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The Story That Ends & Begins Again (no word limit)
Dame Julianna Duchess of Londinium wanted to modernize Londinium, so she called on the great genius Geek Agapathus to construct a bridge across the great river Tamesis, which was such a wonder of the world that Adonis of Arizona coveted it. In the end Julianna, canny practitioner in antiquities that she was, negotiated a deal whereby Adonis could dismantle the bridge stone by numbered stone and rebuild it in his home land, while she had loads of bridges built with the cash, as well as superb riverside apartments the wealthy snapped up and made even more money for the exchequer.Then she went and sold Arnie Schwarzenacher, the governor of California, the Eiffel Tower for a "knock down" price, which he thought would look lovely in the capital. Sacrebleumantel!
Texas got the Colosseum, which Texicans insisted on calling the Flavian Amphitheater.
"Nelson's Column, anyone?"
Scopie had his standards and he also had his price. Only the patricians could afford him. Well that wasn't entirely so. Flaccus found this great little Greek bakery in back of the theater district. It had the greatest baklava with the flakiest filo layers soaked with golden honey and with a lovely nuttiness. So after Flacco brought him a supper of golden brown pastitsio with fine ground beef and thick béchamel sauce baked with his favorite pasta maccheroni all layed with spices then baked firm followed by a dessert of that baklava and then Scorpie would let him ride his 'chariot'.
He wasn't really a size queen, but Flaccus did like Scorpie's biga, which wasn't as big as Endymion's quadriga, but who wants two when you can have four? That's what a lot of Romans thought, anyway, and so the lines for Endymion's between-races cubicle stretched almost half way around the Ringling Brothers Big Circus Max. But Scorpie preferred to offer quality rather than sheer width so while his line was the shorter, it took longer for everyone to get through. And on leaving, each guest received a slice of the delicious baklava with the flakiest filo layers soaked with golden honey and with a lovely nuttiness.
And on leaving, each guest was dazed will a silly smile on their face with visions of green hearts in their eyes. In the arena cupid shot green arrows into the crowd and hundreds of men in women dressed in green went to Scorpies place with gifts of shamocks and lamb with green mint sauce, green pea soup, emeralds, lime jello, lawnboy lawnmowers, leprechaun garden gnomes, green tea, and US dollars hoping to bribe him into dating them but after just one time Scorpie only had eyes for Roofie.
Which was a great pity, because Roofie backed the Reds to win and that left Scorpie pining sadly among all his green things. But things looked up when Roofie told Scorpie that he'd take his eyes if that was what Scorpie had for him. The charioteer was so overjoyed, he overlooked the obvious: how was he to race in future if he had no eyes. Roofie, who was a chip of his mother's block, did a deal. Scorpie could rent his eyes back for each race in return for a 50-50 split on his winnings.And so the legend grew stronger. Scorpie won more races than ever before and made Roofie a rich man as well.
There was a big, muscular, handsome straight doctor who was married to a Hollywood actress who met a little, skinny, short, nerdy librarian and fell in insta-love for the nerd. All of a sudden he was gay for you and came out for his beloved nerd. After the divorce the ex-wife bought an estate in Beverly Hills and left the private penthouse on Park Avenue overlooking Central Park to her ex-husband the proctologist and his nerdy librarian fiancé. The doctor bought matching platinum and diamond wedding rings and married the nerd who flew away with him to his private island mansion in the warm waters of the sunny pacific for their honeymoon. The doctor and the librarian sat out in the sun by the olympic size pool. The doctor's washboard abs and luscious large pecs and whole body got a perfect tan. The smaller man who had greased himself up with SPF 90 sunscreen remained white as an albino frog on his scrawny legs, large paunchy belly non-existant abs and his whole scraggy body. On the first night of their marriage the larger man and the other man got in to bed together in the giant four-poster with satin sheets and...
The little, skinny, short, nerdy librarian woke up with a start from the most beautiful dream he'd ever had. He'd been lying on the beach of a private island in the warm waters of the sunny pacific, which turned into an olympic size pool, with a gorgeous Hollywood actor. Just as the actor turned to grab the little, skinny, short, nerdy librarian, he was shot from the grip thanks to all that SPF 90 sunscreen he'd lathered over himself, and banging down hard on the poolside woke him up.Ah, poor little, skinny, short, nerdy librarian, another very ordinary day to face at the library. Another boring day… but little did he know. Not long after emerging from the Subway to walk the two blocks to the New York Public Library, he looked up to see, to his utter horror, a gigantic wave roaring in down E 42nd Street, sweeping vehicles and pedestrians before it.
He made a dash for the steps up into the Library, with the thought, "Damn that Michael Bay, damn that Roland Emmerich, damn them all…"
And then the wave hit.
Clark Kent knew Superman could use his water gather powers to send the wave back to the sea. He dashed this way and that looking for a phone booth to change in but due to the popularity of cell phones their were no phone booths left.He did the only thing he could do, he would at least save the unfortunate librarian so he came from behind and covered the nerds eyes and flew him back to the man's fiancé, the doctor (see message 659) who waited on the private island in the Pacific to resume their honey moon.
This was the end of the "angst" part of the M/M romance and all the gorgeous, hunky doctor and nerd had to do was get past the big understanding and they would have their happily ever after ending.
At least, that was what the M/M Romance Group thought, but unbeknown to the ladies, the wicked author had an entirely different ending in mind. Once the Big Misunderstanding was dealt with and the Happy Reunion, with kids and everything, in place, the author threw a Spaniard in the Works and everything ground to a violent and blood-soaked stop.Then the author added a coda. It was a Brazilian greater spotted coda, and very poisonous, which only Clark Kent could overcome with his super X-Ray eyes. But lacking a suitable phone booth, he wasn't around to save the lovesick nerd and doctor, who both perished in the giant wave.
The book was a massive hit. No one had ever read a story before that did not have a happy ever after ending. They all declared it "true to life," "totally original," "raw, uncompromising!"
Author Roger Kean had a theory that TC Terms and Conditions and Jim Morrison were one in the same person. He compared pictures of the two and declared it irrefutable evidence. His theory was based on Morrison's need for deep inner thought being blocked by his fame. That and he was in love with Clark Kent and knew a life as a flaming heterosexual rock star was incompatible with life as a lovemate with Clark.Thus the only possible conclusion was that Jim Morrison faked his own death in order to be free to think deep thoughts and be a simple househusband.
The funeral was a dead giveaway.
According to a Madame Colinette, who was at the cemetery that day mourning the recent loss of her husband, she witnessed Morrison's funeral at Père Lachaise Cemetery.The ceremony was "pitiful," with several of the attendants muttering a few words, throwing flowers over the casket, then leaving quickly and hastily within minutes as if their lives depended upon it.
Those who attended included Alain Ronay, Agnès Varda, Bill Siddons (manager), Courson, and Robin Wertle (Morrison's 'Canadian' private secretary at the time for a few months), Ian Peeth keyboard supplier for the rocker, and Davey Easton a shady character and known criminal.
In the first version of No One Here Gets Out Alive, published in 1980, Sugerman and Hopkins gave some credence to the rumor that Morrison may not have died at all, calling the fake death theory “not as far-fetched as it might seem”. This theory led to considerable distress for Morrison's loved ones over the years, notably when fans would stalk them, searching for evidence of Morrison's whereabouts. Only Roger Kean knew the truth. Only he had the evidence.
But what would he do? Expose the Terms and Conditions or let him life in an HEA, a happily everwending after.
Roget wrote: "...Gotta think that one thru…"And Roget thought and he thought and he thought again and then he did something that was a synonym for thought which he added to his Book of Rather Alike Words. But all he could think about was poor Haaree who while among the Pashtoon people sat under a Chindar tree and thought and thought and pondered. Roget wrote pondered in his book next to thought. Reflecting on it he erased pondered and wrote considered.
Haaree tried to fight his attraction to Wistnon son of that American socialite Jennie Jerome and some guy name Chancellor, an ex-cheque clerk for the government. The government offers an excellent benefits package his father told Wistnon. "Wisnton" his father advised, "There's a lot of blood, sweat and tears that goes into government work after all they do expect you to work a bit half the time but in the end the government is a safe bet after all it's not like the government is ever going to split up our United Kingdom so it's good steady work."
Wistnon took his advice and joined the military. A steady government paycheck, travel, and free clothing.
But Haaree couldn't understand his attraction to Wistnon because the man was all touchy feely and always using the most crass language. He once saw a photograph young Wistnon showed him of a younger Wistnon and Haary was struck by the comparison to his step half-nephew twice removed (bodily usually).
That was it! Haary was feeling attracted to Wistnon because of the striking resemblance to his step half-nephew twice removed, Jollyoff.
Jollyoff was a favorite of his in the family and no doubt the attachment he felt for Wistnon was just because Jollyoff was such a nice young boy who would be quite handsome someday. No need to worry he'd get entangled with that boorish, coarse soldier. What a loser. Harry doubted the English-American half breed would ever be able to properly stand up for his country or be any kind of a leader so he ought to quit the military and apply for a post as a cheque clerk in the civil service.
Haaree gleaned this the day Wistnon said to him, "“I may be drunk,
Sgt. Bartlett said, "My. Oh, that is good, I will put that in my book Bartlett's Unfamiliar Quotations.
Sgt. Bartlett had a rival for the affections of the reader general (probably a Lieutenant General reader), and that was a friend of Jollyoff by the name of Lloyd Mangram. Lloyd's famous LMLWD, or Lloyd Mangram's Long Word Dictkionary to give it its proper title, outsold Bartlett's Unfamiliar Quotations at a rate of some 5 to 1. All around the globe, people consulted the LMLWD whenever they encountered a long word the meaning of which escaped them.In fact, a lot of long words escaped all the while, and set up a commune high up on Vesuvius, from which they raided all the villas in the district. Leader of this lexigraphic band was a certain Junius Sebastianus Bacchus, who play a lot on his organ to entertain the escaped long words. There were a few young words who wanted a go on his organ, but JSB refused them the pleasure, so they split off to form their own gang, the infamous Pompous Volcanic Black Hand Gang, or PVBHG,as the terrorized region grew to know them.
And to think, all that happened as a result of wordy rivalry between Sgt. Bartlett and Lloyd Mangram.
Plaintiff's Attorney: Objection judge! There is no evidence Lloyd Mangram exists.
Accused Attorney: Objection your honor there is ample evidence Lloyd Mangram exists and I can bring in several witnesses who will tell you that at one time or another they were Lloyd Mangram.
Judge: Objections overruled. There is no objecting here. Court is in the Everwending story no word limit. There is no court in this Story that ends and begins again. In fact I rule none of us exist.
Attorney: But your honor my client is not guilty by reason of insanity. I have sixty expert psychiatric witnesses this is clearly a delusion caused by multiple personality disorder which…
Fade to black.
When he came around from the deepest slumber he could ever remember, as the last wisps of the weird dream he'd been having faded away, Roget de Montford, Lord of Luglow Castle and Master of the Welsh Marches, Marquess of Aldernay & Albany, shook his head to clear it of dreamy cobwebs. Dreams questioning the nature of existence and reality he usually left to his wizard, Merlin the Mage of Mortimer Forest. However, Merlin was away on wizardry business, attending the annual trade show at Earls Court, The Merry Magic Convention, with its attached and slightly lesser organization, Dragoncon, so Roget just forgot about the meaning of the dream.That was only his first mistake…
The second was going into the Welsh marshes without his wellies. The marshes were a quagmire with cattails, reeds and mud. His wellies were actually too good for the marshes because they Henri de Ridgemonts (£499 at finer shoppes of distinction).
However, the marshes were also prone to thick mists and fog, and Roget's Henri de Ridgemonts (£499 at finer shoppes of distinction) with their eye-watering pop-art uppers rendered him visible in all directions, and so as he plodded along, he was sure not to be run down by a Haywain, or a rampant Constable for that matter. Every morning in September, the local weather report said there would be Meester Mirk, clearly an egregious baddie from one of the Honourable Bond, James Bond moving picture entertainments he'd seen at the Clifton Kinema during the Mystery Play Festival. It was only when someone pronounced the words correctly, Roget understood they were Mist and Murk—as Lord of Luglow Castle and Master of the Welsh Marches, Marquess of Aldernay & Albany, he wasn't the brightest spark in the kindle.He'd always had the same problem wit the dark-skinned foreign person who sold magazines on the High Street, until the same kindly person put him right, that the man wasn't selling a "Bigger Shoe" but the homeless peoples' periodical Big Issue. Poor Roget.
A Really Big Shoe Tonighthttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnNM-...
"There's a really big shoe tonight" said Ed Sullivan. Direct from that place overseas we have The Beatles. [Girls Scream] Off stage Ringo says, "Oh no, not one of those dark-skinned foreign persons who sold magazines selling a 'Bigger Shoe'. Oh crap I hate that."
"There's a really big shoe tonight" said Ed Sullivan. Tonight we have Totie Fields, Topo Gigio, Victor Borge, the famous Royal Lippizaner Stallions, and Sammy Davis, Jr.
[applause]
"There's a really big shoe tonight" said Ed Sullivan. Tonight we have… a whole bunch of people."
But as every Big Issue seller knows, you can have bunches of grapes, bunches of dates and even a peck of pepper, but you can't have a bunch of people because a bunch has to be picked off of something like a vine or a tree.But…
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread;
And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
She was also hauled in by the social services bunch of people who had her charged with unreasonable cruelty toward young persons, so she exchanged her big shoes house for the big jug.
So the kids grew up in foster homes with funny uncles and ended up street corners shouting, "Really Big Shoe" for having no home that's all they could do.
But at least they had led colorful lives, as can be seen above, all the colors of the bright, jolly, gay rainbow. Some scampered off, others scarpered (if they had been naughty), but all went with bright, jolly, gay laughter, innocents cast abroad without a bigger shoe between them.
Life is a lovely palette and our lives get painted into pictures. Picture this: two of the children got adopted and though there were not blood relatives they became stepbrothers. They grew and grew together those two. Soon they were saying I love you. And so now grown they go out on they own and buy a really big shoe to live in for there lovely lovers happily ever after. They knew from the start how it would be for them as they found the painting of the their happy life in the Museum of Love Everlasting.
"Ah, the Museum of Love Everlasting, I know it well," mused Little Squirrel Nutkin, as he thought back on the caring, sharing home of the Bigger Shoe. The famous museum, which was designed by Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris, A Swiss architect with a sense of humor (not often credited to the dour, hard-working Swiss), includes a Karma Sutra hall with interesting sculptures by the likes of David Smith, Alexander Calder, Fred Remington (inventor of the rifle), and Jackson Bollocks whose splatter-fests resemble the aftermath of a Technicolor™ chromogasm. This is contrasts nicely with the quietude of the HEA rooms, where art-lovers sit on comfy benches, hankies pressed to tear-laden eyes, smiling through tears of happiness at ripped but drippy boys, and the hip buoyancy of the M/M Romance Chamber, featuring some astounding Big Misundestandings by superb artists like Kaje Me If You Can.Little Squirrel Nutkin sighed with happiness at the thought of all that Lover Everlasting before he hopped off into the sunset.
"Ahem! Er… it… well, it gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce tonight's guest speaker…"There was much shuffling in uncomfortable seats as the audience waited expectantly for the night's guest speaker, but it seemed that no one was available. People began looking at each other, and the chairman of the group standing up on the stage began to flush a dark red in his cheeks. After an embarrassed silence, he stepped back to the microphone, tapped it experimentally, as he always did, cleared his throat again, and said, "Well, this is a good start to a new story. It seems out notable guest speaker is indisposed. So, well… Oh I know. I'll tell a joke instead."
Loud groans rose up from the packed auditorium. The chairman fancied himself as a stand-up comedian, but sadly, humor was not his forte. "Here we go, one for the lads… What's a 72…?"
Long silence…
"A 69 with three people watching."
Total silence.
"Okay. A little boy and a little girl are in the bathtub together. The little girl looks down at the boy and asks, 'Can I touch it?' He answers, 'No way – you already broke yours off'!"
More silence. At that moment a commotion from the wings announced the delayed guest speaker, to everyone's huge relief and a loud round of applause. The chairman waved his hands excitedly at the newcomer. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the microphone, the Regis Albright Exhibitor of Muppetry, Professor Kermit!"
I know, I know you were expecting a muppet named kermit the frog but I am obviously not him. I am just a little kid. I once made a sock puppet and my crafts teacher at elementary school, Albright Elementary School, gave me a gold star for my dumb sock. Let me tell you they are not all bright at Albright and that includes students, teachers and staff.Why do I think they are stupid? Consider some things they told us in school.
1. The life expectancy back in the middle ages was very low.
It is true that average life expectancy in the Middle Ages and earlier was low; however, one should not infer that people usually died around the age of 30. The low life expectancies were very strongly influenced by high infant mortality. A 21-year-old man in medieval England, for example, could by one estimate expect to live to the age of 64.
2. The Earth is round.
While the Earth appears to be round when viewed from the vantage point of space, it is actually closer to an ellipsoid.
3. When Christopher Columbus (who died at age 54) his quest for ships so could he find an eastern route to the Indies he was hampered by the belief the earth was flat.
Medieval Europeans did not believe Earth was flat; in fact, from the time of the ancient Greek philosophers Plato and Aristotle on, belief in a spherical Earth remained almost universal among European intellectuals. As a result, Christopher Columbus's efforts to obtain support for his voyages were hampered not by belief in a flat Earth but by correct worries that the East Indies were farther than he realized. If the continent of North America had not existed, he would surely have run out of supplies before reaching Asia.
4. Columbus discovered America.
He didn't but he did give people in the United States a holiday every October 12th. Columbus never reached any land that now forms part of the mainland United States of America; most of the landings Columbus made on his four voyages, including the initial October 12, 1492 landing (the anniversary of which forms the basis of Columbus Day holiday), were on Caribbean islands which today are independent countries.
5. Lief Ericson discovered America
Ericson discovered the island now known as Newfoundland, part of modern Canada, though he never made it to mainland Canada.
6. Somebody discovered America.
North America was populated with people commonly called indians (because of the erroneous belief by Columbus that he reached the Indies.) So these people were existing here with their own cultures and history and did not need discovery.
7. Native Americans discovered America.
Well if by Native Americans our dumb teachers meant the in tribes in the Unites States which have remnants on and off reservations then it is not so. Genetic testing has shown that these people were originally native to Asia.
In fact Africans discovered America, and Australia, and New Zealand. It grew very hot and dusty in Central Africa and the inhabitants were also short of food, since they'd exterminated most of the dinosaurs (their cousins in China liked to grid up dinosaur bones for medicine), so they started out for the north because those who went south fell off the edge of the world at Cape Town. Some of those who went north also met the edge of the world, but the one who veered to the east to avoid Cairo found a way around the edge of the world and after that the route came to a vast junction. East, west, north… off they all went to populate exciting places like Rome, Tibilsi, Azerbaijan, Mohenjo-daro, Rawul Pindee, and Beijing.One of them, even, was an ancestor of Cristoforo Colombo, the nice gent who gave latter-day Americans a public holiday for stumbling across a tiny island in the Caribbean. Fortunately for history, he was not the first man of his crew to touch dry land. That poor sailor didn't understand the "Indian" chief he confronted who told him "Land mine!"
"No, no, old chap. Land was yours, now it is ours."
"No, land mine," the chief repeated as the sailor stepped forward and instantly disintegrated from the explosion of a landmine.
Another of these amazing African migrants was the ancestor of Amerigo Vespucci, who because he found South America, gave his name to the entire continent, which is why everyone who lives there is now an Amerigan.
Thank good they're not called Vespuccians. We suffer enough under the oppression of the Amerigan Colonialists. They control our governments by putting in puppet leaders but we know their banks and Wall Street control everything that happens to the colon. First they said there is no reason ever to use a semicolon next thing you know writers are avoiding colons all together. You can't even get a decent high colonic anymore because they replaced ours with their brand which doesn't have anchovy paste.
Even better… had Chris actually staggered on a few nautical miles more and hit South Carolina, you'd all be called Columbians, and just think how much of a drug cartel that would have made Charlestown. There would have been that fabulous film about the "Old South," Gone With The Weed featuring the spoilt antics of Scarlett O'Reefer and Ashley Laid-Back Wilkes, Beau Spliff and the Shiny Nose Gang.On the other hand, it would have kept the Mafia away…
Please do not blaspheme the mob. Don't you know they are all young, handsome ones are gay and are the marrying kind? Some of them even marry cops. They throw fabulous weddings with caterers serving wine and love. Also ino one should be mean to the mob because they are only doing their job which has been changed to legitimate work. And don't you know when you make fun of a mafiosi she may be be someones poor old demented grandmother who wants nothing more than to have all the mafia children and their kids go gay for you. It must be true I read it in several books.
My grandmother taught me that you should never believe everything you read in books, especially if they are books containing fiction, for after all, fiction is fictitious, it's not really true because it's all made up. Like the old woman who lived in a shoe, that wasn't true. No one really lives in a shoe… but we won't go there again.Q: Who was the first shape-shifter?
A: Doctor Jekyll, who turned into the horrible Mr. Hyde.
Of course, there were were-people from the time before Victorian-Gothick, but in those olden days they were real creatures, nothing to do with fiction, and that's because the days were a lot shorter then. This guy would ride up to an inn nestling in a tiny upland village that looked like it'd been there since the formation of Switzerland and when he consulted his fob watch it was 10 in the nice fresh morning. He'd go into the inn and everyone would fall silent and stare at the newcomer. They'd all gasp when he asked the landlord the best way to reach the castle, and on receiving the instructions, off he'd go to mount his horse, and the sun would be setting.
Such very short days in those days. And the minute the dark fell, out would come all the shape-shifting creatures, hungry, red eyes gleaming, ready for dinner…
"Chow time!" called mom and they all lined up. One by one she inspected their hands, paws or claws as might be the case to make sure they had washed up for dinner.Each of the shifters sat a the long wooden table carved out of an old Pashtoon tree and licked their chops. Because that's what they had for dinner every night, tender chops from local free range lambs. It was the only thing the could eat because none of them were lamb shifters and heaven forbid, in fact heaven actually forbade eating one of their own.
After dinner they all went into their bedrooms and rutted with their one true predestined mate with which they had a life-long bond. Generally it was a Treasury Bond or a Savings Bond which when held to maturity would bring them fabulous riches to enable them to finally take their honeymoons which had been postponed until they had fabulous riches with which to enjoy exotic destinations: Albany, Schenectady, Troy and even Rensselaer in the urban sprawl of New York State's Capital District.
Mom kept on warning them never to ever venture into the canyons of the New York city, never to enter mysterious Manna-hata, where the ghostly zombies of Native Amarican Aborigines preyed on the tender flesh of lamb-fed shape-shifters. The zombies were always angry because the evil Dutch settlers massacred them to a man, woman, and child with gifts such as smallpox and influenza. And then came along more settlers from England, who called themselves Jacobins or Georgians, and their descendants built great towers of steel, stone, and glass on the graves of the Lenape tribe.The zombies had a singular problem. They were not allowed to devour the flesh of living humans… unless they were shape-shifters, in which case it was fine. Many of the zombies grew mint in the dark alleys of Manhattan because mint sauce went well with the lamb-flavored flesh of the shape-shifters. Zombies often hunted in pairs because there was nothing they enjoyed more than a tasty spit-roasted shape-shifter.
Mom was wise. She kept her brood well away from the city, even Rensselaer in the urban sprawl of New York State's Capital District.
The spit roasted lamb flavored shape shifter became a common sight in Manga-hattan, MANhatten and Madhattern and all the urban sprawl in between as far north as Rensselaer. It also became a common theme in gay pulp fiction including Mississippi Hustler where Jeff gets spit roasted with some frequency. This of course crossed over into M/M romances
How much hustle does it take to bustle? This question has vexed many a thinker, from spit roasted lamb flavored shape shifter to H.R.H. Stephen the King and Steven Spielberg (who never learned to spell his name properly). Even the twin brothers Alfred and Albert Eisenstein made a documentary film about the conundrum (Alfred thought the answer could be found within the strictures of film editing, by the juxtaposition of different images in varying orders, while Albert took to the trams of Bern city and discovered the extraordinary fact that the earth is a globe so that if you travel far enough and fast enough you will always come back to the place from where you left, only thousands of years older… or something). Stephen King, the pen name for MaryJane Robinson, noted Goodreads author(ess), contributed to the debate by declaring that bustling hustlers makes for a really good M/M Romance yarn. And who's to say she's wrong?
The two men could be heard arguing in bed by the downstairs neighbors."You are not even listening to me" the other man said. The older man said, "Yes I am." The smaller man said, "Then why did you say that the other man Einstein said the earth was a globe when I have already told you the earth is an ellipse?" "I forgot." said the nicer, smarter, bigger, more polite man.
The more forgetful man said, "You forgot what?"
The other man said, "Wait. Am I the other man or are you the other man?"
The other other man said, "I don't know there is too much head hopping."
The other other man was quite tall,while his other half was small.The small man said, "What are you hoping for with your head?"
The tall man shook his head and said, "To see what drops out, whether it's a meme or a trope. What do you think."
"I think you hope for a trope," the small other man said, "but I know you'll settle for a meme. Only watch out it doesn't become a cliché, because I can't stand those, and actions always speak louder than words, I say."
"That's because you're all talk and no action, but since all's fair in love and war, I'll go with a trope today."
"Hah!" crowed the small man who was the other man's smaller other half, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."
This gave the tall man pause for thought. "That doesn't sound very M/M Romance though. The unreliable narrator (a.k.a. liar) is a standard trope of the genre, whereas I want to write about a man who is as honest as the day is long."
The small man was lying down. All he said was "Zzzzzzzzzzz…"
"I'll call it At the Crack of Dawn," the tall man said.
Jeffrey looked at Dawn's crack and wasn't interested in the least in female anatomy. However he did want to take a crack at Gregory who was most handsome, ripped, and rich. Just as he was making progress with Gregory, Jeffrey thought he'd get hit with a trope. Somebody threw a gay4you at him. Luckily it missed him but it was very close.
He couldn't avoid the meme though. It struck him dead on. He was thrown into a situation of big top, small bottom main characters.
Jeffrey suddenly became a short, small, thin, pale, uncoordinated, nerd who was roommates in college with Gregory who of course was 6 foot 2 inches, captain of the football team, broad shouldered, irresistibly charming and a perfect specimen of the ideal man. Gregory was in danger of not being perfect in grade for his maths class on stochastic differential equations. Jeffrey was in Gregory's class and the professor assigned nerdy little Jeffrey to tutor hunky, gorgeous, tall, muscular Gregory.
Jeffrey tried very hard to shake off this standard plot because it was so commonplace and predictable. Finally he decided to approach the writer about getting him out of this overdone setup but soon after he spoke to the writer a standard plot device hit him in the gut. He was out into a medically induced coma to get him through the period until the doctors could work on his ear ache.
Gregory suddenly realized how his life would be empty without Jeffrey and that he loved the little nerdy guy. Gregory sat by the other man's side and never left it until Jeffrey came out of the coma 17 weeks later.
Somebody in a writers group had the bright idea of tossing a plot twist at the MCs. She tossed it so hard it nearly knocked Jeffrey into another book.
The line outside John James Richard's office ran to several characters, ranging from shabby and down at heel to a poor little poor boy. He was chatting in desultory fashion to this gorgeous, handsome, ripped, rich, 6 foot 2 inches, captain of the football team, broad shouldered, irresistibly charming and a perfect specimen of the ideal man called Gregory."Look Jeffrey, I know you're a weedy little nerd with a brain larger than Brains in Thunderbirds, and all, and a terrible complex about all the sex you haven't yet had, and you won't tell me about it because of the huge crush you have on me and you know, cos everyone says so, that I'll just kick sand in your eyes if you ever dared suggest I might actually go for nerdy little weeds like you, but…"
He held his mighty ,meaty paws out wide in a helpless gesture.
"It's just the way that bitch John James Richard writes me. Look at the guys behind us. All waiting to beg her to rewrite their characters. See—Merrick Meme there, and Terry Trope, behind him Kit Cliché, the one wearing the gay4u tee—"
"You said 'bitch' and 'she' back there?" Jeffrey asked, a puzzled expression on his pasty little face.
"Sure. I know she sounds like a guy with those names, all Christian names, you'll notice, but in fact Richard is actually a bona fide woman writer, and she's the one puts the boner in me all the while, when really I'd prefer to settle down on a rug in front of a log fire with my best friend and read each other Grimm's Fairy Tails. But nah… bitch has me horned up ready for the next chapter. That's the one where you come on to me in the showers because you just can't hold it back any longer."
"What can't I hold back?"
"Jeez, Jeffrey. Don't you never read the script?"
Well yes I do and that's why I'm having a hard time.You see Rod Bellamy wrote me as having a hard time all throughout the book even when I was with Mohammed who was my one true love it was hard.
Now I'm finding it hard to convince him to write a sequel with me in it only he hardly thinks that I'd be that star because the rules say in a sequel you pick another character and then tell his story which leaves me between a rock and a hard place as I'll only be tangental to this new kid who's the star.
And if that's not hard I don't know what is.
"Hey! I just heard that bitch John James Richard is starting a new gay pulp fiction novel thing and she's calling it Jeffrey's Great Trek, so there's a part for your character in it, if you're quick."Come in!" the imperious call from within smote Jeffrey's ears, and the weedy, nerdy little fellow brushed sand from his eyes and went in to see the great novelist. "Yes, ma'am?" he said.
"Sit! Now Jeffrey, have you ever been to Afghanistan?"
"No, ma'am, I haven't and I never want to go either."
"Well, that's where you're off to, to fight the Wily Pathan with your bare hands, almost die of frostbite in the Hindu Kush, and make passionate love to a handsome young Persian Boy."
"Really? Oh boy, that last bit sounds okay. When do I start?"
Jeffrey is a wonderful boy who loves his dad who is generous to a fault. I told him, Jeffrey's dad, I said, you are going to spoil that boy with extravagant clothes dug out of the Salvation Army bin. And food from the McDonald's trash bin when there's plenty folks here to mooch off of. But Jeffrey doesn't let it go to his head, he acts just like a common boy even though his dad is rich. Jeffrey is a whiz in school too. I know because I called his teacher and he said Jeffrey was outside taking a whizz. He can count to ten on his fingers and he knows his ABCs he just needs to work on the other 23 letters.
I never saw a boy who loved the Lord so. He goes to church every Sunday and he never swears he don't even touch himself if you know what I mean sorry to be so trashy with my words.
His daddy is gonna make his dreams come true. Jeffrey, he wants to be a airplane pilot. So as soon as the child is 18 his dad will take him to the Air Force recruiter and he can fly those missions in them wars they's always having on the other side of the world.
Yes sir, no one is more obedient than Jeffrey but no child get more loving or more love and parental care than he does.
Now if he would just stop buggering the little ones he'd be perfect.
One thing Jeffrey learned at high skool was that you can't make an Omega without breaking some Alphas, and that's what he did, until they were all begging for a buggering, but he always smiled thinly and said he preferred the younger ones. By the time he left he had beaten all the alpha males into the tarmac, which endeared him to his recruiting officer.This fine upstanding man was apologetic that there were currently no openings in the US Army Airforce at the moment, but he'd put in a good word with a friend of his in the Royal Airforce, where at least Jeffrey could get in some training on the latest Sopwith Camels with their rotary engines and twin synchronized machine guns.
After two years beating the tihs out of the Buns, Jeffrey returned to Merricy bemedaled and beribboned, something of a national hero, so American Airlines was happy to hire him on board and he got to do what he'd always wanted in the secret places of his heart—fly a big passenger jetliner.
And that's how he came to meet Captain Widebody.
Captain Widebody had grown old and gray. He sported a full beard and wore loud clothing usually dressed in almost all red. He has traded in his Maserati for something that ran on less horsepower in fact no horse power at all. It ran on deer power and Claus Widebody had indeed grown quite fat on candy canes and fruit cakes and other Christmas cookies left for him by the kids who hoped Santa Claus would bring them many presents. Sometimes he also left his phone number for the hot young boys who might sit in Santa's lap.
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Books mentioned in this topic
Lassie Come-Home (other topics)A Life Apart (other topics)
Wrath of Seth (other topics)
Wife to Mr. Milton (other topics)
The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Zack (other topics)Roger Kean (other topics)
Oliver Frey (other topics)
James George Frazer (other topics)
Italo Calvino (other topics)
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Caesar enjoyed this modernization and awarded her the title the Dame Julianna Duchess of Londinium.
It was so convenient to have have the matching washer dryer handy because he was always messing up the sheets but his pride and joy was the flush toilet which became his new throne.