The Pilgrim Mothers

In the Year 1660 something (or thereabouts) a group of brave women, both a bit older and a bit younger than each other, but all of them equal without any publicly known blemish or saggy part, and among whom words like 'pert' or 'taut' or 'saggy' were never used as adjectives, took ship from Plymoth Dock and sailed across the Atlantic toward the Americas in search of Religious Freedom. You see, they belived in the Elemental Mother who had given Birth to Existence, and they called her Gaia, after the Greek Mother of Everything.

These Women thought of Men as being useful for only one thing, but of this None of Them spoke, as it was something, if Men knew of it, would cause them to snicker like boys not adults, and adults in those days never snickered at all, at least not in public; what happened behind closed doors was the business of no one else except them who were partaking of it, and not anyone knew of any such partaking of it, at least not publicly.

The Catarina of the ship was a Woman of Goodly Proportions by name, Amarie Fischancheeps, who was a Libertarian --- sorry, a Librarian (it's said) and could verily read a Book (or two)(it's said). Catarina? you ask! You may not be familiar with the term? Well, while Catarina's had some resmblance to a Ship's Captain, they were never such a thing, for Catarina's were merely First Among Equals who told everyone Socially Parallell to them what to do.

The First Among Equals (FAE) was Julia Figginbottom. She was in a sense like a First Mate but FAE's were nothing like First Mates, though she performed the Duties that a First Mate would, having the same responsibilities and powers of Direction over her Social Parallels as would a First Mate, but the whole arrangement, while exactly conforming to a First Mate Managerial Arrangement, was absolutely different.

The Second among equals was Azriel Manchesterbeech (promounced 'Manchesterbitch'), and she looked after flogging any of her Social Parallells who subverted the ship rules, but never in a draconian Patriarchal Way, but in a Matriarchal Way: she was quite exquisite in her use of the cat of nine tails, but never maliciously or with (obvious) pleasure.

Among the crew were Kooky, Ally, Rigby (yep, three of them, possibly Sisters ) and Norc, Tin, as well as a hundred or so other women of Various Ages and Emotional Dispositions.

The only Male allowed on board was a foppish lad by name Orwell Jackaboots McOdo, the Cabins Boy. Yes, 'Cabins Boy', as there were several Cabins on board, and plenty of Women (both older and younger as fore stated) who had various needs and requirements, and the Cabins Boy (Orwell, that is) was quite happy to provide whatever service was required, him being Not Sexist or Chauvinistic in any Fashion, and while I am not at liberty to tell you what those services were, I can say they were various, multitudinous, and by turns complex in configuration, whether moist or otherwise, and some of them, frankly, quite kinky if not downright dangerous. His duties on board were by no means the subject of any kind of middle aged Male fantasy, I assure you, though you'll have to take my word for that.

Oh yes, by normal standards, Orwell the Cabins Boy was quite mature as Cabins Boys go, not that that should make any difference on an Equal Opportunity kind of vessel. And, oh yes, by 'vessel', I mean The Good Ship upon which they sailed. This ship being the Mayturnip, whose Sister Ship, the Mayflower, had sailed just last week.

"Hoist the mainsails," Catarina Amarie wailed. "Steady on the poops! All ahaft the gunwales! Align the spidgeons! Careful now... careful... watch out for that wee Buckiesteamer! Daft Scotsman.. get out the way!"

And before long the Mayturnip had cleared port and was far out on the cold and tumbly Atlantic Ocean, on it's Way to the New World and a New Liberated Life.

2


Now it is said that all Men are hypocrites and Women never so inclined (this fact attested by many advocates from Mary Wollstencroft to Germaine Greer), but one morning Orwell the Cabins Boy, while assisting the Catarina at her bathing (for the third time that morning), had cause to wonder if there may not yet be that exception that proves the rule.

"If you don't mind, Orwell-lad, a bit firmer rubbing in this area would be appreciated if you don't mind."

"Yes, Catarina, poste hate."

"Ooh that's rather nice. I'm sure that'll remove the engrained grime..."

"How you got it there in the first place, I have no idea..."

"Never mind that.....Sigh!'

"Oh Catarina, why ever do you sigh just now?"

"For two reasons - keep rubbing! - but only one of which I will speak of. It's our FAE."

"Who?"

"The First Among Equals."

"Lady Julia, you mean?'

"'Lady' Julia? Where does that curious designation come from? We have no such designations on board this ship."

"This being an Equal Oppportunity Ship?"

"Aye... Mmm... I must say, in all confidence, and I certainly hope you won't gossip..."

"I am on a Ship full of Women, Catarina. Where would I go to gossip?" Orwell said, aghast at the suggestion, though paying close attention now.

"Well, today I was in the kitchen eating that lovely roast squab you cooked for my luncheon, and while you were out in the galley scrubbing pans, Julia came in and frowned at me."

"Frowned? At you? The 'Catarina'?"

"Yes, and she said, 'How is it that you eat squab while the rest of the crew must make do with oatmeal and fish heads?"

"Oh dear..."

"Not only that, she suggested I was puting myself Above all the crew in other ways too. For instance, keeping you as my personal attendant three times a week, while the other hundred women must share your services between them on the four other days."

"It is not anywhere near as much fun in fact as it sounds in theory, I give you the tip."

"Oh selfish self centred Cabins Boy! Shush you! And then there's the attention you give to the washing, ironing, repairing of my clothing, and the scrubbing of my cabin, and the making of my bed several times a day..."

"Don't I know it... Do I really have to make it after every time we...?"

"You know, your proneness to Improper Cabins Boy banter is not to be tolerated!"

"Yes, Catarina..."

"Anyway, I think Julia's questioning of our Communal and Equal Distribution of Your  Duties among the Crew is quite out of kilter with the Theories and Phililophies of Our New Women's Equal Society, don't you think?"

"What? Her wanting the whole crew to have an Equal Opportunity of Equally Opportuning me?"

"Exactly. Quite selfish of her and the rest, don't you think?"

"Yes... Catarina.. I guess..."

"Good Lad. Now, would you mind drying me off and oiling me."

"Yes, Cartarina," the Cabins Boy said somewhat reluctantly. "Umm.. Catarina.... don't you ever get tired of all my... err.. attentions?"

"No, no.. Not at all, dear boy. I hope you're not going to become lazy? Because you know what that means, don't you!"

Orwell knew exactly what she meant and he tried to look a bit more enthusiastic. Mind you, sometimes the thought of walking the plank didn't seem such a bad option.

"'Lazy!'" he thought, churlishly. "It's alright for the Catarina! Bathed and oiled and in all ways serviced four days a week, and forever making queerer and queerer demands to boot! I mean, it's not like she's the only Woman I have to service on this ship. And I bet she hasn't even seen the latest Duty Roster the Crew's drawn up for me! I'll have to manage up to seven at a time if I'm any hope of swabbing the bilges by Friday!"

At least Petty doesn't have to worry about Orwell wooing back Mrs Figg now.

{{{}}}

These people bear no relation to any persons, male, female or transgender, whether living or dead, Eldo - though it is, by Anon's own testimony in a private conference with me, an attempt to make a new American Myth --- a non-sexist myth, mind, as opposed to the one you've got now.  

I so love the way you wrangle words ! its a talent, & one that should leave you free to walk out of court innocent, leaving everyone else just slightly confused but highly entertained !   

Well, if Ol'Anon Author can get away with murder, while having a hearty laugh too, Azriel, then I think that that's something worthy of definitely thinking about, verily. I'll pass on your thoughtful considerations to Ol' Anon who is keen to think about the ins and outs of things, especially the getting out of them.

3

There are often awkward situations to confront when on a ship with a host of forward women of various ages Orwell had discovered; though luckilly, when attending in Norc's cabin for service, there was none of that awkwardness, his 'service' being his positive encouraging of her etching-doing.  

"What do you think of this f*7^5$3g etching, Orwell, you stupid old c*#t?"

"I think that's brillliant," answered Orwell. Norc's swearing did not bother him, and frankly he was happy to not to have to please the young woman in the way he had to please most of the other women on board. "You capture Julia Figginbottom beautifully. You'd never know from your latest etching how old she is, not that I'm suggesting Ageism has any proper part to play in conversations on this unprejudiced ship."

"I don't care about age," Norc stated abruptly. "If you're old, well bad luck. Look at you - you've got hair sprouting from your nostrils and out your ears like dandruffed carrot tops, but it's your own fault because you let yourself go and got what you deserved."

"I didn't actually get old on purpose..."

"Well, I don't plan to make the same mistake. And even if I did, I certainly won't allow myself to become wrinkly ugly with puffy jowls."

"I actually prefer it when we discuss Julia Higginbottom. I don't see why we got talking about me."

"Well you made some mention about Age and I immediately thought of you; you being so old and all, and three times more revolting than she is. In fact, she's not revolting at all. She's gorgeous. You know, the reason I don't do pictures of you is because I don't draw gargoyles. Julia actually told me you're twice her age."

"No I'm not!"

"Well, you look it."

"You f*&^%$g little b$%$ch!"

"Oh are you starting a swearing contest?"

"Let's move on. What do you think of dear old Azriel? She's pretty old. I can only guess where she'd been growing unusual hair."

"Why are you talking about Azriel now? Are you trying to divert attention away from you? Anyway, aren't you older than her? You're about sixty, aren't you?"

"No I'm not, I'm just a mite older than Azriel."

"Well, you look much older. Look at your greying hair. Look at your big tummy groaning under you shirt. Your tummy has to be repulsively fat and flabby, all globby under the skin."

"Well, unlike most of the Crew, you'll never see me take my gear off!"

"You'll do what you're f*&^%#g told, Cabins Boy," Norc said severely. "Nonetheless, you're right. The mere thought of seeing your ugly fat flabby belly makes me want to puke, you decrepid old poof. I shudder at the mere thought of seeing how wrinkly your penis must be. And floppy. No offence intended."

"No offence taken," Orwell said, managing a brave smile, and wondering just now whether time spent with Norc was not just that little bit awkward after all.

love it love it love it ! Its fun to take the pee outa yourself, in a comedic way ! Tho there might be an element of truth on your side ?? Who knows ? Has Norc been peeking ? theres only so many places you can hid aboard ship ? And as for "unusual hairs" ? ( how right you are!)
Bits that flap like a flag in full wind ? (right again!) Let me tell you, that aint socks rolled round the old ankles !.................(I THINK I can pull them up !?)............NO ! Id better sleep upside down !

I have a premonition, Azriel... Let's wait and see...  

Orwell wrote:Well, if Ol'Anon Author can get away with murder, while having a hearty laugh too, Azriel, then I think that that's something worthy of definitely thinking about, verily. I'll pass on your thoughtful considerations to Ol' Anon who is keen to think about the ins and outs of things, especially the getting out of them.

((( )))

I have to say I love your sense of humour, so, Bring it on !

4

Orwell was deep in thought after leaving Norc's cabin, though, being Orwell, it was only superficially deep thought, and as he made his way through the ship he quickly checked his Crew Roster.

"Cabin 69.... here we are.. Oh gawd!"

He had just come to a certain door. He gulped and knocked.

"Come in, honey," drawled a sumptuous voice. Yes, sumptuous. The kind of voice that makes you think of sausages in jelly sauce!

"Um... it's Orwell..."

"I know..." the voice sumptuoused again.

Orwell took a deep breath and entered the cabin. Azriel was waiting for him. Azriel was a well travelled woman. There was not much she didn't know. She was always keen for novelty. Orwell was feeling very tired.

"Sit down in this tub," Azriel instructed him as she reclined in a deep wash of lemon jelly.

"Perhaps today we could just talk...."

Azriel laughed gaily and said, quite firmly, "Just get in the tub!"

Now, I could tell you what happened after that, but I'm afraid not even I would get away with it, not even in Forumshire. Orwell was black and blue and chafed by the time he left Azriel's cabin, that's all I'm prepared to say.

"Oh well, at least I'm still alive," Orwell told himself as he left Azriel's cabin almost five minutes later, unwrapping the plastic bag from his head and breathing again. His face slowly turned pink again fom the ghastly blue that had pleased Azriel so much, but let's not talk about that...

"Orwie!" a sweet trill caught his ear.

Orwell looked back to a door he had just passed.

"It's me," Julia Figginbottom trilled demurely as she stood sumptously naked in an open doorway, whip in hand. She smiled.

See! Azriel! I knew it!

ALMOST 5 minutes later ? You sure ONE of us had fun ?  

 

azriel wrote:Has Norc been peeking ? 

what? what about me?




maybe i should read this.... *makes a cup of tea, sits down and reads*

You probably shouldn't, Norc.

.... why?

It might be too much for your sensitive eyes.

 "Well, unlike most of the Crew, you'll never see me take my gear off!"

"You'll do what you're f*&^%#g told, Cabins Boy," Norc said severely. "Nonetheless, you're right. The mere thought of seeing your ugly fat flabby belly makes me want to puke, you decrepid old poof. I shudder at the mere thought of seeing how wrinkly your penis must be. And floppy. No offence intended."

ok... i think i can let this pass with no hissyfit... looks like Norc is out of the danger of being sexually molested by an ogre.

I think its always handy to know what your up against ? fore warned is fore armed ?   Then you can make plans..........serious plans  

Norc wrote:ok... i think i can let this pass with no hissyfit... looks like Norc is out of the danger of being sexually molested by an ogre.

I suspect Anon Author was more concerned with staying out of danger of being beat up by an angry Fjordian female.

5


Orwell was in his hammock in the bilges, recuperating. While doing so, he fell into contemplation on the sexual complexities of certain women, which is surprising, I know, as he rarely thought about sexual matters. Now Norc was easy enough to decode, of course, being in no way complex. But Catarina Amarie, and First among Equals, Julia, and Second among Equals, Azriel, were far more interesting sexual cases. A series of questions flickered through the Cabins Boy's febrile mind.

Why did the Catarina insist on so many oilings a day? Was she really that addicted to herring exudations?

What was it with Azriel and her hunger for culinary delights mixed with extreme physical danger?

And Julia! While, of course her penchant for thumb screws, water torture and nipple pincers was plain Tory middle-of-the-road - old hat in fact - why on earth did she insist Orwell continually beg for mercy in a Hebridean accent?

Coincidentally, just as he mused on the last question, a wee voice moaned, "Ock willy the sadness, oo noo, poar me."

Orwell's peepers shot open like a shot. He sat up and swung his legs out over his hammock, hitting his head on a bilge pump in the process.

"Oww!"

"Ock!" came the answering utterance of woe.

"What the...? Who's there?"

Silence.

Orwell tried something. "Oww!"

"Ock!"

"Ha! Who's hiding behind the undergunwale pernambulotor then?"

"Tha wot?"

"That bit of bilge area architecture there... I don't know what it's nautical name is for God's sake. Anyway, come out."

A severe Scottish visage appeared above the bit of bilge area architecture.

"Are you a man?" Orwell asked in surprise.

"Aye," the Scottish person said, sounding slightly insulted, and he stood up. Quickly he added, "Und I ware a kilt, mun. It's nae a frock!"

"That's the worst Scottish accent I've ever heard," Orwell opined.

"Aye, I'm me Mudder's shame, I grant thee thot. Itz wies I've stowed away on this ship to the New Woorld! Pleze doen huv mee throwan oerthaboard!"

"No, I have another idea for you."

"I wil na sook your soosage!"

"No, no, you misunderstand, my good man. Now take off your kilt."

"Ock!"

"No, no, I say. I want you do a little job for me."

"Wot bee that partiklar joob, laddie?" the Scot asked suspiciously.

"Well, there are three young Welsh lasses who need to be attended to, by name Kooky, Ally and Rigby."

"Noo, I'm no derty old Mun, I'll have yi noo, no mutter wotz ben said against me repewtation. I'm a Proodestant nit a Mick! Ucsheely, I mite bee a Mick... tha Narrator canna remumbar joost noo. Anyhoo, I'm noot a derty old Mun neither way!"

"Look, you Scottish git, there will be no sex involved, perish the thought. No, you'll just have to put up with twelve minutes of inane banter and at the tolling of the twelve all you have to say is: 'Oh banana banana-na, I am not a Winter vegetable. Oh my head, my hand, my belly full of Creme de Menthe, I'm off to climb a moonbeam"'  Then out the door you must speed... or else."

"Or else wot?" the Scot asked in a trembly voice.

"Or else you must stay for another twelve minutes."

"But why the henny?"

"I don't fuckin' know - they're Welsh for God's sake!"

Eldorion wrote:

Norc wrote:ok... i think i can let this pass with no hissyfit... looks like Norc is out of the danger of being sexually molested by an ogre.

I suspect Anon Author was more concerned with staying out of danger of being beat up by an angry Fjordian female.

 that too of course.