Tagged: zeppelin

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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“And If I Didn’t Know Better”

  • by Kentgonna really blow some minds, man
  • He doesn’t want your thanks. He wants your blood.
  • full of neon fish
  • kick to the shins from some little cretin
  • payback in the form of buying dozens of turtles

Tune in next time part 896      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“And if I didn’t know better,” I said, pausing to groan and rub my temples, “I’d think you wanted to be seduced.” The alluring grin I attempted at the end was probably spoiled by the way I squinted in pain from the dim light in Fleur’s quarters.

Her delighted little hoot of amusement made me flinch. “Just get dressed!” she said firmly but not angily. Where my wife is concerned, “but not angrily” is about the best you can hope for.

The uniform confounded me, and not just because of my hangover. The fabric must have had a convoluted backstory involving textile shortages, betrayal, and payback in the form of buying dozens of turtles then forcing someone to watch what was done with them. At least the trousers would serve me well if I took a kick to the shins from some little cretin, or even a fairly big one. The belt was heavy and transparent, containing water full of neon fish (another chapter in the sordid backstory?). But the most impressive and puzzling part was the hat. It was something to be worn by a very specific type of lunatic. The type who runs you off the road and then comes back to rescue you from the wreckage. The type who scares off the other lunatics, but you shouldn’t be grateful. He doesn’t want your thanks. He wants your blood. I hoped he didn’t want his hat back.

When I was at last fully attired, Fleur sized me up. “We’re gonna really blow some minds, man.”

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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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I Awoke With Bleary Vision

  • by Kentlook at all the hip movement
  • escaped through the tunnel system
  • (Chum, chum, chum)
  • a bonus grandma
  • no longer necessary to rely on insects for most outfits

Tune in next time part 894      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I awoke with bleary vision and a head filled with unclean dreams. My head was pounding too hard for me to shake away the dream-residue without my skull flying to pieces, so I was left to puzzle out which memories were real. Surely Fleur’s enormous velvet bed must have been a confabulation.

But, no. It loomed over the cramped husband-bed, where I found myself with numerous hens for companionship. They scratched at the sumptuous bedding and shot me beady, disapproving looks. As if it was my fault there were no worms or seeds tucked among the folds.

That meant we must be about to arrive in Colloquillia, unless we were already there. I sat up, straining for a view out the modern windows. Not that I’d recognize the country even if I did manage to get a look outside. I slumped back in disappointment, setting off a blizzard of chicken feathers.

“What are we doing in your quarters?” I bellowed. “You said we were bound for steerage, for a party.”

She came into view around the prow of the mammoth bed. “And it thrilled me to look at all the hip movements you performed as you eagerly staggered along. If I’d told you the truth, you might have broken away and escaped through the tunnel system that permeates my airship. Even I don’t have it all mapped out. There’s something in there making an ominous sound, like this:” She paused to demonstrate the noise (Chum, chum, chum) conveying its ominousness mainly via her eyebrows as her pleasing contralto voice couldn’t manage alone.

I sighed. “You said something about a summit?”

Fleur nodded as she adjusted an earring. “And I need you as an interpreter. Otherwise, I’ll just have to take it literally when the ambassador mentions having a bonus grandma or finding it no longer necessary to rely on insects for most outfits.”

I laughed, which made my headache worse. “You do realize that my Colloquillian is rustier than a beached trawler in the Salton Sea.”

“Sounds like you’ll do just fine,” she replied.

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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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Aha! Thought I

  • by Kentdescribed in orientation documents as “human lasagna.”
  • a ritual in which
  • how sarcasm works
  • no one wants to hook up with a lemon-scented lizard-person
  • All claws and teeth

Tune in next time part 892      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Aha! thought I, that confirms that Yolanda is there. But not alone. I remembered a bit of detail then about yodeler subculture, something that didn’t actually come up in my time at Enigma Fortress but was described in the orientation documents as “human lasagna.” It was a ritual in which the yodelers would layer themselves and then “bake” together in a sweaty pile. I wondered, would an airship journey be an appropriate occasion to observe this custom?

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you no matter how you’re dressed,” Fleur said haughtily.

I was drunk, but not too drunk to know how sarcasm works, so I shot back, “And I’m sure no one wants to hook up with a lemon-scented lizard-person no matter how you’re dressed.” Evidently I was too drunk to know when to just keep quiet.

Fleur did sometimes seem like a lizard-person. All claws and teeth and cold, shimmery scaly armor plating. As she gazed at me with intense calmness, I wondered what it would take to make that cold blood of hers boil.

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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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“Why is the Bartender Wearing a Smurf Mask?”

  • by jenflair for the outrageous
  • routine handling at the post office
  • Now you know.
  • a maze of twisty little urine puddles
  • diamond-scented bubbles

Tune in next time part 889      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Why is the bartender wearing a smurf mask?” I asked.

“One must have a flair for the outrageous to work in my speakeasy,” Fleur explained, as if to a child. “Nothing about this enterprise is normal. It’s clandestine! Procuring quality eggnog is not as easy as assuring your letter gets routine handling at the post office by simply affixing a rodent pelt to the corner. It requires finesse and connections and a penchant for the dramatic.”

“Rodent pelts? I guess that explains why my letters never get delivered.”

“Now you know.”

As Fleur filled a mug for herself from the nozzle, I noticed something else about the smurf-masked man on the floor. “I think there’s something wrong with him,” I said. “See all the pee?” The man was in the middle of a maze of twisty little urine puddles, all frozen to the icy floor. All the eggnog I’d ingested had filled my brain with diamond-scented bubbles, and I was pretty sure I was still officially stupid. Perhaps this was all normal? Or… “You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

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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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