Evil Editor's Blog, page 358

New Beginning 728

Today is Tart day. I pull the sheet over my head in my pathetic attempt to ward off the hot Bangkok morning streaming through the window and the reality of this day banging into my brain. I don't want to teach the Tarts. I curl in tighter, the fetal position is helping me gird myself for the experience of being in the same room with the Tarts for fifty-five minutes, assuming they show. Cruel and unusual punishment comes in many forms and this is an excruciating torturous piece of suffering I ...

Cartoon 578

Caption: Steve Wright

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Writing Exercise Results . . .

. . . are in the posts below. The task was to write a scene in which Evil Editor, who couldn't get a reservation anywhere, reveals to his Valentine where he's taking her.[image error]

Valentine 7

The poodle-shaped cell phone yappity-yap-yapped.

Miss Snark checked the number — bliss! — and kicked off her stilettoes. "Snookums?"

"Ooky-pooky-wookums," replied Evil, his voice a mixture of honey and moisturising cream for rich elderly ladies.

"So where are you taking me tonight, Big Boy?"

A pause. Pregnant. 8 months. Complications. Quads. Elephants. Straining to trumpet for their lives. Their trunks lashed together by rope. Their Never Forget bodies inflating rapidly like impossible bellows re...

Valentine 6

"What are you doing?"

Evil Editor looked puzzled at the question. "I'm holding your hand."

"Please don't. It makes me uncomfortable." She took it from him. EE fidgeted they walked; it was the first time he had dated anyone with a prosthesis.

"So," he said, desperate to fill the awkward silence with small talk. "When did you quit being a juggler?"

Saffron glared at him. "Take a wild guess."

Shit.

"Sorry. I-- Listen, you're going to love this place. It's my one of my favorites."

"I'm looking forward t...

Valentine 5

Hi EE. Sorry, no hello kiss, because I know you asked me out only because none of your writers and none of the Hooters waitresses will have anything to do with you.

And I know you agreed to this date only because no one will go out with you ever since Mr. V. died three years ago under highly suspicious circumstances.

You might at least have picked me up in a limo. Who'd you buy this thing from, Al Capone?

The classics never go out of style.

Where are you taking me?

I had reservations at le porc...

Valentine 4

With a seductive smile and perfectly coiffed hair, Delilah knocked, and then waited, donning a silky, red number and matching, strappy heels. Before seeing EE, she said, "Hello, lover…uh."

Not recognizing the face opening the door, Delilah glanced around, looking for familiarity, then ogled back at the stranger. "Sorry…is EE here?"

"Right here, love," the man replied, using EE's voice. With his hair slick and glasses banished, he wore a tailored, grey Prada suit, an irresistible smile and resem...

Valentine 3

"Honey, I've got bad news—" They both stopped.

"You go first," Miss Snark said.

EE shook his head, his sole remaining hope another minute without a red stiletto buried in his chest. "Ladies first—I insist."

Miss Snark fought back premonitions of laser vision gone wrong and started. "They remember last year."

Relieved, EE flopped down on the nearest piece of furniture—an endtable with a Swarovski koala as decoration. There was a decided "crunch," which actually doesn't lend this story as much comi...

Valentine 2

"So, where is he taking you tonight?"

"The Royal Goose."

"No way. I heard you had to have reservations, like, six months in advance."

"A year."

"A year? Do you think he's finally going to ask you?"

"Well, considering I've stuck around this long--"

"Especially after what happened last year."

"Don't remind me. Well, he's bound to ask sooner or later. Oh. Wait, can you hold on a minute?"

"Sure."

...

"I've got to go."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"You know how I was going to be sitting at a table at The Royal Goose ...

Valentine 1

Evil glanced at his watch. Christ. It was almost eight. V expected dinner at some fancy-schmancy joint where the miat r de was more evil than he was, if that was ever a possible thing.

Twenty minutes blew by. Evil hoped V was still fretting over what dress to wear. He prayed for her curling iron to explode, some disaster to delay the impending confession. Yes, he'd rather take V to the emergency room than have to come up with a dandy of an excuse as to why he was such an asshole and couldn't l...