Tagged: tune in next time

Fleur Licked The Frosting Off Her Dagger

  • by Kentsecret clubs, secret organizations
  • barely used pajamas
  • lavishly fringed with wool yarn
  • zebra wallpaper, and glitter skulls
  • All you have to do is plop

Tune in next time part 844      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Fleur licked the frosting off her dagger, while staring daggers in my direction. It’s not too unusual to have a so-called secret weapon, but my wife excelled at it. In addition to the dagger that had appeared from some clever concealed place, I knew she had secret crossbows, secret blowguns, secret clubs, secret organizations to dream up yet more clandestine armamentations. But for the moment she was distracted by the cake. Tessa and Jim got in line for their slices, but I didn’t find it all that appealing.

With the talent show at last concluded, I could leave the auditorium. I roamed the airship’s corridors until I discovered an unlocked door into a random stateroom. Upon the bed lay some barely used pajamas lavishly fringed with wool yarn, upon the walls was aqua-and-pink zebra wallpaper, and glitter skulls overflowed the suitcase on the stand in the corner.

“You can stay for as long as you like,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind me. “All you have to do is plop your bod into those jammies and get cozy.” Someone had come out from the bathroom, cutting me off from the corridor.

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Whose Room had I Blundered Into?

  • by jenstole a sideways look
  • grunting and thumping downstairs
  • I think it was, like, 3 AM
  • octopus farms would be
  • I think I broke your toilet

Tune in next time part 845      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Whose room had I blundered into? I stole a sideways look to try to find out, but saw no one. In order to see, I’d have to turn the whole way around, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. The voice sounded slightly menacing, and also slightly familiar.

The voice continued, “Did the noise keep you up last night? All that grunting and thumping downstairs? I think it was, like, 3 AM when it started. It was coming from where the octopus farms would be if Fleur had stuck with the original schematics, but since she changed things, it was coming from the private bathroom off your office, General. I must apologize. None of this would have happened if Fleur hadn’t moved the octopus tanks. I had too many churros, and, well, I think I broke your toilet.”

Who was the silky voiced woman behind me? How did she know so much about this airship? And had she really been planning to poop in the octopus tank? I whirled around and my blood ran cold. Titania, the Crystal Clown.

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Titania Slouched Against the Wall

  • by Kentwearing nothing but a helmet and gloves
  • The nights are long, and Canada is cold
  • blowing the whistle in furious disapproval
  • if I have no other option, is it really laughter?
  • in a strange groping gesture

Tune in next time part 846      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Titania slouched against the wall, wearing nothing but a helmet and gloves made of the same dark metal. She looked pleased to see me, which was a relief. Not that I felt safe around her, but I thought it best to try to mask my uneasiness.

“Where’s Nigel?” I asked flippantly.

“Saskatoon,” she replied. “It’s nice to have him around, when I stay there. The nights are long, and Canada is cold.” She tilted her head contemplatively, and her smile grew wicked. “Of course, Nigel isn’t allowed out of Canada anymore, not after what happened on the train. Barreling through the station, blowing the whistle in furious disapproval of, I don’t know, maybe hockey? All things Canadian? Ironic, no?” She chuckled.

I laughed too, but if I have no other option, is it really laughter?

“You’re still not wearing your pajamas,” she sing-songed. She waved her gauntleted hand in a strange groping gesture, and suddenly the scientist getup I was wearing started to constrict in severely persuasive ways. I moved like a marionette whose operator was trying to put out a fire, compelled to wrestle the fringed pajamas on over my costume while the Crystal Clown cackled at my predicament.

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I Caught a Glimpse of Myself in the Mirror

  • by jen“wiggle room”
  • triggered in error by spiders
  • air conditioned, soundproof tent
  • he called it vertigo
  • makes things erotic

Tune in next time part 847      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and nearly laughed for real. I looked like a contestant on “Wiggle Room” — that old Svenborgian dance competition where the music all sounds like synthesizers triggered in error by spiders in the electronics. The show was filmed in an air conditioned, soundproof tent in the Svenborgian desert so that the music and the screams of the dancers wouldn’t disturb any neighbors. I loved that show, but Jason didn’t. He called it vertigo-inducing, as if that wasn’t the best part.

Titania snapped her fingers, causing the nanobots inhabiting my garments to pulsate in perfect synchronization. “That throbbing makes things erotic, don’t you think?” she purred.

I wasn’t sure what was so erotic about wearing two layers of clothes, but I nodded anyway. Anything to appease the Crystal Clown.

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Titania Pulled Open A Drawer

  • by KentAnd then you bite me!
  • an intensely awkward encounter
  • not sure about the sequined t-shirt
  • “You must wear them in bed,”
  • negotiating with a sneeze

Tune in next time part 848      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Titania pulled open a drawer. She grabbed blindly in it and tossed me whatever she got. “Put this on, too!” It was a leather miniskirt. While I struggled into that, she continued flinging more items at me. “And this! And this! And, and…” I was still trying to zip the skirt. “And then you bite me!” she said exuberantly.

I kept a careful eye on the Crystal Clown while wrapping myself in the additional garments. Fabrics were bunching and binding all over my sweaty body. Her eyes were hungry, and her nanobots in my original outfit were not letting up. Whether she really meant to let me bite her or not, it promised to be an intensely awkward encounter.

“Why do I need all these things?” I asked. I was especially not sure about the sequined t-shirt, which was itchy even through all the other layers.

“You need all of them because I said so!” Titania cried. “You must wear them in bed,” she went on, “and not take anything off until I tell you.”

She shoved me down on my back across the mattress and crawled up alongside me. She tipped her head back, perhaps showing me her neck but the expression on her face seemed more like she was negotiating with a sneeze. My question was, did she want to make it stop, or make it happen?

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You Probably Think I’m a Lucky Guy

  • by jenThere was one reason.
  • having sex with a woman while
  • watch your fat feet
  • every inch of wall space was covered with mirrors
  • hidden pasta sauce recipe

Tune in next time part 849      Click Here for Earlier Installments

You probably think I’m a lucky guy. You probably think that there was no reason I would resist Titania’s advances. But you would be wrong. There was one reason. Tessa. I may not be the brightest hammer in the operating theater, but even I knew that having sex with a woman while trying to reunite and have a meaningful relationship with her sister was a bad idea. I just had to figure out how to escape the Crystal Clown with both my monogamy and my life.

The many, many layers of clothes she’d forced me into were working in my favor, mostly. She was ferociously turned on, but I was decidedly not.

“Out of the bed!” she suddenly cried. “Into the bathroom! Now! Now! I want to watch your fat feet squish against the mirrors!”

I rolled off the bed and waddled into the en suite, where not only the floor and ceiling, but every inch of wall space was covered with mirrors. I’m sensitive about the girthiness of my feet, and seeing them reflected in an infinity of infinite regressions helped kill the mood even deader than my numerous layers.

Titania skipped in to stand beside me, bouncing on her bare feet. I tried to find somewhere to direct my eyes where I wouldn’t be staring at her jiggling breasts or my own pudgy feet, and noticed something unexpected. The Ronald McDonald tribute tattoo on her thigh, when reflected back upon itself innumerable times, revealed a hidden pasta sauce recipe. And not just any pasta sauce recipe. *The* pasta sauce recipe, the one that every secret organization in the world was searching for.

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As Far As I Knew, Titania Was Not A Cook

  • by Kenther suggestion of “Deep Fried Ice Cream Tacos”
  • I am the fucking law
  • To call it ‘rummaging’ would cheapen the encounter
  • the dilating-pipes entered the main apparatus
  • I’m hearing a lot of excuses

Tune in next time part 850      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As far as I knew, Titania was not a cook. But was the infamous pasta sauce recipe of her invention? The ingredients list contained hints that this recipe’s author might not be much of a cook in any case. Household cleaning products featured prominently. If she had created it, her suggestion of “Deep Fried Ice Cream Tacos” to be stirred in before serving was a stroke of genius.

Memorizing the recipe would not be easy even if I didn’t have to worry about the Crystal Clown becoming offended by my inattentiveness, but that was a major worry. “Obey me!” she barked. “I am the fucking law. I am the beat cop of coitus. Now spread ’em!”

All the excess clothing — which she’d insisted that I wear — seemed to frustrate her greatly. She frisked and prodded and kneaded through the layers of fabric. To call it ‘rummaging’ would cheapen the encounter, so… it was rummaging.

“Into the shower!” she suddenly commanded. “Turn it on. Use the most erotic nozzle setting!”

This being a Contrarian airship, it had Contrarian plumbing. At one time I’d been fairly adept at using such fixtures, but now I strained to recall where the dilating-pipes entered the main apparatus, because that would dictate whether we got scalded or ice-blasted. Plus I was still surreptitiously perusing the pasta sauce recipe. To play for time I said, “These controls are a bit confusing, and I’m going to soak up all the water anyway.”

“I’m hearing a lot of excuses,” Titania growled. The nanobots inhabiting my innermost garments signaled her impatience.

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Accidentally on Purpose

  • by jenI don’t like nose stuff
  • leave her in the darkness
  • much-ballyhooed
  • swung my good right fist full upon the point of his jaw
  • Small Dennis was left extremely disappointed

Tune in next time part 851      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Accidentally on purpose I turned the knob on the soap dispenser instead of the shower. A river of lavender suds spurted out, and Titania and I both sneezed.

“Ugh” she cried. “I don’t like nose stuff! It’s a total turnoff!”

While she continued sneezing, I lurched toward the exit and flipped off the lights, intending to leave her in the darkness — the flowery darkness — while I found a place to write down the much-ballyhooed sauce recipe. Or as much of it as I could remember.

On my way through the bedroom I encountered two men attempting to don a horse costume. (Nigel’s replacement, presumably.) I remembered them from the Academy. They were step-brothers, and both were named Dennis. They bickered constantly over their shared name, and everything else. Why Titania thought it would be a good idea for them to share a single horse costume was beyond me. Right now they were bickering over who would be the creature’s head. I thought Big Dennis would be the better choice, but when he turned to me and snarled, I swung my good right fist full upon the point of his jaw and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Small Dennis was left extremely disappointed. “I wanted to punch him,” he pouted. “I never get to do anything fun.”

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“How About Being The Front of the Horse?”

  • by KentI draw the line at butt cracks
  • never say it to your face
  • shook the appendage
  • wedded in a three-way ceremony
  • which feels sinister

Tune in next time part 852      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“How about being the front of the horse?” I asked Small Dennis. “Would that be something fun?” He simply stared at me, probably because I was frantically stripping off my clothes as I spoke and Titania’s angry sneezing was getting closer.

I had remembered that people often called me Dennis at the Academy, and looking at Big Dennis laid out on the floor I finally spotted the resemblance. In seconds I had swapped clothes with him, managing it despite the complexity of my own outfit. Small Dennis still seemed dazed, but he put on the horse’s head and lined up for me to join on behind him. Just in time, because Titania blundered out of the bathroom just then.

And only then, when it was too late, did I discover that Small Dennis wasn’t wearing pants. I’ll happily stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but usually I draw the line at butt cracks.

“What happened to him?” I heard the Crystal Clown inquire.

“It was so shocking, I could never say it to your face,” Small Dennis replied. I wanted to thank him for not blowing my cover, but couldn’t risk being heard. He seemed to understand, because he reached back inside the horse costume and I shook the appendage gratefully.

“We’ll just have to bring him along,” she said. Suddenly a weight fell across my back as she hefted Big Dennis onto the space behind our saddle. Then she mounted up, and I had to wonder if she’d put any clothes on first or if she was pulling a full-on Godiva routine aboard an airship. We cantered out into the hallway, beast and rider wedded in a three-way ceremony and carrying excess baggage that might wake up at any moment and give me away.

It was not the first three-way wedding ceremony I’d taken part in, which feels sinister to think about, but fortunately my mind was busy thinking about how to accidentally on purpose let Big Dennis slide off this horse’s rump.

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We Careened Through the Hallways of the Airship

  • by jenscreamed out loud the name of a specific fruit
  • a spectacularly alarming painting
  • dipped in poison
  • taste just like cotton candy at first
  • working that oddly lumpy, peculiar body

Tune in next time part 853      Click Here for Earlier Installments

We careened through the hallways of the airship, and each time we reached a corner, Titania screamed out loud the name of a specific fruit so that we would know which way to turn: mango for left, papaya for right. It was the old Fruitmonger’s Cipher, but with a tropical twist that had me wondering which organization she was working for.

“Lychee!” Titania cried, and we came to an abrupt stop. “That,” she continued as she dismounted, “is a spectacularly alarming painting.”

I knew which one she must mean: the coronation portrait of Fleur’s grandmother looked like it had been painted with a brush that was dipped in poison instead of paint. And that’s because, per Contrarian custom, it was. As a country they are overly concerned about enemies ingesting the Artwork of State, and so all coronation portraits are painted with poisons of various hues. To be sure of killing the rogue art-devourers, the poisons all taste just like cotton candy at first. Fleur’s grandmother’s portrait was especially ominous because of the toothmarks in the upper right corner.

While Titania contemplated the gruesome likeness of the equally gruesome warlord’s consort, I shimmied my rump in hopes of dislodging Big Dennis from my back. I was working that oddly lumpy, peculiar body of a horse costume like my life depended on it when I finally felt Big Dennis’s weight shift. I squatted halfway, hoping to drop him on his head hard enough to keep him unconscious, but not hard enough to draw the attention of the Crystal Clown.

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