Tagged: tune in next time

There Was Something Odd

  • by Kentit was *very* purple
  • the cylindrical shape is the central theme
  • where no New Yorker has gone before
  • glass eyes and hand-implanted yak hair
  • arrived with two children

Tune in next time part 734      Click Here for Earlier Installments

There was something odd about the wedge of camembert on the side of the bathtub. For one thing, it was *very* purple. For another thing, I could see several half-inch tall minotaurs prancing about on it. The THC content promised to be monumental.

As Fleur settled herself into the suds with me (and with Tessa, although she didn’t know it) she said, “When you’re dealing with a wheel of cheese, the cylindrical shape is the central theme. But then, when you cut into it, you open up a pizza-slice shape that will take you where no New Yorker has gone before.” Her pupils were dilated and her words slowed, just from touching the dosed camembert.

“Darling,” I said, “why don’t you take the first nibble.”

She happily took me up on my chivalry, and consumed half of the edible in a single bite. As she chewed, her expression grew so vacant she seemed like a doll. A very expensive, anatomically correct doll, with glass eyes and hand-implanted yak hair, lounging in a bubble bath with me.

I gently raised Tessa by the shoulder so she would know it was safe to surface. “Fleur won’t remember any of this,” I said.

We heard the outer door of my quarters bang shut. Tessa grabbed a deep breath and hid under the bubbles once again just as the bathroom door banged open and Isolde arrived with two children in her arms.

“Are these some of yours?” she asked. “That seems to be the safe bet, but I wondered if you could tell.”

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The Last Time I Saw Isolde

  • by jenlantern-jawed hero
  • vinyl purse full of Jell-O
  • brought these two miscreants aboard
  • leprechauns are land-based organisms
  • make him look and sound positively ridiculous and dainty beyond belief

Tune in next time part 735      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The last time I saw Isolde was at Enigma Fortress, right after she’d given birth to a large number of babies. I never did manage to get an accurate count before I had to leave my post to venture into the caves beneath it. If she didn’t know who these children’s father was, they must not be from that magnificent brood we’d somehow created together. But she was right, they were probably mine. I wondered who their mother was.

Isolde sighed in frustration. “Act like the lantern-jawed hero and answer me! Don’t just sit there like a vinyl purse full of Jell-O. Time is of the essence. I didn’t see who brought these two miscreants aboard the zeppelin. I think they might be spies.”

“Spies?” I cried. “That’s ridiculous. They look barely old enough to walk.”

“I’ll just put them in the tub and we’ll see. If they float, then they must be leprechauns, and are therefore spies disguised as babies.”

“Hang on, hang on!” I said. This bathtub was crowded enough already. “First of all, leprechauns are land-based organisms. And second, what if they don’t float? I can’t let you try to drown innocent babies.”

Isolde shook her head and addressed her sister. “Fleur, I can’t believe your husband. His bizarre opinions and all the bubbles make him look and sound positively ridiculous and dainty beyond belief.”

Fleur just chuckled and licked the cheese.

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Isolde Shifted The Infants On Her Hips

  • by Kentpoetic fantasies about snowbound mountains
  • hostile, feathered invaders
  • “Would you like some fresh towels?”
  • but the same can not be said of murderers
  • stylish gold shoes covering his feet

Tune in next time part 736      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde shifted the infants on her hips, and I knew they were getting heavy. Any second she was going to just dump them in the tub with the rest of us.

Fleur used her hands to make mounds of soap suds. She shoved them my way, and soon I could barely see out from my foamy cocoon. She sing-songed, “The summit wears a crown of ice, its weather isn’t very nice, but we can sip hot wine with spice, and if you behave I’ll kiss you twice. Before the vultures come.”

With my stoned wife spouting poetic fantasies about snowbound mountains and hostile, feathered invaders, and my sister-in-law looming over us with a pair of children of uncertain provenance, and Tessa still hiding under the bubbles, I couldn’t clear my mind to determine a next move. Isolde impatiently shifted the babies again. “Would you like some fresh towels?” she asked. “Seems like there’s only one.” And with that, she plunked one child each — diapers and all — into my and Fleur’s laps, and left the bathroom.

“They are cute little things,” I said, lifting the baby up.

“Yes,” Fleur said distantly. “These tiny people are rather cute, but the same can not be said of murderers. Except, they must have been babies once too…”

I wasn’t really paying much attention to Fleur’s ramblings by then, because I’d discovered that the baby I held had stylish gold shoes covering his feet.

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Being A Father Wasn’t My Life’s Dream

  • by jenbarreled into fatherhood
  • collecting the frog juices
  • slobbering over himself
  • good old-fashioned jealousy
  • got engaged two weeks after her sister

Tune in next time part 737      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Being a father wasn’t my life’s dream. I’d always had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude about kids, and yet I barreled into fatherhood with such reckless abandon I had no idea whether this baby in the adorable little gold booties was one of mine.

Fleur lifted the infant she held out of the water with one hand and patted its diaper with the other. “Good thing he’s got this collecting the frog juices.” She chuckled. She was more stoned than I’d ever seen her.

The baby in my lap was slobbering over himself, fist crammed in his mouth. “Better slow down on the cheese, Fleur, or soon you’ll be drooling like this little guy.”

As I expected, this made her immediately reach for the cheese. While she was distracted I signaled to Tessa that she could come up for air.

“What is Isolde doing here?” she demanded in a whisper. If I didn’t know better I’d think my sweetie was suffering from good old-fashioned jealousy. Strange that it wasn’t my wife that brought it out in her, but my sister-in-law. But then I remembered that Tessa and John got engaged two weeks after her sister Tallulah married my brother Thor, which made her my sister-in-law. Was my sister-in-law’s sister also my sister-in-law?

I shook my head to clear it. I hadn’t even eaten any of the camembert and I was still getting fucked up just being near it.

I heard Isolde returning, presumably with towels.

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Tessa Shot Me One Last Quick Glower

  • by Kentsqueeze 36 days of amiable game show hosting duties into my schedule
  • like biting into a water balloon
  • crocheting my own parasol
  • his pelvis, his wrist, or his ankle
  • even worse than some of the worst predictions

Tune in next time part 738      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa shot me one last quick glower before submerging again as Isolde swept back into the room with an armload of fluffy towels.

“The way you carry all those towels is very graceful,” I said. Buttering her up had worked out well for me before.

“Thanks,” she said. “I got a lot of practice recently, but trying to squeeze 36 days of amiable game show hosting duties into my schedule was like biting into a water balloon filled with mayonnaise while crocheting my own parasol. And my cohost was never happy unless I was biting his pelvis, his wrist, or his ankle. It was a foolish idea for a game show, too. Flower arranging or haberdashery alone could have worked, but the combination was just confusing. The show fared even worse than some of the worst predictions.”

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“Surely Your Show Didn’t Do Worse”

  • by jenwhen you punch a comet
  • knitting at a fast and skilled pace
  • Perhaps it’s a signature talisman
  • “With an accent like that I’ll believe anything he tells me.”
  • filled with snow and lumps of ice

Tune in next time part 739      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Surely your show didn’t do worse than When You Punch a Comet,” I said. That was the worst performing program in Contrarian television history, which is saying a lot. Contraria’s space program was nowhere near ready to send boxers into orbit, and the whole thing had been a big snore. Just an endless succession of training montages interspersed with footage of old women knitting at a fast and skilled pace as they raced to complete the spacesuit prototypes. One of the boxers carried around a goat bone. Perhaps it’s a signature talisman for his family, I don’t know. But it was very off-putting. None of the trainers would work with him. Fleur and Isolde’s father, the Warlord of Contraria, was ready to fund a second season until the head of NASA talked him out of it. The Warlord said, “With an accent like that I’ll believe anything he tells me.” (He had a weird thing for Americans.) “And he tells me not to waste my money, so there you go.” In the finale, the boxers did not go to space, which was a good thing because they would undoubtedly have died in their knitwear spacesuits. Instead of a comet with its icy tail, they punched a giant plastic bag filled with snow and lumps of ice.

“That was Harry’s favorite show,” Isolde said with a shake of her head.

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I Didn’t Want To Reminisce

  • by Kentghostly whistle of rushing air
  • gets a little too erotic about food for my delicate tastes
  • remind you that you have no free will
  • competitive breakdancing
  • “You are irresponsible!”

Tune in next time part 740      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I didn’t want to reminisce with Isolde about her loser husband. Being a fan of When You Punch A Comet was very on-brand for him. When he stood sideways in a breeze you could hear the ghostly whistle of rushing air passing through his ears. I didn’t want to reminisce with her about anything, actually. I wanted her to leave, and take Fleur with her. But the topic of horrible television shows was irresistible to my sister-in-law.

With a wistful expression, she said, “He also liked The Great Brutish Bake-off, but it gets a little too erotic about food for my delicate tastes.”

The last thing I wanted to do was laugh at her for that remark. Her tastes were about as delicate as a garbage truck, but her ego was a fragile and elaborate thing. Insulting her would guarantee a lengthy tirade. So naturally, a loud, coarse guffaw escaped my mouth in one of those events life throws at you to remind you that you have no free will.

Thinking fast, I blurted, “It really gets good in the fifth season when they introduce competitive breakdancing in place of the technical.”

Suddenly Fleur made me hold both babies. “Where’s the camembert?” she cried, searching frantically down the side of the tub. “It’s gone!” she whimpered, transfering her quest to the bubbles within the tub. She would discover Tessa any second.

“Yes,” I said in my most reasonable tone. “It’s gone because you ate all of it.”

My wife glared at me. She bellowed, “You are irresponsible!”

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“Perhaps They Have More Camembert”

  • by jenMy shaman and I
  • Since being bludgeoned by the octopus
  • not, however, universally popular among actual rappers
  • “Screw you guys, I’m going home.”
  • with a plaster cast of her dead husband’s hand

Tune in next time part 741      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Perhaps they have more camembert in the galley,” I said as calmly as I could. I tried to arrange the babies above water and my legs underwater to thwart Fleur’s probing hands. The last thing I needed was for her to find Tessa now.

My shaman and Isolde both told me today would be a good day,” Fleur pouted. “Since being bludgeoned by the octopus at the zamboni entrance is a good omen, I believed them. Like a fool.” She stared into my eyes and said forlornly, “The magic camembert is gone. Jason ate all of it but that one last piece.”

I should have foreseen that. THC-laced cheeses are hot on the wedding rap circuit, even if they are not, however, universally popular among actual rappers. “Is Jason still aboard?” I asked. “You could have him searched for any cheese he might be smuggling.”

“No,” Fleur said. “When I wouldn’t let him have that last wedge, he said, ‘Screw you guys, I’m going home.’ and strapped on a parachute.”

I was desperate to get the sisters out of my bathroom so I could get Tessa out of my bathtub. I was so desperate that I decided to lie. “On my rounds earlier I saw a cheese hamper under the portrait of your grandmother. You know, the one with a plaster cast of her dead husband’s hand on top of her head.”

“Her coronation portrait?” Fleur was intrigued. The drugs in her system were working in my favor. “I’ll send someone to check.”

“Don’t you think you had better go yourself? You don’t want anyone else to bogart it. Isolde can go with you to help you carry it. It looked like an awfully heavy cheese hamper.”

My gorgeous sister-in-law cocked one eyebrow at me. Perhaps I’d pushed things too far.

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“Why Would Anyone”

  • by Kentfled Australia in a fake beard
  • you’re boring, baby
  • left behind four fully grown hippopotamuses
  • My fingers are too stubby for such delicate work
  • “Prague is a city,” she said firmly.

Tune in next time part 742      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Why would anyone leave a cheese hamper — especially such a heavy one — in the billiard room?” Isolde asked. Oddly enough, I was ready with an answer.

“They must have stolen it, and the fuzz was closing in.” I elaborated by relating the tale of when my cousin fled Australia in a fake beard being worn by my much larger cousin, but I didn’t get far before I caught that look on Isolde’s face. The look says “you’re boring, baby” and it didn’t waver even when I mentioned that my cousins left behind four fully grown hippopotamuses.

Fleur pinched her nose. She said, “I think one of those diapers needs changing. You do it. My fingers are too stubby for such delicate work.”

“Well, in that case,” I ventured hopefully, “perhaps you’d like to get out of the tub now that it’s been contaminated. That diaper looks pretty waterlogged.”

Fleur was still holding her nose. “Prague is a city,” she said firmly.

“No, I said waterlogged.”

She ignored me. “And I want to go there right now. Isolde, go to the bridge and tell them I want a Bohemian spa day.”

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A Confession

Every now and then when we’re writing our ridiculous chain story we need a reminder about who all these bizarre characters are and what sort of shenanigans and crimes they’ve been up to. We have enough to keep track of for our novel writing, and there’s no way we can do that and cram the entirety of the chain story into our heads as well. It’s nearly 750 entries long, FFS!

Luckily, we have a solution: the Dramatis Personae. That’s right, a nigh-exhaustive list of all the important characters, places, and organizations in our ongoing saga is just one of the services we at SkelleyCo Amalgamated Fiction Enterprises LLC are proud to offer. Unluckily for both you the reader, and us, is that we hadn’t updated the damn thing in several years. Oops. For a while we were able to remember enough to limp along. We thought we were doing pretty well, but Jen just reread the whole thing, and, um. Let’s just say we forgot a few minor things. Like an entire wedding. A wedding our protagonist was the groom in. Granted, he was impersonating someone else, and the bride was a robot duplicate of his true love, so it probably doesn’t really count. But still, as the authors who put him in that situation, we ought to at least remember it. And so, it was time to update the Dramatis Personae, for newcomers, stans, and for ourselves. Dammit, we all deserve nice things.

We’ll start with an update on our main dude himself. He’s still unnamed, but at least he doesn’t go around calling himself The Protagonist, like some movie characters we could mention but won’t.

Our Protagonist (we’re allowed to call him that because we’re his creators): Though we have yet to learn this man’s name, we do know that it is five syllables long. As per family tradition, he was born at the North Pole. He is not English, but he is part-Indian, immune to jellyfish stings, and spent at least part of his childhood in a cult. One summer when he was a child, his mother pitted him and his twin brother Jason in daily wrestling matches. He is a graduate of the Hopscotch Academy, with a degree in Advanced Duplicity. While at the Academy he learned how to defend himself against ninjas, how to control the minds of others through an odd vocal technique he calls “hypnotoading,” and also how to break through most hypnotic trances using something called “goldfishing”. For someone who attended boarding school, his French is shockingly bad, though he does know several dead languages quite well. During senior year he was voted Most Likely to Become a Sasquatch King, and was actual King of the Senior Prom, having won a wilderness survival competition against his classmates. He was on the Academy’s Beatnik team, and is adept at the bongos. While enrolled at the Academy, he impaled his friend John’s foot with a harpoon. This earned him extra credit from the school, and a lifelong grudge from John. He learned everything he knows about stealth during his time as a stowaway on a tramp steamer in the South China Sea. He has excellent hearing, and is allergic to seagull feathers. Our hero always dreamed of a career in skates, but wound up in a career involving both crime and espionage. He sometimes uses the codename Ludovico, sometimes Winifred. He’s not a theatre critic anymore, and one of his brothers owns a weather control machine. He has the layout of at least one Hall of Mirrors memorized, and can imitate any kind of bird or beast. Unlike his twin, he can sleep anywhere. He can often taste what Jason is tasting, while Jason can smell what he’s smelling. He is a full-on karaoke person, his favorite tune to belt out being YMCA. Thanks to his many prophetic dreams, he knows that his death will not come from being sacrificed by, or to, clowns, nor will it involve clowns at all. He used to have blond hair. He has blue-gray eyes and a super hairy chest (and back, also, it seems). There is a tattoo hidden under his chest hair, given to him by Tessa. It contains, naturally, a hidden message. His toes are very ticklish, and he has quintuple elbows (it’s like being double-jointed, only moreso). His tongue is covered with a golden tattoo, to commemorate the birth of his first children. It’s a Contrarian thing, obviously. He lives by the river, if his house hasn’t been washed away in the long, long, long time since he’s been home. He is married to Fleur, daughter of the Warlord of Contraria, but they have an understanding. They are parents to twins. Additionally he acted as proxy when Fleur’s sister Isolde married the odious Harry, and on their wedding night as well. Later he impersonated Viscount Arlo of Svenborgia during his wedding to the second Tessabot (it was her idea – they were tricking the guests, not the bride), and even later Fleur gave the okay for him to act as proxy again for Hildegard’s wedding to Chartreuse Pamplemousse. Things went a little haywire during that ceremony and he wound up legally wed to both Hildegard and Chartreuse. His wife’s half-brother inadvertently started a rumor that there was a coveted miracle substance in his semen, which led to many many women throwing themselves on him and bearing him children. Fleur made him a general in the Contrarian armed forces. His first command was the mountain garrisons in the Paradoxica Region, but he’s recently been promoted to head of the entire Comedy branch of the services, which is no laughing matter. He has many resplendently spiffy uniforms, some with small brass squirrels atop the epaulets, others with fringed boots and a lamp in the shape of a dove that dangles from his hat like he’s an anglerfish. Most recently he was seen wearing his ceremonial polka dot footie pajamas. It was a wedding reception after all, and one must follow protocol.

Now, about all those babies.

The women call themselves the Toboggan Club (because everyone took a ride), and they are all currently aboard Fleur’s Contrarian Royal Airship. The children are all considered part of Fleur’s royal brood, being fathered by her husband. He’s a twin, so obviously these are all multiple births. That’s just science.

A non-exhaustive list:

  • Fleur – his wife (mother of twins)
  • Isolde – her sister (mother of an uncounted number of children)
  • Svetlana – John’s sister (quads, and is possibly pregnant again)
  • Tatiana – Tessa’s sister (twins)
  • Titania – Tessa’s other sister (unknown number of children – we haven’t checked in lately)
  • YoYo – a yodeler from the mountain garrisons (twins, even though she doesn’t believe in them)
  • Yesterday – wife of Fleur’s half-brother (unknown number)
  • Olga – another of John’s sisters (unconfirmed, but likely)
  • Betsy – a spy (unconfirmed, less likely but still possible)
  • Marnie – a nurse and retired tap-dancer (unconfirmed but quite likely)
  • Hildegard – John’s ex-wife, our dude’s current accidental wife (unconfirmed but extremely likely)
  • Dr Ferguson – evil eye doctor and reality tv divorcee (unconfirmed but likely)
  • Vera – she’s on the airship, but our dude doesn’t remember her

For more info on these lovely ladies, see their individual entries in the Dramatis Personae. They’ve all been lovingly updated.

This entry is outrageously long, so we’ll save the summary of the new characters and stuff like that for next week.

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