Tagged: tune in next time

Svetlana Held Up a Spiked Leather Dog Collar

  • by jenhe’s like milk to you
  • as if someone was pursuing him
  • Jenkins rolled on him
  • on the hallway carpet right in front of them
  • (an up-and-down bump and grind)

Tune in next time part 159                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Svetlana held up a spiked leather dog collar and matching codpiece. I shrugged. At least it was less embarrassing than my current Cupid getup.

“Give it a rest, Svetlana,” Heinrich growled. “I know he’s like milk to you, rich and creamy and better with chocolate, but we’re on a mission. He needs to be able to sneak in and out undetected.”

“He needs to be able to move as if someone was pursuing him, because someone probably will be, and this gives him optimal range of motion,” Svetlana countered.

I uncoiled myself from Heinrich’s harness and stood stretching my limbs while the two of them bickered over the appropriateness of the bondage getup. From the corner of my eye I caught a flicker of movement in the ridiculous pink lacy wallpaper. Suspecting an ineptly camouflaged ninja, I froze.

Ninja camouflage, when it’s not at its peak, is kind of like those Magic Eye puzzles. I relaxed my eyes and, sure enough, could pick out the silhouette of a shadow warrior. His attention was on Heinrich, and I saw no reason to intervene. As he poised to leap, a sudden commotion erupted from a nearby doorway and who should tumble into the corridor but Jenkins!

I hadn’t seen Jenkins in years, but she was just as I remembered her, dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and deadly. The ninja tried to pounce on the still-arguing Heinrich and Svetlana, but Jenkins rolled on him on the the hallway carpet right in front of them.

“That was supposed to be Step 6!” cried Svetlana. “You’ve short-circuited everything, Jenkins, and now we won’t get to see him,” she jerked her thumb at me, “in this.” She held the codpiece aloft.

Jenkins got the ninja in a leg lock and said. “He’ll wear it if he knows what’s good for him.”

And so, under the watchful eyes of Svetlana, Jenkins, Heinrich, and the semi-conscious ninja, I stripped out of my shorty toga and feathery wings, and struggled into the leather gear. It was tight and uncomfortable, and I had to resort to some very awkward moves (an up-and-down bump and grind) to get it on.

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My Getup

  • by Kentunimaginative weapons
  • this is not the time to be shy
  • until the approaching equinox
  • An American named Henderson had other ideas
  • is best read in complete silence

Tune in next time part 160                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

My getup made me feel vulnerable and dangerous at the same time. Unlike guns, knives, and other unimaginative weapons, the spikes on my leather collar and codpiece would make any tussles I got into quite memorable. But it made any room I stood in feel rather drafty. I tried to look casual, telling myself “this is not the time to be shy.”

“Will you three get moving?” Jenkins snarled. “Do you think I want to keep this idiot pinned until the approaching equinox?”

“This way,” Heinrich said. He hefted a trapdoor and motioned for me to go first. The tunnels underneath TinselTown were originally meant for use by the “elves” employed in the park. An American named Henderson had other ideas. He wrote them all down, and that is one book which is best read in complete silence.

“Heinrich, let’s discuss this,” I said.

“Shove him in!” Svetlana screamed. “The plan is falling behind schedule!”

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I Like My Thighs Unperforated

  • by jenwho also worked at the bank
  • avoid being intimate with Jim
  • I tried and tried to explain to him
  • “Jesus wants me to be a dick,”
  • I’ll be using your name

Tune in next time part 161                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I like my thighs unperforated, so instead of climbing down the ladder into the tunnel, I jumped. My landing was cushioned by the piles of tinsel that got thrown down here when the place was rebranded as Valentine Village. I had to wade through heaps and drifts of the stuff as I made my way through the labyrinth. In the soft light that bounced off every surface, I consulted the crude map Svetlana had scrawled on my palm.

When I reached the correct door I took a deep breath. I was not looking forward to this confrontation.

I crouched down and peered through the keyhole. In the gaudy lavender and pink room on the other side, I saw my twin, Jason, as I had been told to expect. What was a surprise was the presence of Kelly. She was the love of Jason’s life, and she’d gone to prison in my stead once upon a time, through no fault of my own. She worked at the bank we robbed, and she was sleeping with my brother Jim who also worked at the bank. Jason begged her to find ways to avoid being intimate with Jim, but she claimed there was no other way. I tried and tried to explain to him that if Kelly truly loved him she wouldn’t be banging our brother against his wishes, but Jason was blinded by love. He let Kelly walk all over him.

Like now.

Jason was still wearing the priest costume he’d adopted while hiding out at that little church in Rhode Island. He was laying on the floor, and Kelly was standing on his back, digging her toes in.

“You’re a naughty, naughty priest, aren’t you?” she purred.

“Jesus wants me to be a dick,” he groaned.

I burst into the room before things could get any tawdrier. Kelly shrieked, and then started laughing. I looked down and saw that miles of tinsel had gotten entangled in my leg hair, making it look like I was wearing shiny disco chaps. It did not add to the menacing air I wanted to exude, but it did cause a distraction. While Kelly guffawed and Jason tried to figure out what was so funny, I pounced. Moments later I had the two of them bound hand and foot.

“Sorry Jason,” I said. “For Step 4 of Svetlana and Heinrich’s plan I’ll be using your name.”

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“So, Kelly,” I Sneered

  • by KentHow’s my precious little brother?
  • and the wild fishermen
  • People hate it.
  • we owe it to you to pepper your puppy
  • gazing with idle lust

Tune in next time part 162                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“So, Kelly,” I sneered, “How’s my precious little brother?” Let her figure out which one I meant.

I didn’t wait for her answer anyway, because conversing with these people wasn’t a step in the plan. I shoved the bookcase aside to reveal a hidden passageway, its walls diagonally striped red and white like peppermint. When everything else was done over in pink and lavender, this tunnel retained its original color scheme.

“Don’t go in there,” Jason said. “You’ll get lost, and the wild fishermen will devour you!”

I shook my head. “You shouldn’t lie so poorly. People hate it.” The wild fishermen had been driven out of these tunnels even before Uncle Jinx started building TinselTown. None had been seen this far north in years.

“Still,” Jason insisted, “we owe it to you to pepper your puppy with protective magic. Don’t say we didn’t try.”

I had already taken a step into the candy-striped passage, but I looked back. Kelly was gazing with idle lust at my inadequately covered derriere, so evidently she hadn’t recognized the puppy-peppering code phrase. But how did Jason know about it?

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At the Academy

  • by jenthe best-looking guy in the room
  • “There! There! Look at that troop of giraffes!”
  • “That’s for drinking only.”
  • rubbed it over Joan’s arms and legs
  • we used to be friends a long time ago

Tune in next time part 163                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

At the academy, Jason had been a terrible student. He was usually the best-looking guy in the room (unless I was there and it was a tie) and he got by on his looks. But now, here he was throwing code phrases at me. What could it mean?

“There! There! Look at that troop of giraffes!” was my cautious reply. I was curious to see whether he had the whole phrasebook memorized, or just the one message that had no sibilants to trigger his lisp.

Relief washed over my twin’s face. He jerked his head toward a backpack hanging on the coat tree, bobbing his eyebrows meaningfully.

I stepped back out of the tunnel with an extra swivel in my hips to keep Kelly distracted, and opened the pack. Sure enough it held the flask Jason’s code phrase had promised. Could he possibly be in on the plan with Heinrich and Svetlana? My skimpy outfit had no pockets, so I tucked the flask into my waistband.

With a nod of appreciation, I sashayed back to the tunnel and hurried on. There were occasional signs of wild fishermen, but nothing fresh. I breathed a sigh of relief and concentrated on following the map on my palm.

When I reached the door that marked the end of my subterranean journey, I pressed my ear against it. I was hoping to hear Tessa, but I was disappointed.

I slid the panel open and crept into the room while its sole inhabitant was distracted at the mirror, applying mascara. She was dressed like Aphrodite.

“Hello, Joan,” I said. “It’th me, Jathon.”

Joan narrowly avoided poking herself in the eye with her mascara wand as she jumped to her feet. “You fool! You know you shouldn’t be here!”

I shrugged and pulled the flask from my waistband, poured some of the liquid into my hand. When Joan saw, her eyes got wide. She spluttered, “That’s for drinking only.”

I put the flask down and looked at the pale green liquid in my palm, then rubbed it over Joan’s arms and legs while she stared at me.

“You’re not Jason!” she said. “But I know who you are. We used to be friends a long time ago, at the academy. Your name is–”

The room’s other door crashed open and Jenkins barreled in, yelling, “Step 5, motherfuckers!”

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Joan Spun to Face Jenkins

  • by Kentshoulders pale and beautiful
  • “Let us review the arguments for the various types.”
  • technique called “painting with light”
  • poison shortages
  • indeed, every inch a king

Tune in next time part 164                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Joan spun to face Jenkins. Her diaphanous toga flared, then slid from shoulders pale and beautiful to settle on the floor. Jenkins crouched, dark and deadly, her gaze riveted by Joan’s bare chest as mine was transfixed by her posterior.

“There’s more than one kind of agency-approved makeup,” Joan said crisply. “Let us review the arguments for the various types.” Before she finished speaking, electricity arced from the tip of her mascara wand and struck Jenkins, who collapsed on the floor.

“That was an example of a technique called ‘painting with light’ — ahem, pardon me, I swallowed a bug — painting with lightning. It deviates from the customary approaches to weaponizing cosmetics, so it comes in handy during poison shortages.”

Joan turned to me. I was suddenly very conscious of my spiny codpiece.

“Don’t you think this mascara brings out her eyes?” Joan laughed at her own joke. Jenkins’s eyes bulged as she quivered where she fell.

Joan slunk toward me, cooing, “I think it was a shame the academy never had a prom. We could have been royalty. You are, indeed, every inch a king. And, it seems, more kingly with every second that goes by.”

Her approach was mesmerizing, but even under such duress I was thinking clearly enough to know I shouldn’t go for a tumble with someone who had just finished demonstrating her military-grade personal care products. When she glanced aside coquettishly, I sprang. Leaping over Jenkins, I darted out through the door she’d kicked open a few seconds ago. It was better than retreating and having to explain this setback to Svetlana and Heinrich.

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This Was Not Part of the Plan

  • by jensufficiently versed in the stranger’s system of stenography
  • sealed in a test tube of acid
  • you’d have to pay pounds and pounds and pounds
  • One September morning
  • a traveler’s worst nightmare

Tune in next time part 165                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

This was not part of the plan. It was in fact a traveler’s worst nightmare. Forgetting for a moment that I wore only a dog collar, a spiky codpiece, and the tinsel still clinging to my thigh hair, I was surrounded by a busload of school children on a field trip, all of them hyper from the cotton candy they ate by the fistful. One September morning, during my first year at the academy, I’d gone on a field trip much like this one, only instead of visiting a whimsically saccharine paean to love we had taken a tour of the recently excavated mime settlement. The looks on the faces of our chaperones were burned into my memory and you’d have to pay pounds and pounds and pounds of either British Sterling or Swiss chocolate if you ever expected me to participate in another field trip in my life. And even then I’d probably rather sacrifice a body part and see it sealed in a test tube of acid.

What I’m saying is I don’t really like kids. Especially not in groups.

The pink, sticky horde took up the entire walkway through the heart of Valentine Village. To avoid them, I vaulted up onto a heart-shaped sign hanging over a shopfront, and from there clambered through a window.

A man dressed entirely in lace frills was seated at a desk, scribbling something in a small notebook. Upon my arrival he leapt to his feet. Before he could sound the alarm, or even cry out, I applied a nerve pinch to his neck and he collapsed.

If I was quick, I could escape this ghastly place. I began to strip the lace costume off my victim, but my eye was snagged by his abandoned notebook. Luckily I was sufficiently versed in the stranger’s system of stenography that I could decipher his notes with little trouble.

What I read shocked me. If it was true, it would blow this whole operation wide open!

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Based on the Similarity

  • by Kentthe Three Stooges sitting with a salad bowl
  • (Vehement cheering.)
  • therein they differ from those of Switzerland and Norway
  • The wine was excellent.
  • you know how when you make hard boiled eggs

Tune in next time part 166                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Based on the similarity in note-taking styles, I thought this man must have graduated from our rival academy. But when I flipped to the cover of his book, I saw an unfamiliar school crest: the Three Stooges sitting with a salad bowl.

Wasting no more time on academic nostalgia, I consumed his text as fast as I could. This was obviously where the plans of Svetlana and Heinrich were all leading. Some kind of coalition that they meant to disrupt, or maybe join. I held the minutes of their last secret meeting.

“This assembly will now come to order. (Vehement cheering.) Our quail egg parfaits include gold leaf, and therein they differ from those of Switzerland and Norway. (Quizzical laughter.) The wine was excellent. Sorry there wasn’t enough for anyone else to have any. (Disappointed whistling.) Back to the parfaits, though: you know how when you make hard boiled eggs you need to adjust the time to your altitude?”

I smiled, as the lacily attired man on the floor groaned. I knew who was behind these political machinations!

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Even Through I Now Had All the Answers

  • by jenI love the idea of a jumpsuit
  • all I can say is that I was desperately hungry
  • which lay so thickly upon the floor
  • clothed in a captain’s uniform
  • fueled by frustration and alcohol

Tune in next time part 167                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Even though I now had all the answers, I still needed to disguise myself and escape from Valentine Village. If I was lucky, maybe I’d find Tessa on the way out.

I love the idea of a jumpsuit for everyday wear. It obviates the need to find matching tops and bottoms, and, as a man, the whole peeing thing isn’t really an issue. But while I do love a good jumpsuit, I didn’t relish the idea of a lace one. Since that was all that I had at my disposal, though, I finished stripping my scrivener victim. I even stole his underwear. I know that sounds gross, but all I can say is that I was desperately hungry for my freedom, and my spiky codpiece would have shredded the lace in no time. As for going without, well, did I mention that the jumpsuit was made of lace? I didn’t want to get arrested for scandalizing the hordes of children which lay so thickly upon the floors and streets of this horrible amusement park. Believe me, I would much rather have been clothed in a captain’s uniform.

I squeezed myself into the jumpsuit, which was obviously designed for a less-muscular man. The lace was stretched to the breaking point, and I would have to move very carefully to avoid ripping the seams. The last thing I needed was to end up looking like some combination of Prince and the Hulk, fueled by frustration and alcohol and musical genius.

Shuffling carefully I exited the room. I’d have to hurry if I wanted to stop Mother’s plot.

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Crossing The Park

  • by Kent“Goldstein!”
  • cradling it pensively in his hand
  • except for the terrible, half-healed scar
  • carbon nanotubes might one day come to the rescue
  • “I’d love to see you eat a donut.”

Tune in next time part 168                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Crossing the park, I hoped that the impractical fabric of my jumpsuit would relax and begin to afford me greater freedom of movement, but the reverse was happening. The lace dug into my flesh more ferociously the more I moved around.

“Goldstein!”

I kept moving, despite the grim certitude that I was the target of the exclamation.

A man ran up to me with a gun, cradling it pensively in his hand, a hand that didn’t match his complexion. I might have thought that this man just made a habit of wearing gloves, except for the terrible, half-healed scar encircling his wrist.

“You’re not Goldstein,” he said. “Whew. I wasn’t looking forward to that.” He tucked the gun away, wincing. “New medical technology using carbon nanotubes might one day come to the rescue of people like me, but it seems until then I must suffer.”

I continued toddling toward the exit.

“Wait,” said the man, pulling the gun back out. This time he held it in his left hand, which was something I’d hoped he wouldn’t think of.

I stopped. “Look, I’m just trying to leave this place.”

“Not so fast,” the gun-waving man said. “I’d love to see you eat a donut.”

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