Tagged: clothes

In My New, Imposing Uniform

  • by jenthis “polar madness”
  • cheekbones sharp as blades
  • her gawky way of walking
  • like ink in water
  • like an awkward and unlucky lover

Tune in next time part 387      Click Here for Earlier Installments

In my new, imposing uniform I turned to my captive French spy. He cowered before my resplendency like an awkward and unlucky, loverless wretch in a cheap suit.

“Describe the Russian sister who sent you,” I demanded.

Beguiled by the small brass squirrels atop my epaulets, he forgot his earlier filibustering. “Her hair was long and pale blond, liquidy yellow, like ink in water.”

That described both Svetlana and Lyudmila. “Go on,” I said. Behind me, Aloysius was gathering up his many tools while his monk-like cohorts quietly entertained the children.

“Her hips were narrow, which I think added charm to her gawky way of walking.”

Again, that could be either sister.

“She had cheekbones sharp as blades, and shoulder blades round as cheeks. My need to make love to her was like the polar madness I experienced in my youth when l’Academie sent my team to l’Antartique, and I suffer with it still. Our consummation will be my reward for completing my mission.”

He was doing all this for her, whichever sister she was, and he’d never even banged her? This “polar madness” of his must have caused frostbite on his brain.

And I still didn’t know which sister had sent him.

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The Acrobat/Spy’s Fevered Ramblings

  • by Kentsqueezing in your fingers
  • in order to become bosom friends
  • Aloysius, mouth full of bone needles
  • another mold for squirrels
  • a square black cap with a silver badge on it

Tune in next time part 386      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The acrobat/spy’s fevered ramblings had exhausted my patience.

“This information isn’t helping me, and therefore it isn’t helping you, either. I don’t need or want to hear about how it felt to have their thighs and breasts squeezing in your fingers or how you were willing to debase yourself in order to become bosom friends with bosom benefits. The only thing I want to hear from you is –”

“Excuse me, General?”

I rounded on the source of this interrupting voice. The six babies arranged along my outstretched, fatigued arms giggled happily at the ride. Behind me stood a small entourage of pale men wearing what appeared to be monks’ robes. “Sorry to bother you, General,” the one in the middle went on, “but we have been sternly ordered to perform our duties without delay.”

As he spoke, two of his companions stepped forward and relieved me of three children apiece.

“Where are they taking the royal brood?” I demanded.

“Nowhere. The children will be kept safe right here while Aloysius brings your uniform up to code.”

Aloysius, mouth full of bone needles, waved and scurried forward in a single movement, stooping to begin taking inseam measurements.

Twisting my head to look at the bound prisoner, I yelled, “I am not done with you!”

Contrarian military fashion is especially fickle, obliging the likes of Aloysius to carry around complex arrays of tools and materials. In addition to the needles, and fabrics of course, he also had a case loaded with more specialized instruments. There was a portable furnace and a crucible, and a mold for casting lions, and another mold for squirrels, and an anvil that I didn’t know the purpose of.

The alterations to my bellhop getup took some bit of time, but the results were exemplary if a bit ostentatious for my tastes. I felt like an impeccably tailored colorblind matador, and was sort of glad the room didn’t have a mirror. The best thing of all was that I got a new hat, a square black cap with a silver badge on it that said “General.”

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My Silence Encouraged the Spy

  • by jenI know that I shall go mad!
  • outselling Rod Stewart
  • fallen into a trance
  • with decorative bullet holes
  • Japanese lingerie maker

Tune in next time part 385      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My silence encouraged the spy to keep talking. “I take one look at the twisted sisters and I know that I shall go mad! With love! I know that I will do anything they ask of me, for if their beauty were a musical recording it would be outselling Rod Stewart, that’s how great it is.”

His eyes unfocused as if he’d fallen into a trance, and a small smile played at his lips. “They wore matching costumes, of course, with decorative bullet holes in some very revealing locations. I believe they were designed by a Japanese lingerie maker.”

This was maddening. I needed him to tell me more about the sisters, not their clothing! And specifically I needed to know which one had sent him on his mission.

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My Wife Paused in the Doorway

  • by Kentwearing a diamond wedding band
  • Too handsome
  • neither wound was fatal
  • needed to tie it to someone
  • hungry, not smart

Tune in next time part 382      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My wife paused in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest, and even in the prison basement’s uneven illumination I spotted that she was wearing a diamond wedding band. It was doubtless some royal heirloom of tremendous ceremonial import, and I wondered what had prompted her to suddenly start wearing it.

“Take off that silly head,” she barked. I hoped she was addressing Jim, in his blue panda costume, and not me, in my improvised Contrarian General’s uniform.

Jim set aside his coffee mug and lifted the oversize plush head off his shoulders. “Couldn’t drink my joe with this thing on, anyway.”

Fleur tsked and gave her dark curls a shake. “Too handsome.”

I chuckled. “Then I guess it’s good you married me.” Fleur’s blue eyes shot my way, demonstrating the veracity of Jim’s ‘laser danger’ quip. I felt the sting of her gaze from each eye, though neither wound was fatal.

“Don’t be insubordinate, General,” she snarled, “or it’ll be the Battle of Brouhaha for you.” I hoped she was bluffing, knowing enough of the military history of Contraria to understand the reference. It was a victory where their general was the only casualty, because they used a kite as a decoy and needed to tie it to someone. Accounts diverge as to why the general was nominated for such duty, but most chroniclers agree that by this time the rank and file were low on rations and perhaps not thinking clearly. These soldiers were hungry, not smart, which has become a sort of unofficial motto of the Contrarian armed forces since that time.

“Take the kids and go chat with the spy,” she told me. “I need to talk to my brother-in-law alone.”

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“You Need a Hat”

  • by jenwith a turned-up nose, and rather turned-in legs
  • got to the edge of a very big wood
  • Oh God, Paul. Elevators!
  • a circular muddy mark
  • We can have the ceremony at once

Tune in next time part 371      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“You need a hat,” Fleur said. “Contrarian generals always have hats.” She deftly folded her white linen napkin into an origami hat that rather resembled a paper boat. “Perfect!” She held it aloft. “We can have the ceremony at once.”

“But a white hat,” said Harry. “Surely not.”

“Quiet, Harry,” Fleur said. “You’re just upset because my husband will outrank you.”

Harry pouted froggily under Isolde’s doting gaze.

Fleur directed me to kneel, plopped the napkin hat on my head, and used coffee grounds to make a circular muddy mark on my lapel. “This insignia shows your rank, General. Congratulations.”

I bowed my head to kiss her hand, careful not to let my hat slip off. I felt rather ridiculous in my new getup, like a country bumpkin arriving in the big city for the first time. The type of rube who would be amazed by the most mundane things. “Oh God, Paul. Elevators! Like in the movies!” That sort of thing.

“Ooo Harry!” Isolde cooed. “You should buy your commanding officer a drink!”

With a prodigious scowl, Harry stood from the table and marched across the restaurant until he got to the edge of a very big wooden bar that was on the opposite side of the fountain from where we were seated. He returned shortly with a turned-up nose, and rather turned-in legs that accentuated his toad-like qualities. With a curt salute he handed me a tall glass full of a frothy green substance. It didn’t smell like anything I’d ever encountered before. Could I trust that he wasn’t trying to poison me?

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The Blue Panda Swayed

  • by jenmud of an Alabama bayou
  • protective layers of bubble wrap
  • undergarments, sneakers
  • on the right thumb
  • discard his signature footwear

Tune in next time part 369      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The blue panda swayed from side to side, crooning “Hush Little Baby” in a southern accent thicker than the mud of an Alabama bayou. My twins, strapped to his chest, cooed and burbled. I had no idea my brother Jim had such a way with infants.

While Harry gathered up the cheese and shoved it into his toad-like mouth with a great deal of lip-smacking, Fleur snapped her fingers for the waiter. When he arrived at the table she said, “You will procure several protective layers of bubble wrap and use it to fashion carrying harnesses for these four babies.” She turned to me. “It was very foresighted of you to conceive these children. They will make splendid additions to my royal brood. Of course they are outside the line of succession, and must remain unnamed until after our twins get their names several months or years from now.”

“Of course,” I said. Having the quads raised in the Contrarian court meant they would be well-protected, which was an enormous relief to me.

Fleur finished feeding the second set of babies and handed them to a nearby busboy. She buttoned up her top and turned back to me. “Your morning suit is a disgrace.”

“It looks exactly like the one my husband wore at my wedding!” Isolde simpered, “Only dirtier and much, much damper.” Harry nearly choked on his cheese.

I thought of Isolde on her wedding night, when I’d acted as proxy husband. She’d danced for me wearing only undergarments, sneakers, and a ring on the right thumb, her left thumb as nude as the rest of her soon became.

Fleur snapped again and another waiter scurried over. “Get my husband something dry to wear,” she said. “And discard his signature footwear into the incinerator.” Once more she turned her attention to me. “Now what’s this you were bellowing about your ejaculate?”

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You Know How

  • by jenif you are mind-controlled
  • escaping from his own thoughts
  • that inescapable sappy love ballad
  • “You remind me of a boxer I used to know.”
  • We’re all adults here.

Tune in next time part 367      Click Here for Earlier Installments

You know how, if you are mind-controlled, your thoughts are fuzzy and you feel like a man who is overusing drink as a way of escaping from his own thoughts? That’s how I felt, watching the Crystal Clown and her comical steed Nigel disappear down the beach. My brain was in a fog, but I knew not whether it was hormonal in nature, or due to exhaustion, or if Titania had perhaps poisoned me with an infernal clown toxin. My brothers Jove and Jupiter were both married to clowns, but I had always avoided their ilk as bedmates. One hears so many tales of clown treachery, it seemed wisest to avoid joining any in a compromising position. And yet I had just spent the past hour joined in several of the most compromising of positions with the deadliest clown I’d ever heard of. I counted myself lucky to be alive.

My journey back to my senses was hastened by a quartet of crying infants, as my newborn sons awoke from their naps. I quickly donned my soggy morning suit, and scooped the children into my arms. I assumed they were hungry, but I had nothing to feed them. I settled for singing to them, hoping the lullaby would soothe them for a short while. But I couldn’t remember a single lullaby and had to resort to that inescapable sappy love ballad from Titanic. You know the one.

One of my sons, the chubby bruiser on the left, socked me in the nose with his tiny fist. I chuckled at his grit and said, “You remind me of a boxer I used to know.”

Shortly I made my way back to the zeppelin docking spire. I hoped Fleur was still there in the restaurant at the top, and yet I hoped she wasn’t. It would be incredibly awkward, and perhaps even dangerous, to introduce her to these infant sons of mine. I could only hope that she would take pity on them and feed them, as I was incapable of doing.

The elevator ride to the top of the spire was long, and when I emerged into the rotating restaurant, the babies were once again fussing. Fleur and Isolde and their retinue were easy to spot, as they were the only customers in the place. From the looks of the dishes on the table, they’d barely made it to the 5th course, which left plenty of courses to go.

The first person to spot me was Harry, Isolde’s husband. As attractive as I found Isolde, it was a relief to no longer need to act as her proxy husband. My life was complicated enough at the moment. Harry nudged his wife, who nudged her sister. Fleur looked up from her plate of escargot caramels and spotted me, sandy, damp, and bedecked with infants that were not hers. Her eyebrows arched. With a flick of her wrist she signaled the maître d’ to escort me to her table. Harry bristled and wrapped his arm around Isolde, who sat open-mouthed.

All I could think to say was, “We’re all adults here.”

“Well obviously not,” Fleur said. “Those are babies you’re holding, you idiot, and they look hungry. Hand them to me two at a time, and I shall feed them.” She started to unbutton her top. “And while I do that you can feed me my escargot and explain to me just where these children came from. The last I saw, you were leaving in the elevator with an extremely rotund man.” Her eyes grew wide. “Are these the prophesied Seahorse Children?”

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The Infants Didn’t Answer

  • by jenI’ve had tests.
  • unfettered by child labor laws
  • down in the pelvic region
  • rolled about in uncouth positions
  • like lovers do

Tune in next time part 361      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The infants didn’t answer my query. Believe me, if they had I would have heard them. I have excellent hearing — I’ve had tests. At the Academy they are unfettered by child labor laws, and they take full advantage of it, forcing students to construct weapons under the guise of education during the day, and conducting rigorous physical exams well into the night. I was loath to enroll my children in such an establishment, but would they be safe without the proper training? Through no fault of their own they’d been born into a dangerous life. What kind of father would I be if I failed to equip them for survival?

Pondering such an important topic left me distracted, and before I knew it I was face to face with the last person I expected to see in the Inimical Archipelago.

“Tessa!”

I hadn’t seen her since I left the island in the biplane with Xylona, and at that point she’d been kissing my brother Jove. Perhaps this wasn’t Tessa at all, but one of her sisters in disguise. And what a disguise! She was wearing a grass hula skirt and coconut bra.

I tried to keep my guard up, but it was nearly impossible when she said, “I’ve been thinking about you, you know, down in the pelvic region.” She ran her hands over her foliage-clad hips. “It’s been so long since you and I rolled about in uncouth positions, like lovers do.”

I was quite exhausted, and carrying four newborn babies, but something about the way Tessa rustled her skirt got my heart rate racing. She slipped out of her hula garb and laid it in the shade of a nearby beach umbrella, then took my sons from me one by one and placed them gently on it.

Even though I knew she probably wasn’t the real Tessa, and even if she was she was most likely merely after another sample of my alleged exotic compound, I could not resist her.

I used my top hat to block the babies’ view.

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I Just Helped Deliver Quadruplets

  • by Kentand since his leaving Disco Island there has been no news
  • dating her husband’s sister
  • “It sounds like an alien.”
  • this is a confirmed story
  • as double-jointed as a trained mime

Tune in next time part 356      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I just helped deliver quadruplets,” I said to the suddenly nude Olga. “Your sister’s quadruplets, my quadruplets. It’s all too much right now. Also, your brother is watching.” (Not to mention all the volleyball players.)

Olga didn’t seem to hear any of my protests, and to my own surprise my body began to actively disagree with all those objections. Olga wasn’t the loveliest of John’s sisters, but she was still a knockout in — and even more so, out of — a bikini. The next thing I learned about her was that she was as double-jointed as a trained mime, a discovery that raised questions about her affiliations. Soon she had the exotic compound, whatever it was, and I had completely forgotten my concerns, whatever they’d been.

John gave us a light round of applause, handing the infants to Heinrich so he could clap. Olga held up a test tube which appeared to be full of semen. I tried, but failed, to picture how she’d accomplished the sample collection. “The compound we’re interested in degrades rapidly unless it’s kept cold. This is a confirmed story from several of our operatives, and accounts for why our stockpile of the chemical is so small.”

She hid the test tube in her bikini top. “No one is really sure what this substance is, or where it originated. Hearing our biochemists describe the stuff, it doesn’t sound like it comes from any known living thing.” She flicked an eyebrow my way. “It sounds like an alien.”

“You weren’t complaining a minute ago.”

“Who’s complaining? I just need to get this sample on ice for transport.”

“And then take it directly to Xylona,” John admonished. “She will then fly it to Rolf, who happens to be dating her husband’s sister. He supervises the lab, which is located right here in the Inimical Archipelago.”

“Not anymore,” came Svetlana’s muffled voice. “The lab is still here, but Rolf hasn’t been running things for a year. He waded into the surf, and since his leaving Disco Island there has been no news.”

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Before I Could Collect Myself to Congratulate Her

  • by jenpack up its ovaries and flee
  • pulled out a whimpering dog
  • an easy matter, Olga,
  • find much more comfortable quarters
  • multi-jurisdictional nightmare

Tune in next time part 355      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Before I could collect myself to congratulate her, Svetlana gave another cry and produced another baby. And then a fourth. I was stunned. Any lesser uterus, when faced with quadruplets, would pack up its ovaries and flee. But Svetlana was a contortionist, and so apparently was her womb. At that point I wouldn’t have been surprised if she pulled out a whimpering dog, or another dozen babies, but she seemed to be done. The babies were all robust and plump.

“Four boys,” I stammered.

“I told you they would be remarkable when I tricked you into impregnating me,” Svetlana said. “They must have inherited my contortionist genes, otherwise there’s no way so many of them would have fit.”

Our awkward family moment was interrupted by Heinrich’s arrival. He shouldered past the gawking volleyball players. He had John with him, and Olga, too. I hadn’t seen Svetlana’s youngest sister in years, but here she was, just in time to be an aunt. It occurred to me then that John was my children’s uncle, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

John and Olga stared at their sister and her four newborn sons. Finally Olga said, “You were simply supposed to get a sample of his semen, Svetlana!” She jerked her thumb at me.

“I did!” She nodded at the infants. “How else do you think this happened?”

Olga shook her head sadly. “It’s not his genetic material we need, but the exotic chemical compound surrounding it.”

“You should have been more specific. It would have saved a good deal of discomfort. Now what am I supposed to do with all these babies?” Svetlana asked. “It won’t be an easy matter, Olga, to hide all of us under Heinrich’s shirt.”

John sniffed. “I’m sure we can find much more comfortable quarters for the infants.” He hauled Svetlana to her feet and took the children from her. She twisted and did a complicated backbend maneuver, then stood up straight, all signs of her recent pregnancy eradicated. She kissed each baby on the head and then gracefully coiled herself back into the harness on Heinrich’s chest.

“Hurry up and get a sample from him, Olga,” John said. “Then he can take the babies back to Contraria and we can get off this damn island. Xylona’s waiting at the biplane, and our scientists really need that exotic compound.”

“Wait!” I said. “You want me to take these kids home to my wife? That would be a multi-jurisdictional nightmare!” I was both American and part Indian, Svetlana was both a Contortionist and part Russian, and Fleur was as Contrarian as they come. There was precedent for adoptions such as this, to increase a warlady’s brood, but it required so much paperwork.

Meanwhile, Olga was stripping off her bikini.

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