Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Here's the first part of multi-part story. How many parts will it have? I don't know. It will have enough. Charles Dickens had no idea how long his stories would be when he started. In fact, many scholars would say he really had no idea what he was doing. He was trying to be a painter but only painted little lines that formed letters and words and sentences and stories. He was just trying to paint the pages. So, in summary, with this story I am pretty much like Charles Dickens.

“That ain’t on the menu,” she said. “That ain’t on the menu.”

“But I thought it was a standard order.”

“Must I repeat myself? That ain’t on the menu.”

Louise Loupise wasn’t having a good day at the job. She was a prostitute, and a good one at that. She had won all sorts of acclaim and awards. Rookie of the Year, Most Valuable Prostitute, and even the first Nobel Prize for prostitution. She was fed up with customers who weren’t familiar with the standard menu.

“Sir, allow me to list the specials for you. Today I am offering three fantabulous offers: A Sack Tappler, a Goose Gobbler, and a Crystal Cobbler.”

“Well what do you recommend?” Louise’s client was very nervous. He had never done anything like this before.

“What do I recommend? Well I ain’t never done them on myself!”

“Should I get the Goose…”

“The Goose Gobbler?”

“The what?”

“The Goose Gobbler. It’s patented. Don’t be stealin’ my Goose Gobbler.”

“Well, sure, but what is it exactly?”

“Well let’s think for a minute.” Louise’s attitude was beginning to show. “It involves two things: A goose and a gobbler. Put the clues together, mister. This ain’t no brain science surgery.”

Louise was getting antsy. She had things to do. Her enormous behind needed rest after eight hours on the clock. She had to file her long, prostitute fingernails. And she had to brush her tooth.

“Sir, let us please start the act. Would you like the Goose Gobbler? If so, I gots ta call my friend Pelegroso and have him import a goose real quick.”

“Well, if it’s going to be a hassle…”

“It ain’t gon’ be no hassle! I been doin’ this fo’ years. I can do a Goose Gobbler wif my eyes closed! I could get a Crystal Cobbler goin’ right now if you’ll let me preheat the oven.”

“I, um, I…” The client ran out of the room, through Louise’s enormous Prostitution Palace, and away into the streets, never to be seen in those parts again. He couldn’t handle the pressure. He hadn’t seen a menu as strange as that one since he went to a privately owned Captain D’s in New Mexico.

“Well good,” Louise said. “I didn’t want his money anyway. I gots all I need right here. I gots my best friend and fellow employee Rhonda and I gots my favorite Dragon Sword I ordered off the TV.”

Indeed, Louise lived a life of opulence in a mansion paid for with equal parts sin and smart investing through mutual funds. She lived with Rhonda Fonda, her best friend and fellow prostitute. And Louise had her Dragon Sword, a dagger with a ceramic dragon molded into the handle she had purchased off an infomercial. She loved that Dragon Sword and she wanted to hold it. To swing it. To jab a melon with it. She looked all over the house for it. Under the couch, in the computer, in the levitation chamber, and in the meat smokehouse where her sausages and pork bellies were hung. But the Dragon Sword was nowhere to be found.

“Hey Rhonda,” she said.

“Yeah, Louise? Make it quick, I’m workin’! Got a Knuckle Buckler goin’ on up here!”

“Where my Dragon Sword?”
“Oh, that thing? Somebody done stoled it today.”

“Stole it?” Louise didn’t know what to do. How could she live without her Dragon Sword? “Well then we gon’ have to go get it.”

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