The Firefox

1

Metallic dust had formed into red shimmering clouds like slow motion spears in the western skies. In her sleek black eye-mask, and with her flaming red hair thrusting out all over the place like her noble head was a gorgeous pincushion, the Firefox crouched on the topmost chimney of the Needlehole Cheese and Butter Factory. She was clad in a sleek black leather body suit and had a shiny utility belt with a buckle shaped like a fox head. Her breasts were a lovely shape as they pressed against her body-clinging superhero suit, but in that future age no one worried about things like that, because people were cloned, and no one had sex anymore, nor sexual desire; except for the Mutants. The year was 3,082 of the Shire Reckoning.

"Forsooth!" drawled the Firefox in a sumptuous sexy voice. "Out there Mutants even now will be thinking tacky thoughts that were banned back in 3,220 by the Shire Reckoning. I've locked up so many of those creepy folk who still see women as sexual objects and not as intelligent women who can hold a proper conversation in intelligent company, and I will never rest until I've locked them up in the Lockholes, epecially their Evil Leader, the Master Baiter - for while he still prances about in the shadows, so will much naughty thinking of the worst kind; not that naughty thinking actually prances --- it creeps!"

"Ock tha noo, Missy," said her trusty side-kick, the Deadly Haggis, as he crouched on the roof beside her in his crash helmet - visor down - and his svelte mini-kilt clasped tightly by a utility belt with the head of the extinct haggis for a buckle. "Eye ween we goo hoom und coom oot agin toomoorow nit und hoont agin, Missy!"

"I guess you're right, Deadly Haggis," the Firefox said, nodding her noble spikes nobly, her breasts bouncing slightly as they pressed against her suit, and the Deadly Haggis nodded slowly too.

"You're not looking at my breasts are you?

"Noo... noo... noot at all, Missy."

Then the Firefox, with a sensual flashing of her bat-like cape, was gone.

The Deadly Haggis sat a moment more on the roof alone. "She bee a fine lassie, that lassie, but by noo means a temptress.... noo way... ock!"


to be continued...

Deadly Haggis the noo!  

2

Julia Figg was a maiden (apparently), but nearly all women were maidens in that far off future time, except for the ones who weren't anymore because of rogues and perverts like the Master Baiter.

[Yes, generally, it was a Wonderful Age for Women and Men because no one had to get wet and messy with each other, except the Mutants, or needed to waste valuable time chatting each other up, except for the Mutants, and no one got sexually transmitted dieseases anymore, except the Mutants, and no one had to worry about being oggled, though the Mutants actually liked oggling, the disgusting creatures!]

Julia worked as a Classical Art Restorer at the Needlehole Museum of Classical Art. She even got to wear a smock. She was currently working on the Mona Lisa, carefully restoring it in the Museum Restorer Studio.

"Your smile," she was saying to the painting. "It's so enigmatic."

"Ock the noo," said the janitor, Petty McPoodle, as he swept the floor around her. "It bee uh smile au too bring un chasst smile too the face of uny mun."

"And woman, I trust."

"Pardoon muh?"

"It would bring a chaste smile to any woman."

"Doo you meen uh lusbian...?"

"No, I don't, Petty McPoodle! Really, I don't know where your thoughts are sometimes. You know as well as I do that there is no such thing as a Lesbian anymore -- not since the purges of 3342 of the Shire Reckoning. Thank Eru."

"Aye! Thunk Eroo," Petty McPoodle said quickly. "I doen efen lik Lusbians, Missy."

""Lick?'"

"Ock tha noo... noot ut orl! Noot in mee weirdust drems, Missy!"

"Lesbians?" a strikingly handsome voice intoned from the doorway of the studio.

Julia and Petty turned to see the tall, handsome creature who was standing with the door frame around him making him look like a painting of a very handsome man of indeterminate age.

"Oh Orwell McOdo the Fifty Seventh," Julia said, blushing slightly to see him. "You quite startled us."

"Aye!" Petty added, blushing too.

Orwell now sauntered into the room. "I've closed the Museum for lunch," he said in a way that might have seemed to the casual reader to be pompous, but wouldn't have sounded the least bit pompous to anyone who had half a brain. "You know, three people had the wrong tickets. I had to ask them to leave immediately."

"Oh it must be so exciting to be employed as an Admissions Security Official," Julia sighed.

"Aye!"

"You make too much of it, you two," Orwell laughed gaily - in the old fashioned sense - "I just do my job." And he brushed away a strand of errant hair from his forehead in a way that would have seemed narcissistic to the casual eye of the aforementioned half brained kind of person.

"I find you so attractive,' Julia said. "In a non-sexual way, of course."

"Aye! Noon suxueel!"

"Of course," Orwell grinned handsomely. "We don't think of other people sexually, now do we, not in this modern age? It's illegal."

Julia and Petty blushed again and there was a twinkle in Orwell's eye.

"Tell me, have you heard the news from over night?" Orwell went on. "The Master Baiter has struck again, apparently. A young woman has gone to the police and reported that a dashingly handsome middleaged man invited her to the rear of the Duck and Muck on the pretext of discussing saint Augustine's Works - and the next thing she knew he was committing a felonious act on her sweet pulsating body causing her an inexorable orgasm. The authorities have been foiled again. I fear they'll never catch him, you know."

"One day the Firefox and her loyal Scostshobbit side-kick, the Deadly Haggis,  will catch him,"  Julia replied quick smart, her beautiful eyes taking on a steely determined glint.

"The Firefox!" Orwell guffawed.

"The Deadly Haggis!" Orwell guffawed again.

"While they're out in their tight fitting outfits catching petty perverts, the Master Baiter is deflowering gorgoeus clone girls all over town!"

"Tha find thart Mootunt! Heel bee cort wun dae. The Feerfoox iz uh coonin crimfeeter!"

"And her loyal sidekick is .. err.. very loyal!" Julia said. "I have full confidence in her abilitities to detect perverse Mutants and their perverse thoughts and activities!"

"Und eye haf fool troost in tha Deedlee Hoogis!" Petty said knowingly. Even as he did so, he cast Julia an enquiring glance. Could she be...? Noo. Noo. Noot pussooble.

Orwell laughed again. "I hope you're right. But the Master Baiter is a devilishly cunning chap."

"Hoo doo ya efen noo hees uh chup?" Petty glowered, not because he suspected Orwell might be the Master Baiter mind, but because he was annoyed just then by that cocky handsome  Admissions Security Official... that very handsome, Admissions Security Official... Petty blushed. "Hee mite bee a girlie!" he went on quickly. "Ooo cun rully knoo?"  

Orwell looked a bit taken aback. "Um.. err... I just presume so. I mean... if that young woman was sexually satisfied by the Master Baiter -- and if Lesbians no longer exist -- then he must be  a man."

"But what if the Master Baiter was a woman!" Julia piped up suddenly, looking suddenly very thoughtful. "We assume Lesbians don't exist any more --- but how can we really know? Mutants might not all be men. What if there are female Mutants? Female Lesbian Mutants!"

"Ock!" Petty said, his face going pale at the thought.

"No, I'm pretty sure the Master Baiter is a man."

"Petty's right, Orwell - how can we know?" Julia asked. "I have heard he wears perfume!"

"It's au de de cologne!" Orwell retorted angrily... adding quickly: "I've heard."

"Un he wares sooft ladies underware uccooding too tha poolice reportz!..."

"We live in a Unisex age, Petty McPoodle!"

"And according to those same police reports, he has all the silky tongue skills of Sappho," Julia put in. "He could in fact be a she... It's at least plausible!:"

"No it's not," Orwell burst out.

Julia and Petty looked at him in surprise.

"I mean... the Master Baiter seems the worst kind of male Mutant imaginable."

Julia looked at him now with what could only be described as suspicion. "Who is this handsome Admissions Security Official?" she thought. "Do I really know him?"

And Petty thought: "Ock tha noo. Hee bee a strungely hunsom un attracteev Udmissions Sucurity Oofucial und I bee vurry ufrade ov my thorts jus noo!"


to be continued....

Am I touched in the head, or has Norc already illustrated this story?

3

Meanwhile...

The Needlehole Library was busy that morning as usual, because the folk of that age needed to keep their mind's busy with things other than those things it was illegal to think about. Documentary books were most popular for the purpose - but ones with the immodest bits taken out - botany mostly, because fauna could be quite raunchy when seen through the eyes of inquisitive children or repressed adults.

In the Library of the Museum, Miss Amarie Cougarlicious - a rather proper and upright type of Fjordianlandian of indeterminate age - was reading the day's news on her propolopian device.

"Tut tut," she said as she read the screen. "That horrid Master Baiter has struck again!"

"Oh dear," said her Admin Assistant, Eldo Peevishboy.

"Will his depravity know no end! What's worse, he's clearly infecting his victims' with his own odious thoughts and desires. His latest victim's been sent mad. She's even now down at the Needlehole Infirmary crying out, 'I want more! I want more!' like a sexed up David Copperfield! How shocking!"

"I sometimes wonder if putting those sordid and salacious stories on the front page of our propolopian devices can really help the situation," Eldo said with a thoughtful frown.

Amarie looked over the top of her pink rimmmed glasses. "But how, young Master Peevishboy, can the Public possibly keep themselves safe if we aren't alerted to what's happening in the real world?"

"No doubt you're right, Miss Cougarlicious, but sometimes I worry that folk might actually... well... well, actually get stirred up by these stories."

And Eldo looked quickly away from Miss Cougalicious in her tight fitting slinky dress which she wore so innocently and which stirred up something unbidden in his trousers. Miss Cougalicious was an interesting woman, for she always said she wore slinky dresses as a visible manifestation of her rebuttmental attitude to all things sexual, a defiant gesture aimed at the very eye of depravity, but Eldo wondered if wearing a more demure and less revealing kit might work just as well in rebutting unrighteous thinking.  

"Tut tut, Master Peevishboy. You do trouble so much over trifling matters. You need to relax a little."  Miss Cougarlicious undid the top button of her embroidered blouse. "It's very hot in here, isn't it? ... Erm... Now where were we?' she added as she crossed her legs showing rather shapely legs up to the thighs. "All this sex reportage can only - surely! - let folk be forewarned! ... Master Peevishboy.... Master Peevishboy! ... Eldo! Are you listening?" "

Eldo lifted up his eyes from where they were staring and he blushed, saying quickly: "Yes Miss Cougarlicious. Of course! I mean.... I don't even like legs."  

"Don't you? Well, that's very good then. Very very good. And nor should you in this day and age. You are a good young man. A very very good young man. A very moral young man - with rather strong arms.... No - we shouldn't have you thinking ungentlemanly thoughts. Now should we?"

"No, Miss - never!" Eldo said, and he blushed again.

"I hope all this news talk isn't embarrasing you, Master Peevishboy --- or does it?" Miss Cougarlcious said as she re-crossed her legs. "Though I suppose, I really should be saying, I hope it is embarrassing you. Is it, Master Peevishboy? Is it, Eldo?"

"Yes, Miss Cougarlicious. I'm really embarrassed just now." And Eldo squirmed a bit in his seat.

"You're a good, sound young man," Miss Cougalicious said. "Just the sort of young man who might come to my house tonight - about seven pm - and help me with a few things that a lad with strong arms might be just the young man for."

"If you say so, Miss Cougarlcious. If you say so."

"I do say so, Master Peevishboy - I do!" and Miss Cougarlicious now gave him a certain Libraryinish smile she sometimes gave to those young men and women of Needlehole she favoured.



to be continued....

I have the weirdest b-

...

The year was 3,082 of the Shire Reckoning.

Ol' Anon says that this work is purely fiction (and futuristic), and any resemblance to real people, however peevish or delicious, is purely accidental. I thought I'd tell you that, Eldo. Just in case you have any misunderstandings going on in your febrile mind.

4

Gorbadoc Banks was what you might call a genuine Tory (even in that far future age when one might have thought nomenclature like that would have evolved) and he made it his business to see to it that nothing funny went on in Forumshire - not even mildly amusing nothing.  

"Levity," he was often wont to say, "is next to levitation, and we don't go in for that type of titillation in Forumshire. At least, I don't, and so, nor should anyone else."  

Today he was in his bower, admiring himself respectfully in the mirror. He had the long handsome face of his Clan and was proud of it.

"It's a strong face - and pure eyed," said he as he fastened the braces of his red velvet trousers. "A face that's straight and gives one a proper and respectable impression. The right kind of impression, in fact, for a hobbit of the moneyed middle class. Not that any one could think me anything but High Class - though not in a two bob snob way. That wouldn't be respectable for stock that descends from Eruvian Missionaries and whose chestnut cheeked son, Odo XXXIV, even now teaches young native girls the wherewithalls of an ascetic life in the Virgin Islands, though never forgetting to add the practicalities. Lovely girls too - if a bit wild - not abashed in the least about their nakedness, and full ready for Banksian Missionary Teachings... and practicalities." Gorbadoc fastened the buttons of his waistcoat with some difficulty. "I must cut down on the tea and scones," said he and laughed. He was a jolly fellow.

But his jollity was short lived. Primula, his bowermaid, came in all in a tizzy. "Oh Mister Banks! Mister Banks!"

Gorbadoc turned a disapproving gaze upon the blond haired lass from Buckland, "Primmy, must you burst in like that. A moment earlier and you would have caught me with my trousers down."

Primula blinked.  "Do you mean accidentally, Mister Banks?"

Gorbadoc gave a little disapproving cough. "I think I need to take you in hand and teach you a little about your position, dear."

"Is that the Missionary position, Mister Banks?" Primmy frowned in sudden thought. "You know, I don't enjoy that position quite as much the other ones you've taught me, although - as you say - it does do in a pinch..."

Gorbadoc coughed again. "You weren't meant to enjoy those teachings, Primmy but be illuminated by them."

"I did hear they were illegal, come to think...."

"Illuminated, girl! Illuminated! And, anyway, knowing that my methods of Moral Training are somewhat unorthodox, I gave you a rather handsome pay rise to keep quiet about it, if you remember. I mean, there are some in Forumshire who would surely misundersand my mehods!"

"Do you mean the Authorities?"

"Just so... But now: Why have you come bursting unceremoniously into my bower?"

"It's the news. I've just peeked at this morning's stories on my portable propoplovian device, and it seems that evil grope-in-the-dark beast the Master Baiter has struck again."

"Sweet Eru!" Gorbadoc gasped. "Was it up a back lane again?"

"Pardon, Sir?"

"Up a back lane. Behind some squat building of the town."

"Oh yes," Primmy giggled. "I thought for a moment that you meant..."

"Dear girl, you must always remember the proprieties!"

"Yes, Mister Banks. You do always tell me to remember that. Sorry."

"Where did they say it happened?" '

"It was behind the Duck and Muck. Apparently a young woman of ample proportions wearing a short frock was lured behind the Duck and Muck by a shadowy fellow who spoke highly of Saint Augustine."

"That will work every time. I mean, only a veritable devil would misuse the Pure Reputation of Saint Augustine to lure an amply proportioned girl of the town into the lane behind the Duck and Muck for any business other than the business of rebuking Sin!"

"Pardon?"

"It is a Theological point I make - quite complicated - and not one a young lady like yourself could possibly understand."

"Thank goodness for that. I much prefer your practical demonstrations of what Sin is, Mister Banks. They are much more enjoyable for a start,"

"Enjoyable!" Gorbadoc burst out in utter outrage. "They are designed to show you what very Sin is! Oh my - it seems all my  good work has been put to nought!"

"Does that mean you won't be giving me any more of your Intensive Practical Morality Lessons?" Primmy asked, slightly deflated.

"No, no - it appears I must step up the number of Lessons, dear girl. Perhaps some understanding of Extreme Sinful Behaviour is called for."

"Oh goody," Primmy exclaimed and clapped her hands.

"You are a simple girl, and a Saint at heart," Gorbadoc smiled benignly. "So innocent. So pure. So delightful... in a chaste sense, of course! Now off you go. I must finish dressing myself." And he gave Primmy a fond platonic pinch on her buttock to send her - giggling - on her way.

When she was gone, Gorbadoc frowned. "Something must be done about this odious Master Baiter," he said to his image in the mirror. "I must go presently and seek Captain David Cranberrysauce down at the Shiriff's Office. Surely he could be doing more."

And - true to his word - the minute he had finished powdering his cheeks and waxing back his hair, that respectable hobbit presently went on his way, and with righteuous grimace on his handsome face.


to be continued...

I approve of the modern, hands-on approach to eduction.  

5


As it happened, Captain Dave Cranberrysauce had the Master Baiter at the forefront of his thoughts. He sat in the watch house of the Shirriff Station clutching a small piece of scented paper in his gnarled hands - gnarled from his years of hard labour growing up on his Father's cranberry farm.  

"He is a brazen criminal," he was saying to his Second in Charge, Halmet Halfwit - affectionately known as Halfy. "Listen to this note he stuck on the young woman's buttock with honey:

'They seek him here,
They seek him there,
The dashing Master Baiter,
The girlies think they can resist,
But they'll come round
Sooner or later."


"That's terrible," Halfy frowned. "Really bad."

"The trouble is, I fear he's right. Women can't seem to resist him."

"No, not that, the poem," Halfy complained. "It's the worse doggerel he's come out with so far - and possibly plagiaristic to boot."

"That may be as may be, but what do we do? The man's brazenly flaunting himself in the face of the Law."

"What's he doing?" Private Nora Fowlentongue, the new recruit, asked as she came into the watch house in her crisp new uniform. "Did you say 'flogging'?  

"Flaunting, Private Nora," Dave told her grinly. "He's flaunting himself something chronic."

"He'll go blind then, the f#5267g dick! That's what Mister Gorbadoc Banks said at Church the other day. Not exactly those words, mind. What did he say? Oh yes: 'They who flaunt will be taunt come the Day of the Lord.'"

"Shouldn't that be taunt-ted," Halfy queried.  

"Probably,"  Nora yawned. "I wasn't really listening. I can't imagine Eru taunting anyone, anyway. That doesn't sound very grown up, does it?"

"He may have said 'tormented' by the Lord," Dave suggested.

"Maybe," Nora yawned again.

"Didn't you sleep last night?" Halfy wanted to know, studying the young woman's bleary red eyes.

"Not out at the Boogie Bars all night again, I hope," Dave interrogated her gruffly. "It's not very becoming. And you put yourself at peril of the likes of the Master Baiter every time you go out, especially in the skimpy clothing you wear."

"I don't mind a bit of peril," Nora said scornfully. "And in this sexless era a girl can wear what she wants."

"But what if the likes the Master Baiter ask you to attend a dark lane to discuss Saint Augustine? You might get fooled that way. Have you taken no notice of how all those young women and women of inderterminate age have fallen for that ploy?"

"Which is a wonder when you consider all the warnings we've put aross the Media," Halfy opined wisely.

"I'm careful enough," Nora said, and a bit wistfully. "But I bet I never get tricked. No, it's always other women, never me."  And Nora scowled and went off to the Female Shirriff's Restroom, looking peeved.

"That young Private is a veritable worry," Dave complained to Halfy when she'd gone. "I sometimes I wonder if she doesn't deliberately put herself in the line of sexual danger."

"Probably looking for quick promotion, if you ask me."

"Yes, she''s probably arrogant enough to think she can arrest the Master Baiter on her own if he tries anything."

"That's typical of the younger Shirriff's nowadays," Dave grumbled. "I bet she has no idea how traumatizing it is to be womanized by the Master Baiter. Maybe we should take her down to the Asylum. Once she sees all those singing and dancing women of various ages, maybe she'll change her tune."

"Oh yes - and playing bright tunes on violins and cymbals," Halfy said.

"It's no life for a woman," Davey said sadly. "Imagine what it must feel like to be illegally deflowered by a dashing fellow dressed all in black, and with nothing to look forward to than a life spent in an Asylum with a host of other sexually awakened women."

"I could think of nothing worse!" Halfy said, firmly, his cheeks flushed red now, possibly in shock at the thought of all those poor sexually wakened women locked up together.    


to be continued...

So is Nora a Private or a Corporal?

{{{Wherever do you get all these ideas, Anon? }}}

Fixed, Eldo. Thanks, friend.  

{{{Gee it annnoys me when people pay too much attention to my scholarship, the asshole!  }}}


{{{You'll be amazed at how much I've retained from a life spent watching rude and crude comedians and reading great works of literature. It's a wonderful blend, my friend.  }}}

.. am i a privat/corporal? what is this..

6

Julia and Petty left after work and went their own ways. Little did they know that their work relationship did not end when the Museum doors closed, for, unbeknown even to them, they were none other than the Firefox and the Deadly Haggis.

(I'll wait a moment while you pick up your jaw from the floor, dear reader).

Julia had a salubrious hole. Indeed, she had one of the nicest holes on Bond Street, Needlehole. It was a very modern hole, Julia's hole. It was galvanized inside and out and never got rusty or grew mysterious growths. Understandably, she very much enjoyed her hole - why wouldn't she? - and often her many friends would attend and enjoy it with her. They'd be in and out at all times of the day and night, but only on the weekends, for during the week she was a caped crusader.

Petty's hole, however, was a dark grimy hole, and often squishy, and his many friends did not come around at all, not so much because his hole was drear and moistly squalid, but because he didn't have any - friends that is.

And yet, these two very different people who's holes were so different, both in shape and proportion, were partners in crime fighting, for both were wholly devoted in rooting out all sex and sexual innuendo in the world. They were so dedicated, one might have even thought them uptight about it.

After dinner, Julia poured herself a wine and poured herself into her tight fitting bodysuit and clasped on her sleek red cape. The bodysuit was so tight she couldn't possibly fit both herself and any underclothes into it.

Meanwhile, Petty put on his crash helmet and hoped no one detected that he still wore his tattered Museum uniform; the one he wore all day and night. Luckily, at night, no one noticed what he was wearing, and that's why he tried as much as he could to stay out of the light.

They always met as usual on the roof of the Needlehole Cheese and Butter Factory. The Firefox soon caught sight of the Deadly Haggis scurrying rat-like across the metallic roof, his private property hanging bulbously beneath the hem of his tight work-kilt. (He had rather shapely legs that went all the way up, not that anyone was interested in that kind of thing in those future times).
Immediately, she whispered, "I have a feeling tonight, Deadly Haggis."

"Ock the noo. A foolin'?"

The Firefox sighed and shrugged her chiselled shoulders. "I feel we will  catch the Master Baiter this very night."

"Oh Eroo sniv me tartan sooks... noot thart agin, Miss!"

"I'm serious, Deadly Haggis."

"Noot thart wimminz intoowishon agin, pray tellmee!"

"I swear, I feel it in my waters."


"Oooh!"

"Yes, and when I feel it in my water's I'm always right. You know that. I mean to say, you know full well I'm always right."

"Aye, yu arr, Miss," the Deadly Haggis answered after a short hesitation, and somewhat fatalistically.

"Shush! Who's that walking down the lane this very moment?"

"Ock, it bee thart wommin froom tha Libree..." the Deadly Haggis hissed.

"Amarie Cougarlicious! But what's she doing about tonight - and carrying a suspicious bag that appears to be wriggling?"

"I coon smell eelses, Miss!"

"My goodness... Eels? What can that mean? ... Shush. Say nothing. Let her pass."

When Amarie Cougarliciouis had gone by below, the Deadly Haggis was keen to follow her, but the Firefox stayed him a moment. "Be stayed a moment, Deadly Haggis. Who now comes down the lane?"

"It bee thart horrid peevish boy froom the Libree!"

"Eldo Peevishboy!"

"Ock!"

"Shush again."

When the lad had gone by in his neatest clothes and with his hair carefully parted in the middle, the Firefox and the Deadly Haggis followed them, keeping to the shadows.

"Something naughty is a'foot, that's my inutuition," the Firefox whispered at one stage.

"Ock! Boot wat ov tha Masturbater?"

"Where?"

"Noo, the Masturbater. Our evil foe!"

"Oh, I see... Never fear... if there is to be naughtiness about he'll no doubt be mixed up in it. He has a nose for sauce!"

"Eel sauce?"

"Who knows, Deadly Haggis,"the Firefox said sardonically with her breasts heaving in the excitement of it all. "Who knows? Tonight I might well reveal the Master Baiter in all his naked glory."

"Nookéd?"

"Aye," the Firefox grinned. "Nookéd!"



to be continued....

halfwise wrote:Am I touched in the head, or has Norc already illustrated this story?

eeeerm... i don't know....

 I have wondered about that comment too. Hmm, Halfy?

this story. it's really good, loving the.. erm.. satire?

Julia had a salubrious hole. Indeed, she had one of the nicest holes on Bond Street, Needlehole. It was a very modern hole, Julia's hole. It was galvanized inside and out and never got rusty or grew mysterious growths. Understandably, she very much enjoyed her hole - why wouldn't she? - and often her many friends would attend and enjoy it with her. They'd be in and out at all times of the day and night, but only on the weekends, for during the week she was a caped crusader. 

is this meant to have a double meaning, or am i just a sick person?

When the lad had gone by in his neatest clothes and with his hair carefully parted in the middle, the Firefox and the Deadly Haggis followed them, keeping to the shadows. 

it's these little gold-bits that makes me love you're writing. everything about the meating and "peevishboy's" attitude towards it explain in one sentence  and it says so much, love it! also.. it made me giggle.. cus .. omg.. just imagine  


(and embarrassing i got the Master Baiter pun.. now.. )

is this meant to have a double meaning - Norc

That and everything, ever, Ole Anon has ever written!  

i love it

7

"I'm not sure what Miss Cougalarlicious wants my strong arms for, but I hope I don't let her down," Eldo Peevishboy said when he came to Miss Cougalicious's doortep and hesitated before knocking.

"I do have strong arms like she intimated earlier today, but that's from years of lifting heavy piles of books and large maps. Moving furniture, I've read, is quite a different prospect. Oh my. I've spent years studying Maths, Literature and Computer Programming, and carrying loads of journals, books and the like, but none of that involved moving furniture. Oh dear. I'm not sure if it would have really been time well spent, but I do wonder now if I might not have done at least some furniture moving, even if it was only for part of a Semester..."



("Wot the ell iz thart boy gabblin aboot?" the Deadly Haggis wanted to know as he crouched in the dark mouth of a nearby lane.

"It's boy talk, I guess," the Firefox replied in a whisper, just as baffled. "Do you think it's some kind of coded sex talk?"

"Ock! How wood ay noo?" the Deadly Hagggis replied as quiet as he could. "Sux iz uh forbidden longwage. Wee noo thart doenwee? I fear efen ta think aboot it, Miss. ")



"On the other hand," Eldo continued. "If Miss Cougarlicious has book-shaped furniture, all may be well. Who am I kidding? I bet there's little hope of that."

Just then, the door opened and Miss Cougarlicious was standing in the doorway in a silky gown that was see through and left nothing to the imagination with the light behind her  .

"Oh dear," Eldo mumbled under his breath. "She has the usual kind of furniture. I can't even see one bookhself in the entry parlour. I do seem to remember moving a bookshelf once, but I can see there is little hope of even that!"

"Come in, young man with strong arms," Miss Cougarlicious said in a whispery slightly deepened voice that Eldo thought a bit odd.

"I hope you haven't got a cold, Miss Cougarlicious. As that would be a sad situation to find yourself in. And I certainly hope it's not contagious as we do have to work tomorrow."  

"Never mind that," Miss Cougarlicious said firmly and she took one of his hands and drew him into the parlour. "Trouble not over mundane things, for we have weightier things to contemplate tonight, Master Peevishboy. Ha! Just now I have some heavy labour planned for those strong arms of yours - and for other parts of your body, too."  And she laughed a rather sinister laugh - which in a previous age might have been thought seductive as well.

"I guess she means I'll have to bend my knees and curve my back when liftng the heavier stuff," thought Eldo.

Just then, he saw a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh no!" he thought suddenly with rising anxiety. "I bet she's got a piano."  
 
And then she closed the door behind him with an ominous thud.


to be continued....

Clearly the moral standards of future Dark Planet are quite different from those of future Forumshire. I should have known.

Norc wrote:

halfwise wrote:Am I touched in the head, or has Norc already illustrated this story?

eeeerm... i don't know....

I think you've already drawn a nice picture of the Firefox. I may even venture that the picture inspired this whole thing.

this story keeps getting better