Tagged: sports

Jim Was Always Coming Up with Outrageous Theories

  • by jenin that gentleman’s widely opened eyes
  • these dashing cardigans
  • Tonight: dinosaurs.
  • Her stomach made fish tank noises
  • appeared to have been eaten by foxes

Tune in next time part 197                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Jim was always coming up with outrageous theories about twins. I guess being the only twinless sibling in the family will do that to a guy. Not that he was a singleton. No, Jim was a triplet, but his co-trips were identical girls and he always felt left out. His experiments were often painful, and I had no interest in seeing what he had planned for today, or how the paper shredders would play into it.

I took a step backwards, away from the false graveyard of office equipment, and promptly bumped into someone standing right behind me. It was Jim, of course, and in that gentleman’s widely opened eyes I saw no hint of brotherly affection. To my surprise, he was flanked by our sisters Jemma and Jemima. It was unusual to see all three triplets together. They were all wearing these dashing cardigans in a blue and green color scheme that told me all I needed to know about where their loyalties currently lay. Normally the girls pledged fealty to the Academy’s chess team, the Anacondas. Tonight: Dinosaurs. If he had convinced them to support the chess hooligans of our greatest rivals, Jim had more sway over them than I had ever imagined possible. Perhaps his theories about twins weren’t as outrageous as I had always imagined.

Ignoring Jim and his widely opened eyes, I smiled at our sisters and reached out to shake their hands. With Jemma’s hand in my right, Jemima’s in my left, I executed the secret “twin handshake” we had all developed as children when we wanted to exclude Jim. I was hoping to break through whatever insidious hold he had over them, but to all outward appearances I was unsuccessful. And on top of that, they wouldn’t let go of my hands.

“Jem,” Jim drawled, “and Jem, bring him back out to the operating table.”

My sisters pulled me back into the rocket surgery. My crocs had no traction on the slick floor, especially when they dragged me through Absinthia’s blood. Her stomach made fish tank noises under our feet, all blurbley and squelchy. Her poor corpse appeared to have been eaten by foxes, not operated on by rockets.

I averted my eyes and tried to come up with a plan to escape my nefarious triplet siblings.

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First an Ocean Swim

  • by jengross little brine-loogies
  • despite the morning’s embarrassment
  • wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes
  • breathless from her bootyshaking
  • many strange and fanciful masks

Tune In Next Time Part 6                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

First an ocean swim while chained to cinderblocks, then a ride on a child’s bicycle, and now running up stairs, I thought as I took the steps two at a time, heaving for breath and coughing up gross little brine-loogies. It’s like some sort of triathlon of the absurd.

Two floors below I heard John enter the stairwell, and despite the morning’s embarrassment that led to this evening’s murder attempts I was glad to have him around. Even wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes saturated with seawater he was an intimidating guy, and I thought that the two of us working together might be able to defeat Tessa. If we got really lucky. And if John didn’t betray me again.

I got to the fifth floor and pushed through the fire door into some sort of rave. A gorgeous woman in silver body paint stood on stage, breathless from her bootyshaking, and the people in the crowd wore many strange and fanciful masks. I pushed through the throng, John hot on my heels, looking for Tessa. She had to be here somewhere. The secret compartment that was her ultimate goal was hidden under the floor.

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“Thanks For the Tea, Poco”

  • k-avatarthe yellow spheres
  • Screech! I felt it.
  • lick at his sore feet
  • Thanks for the tea, Poco
  • back door moments

“Thanks for the tea, Poco.”

I drained my mug, got up from the table, and was out the back door moments before Poco’s uncle Pico pulled up out front. Pico slammed on the brakes — Screech! I felt it. I shimmied over the fence and beat feet.

In the alley, an old wino let a mongrel lick at his sore feet. I left them to it.

Poco’s aunt Paca would be just finishing up her lesson at the tennis court. I pictured her in a short white dress, as the yellow spheres ricocheted all around her. Then she felt like stretching…

Back door moments, indeed.

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Everything About Felicity Was All Brown

  • by jenrolled her beautiful eyes
  • like some patient livery cob
  • suddenly declared unlawful
  • no other password
  • the beautiful dog’s friendly attention
  • as plainly as the geese
  • causing an obstruction in the shaft
  • interposed his elegantly marked body
  • in the crepuscular twilight
  • WOW! Is she dragging!
  • such petty jealousies
  • all brown, brown eyes, brown hair

Everything about Felicity was all brown, brown eyes, brown hair, brown tobacco-stained teeth. She wore a brown velour jumpsuit and brown leather boots. Erasmus thought she dressed that way to hide her beauty from the eyes of men, to prevent such petty jealousies as she must have experienced in school when she no doubt turned the heads of her friends’ swains. It was for very similar reasons that Erasmus had covered his body with detailed black tattoos. Such subterfuge did not fool Erasmus, who saw her sensual attractiveness as plainly as the geese flying overhead and honking in the crepuscular twilight saw the small pond in the woods as their pit stop for the night.

“Why must those horrid sentries be causing an obstruction in the shaft?” wailed Felicity.

WOW! Is she dragging! thought Erasmus. Felicity was usually stoic in the face of such disappointment. She must be completely exhausted to break down like that. They knew when they signed up for the Amazing Race that there would be frustrations, but nothing had prepared them for this task, in which they were required to navigate their way through a disused emerald mine in Myanmar. Much to their chagrin, the team had just found themselves back at the entrance and had gone outside for some fresh air and to pet the large black dog that was chained there.

“Are you certain you know no other password?” Erasmus asked.

Felicity rolled her beautiful eyes like some patient livery cob who had lost all patience upon learning that horses had been suddenly declared unlawful.

“If I knew another password,” she grumbled, “don’t you think I would have mentioned it?”

Her despair drew the beautiful dog’s friendly attention, and it demanded to be petted. Erasmus felt a flair of jealousy and interposed his elegantly marked body between Felicity and the animal.

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Block-and-Tackle Bill Earned His Nickname

  • by jena four inch green lizard
  • a human-style bed
  • some cook throwing a tantrum
  • aged pile of feces
  • block-and-tackle Bill

Block-and-Tackle Bill earned his nickname on the high school football field. Now, decades of steroid abuse had left him unable to enjoy sexual congress in a human-style bed without the use of a very large block-and-tackle. The irony was, indeed, lost on Block-and-Tackle Bill.

Block-and-Tackle Bill slumped in his leather recliner watching some cook throwing a tantrum on TV. He felt like an aged pile of feces, but in less poetic terms. The only thing that made him smile these days, since his block-and-tackle contraption broke, was Esmerelda, a four inch green lizard who had taken up residence on Bill’s patio. Her skin secreted a potent painkiller and Bill would lick her whenever he could catch her.

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“Now You May Feel a Momentary Discomfort”

  • k-avatarjust a nip
  • a Swedish gynecologist
  • such as Mr T
  • we watched professional bowling
  • This angered Bruno

“Now you may feel a momentary discomfort, just a nip.”

Sue nodded, wondering how a dental procedure came to be invented by a Swedish gynecologist. Also wondering why her dentist had a mohawk. The hair would look normal on some outrageous celebrity, such as Mr T. On a dentist it looked like he couldn’t possibly be a real dentist.

I have got to get better insurance, Sue thought. Then she winced, but only for a moment.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

She nodded again, then shook her head, then tried to smile apologetically and that really hurt because of the way her lips were stretched out of the way.

“It’s okay, I understand,” her dentist assured her hastily. “I haven’t seen such a confused sequence of emotions since we watched professional bowling with my uncle, and my cousin Bruno rolled seven consecutive strikes but lost the match.” He sighed. “This angered Bruno so badly that he bit through a pin. Which is how I got into dentistry.”

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Object Lesson!

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • object lesson!
  • their moans and their heavy breathing
  • clay and seashell stew
  • the bared teeth of the cornered carnivore
  • in a robe of some plastic fabric

Jen’s Take

by jenMargaret stared at the TV in horror. She was watching the new DVD release of Season 1 of her favorite childhood cartoon, “Crustacean Clay and Seashell Stew,” and not until that moment did she realize how heavy the homoeroticism on the show was.

Seashell Stew gave Crustacean Clay a massage while Crustacean Clay was in a robe of some plastic fabric that made disturbing rustling sounds under Seashell Stew’s hands. Later the duo went to the gym to wrestle, and their moans and their heavy breathing sounded unmistakeably sexual to Margaret’s scandalized ears.

She caught her own reflection in the mirror above the TV and was surprised to see she sported the bared teeth of the cornered carnivore.

“To anyone who wishes to relive their innocent childhoods, let this be a cautionary object lesson!” Margaret cried in horror.

 

Kent’s Take

I recognized Milton and Dante by their moans and their heavy breathing before I entered the room and saw them entwined in an old shower curtain. They were like a tantric Hindu god in a robe of some plastic fabric.

“Now that is one kinky object lesson!” I crowed. Then I cackled and ran out the back door and into the surf, my feet churning the clay and seashell stew, seasoning it with acute discomfort.

In the failing light, it took me too long to understand what the receding tide had done. The cove was cut off by a sandbar about 30 yards out, and in the pathetic little lake of saltwater it embraced loomed a strange dark shape. A killer whale trapped in the shallows.

The bared teeth of the cornered carnivore gleamed in the moonlight.

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Fiery Ball Of Gas

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • fiery ball of gas
  • devotional delicacy
  • Skinner box
  • emotional maturity
  • serving up

Jen’s Take

by jen“The eucharist is so bland,” whined Reggie. “Can’t the nuns whip up a devotional delicacy with more zip? Maybe they could add wasabi.”

“That would be like serving up a fiery ball of gas!” shrieked Jen.

The two collapsed in giggles, displaying the emotional maturity of grade-schoolers, and clutching their nearly empty margaritas.

The other patrons of The Skinner Box, the newest bar in town, had already learned to avoid the two co-authors whenever they appeared for Happy Hour.

 

Kent’s Take

Johnson liked to watch Skinner box. Serving up whoop-ass like a devotional delicacy, take of this left hook, for it is about to rattle your brainstem…

This secret pleasure didn’t show much emotional maturity, but that was the reason for keeping it secret. Outwardly, Johnson gave every sign of detesting the brutal spectacle. But it flooded her with arousal like a fiery ball of gas. Unless that was the pork rinds…

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I Always Used To

  • great hammer blows
  • I always used to envy children
  • my father’s arrogant stride
  • with that horse face
  • this surely must be a sin
  • they glowed crimson

I always used to envy children whose parents seemed normal, whereas my mother’s sinister leer was overshadowed only by my father’s arrogant stride. Mother’s leer was really something, with that horse face sporting eyes like a denizen of the depths — they glowed crimson. So, that should help put father’s arrogance into perspective.

Even today I blame them for where I wound up, doing body make-up on second-tier professional wrestlers. Casting blame, this surely must be a sin.

Today’s client insists on eating while I bronze his quads. Great Hammer blows on his soup, and my belly growls. I can’t eat until he’s in the ring.

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