Tagged: wife

While My Fellow Triangular Deathmates Laughed

  • by jenpresident of Poland for only one day
  • almost deserted landscapes
  • unmarried rodents
  • Maybe I’m a food snob
  • like American Ding Dongs

Tune in next time part 903     Click Here for Earlier Installments

While my fellow triangular deathmates laughed, I wracked my brain for any clue as to who the mysterious Ursula could be. It felt important to know who the ambassador loved enough to mention during an important summit such as this. Was Ursula a fellow ambassador? Was she the leader of some diabolical new Guild of, say, Stiltwalkers? Did she win a contest that allowed her to be president of Poland for only one day instead of the usual five years?

It seemed impossible that I did not already know numerous Ursulas, but that seemed to be the case. The parts of my mind where I would expect to find Ursula-related facts were almost deserted landscapes, populated by nothing but a few murky ideas that skittered through the shadows like unmarried rodents at the lab picnic.

The utter lack of anything about “Ursula” was so remarkable that I suspected my memory had been altered. While I tried to work out who my mind-tailor had been, and what their nefarious purpose might be, I heard Fleur say, “Maybe I’m a food snob, but I find Harmonious desserts to be cloying, like American Ding Dongs and the American ding-dongs who eat them.”

Was she *trying* to get us killed?

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I Saluted My Wife

  • by jenhunger for learning
  • I kept a toothbrush there
  • in unison for four minutes
  • only kissed and snuggled
  • the chaotic shitshow that is my

Tune in next time part 897      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I saluted my wife in the customary yet complicated fashion called for in these circumstances. Thanks to my lifelong hunger for learning, I had memorized nearly half of the guidebooks in the Pittsburghistan Royal Library of Contrarian Customs and Diplomacy. The place was like a second home to me. I kept a toothbrush there, and a sleeping bag. All that research paid off now as I raised and lowered my eyebrows in unison for four minutes while holding my thumbs to my cheekbones and flexing and contorting alternating fingers. And I did it all flawlessly. Fleur was so impressed that I thought she might spare me the translation gig and take me to bed, but she only kissed and snuggled my elbow briefly before ushering me to the door and out into the chaotic shitshow that is my life story.

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“Your New Uniform is in the Wardrobe”

  • by jenbrought into the kicking chamber
  • howling, drooling
  • “We’ve had our fun.”
  • not a cold day by Lapland standards
  • what a beautiful dance

Tune in next time part 895      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Your new uniform is in the wardrobe,” Fleur said. “Dress quickly.”

I groaned. “I’m too hungover to do anything quickly.”

“Then I shall have you brought into the kicking chamber where all the howling, drooling, tantrumming babies are kept.” Fleur gave an evil chuckle. “That should clear your hangover right up.”

With another groan I heaved myself to my feet. “We’ve had our fun.” I stood still until my head stopped spinning. “No need to bring the children into it.”

I showered quickly, shaved, and scraped the eggnog fuzz off my teeth. “What’s the weather like in Colloquillia today?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s not a cold day by Lapland standards, or if it’s as hot as the Sahara, you’re wearing the same uniform in any case.”

Contrarian military uniforms are uniformly outlandish. The higher the rank, the more ridiculous the accessories. Judging by what awaited me in the wardrobe, I’d been promoted again.

I started with the underwear, complete with all the bells and whistles. As I shimmied and tugged everything into place, Fleur said, “What a beautiful dance. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

If it meant not having to put on the rest of this outrageous getup, it might be worth it, monster hangover and all.

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“You’re Too Drunk”

  • by jenCleopatra’s 20-foot-long velvet barge
  • with its modern windows
  • recalled antediluvian monsters
  • an embarrassing experience for everyone involved.
  • Where are these live chickens coming from?

Tune in next time part 893      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“You’re too drunk to even be fun,” Fleur said. She dragged me through the airship to her suite. Her grand bed was modeled after Cleopatra’s 20-foot-long velvet barge. I was not permitted to sleep in it, though. Instead, my wife tucked me into the small husband-bed that sat by the footboard like a pet basket, and whispered about how this suite, with its modern windows and elaborate wallpaper, recalled antediluvian monsters and gothic horrors, and how the design meeting with the first decorator was an embarrassing experience for everyone involved.

“The second decorator really nailed my vision, don’t you agree?” She seemed genuinely pleased. “Get some sleep.” She tapped me on the forehead. “When you awaken you will be surrounded by live chickens, all ready to lay your breakfast.”

“Fleur,” I mumbled through sleepy lips. “Where are these live chickens coming from?”

“Colloquilia. We’ll be arriving exactly on time for the summit, assuming the winds cooperate.”

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“Of Course They’re Super Flattering!”

  • by jenfeel like an enchanted goddess with a delicious secret
  • glittery bedazzled applique shirts
  • You are your mother’s daughter.
  • tenderly kissing her father-in-law
  • bizarre and frequent tradition

Tune in next time part 891      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Of course they’re super flattering!” I said of my pleated pants. “They make me feel like an enchanted goddess with a delicious secret.”

Fleur’s eyebrow could not go any higher.

I drunkenly went on. “The only thing more flattering, in fact, is my collection of glittery bedazzled applique shirts.”

My wife sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter. I’ve never known a president to wear more rhinestones. Hell, I’ve never known a country singer to wear more.”

The bubbles popping in my brain made me reckless. “How rude! Are you the kind of girl to be tenderly kissing her father-in-law with that mouth? I know your country has a lot of bizarre and frequent traditions, but c’mon!”

“Just how drunk are you?” Fleur huffed. “Wear the damn pants if you want to. We’ll see how impressed Yolanda and the others are.”

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Fleur Straightened the Styrofoam Toilets

  • by jenideal winter drink for people
  • how to shave his back hair
  • Probably between sips
  • main delivery method: squirting
  • speak nicely to the elephant

Tune in next time part 887      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Fleur straightened the styrofoam toilets, then said, “Come on. You look like you could use a drink.”

I wanted to protest that what I needed was food and a good night’s sleep, but I knew she wouldn’t listen.

My wife grabbed my elbow and tugged me over to the back wall of the bathroom. She rotated the toilet paper holder back and forth like the dial of a combination lock, and when she was done, a section of the wall swung open like a vault door. I hoped I’d memorized the combination correctly.

The room we entered was an ice bar. Every surface was carved from ice, and the lighting was all blue. I’d heard rumors that some Royal Contrarian Airships housed eggnog speakeasies, but I hadn’t believed it. Eggnog, despite being the ideal winter drink for people who enjoy nutmeg and warm alcoholic custard, was forbidden in Contraria. Legend had it that William Penn IV got so drunk on the stuff on the eve of his wedding that he forgot how to shave his back hair. Not only that but he proposed to three other women. (Probably between sips of his favorite boozy beverage.) The next day he was viciously hungover, and married all four women in a single ceremony. His new wives were very upset (more about his hairy back than the polygamy) the honeymoon was a disaster, and the beverage was banned in Contraria forever. At least officially.

Fleur plunked me down on a chunk of ice, reached behind the bar, and grabbed a keg nozzle. That’s the other thing about Contrarian eggnog. The main delivery method: squirting directly into one’s mouth.

I shook my head. The last thing I needed right now was alcohol. I needed to keep the few wits I had about me.

“Come on,” Fleur cajoled. “Open up and speak nicely to the elephant.” Which is what Contrarian’s say in place of ‘here comes the airplane’ when they’re trying to get a child to eat.

I opened my mouth to protest that I was not a toddler, and instantly had a mouthful of warm, boozy, eggy froth. My wife, it turns out, had a lot of experience with elephants.

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If I Recalled Correctly

  • by jenan ostrich almost killed Johnny
  • “Ineffable!”
  • used only for hand-to-hand combat
  • circled his thumbs
  • part of me is starting to think maybe I might be kind of ready to think about

Tune in next time part 883      Click Here for Earlier Installments

If I recalled correctly, it was also William Penn XII who started a stampede of the Academy’s livestock that time when an ostrich almost killed Johnny (as John was known in his youth). Was Small Dennis trying to warn me that William was planning an ostrich stampede in the petting zoo? I hadn’t spent much time with my brother-in-law, but it didn’t seem like the sort of thing he would do.

Perhaps I should incorporate the 12 from William’s name into my BareCheeks deciphering? If I did that the message became “Ineffable!”

That’s the sort of word we at the Academy used only for hand-to-hand combat. Surely Small Dennis would not be so bold as to throw a word such as Ineffable around willynilly. I straightened up to my full height and studied Small Dennis’s hands. My eyes circled his thumbs several times before I concluded I had nothing to fear from him. His thumbs were as small as the rest of him.

Was I reading too much into this? Was the BareCheeks cipher a red herring?

Part of me is starting to think maybe I might be kind of ready to think about maybe getting out of the spy business. It does a real number on my head sometimes.

When was the last time I’d slept? Or eaten?

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I Had Small Dennis in a Headlock

  • by jenruled out butterflies, moths, and fungus
  • eyes did pry and tongues did wag
  • his eccentricities, average looks, and careless dress
  • It was a bizarre message
  • brave enough to pee in the bathroom all by myself

Tune in next time part 879      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I had Small Dennis in a headlock inside the horse costume, when the bathroom door opened and someone entered. Small Dennis and I froze. We were so tangled up inside the costume that neither of us could see who it was.

The only voice that I less wanted to hear than Titania’s spoke. “Honestly,” my wife said with a chuckle, “Don’t you think I’m brave enough to pee in the bathroom all by myself?”

It was a bizarre message to hear from Fleur. She wasn’t normally one for repartee.

“Stand up,” she said, and when we’d done so she unzipped our costume and pulled it off. The fresh air was amazing, but my wife’s incredulous laughter stung.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked.

She pointed at Small Dennis and his lack of pants. “I’m laughing at his eccentricities, average looks, and careless dress. And you, in such a compromising position with him. The last time something like this happened, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. I’m sure you remember.”

Remember I did. It was an exceedingly embarrassing memory, and it made my stomach feel fluttery and strange. I tried to figure out how best to describe the sensation, and I ruled out butterflies, moths, and fungus, but couldn’t pin it down.

“Do you actually have to pee, Fleur? Or do you want to hear about what the clowns are planning?”

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I Shrugged Pointedly at Fleur

  • by jenNo, a different deranged man.
  • Can we talk about how close you and your plumber are
  • a strange and curious inscription
  • “Silver Thursday”
  • it’s a competitive world

Tune in next time part 841      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I shrugged pointedly at Fleur. Infant talent shows are their own world, and, believe me, it’s a competitive world. I refused to jeopardize my own safety by being the one to declare the winner, not after that whole “Silver Thursday” debacle from my Academy days. My wife and her sister cooked up this whole escapade. Let them figure it out.

Fleur’s glare etched a strange and curious inscription in the air, leaving no doubt that she was displeased. I hadn’t seen a look like that since our honeymoon when she ambushed me with a big “Can we talk about how close you and your plumber are?” conversation, having mistaken a picture of Tessa in her Sexy Super Mario costume for the real thing.

Tessa leaned in and whispered, “Your wife looks like a serial killer.”

On my other side, Jim shook his head. “No, a different deranged man. An evil hypnotist, maybe.”

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Not Only Did the Answer Float Before Me

  • by jensuggesting its author is a liar
  • Chad’s such a dingus
  • but I’ll be ding-danged if I’ll let just anyone
  • hideous hellbirds
  • “Wow! Whoopee! A zeppelin!”

Tune in next time part 839      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Not only did the answer float before me, it floated all around me. I was in fact riding inside it as it floated through the sky. “The winner,” I proclaimed, “shall receive the title to this zeppelin.” That ought to teach Fleur not to put me on the spot.

Around me the mothers were chattering excitedly. “Wow! Whoopee! A zeppelin!”

Fleur’s face turned redder than the most hideous hellbirds in the mural painted on the auditorium’s ceiling. She muttered under her breath (but straight into the microphone, so I couldn’t help but hear), “He thinks he’s so funny, but I’ll be ding-danged if I’ll let just anyone have my airship.” She ground her teeth for a moment, then bellowed, “Chad!”

I groaned. Chad’s such a dingus. But he also happens to be the Royal Contrarian Airship’s pageant coordinator. He appeared from the wings and Fleur instructed him to read the bylaws governing airborne infant talent shows. Chad knew who signed his paychecks, so of course he had Fleur’s back. He read aloud the section on prizes, his wording suggesting I was its author, his tone suggesting its author is a liar.

Like I said, dingus.

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