Do not lambast the puns…
Scylla, please, please please don’t tell me that…
Ewe’ve lost that loving feeling,
whoa that loving feeling,
bring baaaack that loving feeling
Now it’s gone, gone, gone…
Somebody hook him back up to a milking machine…he obviously needs inspiration…
Hey Jester, I since the popcorn isn’t selling nearly so quickly, do you think ewe could provide Scylla with a milking machine?
I’m sure we’d all be willing to pitch in here, just so we don’t feel like we’re being fleeced. (And I’ll give you free tickets to the next Baaad Company concert. C’mon. Pleeeeze?!?)
-Stil
gawd, all these baaaaad puns and suspense… oh no, it’s getting to me too! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!
starts jumping up and down on movie seat, flinging popcorn frantically
[Whitney Houston]
“And Aaaaayyyyyeeeeyyyyyaaaayyyeeee will always love eeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooohhhhhhhaaaaaaaayyyyyeeeee urk”
Must have more…soft, fluffy…under my desk, stroking my ankles…bleating thier songs of spring…mmmmmmmmm
Scylla, pleeease…
You do have some intention of finishing this, don’t you?
I plan on finishing it, and I will. I just don’t feel creatively funny now. Sorry.
Usually, if past experience is an indicator, it will hit me at once, and I’ll write like a maniac until I’m done.
Well Scylla, I for one will be here when your ready.
In the mean time I think there’s a leg of mutton in the freezer I could defrost…
I was just over in The Pit, and it seems possible that the bears ate his sheep. So be patient, folks, the next reel will get here when it gets here.
Muuuuust haaaaaaave moooooooore stoooooory
may life get better for you soon scylla!
bump
midgets!! where are the midgets!!!
Y’know, I’m starting to wonder if you’re making this up.
“You’re dead. You’re all dead” - Frank Sinatra
“Long have you been favored in my eyes.”
“Owww. What happened”
“Shhh. Look at me.” The harsh voice repeated.
I looked up. A severe looking woman with grey hair, grey eyes and a war helmet stared at me while clutching a huge tome in her hands.
We were in a huge dusty room filled with huge shelves of books on sagging shelves and sturdy ladders to reach them.
“Ummm. May I help you” I asked?
“No. Faithful one. It is I who shall help you. Long have you been favored in my eyes.”
“That’s good. I guess. Where am I?”
“That’s a difficult question. I suggest you consult 911.” She said gesturing behind her.
“Considering the circumstances, I think that’s an excellent idea. May I use the phone?”
“Phone? There is no phone. Idiot mortal! It’s always the same! Offer them the wisdom of the Gods and they want to use the phone or worse yet, the bathroom. Fools. If times weren’t so tough for chaste avengers you wouldn’t be favored in my eyes, you know? So don’t push it!”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Why are you telling me to call 911 if there’s no phone?”
“And here I thought you had half a brain. Obviously I was wrong. Or maybe…” Here she looked at me tenderly for a moment. She put the book down and stroked my hair like I was a puppy. “Or maybe those slut ewes have gotten to worse than I thought. Yes. I think that’s it. It’s not your fault.”
“Ok.”
"It’s the sex! It makes you mortaals crazy. Time was chastity used to be worth something. Great thinkers! They weren’t out chasing loose women! Women used to place a value on the sanctity of their genitalia. Now it’s all thirteen year old painted sluts, and Cosmopolitan magazine!
Virgins! Where are they. Don’t they know it’s a scientific fact that virgins run faster, think quicker, are stronger, nd have lower blood pressure than whores? Nowadays though they don’t even care! Prepubescent teenagers are on a hormone induced rampage everywhere, upthrusting their immature genitalia at the first available phallus!"
Now she got low and bitter in her delivery, and a light flashed in her grey eyes.
“It’s a rotten and perverse society you live in, young man.” Now she was shaking her finger at me. I sat down and stared at this compelling women with rapt attention. "Still, it’s not their fault. Have you ever read Seventeen? By the way, that’s 705.372 in periodicals. Women these days are under immense peer pressure to have sex with dirty little boys almost from the get go.
It’s the curse of your corrupt and patriarchal society, that it steals the power of women by coercing them into giving away the very center of their superiority, their strength. They trade their chaste strength and power for the soft erotic persuasive roll, losing their rightful place at the forefront of events.
It’s a sorry chain of circumstance, and why I’m forced to moonlight here. Not much left in a world of whores and whoremonger for Pallas Athena these days. Look what I’m reduced to. A librarian.
Look at me! The noble God of Chaste Avengers, and I’m reduced to helping you, simply because your the only mature adult left to inept to find some nookie."
“Wait!” I cried. “There’s not just me. My fiancee…”
She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh no!”
“Shhh. It’s not yet too late. You may yet rescue her from the course of harlotry she is set upon. If… you get home in time.”
“Oh my God! Please. I have to stop her. Will she be raped? Please, let me use your phone!”
“There’s no phone. This is a library.”
Just then the phone rang. “Excuse me.”
A phone materialized on a small desk by Athena’s side.
“Olympus Public Library, may I help you.” She paused and listened for about thirty seconds. “Fine. Be that way!” Pause “Very well, but don’t think I’ll forget this, and another thing, you better have that National Geographic back here today. Those are for use in reference only and may not be taken off the premises. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with the Tahitian issue, because your fooling no one.”
She hung up and the phone disapeared.
“I thought you said there was no pho…”
“There isn’t.”
“Well then what was that.”
“It’s only where when somebody calls me or I need to make a call.”
“Then what was that about 911 earlier?”
“Geography, you dolt! You asked where you were. 911 is geography. Dewey decimal system. Idiots, your whole culture is idiots. 666 the number of the beast? Ha. Every fool knows it’s 591, but do they even bother to check? 666 is acutally ceramics and allied technology. Think of that the next time you read revelations! Puts a whole different spin on things, it does!”
She stopped suddenly.
“Ummmm…”
“We have to get you out of here. Technically it’s against the rules, bringing a mortal here, and that call was to warn me that Mars is on his way with his Secret Police, to castrate, disembowl and hang you for violating Olympus.”
“Yes, I think I’d like to leave now, please.”
“But, you and your fiancee are virgins, and I’ve brought you here to help you, as that makes you eligible.”
“But the ummm, castration… How’s that gonna help?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a eunuch, you know? It’s pretty good life. A lot of my good friends and some very nice people happen to be eunuchs, and you shouldn’t…”
“What about the bowel thing? And the hanging?”
“No. That’s not so good,” Athena conceded.
“So, can I go now?”
“First I have to help you.” There was a huge thunderous knocking at the door.
“Let us in Athena! We’ve come for the mortal’s balls!”
“I’ll give you the quick version. You have offended a God or Gods. Which I’m not at liberty to say. You and your fiancee have been placed under a Geas. Don’t look at me like that. “Geas.” It’s like a curse from the Gods. You can appease the God or God’s or I can help you defeat their machinations, recover your sanity, and return safely home before your wife gets diddled by Rafe.”
“Rafe!?! How do I appease the God or Gods if I don’t know who or why they’re angered.”
“That’s why a Geas sucks. The DDS may be help you. I’ll consult it. In the meantime you must fight! And, get home. Quick!”
“I brought back those periodicals Athena, you old neuter. Now let me in, or I knock down the door,” thundered a voice.
“Now go!” cried Athena.
“But how?”
“Here. Catch!” Athena through her tome at me, and it seemed to grow and darken as it’s pages fluttered like batwings till it filled up my whole field of vision. The last thing I saw was the number on the binder.
“636.6,” cried Athena, confirming the image on the binder. “Not the number of the Beast, but close enough,” she chuckled.
Then everything went black.
When I awoke I was back in the milkhouse. I looked up, only to stare into the barrel of a shotgun.
“You got a pretty mouth, boy,” I heard from the voice behind the gun. I gulped.
Woohoo an update! Is it just me,or was that confusing.
very nice scylla, but…
lay off the crack.
please?
Maybe it’s just that I’m up to about 40 hours without sleep or coffee…
Maybe it’s just the sort of things I like to read…
But I liked it. Didn’t see it coming, but I liked it
Thanks Scylla!
:settles in to wait patiently for next chapter:
Hey, Scylla! The next time you run into Athena, would ya do me a favor? She’s a great goddess and I’m terribly fond of her and all, but would you mind getting her to give you the names, numbers and addresses of all those sluts and whores she was going on about and passing them along to me? See, I’ve hit a bit of a dry spell here of late [sub](Dry spell? Who the hell am I trying to kid? The freakin’ Sahara Desert’s a rainforest compared to my sex life!)[/sub], and well, anyways, I could really use some help in this matter and it looks like it’ll take divine intervention to get things rolling. So if you could, I’d be forever in your debt. Thanks.
Silly Scylla, you could go home all along. All you have to do is click your ruby muckluks three times and say, "There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place . . . "
Well, it worked once before . . .
Wait ti’ll he gets to the part where the future wife and the daughter have switched rooms!!