Tagged: food

“Steady Demand for Humanly Edible Dishes”

  • k-avataraffable, stimulating, with a phenomenal grasp
  • disappearance of the natives!
  • five hovercraft: three light
  • humanly edible dishes
  • the night before the simulacrum

“Steady demand for humanly edible dishes on Bleylox-9 ultimately caused the disappearance of the natives!”

Nobody was listening to Alex by now. They used to think him affable, stimulating, with a phenomenal grasp and a handshake to match. But he went too far. He had decided he had to rescue the things that go bump in the night before the simulacrum made them all into jerky. So he hired five hovercraft: three light, two so heavy they didn’t hover, and set off furtively into the deserted polar region.

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“No! Not a Poodle, a Paddle!”

  • k-avatarthey drank their soup
  • postdated receipt
  • you’re so inept
  • He was giving her clothes!
  • a fat paddle with a handle upside down

“No! Not a poodle, a paddle! A fat paddle with a handle upside down. You’re so inept.”

Simon, chagrined, led the dog away. Martin shook his head and sighed. What else had Simon screwed up?

A quick glance at his desk provided the answer in the form of a postdated receipt from the women’s department. This had Shirley’s signature all over it, as much as if it were literally inked onto the strip of paper. She loved to mess with Simon’s head, and now she was really taking advantage of him. He was giving her clothes!

Martin stalked down to the commissary to find Simon and Shirley at the same table. They drank their soup like old friends. It made Martin seethe with disapproval.

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Deirdre Just Couldn’t Get the Bellhop’s Attention

  • by jenmuscles I hadn’t used before
  • a phenomenally costly divorce
  • old-fashioned meat and potatoes
  • wouldn’t have mattered if she were chrome orange
  • “One suitcase,”
  • registrations in Culver City

Deirdre just couldn’t get the bellhop’s attention. It wouldn’t have mattered if she were chrome, orange-scented, and blinking, the man was studiously ignoring her.

“One suitcase,” his dismissive air said. “No tip there.”

Little did he know that Dierdre had just come out on the winning side of a phenomenally costly divorce settlement, and was in the mood to splurge. Her lawyer claimed the victory came from “using muscles I hadn’t used before, at least not in a court of law.”

Once the papers were signed and the divorce was final, leaving Derek nothing but a memory, Deirdre made several hotel registrations in Culver City under assumed names, and was attempting to check into the chicest of the bunch. The restaurant on the third floor bragged of their old-fashioned meat, and potatoes so modern they should be on display in the Tate. Deirdre couldn’t wait to spend Derek’s money on something so outrageous.

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“Do You Think You Could Let Me Have Some Blood?”

  • k-avatarThis will be a strange and rich experience
  • the cradle’s still soft
  • either snobbery or laziness
  • do you think you could let me have some blood?
  • I feel the better for our little chat
  • Italians often exaggerate such things
  • it bubbled out of him abruptly

“Do you think you could let me have some blood?”

Miguel nodded and shifted his weight in his chair, and then it bubbled out of him abruptly like a sneeze.

Vincenzo hastened to position the cup so none would go to waste. “Mamma Mia!” he shouted. “This is the most generous helping!” Although Italians often exaggerate such things, Vincenzo was being honest. Lifting his glass, Vincenzo breathed, “This will be a strange but rich experience.” And then he tossed it off.

Miguel mumbled at length, his words slurred by either snobbery or laziness. All Vincenzo could catch were the words, “…the cradle’s still soft…” And then Miguel passed out.

“I feel the better for our little chat,” Vincenzo proclaimed.

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Stewart Left His Crowbar

  • k-avatarleft his crowbar
  • it is a machine
  • fish taco
  • tragic, funny, sexy, hilarious
  • hair in his fast

Stewart left his crowbar tangled in Myrtle’s hair in his fast getaway from the scene. He hoped she wouldn’t follow him again, that this was the last time he’d have to kill her.

He ran into the nearest bar, desperate to warn the occupants. “In a few minutes, a crazy lady will come in here. But it is not a lady. It is a machine. A tragic, funny, sexy, hilarious machine.” Other than a few chuckles, he got no reaction from the career drinkers. Stewart slunk to a deserted, shadowy corner to think.

Sure enough, Myrtle entered moments later, still trailing the crowbar.

Oh god, Stewart moaned, open mic night.

Myrtle mounted the stage, the heavy steel rod clanking with each step. She leaned up to the microphone and sighed, “What has two eyes, a tail, no legs, and hot sauce?” Stewart gulped. The spell was cast.

In one voice the rest of the patrons said, “A fish taco.”

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Ed Attended the Matinee Performance

  • by jenEd combed the circus
  • like dead men’s knuckles
  • a boiled egg rolled away
  • the unlucky and the morally dyslexic
  • came up to his armpits
  • a small pudgy thing with a huge curved bone

Ed attended the matinee performance of the Circus of the Unlucky and the Morally Dyslexic and had the misfortune to be pulled out of the audience by one of the clowns, a small pudgy thing with a huge curved bone through his nose, and a rainbow wig. The skit he was shanghaied into ended with the audience roaring, and Ed buried in a pile of food that came up to his armpits and soiled his new souvenir t-shirt while a boiled egg rolled away and was trampled by a miniature pony. Its crackling shell made a noise like dead men’s knuckles.

A female clown led Ed backstage to get cleaned up, and they began a passionate affair. Every evening after the final performance, Ed combed the circus girl’s hair in a display of affection.

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The Kremlin Cupolas Shone

  • k-avatarslapped the monk’s face
  • stop shooting, you fools!
  • most novices ate it with relish
  • work intelligently, rather than spectacularly
  • the Kremlin cupolas shone against a pale summer sky
  • “Go ahead, kiss her.”

The Kremlin cupolas shone against a pale summer sky, and bells rang out the lunchtime hour. Since its conversion into a  monastery, the former fortress boasted far fewer tanks, and marginally better food.

Brother Ivan wished the cooks would strive to work intelligently, rather than spectacularly. Years of eating the ornate fare left him bored by all the gold leaf and sugar sculptures, although most novices ate it with relish.

The walls shook, signaling that some of those novices were skipping lunch to play in a tank, and had found some ammunition. “Stop shooting, you fools!” screamed the abbot as he charged outside.

After the meal, Ivan strolled in Red Square with Brother Boris. They came upon a pretty young lady with a sign reading, “Smoochies, $1.”

“Go ahead, kiss her,” Ivan suggested. The woman slapped the monk’s face. “Pay first,” she insisted.

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“Recalling Her Pantaloons”

  • k-avatarher pantaloons, her cherry-coloured stockings
  • find myself craving the famous borscht
  • I think she died in the bombardment
  • you’d rather gossip than fuck!
  • padded with brown velvet
  • Those bastards are better off

“Recalling her pantaloons, her cherry-coloured stockings padded with brown velvet, I find myself craving the famous borscht served in the capitol before it was razed. I think she died in the bombardment. Many did. Those bastards are better off than we are, when you look at what the revolution had done to architecture.”

“My sister was right when she said you’d rather gossip than fuck!”

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Everyone In Town These Days

  • k-avatara family of ducklings and a baby seal
  • Beatlemania epidemic
  • “Fetch me another drinky-poo, won’t you dear?”
  • fanciful scarves and costume jewelry
  • blaming Mountain Dew

Everyone in town these days went around bedecked in fanciful scarves and costume jewelry. It was no worse than the Beatlemania epidemic from a few years ago, but it meant that Tristan didn’t fit in. As usual.

“Fetch me another drinky-poo, won’t you dear?”

“Sure, Uncle Milt.” Tristan slogged to the kitchen. The fabulousness disease somehow impaired everyone’s normal ability to get things for themselves. The cause was unknown, but for now Tristan was blaming Mountain Dew. Still, that’s what Uncle Milt wanted.

“Here you go.”

“Oh, you’re just as cute as a family of ducklings and a baby seal all rolled into one!”

Tristan knew it was meant as a compliment, but he was in no mood to take it gracefully.

“If you rolled them all into one, they wouldn’t be cute at all.”

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My Stomach Attacked Me

  • k-avatarmy stomach attacked me
  • on an inaudible chemical level
  • unimaginative weapons
  • Pardon my patronizing tone
  • she feigned innocence
  • The trees helped a lot
  • Improved by human effort

My stomach attacked me with the unimaginative weapons available to such an organ, assailing me with ferocious pangs and horrendous cramps on an inaudible chemical level.

The trees helped a lot, abounding with apples, pears, and squirrels. Soon my appetite was sated.

“Pardon my patronizing tone,” announced an unctuous female voice, “but what are you doing up in my tree?”

“Your tree?” I responded hotly. “And in your case, it’s actually a matronizing tone.”

She feigned innocence, but I heard her mutter, “Idiot!”

The natural process of evolution had been improved by human effort, giving rise to trees that could defend themselves by constriction, a fact I learned just too late for it to do me any good.

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