Tagged: tune in next time

“Do Your Worst”

  • by Kentperformed a sexy little number
  • “Oh, fuck,”
  • you were in the circus together
  • threatened to kill again
  • “Butternut,” I said.

Tune in next time part 794      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Do your worst,” grunted the small man through clenched teeth.

“Okay,” Tessa chirped. She turned the polarization impulses on his couch all the way up. He tensed, then began to quiver. The vibration speeded up until his outline blurred, and then kept increasing until it hit a resonant frequency where he transformed into a mass of cubes in different sizes, all slowly revolving against each other. He looked like Picasso having a nightmare about Escher. I found the event nauseatingly hypnotic, but it seemed Tessa found the spectacle somehow arousing. She performed a sexy little number on her tip-toes to show her enjoyment.

“Oh, fuck,” said the tall man. “I’ll tell you everything!”

“Good,” I said. “Start with who recruited you back when you were in the circus together. Was it Lyudmila?”

“We were never… But wait, it was someone named Lyudmila. How did you know that?”

“Because it’s always someone named Lyudmila. Don’t tell me, she said I was a killer, and that I had threatened to kill again?”

“No, nothing like that. Actually we just have a message for you. All that stuff about an ass-kicking was just our way of making it a little more fun.”

I scowled at him. “Okay, whatever. What’s the message.”

He eyed me nervously, the low-level polarization of his couch making his limbs twitch. “This is going to sound like I’m trying to play for time or mess with you, but I promise I’m just following her instructions.”

I nodded wearily.

“She said I can’t give you the message unless you tell me the keyword.”

“Butternut,” I said. I said it without hesitation, because of one very strange evening years ago when Lyudmila had been present.

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Lyudmila had a Very Sketchy Romantic History

  • by jen, the occasional magician
  • it had been about eels
  • don’t be cruel to me
  • “How genius of you.”
  • a very long running affair

Tune in next time part 795      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Lyudmila had a very sketchy romantic history. She’d dated con-artists, exotic animal smugglers, back-alley dentists, the occasional magician. You get the picture. She said being a contortionist made her tastes flexible, too. The night of the butternut incident her date was an accordion player who’d had one hit song, and it had been about eels. Lyudmila wanted him to sing it for her, and he was refusing because he wanted to be known for something — anything — else.

“Don’t be cruel to me,” she pouted. “Sing it.” She pouted very fetchingly, but he refused.

I plucked the accordion from his hands and, thanks to my Academy training, played a passable version of the hit, which, in the Yankovic code spelled out the word “Butternut” over and over.

“How genius of you.” Lyudmila purred, running her hand up my thigh and cupping my very own butternut. And that was the beginning of a very long running affair between myself and my best friend’s sister.

Things ended messily, of course, but that’s a story for another day. For now I needed to know what she’d sent these two wooly dreamboats to tell me.

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“It’s Funny You Chose That Word”

  • by Kentbuild little prisons for all my food
  • definitely into some weird shit
  • Spanish for Scotland
  • So he kissed her again
  • “Sorry, sorry, alright already, I’m going, sheesh.”

Tune in next time part 796      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“It’s funny you chose that word,” Tall Man said. “When I was a lad, I used to build little prisons for all my food, and the butternut squash was always the warden. And this Lyudmila chick was definitely into some weird shit, but that isn’t the keyword.”

My hand twitched by the control knob for the polarizing couch. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “That’s absolutely the code word she would use, if she wanted you to make sure you were giving the message to the right person.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re the right person,” he replied. “Like I wouldn’t recognize America’s #1 wedding rapper!”

So, the message was for my twin brother, Jason!

“Silly to even suggest it!” I said. “Can you give me a hint about the keyword, though?” I rolled my eyes significantly in the direction of his diminutive companion to remind him what the couch’s higher settings were capable of. “You did say you’d tell me everything.”

He swallowed. “Something I noticed about Lyudmila is, when she sneezes it sounds like Spanish for Scotland.”

Was that supposed to be a clue? I began to wonder if we were in fact talking about the same Lyudmila, but that just made me want to hear the message even more.

We were interrupted by the barkeep, who appeared just then to ask who was going to settle the Right Anglers’ tab. Before I could shoo him away, Tessa spoke up. “We’re a little light on cash at the moment, but I’m sure we can work something out.” She stood with her hands clasped behind her, digging one toe on the floor and batting her lashes. The barkeep looked as surprised as I felt, but then he stepped over to her for a kiss. She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. So he kissed her again.

“There,” she said. “That should about cover it, don’t you think?”

“What about my tip?” he asked.

Tessa growled.

The bartender lurched backwards away from her. “Sorry, sorry, alright already, I’m going, sheesh.”

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Lyudmila Hated Jason

  • by jenwanted nothing to do with him
  • fatal slugs
  • “When the sirens went off,”
  • directly to my tongue
  • (but I definitely did)

Tune in next time part 797      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Lyudmila hated Jason. She always said she wanted nothing to do with him. Had she been lying the whole time, or had something recently changed her mind? Something, perhaps, like an encounter with near-fatal slugs? Lyudmila was both fascinated by and allergic to icicle slugs. The danger of anaphylaxis turned her on almost as much as the slugs’ aphrodisiac qualities. “When the sirens went off,” I remember her telling me, “I knew the EMTs would save me, so I didn’t worry about it. I just rode that wave.” Having recently had an icicle slug applied directly to my tongue, I felt like I probably knew how she felt. Unless I didn’t (but I definitely did). Would a near-death experience cause her to rethink her anti-Jason stance, if he were the one to supply the slugs? He’d had a pair of them since we were at the Academy, raising them as pets.

I looked at Too Tall and lisped, “Icicle slugs.”

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“Bingo”

  • by KentTranslation: feed me or I eat the cat.
  • which contains the key-hole
  • Why are rich people like this?
  • they wanted a dead body
  • evil influence of Uranus

Tune in next time part 798      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Bingo,” the tall, lightly polarized man said. “Here’s the message: trapezoidal zoology ferments pawprint neckerchiefs.”

To an ordinary person, that sounded like a password generator having a stroke. But I recognized it as an example of the Anarchy Code. Translation: feed me or I eat the cat. Which was, hopefully, another code. It had to be one that Jason and Lyudmila cooked up together, and I had no idea how, in this case, her twisted brain — which contains the key — would try to communicate with my twin’s twisted brain — which contains the key-hole.

“So, now you’ll let us go, right?” asked the tall man.

I winced.

“I knew it!” he said. “I knew you’d screw us over. Why are rich people like this?”

What made him think Jason was rich? His #1 ranking might sound impressive, but most wedding-goers wanted a rapper in the ceremony as much as they wanted a dead body in place of a cake.

“I know why, actually,” Tallness went on. “It’s the evil influence of Uranus. You think us normals don’t know about that, but we see it!”

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“I’ve Never Even Met Uranus”

It’s our chain story’s octocentennial! In keeping with tradition, Jen and Kent will write this entry together. Also traditional is our use of a unique source for our prompt phrases. This time we pulled them from the Wikipedia entry for Runic Magic, in honor of our pen name. Jen goes first, writing until she incorporates the first prompt phrase. Then it’s Kent’s turn. Lather, rinse, repeat.

  • shaken and thrown down like dice
  • including nine symbols
  • cut off a branch from a nut-bearing tree
  • The same curse
  • his own original method
  • ale served by the host’s wife
  • apparently meaningless utterances
  • This act of singing
  • marked on one’s fingernails
  • has a certain sound to it

Tune in next time part 799 & 800      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I’ve never even met Uranus Pamplemousse,” I said. “He has no influence over me, evil or otherwise.”

“That’s not what Rosenkrantz said,” Tallboy said, nodding at the dude on the other sofa, who, due to his ongoing polarization, looked like he’d been shaken and thrown down like dice. “He knows all about your ‘secret’ clubhouse, and he saw the note on the whiteboard. You know, the one including nine symbols, as in nine planets! He saw how you and Uranus were connected.”

Was Jason somehow in league with Uranus Pamplemousse? Or had this guy’s ancestors neglected to “cut off a branch from a nut-bearing tree” as my Uncle Jinx used to say. Maybe his family was afflicted by hereditary stupidity. The same curse was said to have hung over my father’s line, until it was replaced by a different curse when he met Mother. It would certainly take a monumental amount of stupidity to align oneself with Uranus, but if any of my brothers would do it, it was Jason. He always had his own original method for making things worse. Like the time he performed at a mansion and threw up in the pool after drinking far too much of the ale served by the host’s wife (aka, the bride).

Rosenkrantz tried to say something, but the polarization made whatever it was into a series of apparently meaningless utterances. We all waited quietly while he tried again, and then again, but still none of it made any sense. On his next attempt, Rosenkrantz varied the pitch of his voice. This act of singing seemed to allow his meaning to come through.

The gist of it was, “Help!”

“Can’t you stop that crazy contraption now?” Talldude said. “I told you the message.”

I shrugged. Tessa pouted a little, but turned the polarization down to the lowest level. Rosenkrantz slowly took on his usual shape, all except for his fingertips. Once one has been severely polarized, it is marked on one’s fingernails forever.

“Now what?” Rosenkrantz warbled. Another side-effect of polarization is that one’s voice has a certain sound to it. Tessa and I were both trying not to laugh, and even his tall friend was smirking at him.

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“Whatever Jason and Lyudmila are Up To”

  • by jenNot Machiavellian, but
  • a highly unusual practice
  • I’m beginning to think
  • Two coffees and four lagers later
  • illicit parrot-smuggling operation

Tune in next time part 801      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Whatever Jason and Lyudmila are up to can’t be good,” Tessa whispered in my ear. “Not Machiavellian, but probably close.”

“Whispering in front of your hostages is a highly unusual practice,” Tallman complained. “I’m beginning to think you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Tessa and I nodded at each other and turned the polarization controls up halfway. While our guests dealt with that, we sat at the bar to make plans over pickle beverages. Two coffees and four lagers later we were both queasy and had come to the conclusion that my twin and John’s sister were probably not involved in an illicit parrot-smuggling operation.

That left a lot of other options. We had to sober up and figure this out before the polarizing sofas’ batteries ran out.

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Tessa And I Had Failed

  • by KentThis should not be surprising
  • my father enrolled me in boarding school
  • including an ax murder over a chess game
  • keeping Enzo from whispering sweet nothings
  • skulls, seahorses or spaghetti

Tune in next time part 802      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa and I had failed to guess what Jason and Lyudmila were concocting. This should not be surprising considering the pickle-stupor we had inflicted on ourselves. But it should be surprising considering that my father enrolled me in boarding school where the curriculum specialized in nefarious dealings and where the penalties for poor performance were quite dire, including an ax murder over a chess game (although admittedly in that case the teacher had been the victim, not the perpetrator). All we had figured out was that we wanted to use code names, even though the gents riding the polarizing couches obviously knew who we were (except they mistook me for my twin). Tessa wanted to be known as ‘Enzo.’ We were reluctant to move away from the bar, because over here we were spared harsh criticism aimed at keeping Enzo from whispering sweet nothings of speculation into my ear. The code name I wanted was Jason, which I thought would be hilarious but ‘Enzo’ worried would give us away. “The real Jason wouldn’t use his own name as a code name,” she whispered. I wasn’t so sure. He had made a lot of spectacularly bad decisions in his time. Still, I didn’t want to waste the couches’ battery life arguing about it. So I asked her to help me come up with a name that related to one of the headings I had seen in my brother’s dream journal, and we quickly narrowed that down to skulls, seahorses or spaghetti.

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Choosing a Code Name

  • by jenyou rapacious bird of prey
  • ever seen an old lady with a secret
  • using a plain old corkscrew
  • room-quaking vocal performances
  • not even her children knew

Tune in next time part 803      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Choosing a code name is something you shouldn’t overthink. Everyone wants something badass, something that will inspire one’s enemy to gasp, “Night Talon, you rapacious bird of prey! I surrender!” But it rarely works out that way. Mostly they laugh because you tried too hard. For that reason I was leaning more toward the seahorse or spaghetti end of the spectrum. I opted for Seahorse because it seemed the most innocuous. I mean, have you ever seen an old lady with a secret pasta recipe? They are vicious! My own grandmother once pinned my Aunt Züg’s hand to the table using a plain old corkscrew when Züg tried to guess the secret ingredient in her infamous buttered noodles. Züg gave one of the most room-quaking vocal performances I’ve ever heard, screaming in pain and outrage. That was the thing about Granny. Not even her children knew what might set her off.

So anyway, code names chosen, Enzo and the Seahorse were finally ready to make their next move.

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Our Next Move

  • by Kentthe eerie exhibition
  • optimal number of dogs
  • never fun for someone else’s drama to splash on you
  • stroked the back of her hand over its rough surface
  • both became fairly competent rappers over the years

Tune in next time part 804      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Our next move was apparently to remain stationary for a while longer wondering what the hell was going on. In a way it was ironic that Lyudmila and Jason were enemies, because they both became fairly competent rappers over the years. Seemed that way to me anyway, not that I considered myself an expert. But I began to wonder if this was the common thread that would explain the coded message.

Tessa ordered another pickle, saying it would help her think. I said I didn’t think that was wise, but she ignored me and stroked the back of her hand over its rough surface, so intent on this action that brine was flung from her fingers and got all over me. It’s never fun for someone else’s drama to splash on you, especially not when that drama is in the form of Contrarian pickle brine.

A hazy recollection rose up, something I’d overheard at one of Fleur’s family functions. “The optimal number of dogs is one cat…” and then there was more that I didn’t quite catch. But why would John’s sister be referencing Contrarian idioms in messages to my twin?

I swiveled on my barstool just in time to observe the eerie exhibition of two polarizing couches simultaneously running out of juice.

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