A competitive Skunville Marathon Reader relaxes with a more manageable version of the world's longest story -- but the print in it is so tiny: 'How can I make it without going blind?' he cries.
My besty was crushed by this ginormous book, so the bxstard's last wish is that I achieve this goal in his place...I better line up someone to be my successor as well, I guess!'
'Yes. well let's forget about Walt until the old bugger resurfaces...Now where were we darlingk?'
Me: 'I'm not going to let go of you with these arms... until the end of time... But, as your husband, if Walt wants to hold you at the same time as me, it's okay...I mean, how can I really complain?'... Besides, he sleeps an awful lot, so....'
Our last episode ended as the Narrator, i.e., me, the person currently holding the hot-potato job of recording with honest precision my experiences with the motley long-term crew of characters of this blockbuster litterally endless trashcan stuffer A Tale of One Quickly/Sloppily Imaginfairy Sitty.... Well, frankly, even though my name is Fred, the last episode faded to black as I, who also have to take notes for my narrating job no matter whatever elser or ulcer is going on, was beginning to engage in some hanky panky with one of the two superstars of this hit blog meganovel, THE LONGUEST TAIL EVER STEPPED ON, Suposoddly about to becum a high-budget, Lavish MacTavish directed miniseries on TV, planned to provide a hyper-demanding apeshxt consumber cucumber squirting Skunkwith for Skunkvillions market a series of movies ten times more extensive than Spiderman and the Bowery Boys combined.....Or as some have said, truly a ground-breaking miseryseries....excellent in weaning TV addicts cumpletely off TV!
Yes, I am swapping spit and ecstatically caressing none other than the lovely if ancient (girls, what IS her secret??) Edna Brown... More on her secret later, in the new advertising section of our novel!
Isn't that exciting -- Edna showing exactly what her beauty secrets are so YOU can be as pretty as she is at her four-figure age....But wait: Don't go fast-forwarding ahead now, or the monitor that is watching you read this ... on his multi-way PC.... will have to record your name and Social Security #, and print it in our next episode... On our Reckless Readers List...This not being the kind of place anyone wants their name and Social Security #, as well as exact age, height, weight, and measurements to appear, along with a glossy-style picture of your perhaps beedy eyes excitedly peering into you PC screen, whatever its make or model, as the cyborg machine peers back at you... Yes, 1984 has come and gone a long time ago...But its heritage carries on, growing like topsy!!
Look, really, I'm not trying to create a sense of paranoia among our loyal readers, and I guarantee of course every word in this story is completely fictional, even the prior phrase.... although I believe a Logic Teacher would say that there are numerous contradictions and impossibilities just in what I've written so far... So it is impossible to actually ferret out any real truth from any of it....
But to remind the handful of you who are left (the last time we used this kind of gag we lost 73% of our readers, and it took them years to come back, if at all...), I have cut and paste the last few sentences from last night's story just to remind everyone exactly where we are... Incidentally the text is talking about a handsome young man, who also is the narrator of this narrative, as well as a ravisinghly lovely older woman, Edna Brown, whose husband isn't around right now... Of course, he may pop in the door at any time, and shatter our shy spell of intense attraction with each other.
Then we stop talking, as Edna comes over and gently cuddles together with me in my chair, softly rubbing and touching each other.....It was the most perfect bliss I have ever experienced.... But not quite. I was too worried about Walt coming home abruptly and what I would do with my feelings if I fell in love with Edna...Which I probably have already done.. she married an immense number of years to Skunkville's finest all-around man.
Now, though, I am wondering about why I wrote that prefacelike stuff, since I am the writer of this whole thing.... Unless I have somehow split into two people, one now writing what his other identical self is doing... On second thought -- I think that's it! For instance, when Ernest Hemingway wrote, in 'A Farewell to Arms', a book about a war-weakened soldier who fell asleep next to a railroad track, I think, and unfortunately, he was stretching upon awakening, forgeting where he was and -- well, you know the rest: 'There was an inn in the trees at the Bains d'Alliaz where the woodcutters stopped to drink, and we sat inside warmed by the stove and drank red wine with spices and lemon in it...' But when Ernie wrote this, he was probably completely there in spirit, yet his true corporal self -- or maybe he was just a private -- was probably back in the bar, already reading what he had written to the woodcutters, none of whom knew a lick of English....
Incidentally -- I am now asking an aroromantic question to Edna as I look down into her sky blue eyes just inches below mine.... Thinking, I sure hope I brushed my teeth before I came onto the couch...Edna now shaking her head, but still with a lazy smile: 'I can smell you -- you didn't!!'
I wonder if she meant to say, 'I can tell you...' or whether....
Despite her prior comment, again she pulls me toward her ravenously, into a high pressure liplock..... Mmmmmmmm....mmmmmmmm!!!....mmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then Walt abruptly pops his head into where our noggins are liplocked....'Hey Kids -- having one of those old style pro wrestling style matches?? Edna and I still enjoy doing that with each other... Even ripping the other person's 'trunks' off now and then to ecstacy of the audience... At least regarding the exposure of Edna.... But for historical buffs, those folks get to see that my left nipple -- Thank goodness, not Edna's!! -- truly was shot off in the Crimean War by a Russian sharpshooter.... while we were charging their position in a thick treestand!!'
Pulling myself away from Edna and kind of moving her gently so she is half way between us, rather than all over me and not even touching Walt, I reply gently, trying not to sound like a witch-hunt member: 'I see you have no left nipple, but logically, couldn't that just as easily been a birth defect, or a local boy scout (certainly NOT the BSOA) rite of passage, or maybe even, with your kind of flabby breasts for a man, say an accidental closing of a heavy window or car door on it???'
Walt sits back as he listens, his head cocked back as well, slowly rubbing his chin while looking somewhat upward, toward the rather ill-lit hallway where Uncle Leonard has been hiding out since 1923, apparently with the Browns never realizing he was there until a few weeks ago -- and I can almost buy into that now....these people are so in another world of their own
Walt leans towards me, his just-consumed CrxpMxrt Springonionweeniebar sandwich malodor flooding my facial area, since he is a little out of breath from all the surprise and excitement, as well as deep in thought... Or maybe not, as his head nods downward and he begins to snore....
Edna softly grabs my head and turns it back towards her...'He'll be out for a couple of hours from that snore... I KNOW.... Should we quietly retire to my B-room and lock the D after we're in?'
I sweep the lovely mature woman into my arms, nodding like one of the carnival dolls that doesn't know how to stop....
'By all means...!!'
'Hey....have... a good....one....' Walt snores/mumbles pleasantly enough!