“Where Do You Want Them?”
North Pole here we come! Each year during the thick of the winter holidays, we search out seasonally appropriate sources for our Stichomancy Writing Prompts. This year, we’ve chosen to pull random lines from that 1964 Rankin/Bass stop-motion classic, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Prepare to be festive!
- Not if you don’t mind me being a dentist
- Why weren’t you at elf practice?
- “How would you like to be a spotted elephant?”
- Shiny? I’d even say it glows.
- I’m the king of jingling
Tune in next time part 654 Click Here for Earlier Installments
“Where do you want them?” Dr Ferguson asked, brandishing icicle slugs at every sensitive zone on my body.
“Don’t rush me! I’m about to make history here, remember? Maybe give me a second to consider my options?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but she did drop back a step. “Sorry. I hope you aren’t too upset that I’m an impatient ophthamologist who has certain needs.”
“Not if you don’t mind me being a dentist who never actually became a dentist.”
A smile softened her gaze. “That’s my favorite kind of dentist. But I am a little peeved that you dragged me all the way up here to find you. Why weren’t you at elf practice?”
I hadn’t attended any functions of the Elite League of Fornicators in years. In fact I’d only ever been to one practice, per se. How would Dr Ferguson even know about that?
“Quit stalling!” she scolded. “Position #34 awaits, so make up your mind about these beauties.” She proffered the glistening, transparent mollusks. While I was hypnotized by their waving eyestalks, with her other hand she tugged on the waistband of the crocheted trousers. Peering down into my pants, she crooned, “How would you like to be a spotted elephant?”
“On my back,” I blurted. “Put them on my back, please.”
Dr Ferguson waved bye-bye at my crotch and then circled around behind me. “Huh,” she said. “I hope they can make contact with your skin through all this hair.” A strange, warm sweetness told me they’d succeeded, and then the good doctor sashayed back into view. The remaining slug was between her breasts.
“Look how shiny the trail is,” she stage-whispered.
“Shiny? I’d even say it glows.” The sweetness on my back had already soaked through to my front, and I was no longer afraid of the icicle slug. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I wasn’t tired anymore. “Shall we?” I asked, lowering myself in preparation for the North Pole Vaulter.
“I’m afraid that with the slugs on your back, #34 will not work after all. You can’t lie back without squashing them. But not to worry, I am also fully certified for position #35.”
Ah, yes. The Ring-My-Bells.
“Are you familiar with it?” she purred.
“I’m the king of jingling.”
bonus points for using them in order