” She smiled without showing her teeth. “I’m sure you understand.”

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My Blue-Gray Mountaineering Uniform

  • by jenforced to meet with the King of Swaziland to seek clemency
  • scandalous exhibits
  • his mad rush
  • I’m taking a ride with my best friend
  • dangle from the undercarriage like a bat

Tune in next time part 465      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My blue-gray mountaineering uniform bore a strong resemblance to the official groveling suit John wore when he was forced to meet with the King of Swaziland to seek clemency for the series of scandalous exhibits he’d staged across southern Africa in his mad rush to become an infamous performance artist.

“By wearing this outfit it’s almost like I’m taking a ride with my best friend,” I said into the mirror. “Back when life was simpler. Back before he betrayed me.”

It took me a while to do up all the silvery buttons on the vest, and I was confounded by this weird chain harness that went on like a pair of clanky speedos over the pants, and had a holster for my ice axe, that for some reason let it dangle from the undercarriage like a bat. Or, given that it was between my legs, like something else altogether.

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