Tagged: zeppelin

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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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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Whatever His Faults

  • by Kenttouch the cake with their filthy hands
  • ran out of urine
  • — all those beautiful bullfrogs
  • “If you wanna eat ‘em, ya gotta listen to ‘em first.”
  • giggling as he tempts fate

Tune in next time part 840      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Whatever his faults — and they were many — Chad was a skilled argumentarian and I was quickly backed into a corner trying to justify my decree. We struck a compromise whereby I pretended that what I’d meant all along was a cake in the shape of the zeppelin, not the literal airship itself. The mothers were disappointed in me (and not for the first time).

Fleur sent Chad away to direct the preparation of this scaled-down prize. The devious look on his face as he accepted this task made me uncomfortable. Contrarian confectionery is its own kink, and I cringed at the idea that any bakers on this vessel were going to touch the cake with their filthy hands. The flavor might be palatable assuming they ran out of urine. There would of course be an algae-clogged pond in the kitchen where the frogs — all those beautiful bullfrogs — would serenade the vile pastry chefs. They have a saying: “If you wanna eat ’em, you gotta listen to ’em first.”

And worst of all, the decorator, whose job would be to create a convincing likeness of the Royal Contrarian Airship out of buttercream and fondant. I could just see the madman, giggling as he temps fate with some outlandish improvised coloring additive.

With the prize defined, all that remained was the actual declaration of the winner. Fleur was, of course, still looking archly at me.

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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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As the Last Notes of the Regis St Oink Oink Theme Song Died Away

  • by jenthe “wheezing and clapping” kind
  • you buoyant balloon of happiness
  • lashing us to our seats for well over two hours
  • lively, voluptuous brunette
  • casinos in the middle of the Andes

Tune in next time part 829      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As the last notes of the Regis St Oink Oink theme song died away, Fleur bowed. The audience, knowing what was expected in the presence of the Warlord’s daughter, cheered and applauded. We were all so exhausted by now that it was more the “wheezing and clapping” kind of ovation than the “shouting and fist pumping” kind, but Fleur didn’t seem to care. With a smile on her face she adjusted the microphone stand as low as it would go and then said to our son the Duke, “It’s your turn, you buoyant balloon of happiness. Make Mommy proud.”

I was regretting my decision to give each child the spotlight, and I wasn’t the only one. While my son caterwauled into the microphone, Jim leaned over and whispered, “This is worse than Father lashing us to our seats for well over two hours that time so we wouldn’t interfere with his date with the lively, voluptuous brunette. Remember?”

I nodded sadly. Of course I remembered. Mother had been away, gambling at her favorite casinos in the middle of the Andes, and she’d left Father in charge. I wanted my children to have better childhoods than I and my siblings had. Would that be more likely to happen if I were an active parent, or if I stayed the hell away?

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Outlandish Though They Were

  • by jenfor four hot, grueling days
  • as a last resort he sat on her
  • the same ratty t-shirt he’s worn all week
  • “Sing it with me!”
  • with the pretentious subtitle

Tune in next time part 827      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Outlandish though they were, the little girl’s shoes were not the whole act. The mother wheeled a miniature synthesizer in front of the child, and she began to play. Her song stretched on and on, for four hot, grueling days, or so it seemed. The other babies grew restless, most especially my son with Fleur. He toddled onto the stage and tried to pull the keyboard away. When that failed he attempted to wrest his half-sister’s chubby hands from the keys. And as a last resort he sat on her. The crowd applauded weakly.

Fleur strode onto the stage and bowed, then waved vaguely at our son. “Please overlook that the Duke is still wearing the same ratty t-shirt he’s worn all week. Regis St Oink Oink is his favorite show, and he refuses to wear anything but his beloved Regis shirt.” The other mothers all nodded knowingly.

My son the Duke stood up and said, “Sing!”

Fleur smiled dotingly. “The Duke would like us all to sing the Regis St Oink Oink theme song.” She pulled a pitch pipe from her pocket and blew a note. “Sing it with me!” she shouted at the audience.

And to my amazement, the entire crowd burst into song, singing the ridiculous ode to the Transylvania Homicide Detective with the pretentious subtitle. It went a little something like this.

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The Infants Tired Themselves Out Laughing

  • by jenthoughtfully curated selection
  • attempting to reenter the United States
  • celebrities promoting the toad medicine
  • referred to it as “defensive cooking”
  • provides the optimal angle for all kinds of

Tune in next time part 825      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The infants tired themselves out laughing, so Talent Show Part 2 had a lengthy intermission for nap time. I perused the thoughtfully curated selection of international candy bars at the refreshment stand, some of which I hadn’t tasted since my chocolate smuggling friend got picked up attempting to reenter the United States after being deported. It wasn’t even his blackmarket sweets that got him in trouble, but rather a snake oil scheme he’d promoted years earlier. Instead of snakes he got his juice from toads, and he even had celebrities promoting the toad medicine, which is what drew all the attention. The health department raided the lab where he did what they referred to as “mad science,” while he referred to it as “defensive cooking” because he was often high on his own supply. His slogan was “Toad Butter provides the optimal angle for all kinds of fun!”, which was a terrible slogan, in my opinion.

I excitedly chose a half-dozen candy bars from countries I’d never even heard of and unwrapped the first one with a smile on my face.

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The Infant Talent Show

  • by jengracefully choreographed free-for-all
  • new and pink and chubby
  • presented with a trashcan lid-sized plate of steamed broccoli
  • For years, I’ve gotten drunk and told the story
  • and gloves without fingers

Tune in next time part 823      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The infant talent show turned out to be a gracefully choreographed free-for-all. First place went to the choreographer, a baby girl all new and pink and chubby. She and her mother, Isolde, were presented with a trashcan lid-sized plate of steamed broccoli and a teeny tiny tiara. There was a lot of grumbling amongst the mothers over the fact that Isolde’s baby won, since the talent show was her idea in the first place, but Isolde claimed that it couldn’t possibly have been rigged due to the sheer number of babies she had and how she couldn’t possibly choose a favorite among them.

For years, I’ve gotten drunk and told the story of my own childhood in a family full of twins and triplets, and how the only way I could find to distinguish myself from Jason was to wear a vest and gloves without fingers while he wore sleeves with no shirt and little socks on his fingers. All this squabbling reminded me of that, and I felt sorry for all the also-rans. Every child needs a time to shine.

“Instead of one big dance number,” I said, “let’s let each baby perform solo!”

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“Dammit,” Jim Said Around a Mouthful of Churro

  • by jenfrom the cloaca of a quartz tortoise
  • have to find a back-up baby tuxedo
  • Cobwebby.
  • despite the ketchup and clam juice
  • use it in a rap song

Tune in next time part 821      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Dammit,” Jim said around a mouthful of churro. “I had a lot of money riding on that polo match. With it cancelled, where I am I gonna get my big score?”

“From the cloaca of a quartz tortoise, of course,” I said, referencing the secret compartment where my father used to hide his cash. Jim chuckled.

Isolde’s voice came through the loudspeaker next. It sounded like she’d just wrestled the microphone away from Fleur. “In place of the polo match we will be holding an infant talent show in the auditorium. Anyone who wants to compete will have to find a back-up baby tuxedo and a baby to go in it.” Something about Isolde’s voice sounded dusty. Cobwebby.

“Is she high?” I asked no one in particular.

“I assume you’ll want to attend this talent show,” said Jim. “Since all the babies on board are yours.” He stepped up to the churro stand in search of dipping sauce, and despite the ketchup and clam juice being clearly labeled, dunked his churro in both.

I stared in horror. If Jason were here he’d find a way to describe how disgusting it was and use it in a rap song. In his absence I merely gagged.

“Well?” Jim asked. “Are we going to this talent show? I’ll call my bookie.”

“Yes,” Tessa said, ice in her voice. “Tell, me, are we going to go sit in a room full of your baby-mamas?”

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The Nearest Exit was Behind Us

  • by jenadorable doofuses
  • his second home in the mountains
  • When he was drunk,
  • to be eaten with one hand
  • riding a wave of adrenaline together

Tune in next time part 819      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The nearest exit was behind us, past the unconscious Julien, and back through the Gauntlet of Brazen Hussies. The three of us held hands and ran through, riding a wave of adrenaline together. I slammed and locked the door, hoping it would slow Julien down when he inevitably woke. We were in the food court, near the churro stand, and I was ravenous, having eaten only pickles all day. Contrarian churros are intended to be eaten with one hand. I ordered two because I have two hands and I really like churros. When he was drunk, Jim tended to need two hands to guide pastries to his mouth, but he hadn’t been in the pickle chapel and seemed pretty sober at the moment, so I risked it and ordered two for him as well, and two for Tessa. The churromonger smiled like he would finally be able to afford his second home in the mountains, the one he’d always dreamed of.

Jim and I bit into our churros simultaneously. Tessa shook her head and called us adorable doofuses. Our happy mood didn’t last though, because the tannoy crackled to life and Fleur’s voice made an announcement.

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