Tagged: zeppelin

For All his Complaints

  • by jenexcessive body hair
  • you’re wanted downstairs
  • wrote on me with a red marker
  • fearful of farts
  • if you want your nether regions touching germy public surfaces

Tune in next time part 867      Click Here for Earlier Installments

For all his complaints about the furriness of Big Dennis, I was somewhat surprised to see that BimBam sported what many would consider excessive body hair, all of it shockingly pink.

In the secret language of clowns, Titania murmured, “You’re wanted downstairs.” BimBam splayed his knees wide and, while making a slide-whistle sound, sank into a deep crouch. Titania giggled appreciatively. “Now,” she went on in a breathy squeak, “look closely at my left hip and see what the Dennises wrote on me with a red marker this morning while they were dressing me.”

I gulped. If Small Dennis was anywhere near as nervous as me, I was fearful of farts (or something even worse) filling up the horse suit. Again I tried to back us away from the horrifying clown nightmare.

BimBam leaned in very close to Titania’s hip and slowly read, “Continue reading this message only if you want your nether regions touching germy public surfaces such as the floor.” BimBam gave a honk of surprise as Titania gave a quick karate chop to both his shoulders and he toppled pantsless to the ground.

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BimBam Tickles

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Boxing Day!

This year we’re continuing our tradition of marking the major December holiday with a tag-team writing prompt, using snippets drawn from a seasonally appropriate source. This year’s festive trove comes from the Wikipedia page about Krampus, everyone’s favorite child-eating Christmas monster. As per usual with these unusual events, Jen will start us off. Once she’s incorporated the first ingredient, she’ll turn over control of the keyboard to Kent, and so on until all ten(!) elements have been wrapped up.

  • gifts such as oranges
  • He is hairy
  • His long, pointed tongue
  • thrashes the chains for dramatic effect
  • wearing animal furs
  • It is customary to offer schnapps
  • (mostly with broken bones)
  • pursuing buxom women
  • one winter occasion
  • sometimes accompanied with bells

Tune in next time part 863 & 864      Click Here for Earlier Installments

BimBam Tickles, the Iron Clown of Svenborgia, was still in a philosophical mood. I heard him ask Titania, “Do you find it more amusing or cruel that we are stealing bananas for all the young clownlings at the compound, when gifts such as oranges are much easier for their small hands to juggle?”

“Things worth doing are never easy,” the Crystal Clown replied. I could hear the weariness in her voice. “I can’t believe it’s taking you this long to get him ready. He is hairy, but you must have learned how to deal with that long ago.”

“I’m having a spot of trouble with the smile. His long, pointed tongue is hanging out and keeps getting in the way.”

Oh crap, I thought. That would reveal to Titania that it wasn’t me!

“Oh,” she said. “Hmm. I do recall there being something weird about his tongue, now that you mention it…” She trailed off wistfully. “It’s not quite as exhilarating as when I have a man helpless and he thrashes the chains for dramatic effect, but it’s a nice kind of weird I can assure you.”

There followed more sounds of greasepaint being slathered on skin. “This guy is really, really hairy. It’s like he’s wearing animal furs under all these clothes!”

“Oh, that I remember clearly.”

Titania sounded a little disgusted, but I focused on the amazing luck I’d had in subduing someone who could actually pass for me. At least until BimBam’s intrusive clownification ministrations woke him up. It is customary to offer schnapps to people found lurking in one’s basement, at least in Svenborgia. I had no idea what beverage would be paired with such a discovery made in one’s horse costume.

BimBam stifled a giggle and said, “I’m nearly done, and if I do say so myself, he looks exactly like the sort of unconscious clown who would be part of your entourage.”

Titania did not appreciate his tone. She swore at him in the language of clowns (which I understand just enough of), and threatened him terrifyingly with many sorts of bodily harm (mostly with broken bones).

She calmed down enough to sum it all up. “He looks demented, yes, and one could picture him pursuing buxom women. But apart from that he falls well short of my standards!”

“I recall,” BimBam said in a clown’s squeaky approximation of a sultry voice, “one winter occasion when your standards were, perhaps, not so high. I recall it quite fondly.”

They cooed and grunted more sweet nothings, leading to a moment when I was terrified that BimBam would join Titania in the saddle. Fortunately, she dismounted instead. I wasn’t able to see what ensued, but I could hear plenty of clownishly sexy noises (sometimes accompanied with bells). I began a slow retreat, trying to coax Small Dennis along with me.

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Such Close Proximity

  • by jenEmbroider otters on all
  • sucking gleefully our respective oranges
  • slowly and most wickedly
  • (please ignore the ears)
  • who am I to dispute the research of the National Confectioners Association?

Tune in next time part 861      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Such close proximity to Small Dennis’s sweaty naked butt made my eyes water. Back at the Academy, he’d joined my twin brother Jason in founding an experimental boy band. They’d been inexplicably popular, and soon one would hear Embroider Otters on all the school’s pirate radio stations. There was a choreographed dance for their biggest hit “We Be Sucking Gleefully Our Respective Orangesicles” in which they moved their limbs slowly and most wickedly, and I shuddered to imagine what it would be like if Small Dennis did that very dance here, right now, inside our shared horse costume.

I tried to bring my thoughts back to the idea of exploiting the clowns’ fear of lumberjacks to gain the upper hand, escape my predicament, and foil their nefarious banana-thieving plans.

Titania chuckled evilly and said, “The easiest way to get him off the airship is to paint him like a clown.”

“I’ll get right on it,” BimBam said.

I relaxed a little. If BimBam was the one to apply clown makeup to Big Dennis, that would delay the discovery that he was not me. That is, as long as he didn’t try to apply any makeup to Big Dennis’s ears (please ignore the ears). My ears are quite distinctively small (please please ignore the ears) and the difference would surely give away my ruse (please please please ignore the ears). Tessa once told me about a study she’d seen that claimed most people’s ears are larger than Peanut Butter Cups. That sounds unlikely to me, but who am I to dispute the research of the National Confectioners Association? (In any case, please please please ignore Big Dennis’s ears!)

I held my breath and listened to the squealchy sounds of an evil clown applying greasepaint to an unconscious man’s face. Would BimBam ignore the ears?

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The Iron Clown’s Laughter

  • by jenmy teeth start tingling
  • Whenever I eat grapes near her
  • skyrocketing banana demand
  • Blink once if
  • wrote “I love you” in his own blood

Tune in next time part 859      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Iron Clown’s laughter reverberated through me and made my teeth start tingling. I clamped my jaw tightly shut to make it stop, but it did little good. The tingle intensified. (Whenever I eat grapes near her, my wife gets incredibly horny, something she also describes as an intensifying tingle. I can only assume the two sensations are not actually very similar.)

Titania said, “Once we empty this airship’s larders, our faction’s skyrocketing banana demands will be met at last. Blink once if you’re as excited as I am.”

Whether BimBam blinked or wrote “I love you” in his own blood, I could not tell because my head was still swaddled in the horse costume, but Titania seemed pleased.

“Without their favorite yellow snack, all the children aboard will be quite upset,” BimBam said with smug glee.

“All of them but mine,” Titania agreed. “I’ll bring mine along to our banana-filled paradise, their father as well.” I felt her pat Big Dennis’s butt. “I have further plans for him.”

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“He Might be Mostly Dead”

  • by jena necromancer’s take
  • in a neon-lit lab
  • gauge the reactions of actual spiders
  • by the way he’s gesturing
  • wrap your lips over your teeth

Tune in next time part 857      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“He might be mostly dead, or all dead,” BimBam said sagely. “There’s really no way to be sure without a necromancer’s take.”

“Unfortunately,” Titania said, “our necromancer is in a neon-lit lab, trying to gauge the reactions of actual spiders to the fake plastic kind. Since he’s half-mime, his assistants have to interpret the results by the way he’s gesturing, so it’s going to take a while.”

The idea of a clown-mime necromancer made me feel like it feels when you bite into something so sweet you wrap your lips over your teeth and whimper — but, like, all over.

I hoped the colorfully lit lab they were referring to wasn’t on board the airship.

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The Crystal Clown Dug her Heels into My Ribs

  • by jendon’t know if this is a valid seduction tactic
  • for the sole purpose of rubbing one’s tingly parts against
  • silly knees-bent running about
  • put the sponge in the oven
  • pretty new pink dress

Tune in next time part 855      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Crystal Clown dug her heels into my ribs and said, “Tallyho, Dennises!” I don’t know if this is a valid seduction tactic where she comes from, but I figure it must be. I can think of no reason to ride naked atop a faux-horse, save for the sole purpose of rubbing one’s tingly parts against the corduroy saddle and, presumably, turning everyone on. Nigel and the Dennis brothers must be made of tougher stuff than me, though, for not only was I not turned on, I was getting quite a cramp in my back from all the silly knees-bent running about she was making us do. The fact that I hadn’t managed to dislodge Big Dennis from my rump made it that much worse.

We gallumphed through more corridors, and finally came to a stop when an unfamiliar male voice hailed Titania. The man approached and jiggled Big Dennis. He spoke in with a thick, unidentifiable accent. “This is the one who put the sponge in the oven of my beloved Crystal Clown?”

Titania laughed — the most menacing thing I’d ever heard. “Bun, darling. Put a bun in my oven.” Her chuckle would curdle milk. “Two buns, actually.”

“With all those clothes on him, I can see why he appealed to you.”

“And I like your pretty new pink dress. It matches your hair and your nose perfectly.” She leaned over and I heard a sharp honk.

Oh no! I hoped I was wrong, but knew I probably wasn’t. The only clown I could think of who favored pink so heavily was the notorious BimBam Tickles, the Iron Clown of Svenborgia. What the hell was he doing on my wife’s airship?

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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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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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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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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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