The Firefox

Any story that involves moving furniture just has to be good (apparently).  

8


"You seem a little tense, Master Peevishboy," Amarie Cougarlicious said. "Come into the sitting room and make yourself comfortable on this divan that folds down into a double waterbed."

"I'm not sure this divan makes me feel any more relaxed," Eldo thought as he sat down. "It certainly gives the impression of being lightly soft and comfortable, but if it's full of water, I'm sure it will be nigh on impossible to move single handedly."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Do you have something without any sugar in it?"

"How about saccharine? I'm all saccharine myself, you know." And Miss Cougarlicious - for some reason beyond Eldo's ken - giggled.

It was odd to hear a woman of such indeterminate age giggle like that, and it only uneased Eldo the more. And yet he was a well brought up lad and he still had enough presence of mind to answer politely, "Yes, that will be fine, Miss Cougarlicious. Thank you very much."

"Oh you must call me Amarie, we're not at work now --- --- Eldo," Amarie said in an even huskier voice than before. And she glided out of the room on such light feet Eldo thought her very elf-like for a hobbitess.

"That cold of hers is surely getting worse. I hope she doesn't turn the fan on. I read a book about airborne pathogens only last week, and one can never be too careful. I hope she's not coming down with the Gondorian Flu. I hear that can be quite serious in August... What's that?"

Eldo turned his head to look at the sitting room window. "I must have imagined that squelchy noise," he said after a moment's scrutiny, and he began to look about the room, wondering if any of the furniture looked in need of moving.


("Must you push your nose so against the glass?"
 
"Ock tha noo. I didnae meen too."

"He almost saw us. Be careful, you idiot!"

"Aye, Miss!")


Amarie came back into the room. "There you go, dear dear Eldo," Amarie said as she handed him a rather large glass filled with cocacoolade.

"My goodness," Eldo said. "Miss Cougarlicious... err.... Amarie... This glass is the size of one of my Mother's gladioli vases... And what's that alcoholic smell I can smell...?"

"Err... dear boy, it's disinfectant. I knew you'd be more comfortable if you knew your glass was disinfected."

"It's very strong though."

"Strong disinfectant makes for strong anti-bacterial action, they say."

"Do they?"

"They do."

Eldo was reassured by that. He took a sip and his eyes watered. "I don't think anything could live in this cocacoolade," he smiled, even if the cocacoolade burnt his tongue a bit. "Whoo," he added. "The smell does make one light headed... and it has a rather warming effect down one's throat.. I've never really had that reaction to cocacoolade before, Miss Cougar... err... Amarie."

"What's that?" Amarie asked suddenly, and turned to look at the window.

"What's what?" Eldo asked as he took another - and bigger - sip of his cocacoolade. It was very magnficent cocacoolade, he decided.

"I must be imagining things," Amarie said.

"I sometimes imagine things. Sometimes rather cheerful unorthodox things. It's true. Ooh, I shouldn't have told you that." And Eldo giggled.... "Did I just giggle?" he thought in surprise, as he wasn't the kind of lad who usually giggled. He did not really respect that kind of friviolity in others.


("Keep your nose off the glass, you idiot!"

"Soory, Miss."

"You can't see any better by doing that, you know."

"Noo, Miss.")



Amarie returned her attention to Eldo and slid an inch or two closer. "Oooh your eyes are going all glinty."

"Sorry," Eldo said, and giggled again. "What's happening to me?" he thought, surprised but - oddly - not alarmed.

"Oh I'm feeling ever so hot at the moment, Eldo," Amarie said suddenly and delicately fluttered her hand in front of her face in a very feminine fanning motion. "Should I turn on the fan, do you think?"

"Oh no, Miss Cougarlicious!" Eldo replied quickly. "I don't think there's any need for that."

"Oh my. You're not as innocent as you put out!" Amarie smiled.

Eldo blushed. "No. I know a thing or two, Amarie. In fact, I only read about them last week."

Amarie had a quizzical frown on her face now. "I surely have no idea what you mean."

"Well, I know they're about and how easy it is to be infected."

"Ooh.. how ambiguous of you! Yes, it's easy to be infected - though, of course, we must be careful. After all, it is illegal."

"Only if you spread it around deliberately, Amarie."

"Well, I'm not sure how one can spread it around accidentally, you dear dear Eldo." And Amarie giggled again as her face drew slowly closer to his. Then: "My goodness! There's that funny squelchy noise again! Like a big nose being pressed up against glass!"

Amarie jumped up and hurried over to the window. She opened it.

"I heard noises out here - but no..... It's only rats probably... Big rats too by the noise they made scuttling off down the side of the house."

"There are some quite big rats in Forumshire," Eldo said wisely but somewhat distantly, as he took another swig of his cocacoolade. "Darn big rats!"

He was feeling very light headed now.

He glanced over at Amarie as she stood with her body half out the window.

"She doesn't appear to be wearing anything underneath her see-through gown," he thought.

He took an even bigger sip of his cocacoolaide while examining Amarie and paying very careful attention to detail. That was one of his strengths - his attention to detail.

"This disenfectant seems to be having a narcotic effect on my sensibilities," Eldo thought. "I mean, I fear I'm examining my Supervisor's naked proportions with a less than respectful intensity, and, not only that, I'm having quite illegal thoughts about what I might do with her if she was to ask nicely. Oh well, I guess no one will know what thoughts I'm having - except me! Oh dear! This cocacoolade certainly seems to be softening my moral fibres..."

Amarie turned to see his eyes carefully roving up and down her volutuptuous body.

"You like it, I trust?" she smiled.

"I do indeed," Eldo grinned. "I think it's the best cocacoolade I've ever had."



to be continued...



"

9


"Well, well, well. Who do we have here, and hiding behind a large commercial rubbish bin in the dark of evening what's more?" asked a familiar handsome hypnotic voice around the corner from Amarie's abode.

"Ock tha noo!" said the Deadly Haggis, startled. "Wot bee you doin here, Orlwell McOodoo?"

"I am just taking the night air," answered that handsome dashing hobbit as he stepped into the slightly less dark shadow by the rubbish bin. "Tell me - are you actually hiding?"

"Oh we're not hiding, not at all," the Firefox answered quickly and she stood up, trying to look nonchalant. "Well we are.... We are indeed! But for the right reasons!"
 
"My Gawd!" Orwell said pleasantly. "You're those famous moral crusaders, Firefox and Haggis. Well, well, well..."

"Thart bee tha Doodley Hargiss!" said the Deadly Haggis on his dignity.

Orwell grinned and gazed rather assessingly at their bare legs.

"Ock! Woot are u gapin at..." the Deadly Haggis snarled and turned his body half away from Orwell and into a darker bit of shadow while tugging down at his kilt. "You make me uncoomfortable with yor gapin!"

"Me too," the Firefox said, though she seemed less fazed by Orwell's scrutiny, as she thrust her breast region forward at Orwell in automatic defiance. "Taking the air, you say? What? In a squalid back lane? You jest, don't you?"

"Not at all," Orwell replied easily and gave her a smile that was all teeth. "Have you not read the Pilgrims Progress where it is clearly inferred that walking in dark places is the true sign of a Religious Man?"

"Is that really in the Pilgrims Progress?" the Firefox asked, surprised.

"You tell me, madame," Orwell grinned again.

This, of course, placed the Firefox - quite painfully - on the horns of a dilemna, because if she admitted she hadn't even read that moral text, Orwell would see her for a slightly uneducated person in religious matters, and if she pretended she had, then Orwell might ask her a pertinent question about the book, and surely she would reveal her ignorance. Yet again she regretted not having read all her religious texts at Our Lady's School when she was a gal, the trouble being they were so damn boring.

"Well, dear ma'am? Is it?" Owell pressed knowingly.  

"I'm not quite sure... I have a headache and it's making my memory go fuzzy..."

"What about you, Deadly Haggis?" Orwell now addressed her intrepid sidekick. "Have you, yourself, ever read the Pilgrims Progress?"

"Ock.. noo... I huv a headik too...."

"Well, you'll have to take it on spec that I a am here for a highly religious and moral reason, won't you."

The Firefox and the Deadly Haggis nodded their heads furiously, pleased that their ignorance had not (apparently) been revealed.  

"Have either of you contemplated the moral teachings of Saint Augustine, perchance?" Orwell asked suddenly in his suave hypnotic voice. "I am prepared to Mentor you in some of the practicalities..."

That voice was rather charming, the Firefox was thinking as she began to drift.... "Practicalities..." she repeated like a stoned parrot.

"There are things one might - of course! - only know through physical demonstration," Orwell went on in a rather lovely tone.

"Demmonstryshooooon..." the Deadly Haggis repeated distantly, feeling suddenly very warm in the cockles...




... When they woke up about an hour later, the Firefox said - as she lay beside the Deadly Haggis's naked form - "I had a most horrid dream, Deadly Haggis. Oh my! It was full of pleasure and embarrassment and sheer delight and moist connectioning...." Her voice fell away as she contemplated that dream.

"Ock! Soo deed eye..." the Deadly Haggis agreed in a dull voice as he lay beside the Firefox's naked body. "Thar waz a strappin obbit un thar was me... and zar were yoo too... then I didna noo ware you startid and the hunsum mun ended...nor ware i waz exactly in relassion to yor toop und hiz buttoom... un - sooednlee - it were uh veritable flamin smorgazborh.. aund then.. un then.. i dinae wish to speak on it no mor!" and the Deadly Haggis put his face in his hands and began to sob hysterically, for he was feeling ripsnortingly good just then, thank you very much, and very very ashamed.  

"Nor me!" the Fireox said quickly. "Oh my Lord. What has happened to us?"

"I dinae noo!" the Deadly Haggis wept. "I dinae noo! I dinae wont ta noo!"

"We must tell no one!" cried the Firefox.

"Noo noo.. Noot uh sool!" the Deadly Haggis yelped as sat up, full of shame and sudden rage. "Un ware waz thart arsool, Orlwell, inna owl time of need?"

"I know!" the Firefox said through eyes that narrowed. "He must have taken off like shot at the first sign of sexual danger." But her anger did not last long, and she began to cry, because feeling as good as she did just now just had to be wrong - very very wrong!

to be continued...

10


Orwell McOdo always felt a little dirty after committing his Good Works. You see, he was a member of the Eruvian Mysteries Prohibition League that met on Thursdays in a house in Puddyfoot Mews.  It was one of those Mystery Religions where good folk get together and experience every kind of Sin so as to understand the workings of, what might loosely be called, the Morgothian Mind. They got up to all sorts of horrific Sinning, but always with an expectation of seeking the Greater Good. They also performed Field Work. They achieved this by sending out Orwell - or should I say the 'Master Baiter'? (You may have already guessed the truth, as you are a cunning readership, I'm sure!) Anyway, they sent out Orwell into the world to Awaken the populace - mainly because he was keener than most to do Good Works. He sorely desired to Awaken the world to Reality in all it's mundane and sordid disgustingness, for without an intimate knowledge of hot sweaty Sin, how could anyone know what it was? Which makes a lot of sense, dont you agree, dear reader? Yet, he still always felt a little dirty... but righteously dirty, of course.

A little after doing the Lord's Fruitful Work with the two Caped Crusaders, Orwell suddenly realized something. "Oh you fool, Orwie! You should really have taken the opportunity to look under the Firefox's mask and inside the Deadly Haggis's crash helmet, so as to discover their true identities. What a silly oversight on your part. Your trouble is, you're such a Zealot. Enormous Zealousy burns in your soul... But... Hark! Who's this coming along Bumpydumpty Lane?"

"Halt!" cried a very masculine male voice which Orwell immediately recognized as belonging to Captain Dave.

Peering into the dim lighted lane, Orwell now made out other officers as well; these being Halfy and Nora. (At least, he thought it was Nora, but it might have been Norc, as I can't remember her name just now).

"Well, good evening, Officers,"  Orwell grinned all teeth. "I say, how reassurring it is to know our Shiriff's are out and about keeping the streets and backwaters of Needlehole safe."

"Oh it's that lovely Mister McOdo," Nora smiled. "He's from the Museum."

"Oh , yes, I remember," Captain Dave said. "And what may I ask brings such a fine middleaged Security Official walking about in the vicinity of such dubious premises as the Duck and Muck, and the House of Eels for Soup Only?"

"I just walk and contemplate on Worthy things of the Lord Eru," Orwell said smoothly.

"You must be walking at a brisk trot," Halfy opined. "You are verily dripping with sweat and your brow beads with it."

Nora sniffed the air. "Did you know you smell like a moist woman in some ways... sniff... sniff... and with a hint of the Scottish Hebrides..."

"Oh surely you're mistaken," Orwell grinned again, though his teeth did not seem quite so brazen this time.

"Nora may have her inadequacies," Halfy opined.  "Many of them - in fact, a host of them! - but I would never doubt her ability to sniff out things. Not saying she's got a big nose or a sticky beak, mind."

"Are they pheremones I detect too, Mister McOdo?" Nora sniffed, very suspicious now.  

"I wouldn't wonder," Orwell spoke quickly. "I have been walking through the sultry parts of town and I'm sure there's something going on behind the Duck and Muck even as we speak. Writhings and gigglings and squelchings. I only just came that way."  

"You wouldn't lie about something like that would you?" Captain Dave asked, deeply suspicious.

"Why would I?" Orwell coughed nervously.

"Fair enough," said Captain Dave. "Quickly Shiriff's! Let's hurry off to the the Duck and Muck. We may catch some low-lifes in the the very act of it!"

"Why not get a statement from Mister McOdo?" Halfy said, wisely. "Perhaps he might be able to give us a detailed physical description of those miscreants he saw wriggling and writhing behind the pub?"

"Yes, good idea. Private Nora. I hope you've got your notebook?"

"Of cousre I have."

"Okay. You stay here and obtain a written account of what Mister McOdo saw. Quickly now, Halfy...." And those two strapping Hobbits of the Law were off at a run.      

When they were gone, Nora sniffed the air carefully. "They are very pungent and vital animalistic scents you bear, Mr McOdo..."

"Indeed," Orwell smiled. "Err.. Private Nora, I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you, perchance, familiar with the works of Saint Augustine?"


to be contnued...

oh dear....

11


"I'm beginnng to worry about Private Nora," Captain Dave said at last, having returned to the Shirriff Station with Corporal Halmet some time ago. "I wonder if we shouldn't send out a search party for the wretched young woman?" he added grumpily, still annoyed that the wrigglng writhers at the Duck and Muck had eluded them. "I mean, how long does it take to take a witness statement?"

Halfy looked up from his tabletop computerator. "It's only been an hour, and you know how illiterate the younger officers are nowadays with an old fashioned pen in hand and no spellchecks. Orwell McOdo is probably helping her spell 'filthy lowlife' even as we speak." Halfy then smiled cynically. "Even now, he's probably trying to convince her that Duck and Muck don't have two 'k's'."

The door of reception opened and Private Nora walked in. "The pen is mightier than the sword," she said in a strangely distant tone.

"My God, Private Nora!" Captain Dave exclaimed when he saw her. "What has happened to you? You're clothes are  dishevelled and begrimed, like you've been rolling about in the very dirt of the earth."

"There is dirt everywhere..." Private Nora intoned. "But I realize now I've only ever known it philosophically."

Captain Dave and Corporal Halet looked at each other in consternation, but said nothing at first.

But then Dave cried, "She sounds just like that woman of ample proportions the other night!"  

"And all the other victims this past four years!"

Captain Dave quickly jumped up and came over to Private Nora,

"Now girl," he said in a kind Fatherly way. "Sit you down and I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

"What on earth have you been up to, you filthy liitle whore?" Halfy snarled as he too jumped up.

"No, Halfy," Captain Dave quickly instructed him. "This is not the time or place for good cop bad cop. The girl has obviously been subjected to a terrible terrible experience."

"Sorry, Sir!"  

"Now, Nora," Captain Dave continued in a gentle way. "What's happened? - and don't leave out one sordid detail however sordid!"

"Something gloriously Sinful happened, Captain," Nora cooed. "Lovely, it was, Dave. Awkward and clumsy and perfectly wrong. Very very wrong, Dave." Nora smiled distantly.

"My God!" Captain Dave blasphemed again. "She's infected."

"What? Not the Gondorian Flu, I hope."

"No, you idiot. Isn't it clear she's been infected with... oh Lordy! Lordy! Lordy!... with lust."

"But she's a young woman with Puritan ancestry...."

"It can infect anyone, Halfy," Captain Dave said solemnly. "That's why it's so dangerous. It could be your cloned sister, your cloned Cousin Rupert, even that cloned au pair girl of yours, Halfy. It could even be your cloned Great Grandmother Hilda."

"No it couldn't!"

"Sorry, Halfy, you're wrong. It could."

"But she's been a good woman all her long cloned life - some say she's even more Pure than the Original was three thousand years ago - and she still makes the best scones in Needlehole!"

"But Halfy, that's just the sort the Master Baiter targets... honourable trusting women who can never say no to Saint Augustine."

Halfy couldn't believe it and he looked defiant a moment, but Dave could see his face working with unbidden thoughts, and then it crumpled in on itself and tears began to leak out of Halfy's usually steely Corporal's eyes. "We must stop him!" he snarled suddenly amid his tears.

"The Master Baiter, you mean."

"Of course, Sir. Who else?"

"I know it seems an open and closed case, but we must be Professional and keep an open mind,"

"We're Shiriff's, Captain! Since when did we worry about that crap about facts and hard evidence when good old common sense was available to us?"

"You're right, of course. But we still have the problem of finding out who the Master Baiter really is."

"He's rather a nice chap," Nora said looking up happily at them from her chair. "He told me what we were doing was all in the pursuit of Godly perfection."

"He tells that to all his victims," Halfy grimaced.  

"Yes," Nora smiled. "And now I know why. You see, I never knew how horribly enjoyable sex was until the Master Baiter gave me a practical demonstration. It's ever so much more fun in practice than it is in theory. I know it says in the Shiriff's Manual how exciting and addictive it is, but you really can't know exactly how enjoyable and adictive until you've participated whole heartedly in it."

"Whole heartedly!" Captain Dave exclaimed. "You sound like you're already hooked!"

"Oh yes," Private Nora grinned again. "I'm hooked all right. I know it's illegal and wrong but I surely plan to to do it again as soon as possible. He said I can only be a Novice after doing it once --- though I'm sure we did it twice --- and I will never find my way to a truly Sinless life until I've committed Sexual Sin three hundred times at least."

"You've become an abomination!" Corporal Halfy exclaimed in horror.

"Have I?" Nora asked distantly. "He said I was a 'babe', actually."

And the smile she bore just then was that of a veritable Angel ---

--- a Dark Angel!



to be coninued...

WHAT THE- nevermind...

Yeah, I think you might want to give everything after

"I'm beginnng to worry about Private Nora," wrote:

a miss.

Not that I'm casting any negative aspertions on the writing Orwell. Oh no.

Just handing out some friendly advice, that is all.

by the fucking way i am a bloody agent not a private!

In this tale Nora is a Private. One must not be plagiaristic.  



Umm... Blue... I'm not exactly sure what you're getting at?  Are you trying to give moral advice or are you being a witty chap?

I guess you're unaware that we were one of two countries in the world that banned "Life of Brian".  

Though give you moral advice? Certainly not. You seem incouregable and all the better for it, I say.

I was only thinking of a certain young ladies sensitivities. If she has any that is.

don't mind my sensitivities...

Yeah, I was silently questioning the young as well.

After all you're 19 next week.  

what are u implying?

That you're 19 next week, I think.  

(And calling someone a young lady does have certain connotations. Good and bad.   )

It's a worry for me too as to 'who' should be characters in these tales of Ol' Anon.

I have a 21 year old daughter who would not be troubled by these things, as she understands all Ol' Anon's cheek and his provacativiness about the 'Secret' thoughts of humans and our 'respectabilities' and 'hypocrisies.' I only take on trust that Norc is savvy with what Ol' Anon is doing too - I'm sure she'll clear up any misunderstanding anyone may on the issue if I'm wrong  - but it's difficult to know when he's sailing too close to the wind with things, don't I know.  

Age can be an issue - anyone under 18 is left alone pretty much, it seems a fair rule of thumb here. Trying to know who will get a giggle out of Ol' Anon's Tales is important, no matter how old one's victim is, whether venerable or precocious! It's just Ol' Anon just likes to take a risk or two - he's not Tame, you see - though not fully Wild neither, no matter what anyone thinks, I hasten to add!  

The minute he gleans - I'm reliably informed - that any of his victims are uneasy or unhappy, Ol' Anon ceases victimizing them. And if any don't like Ol' Anon's wholesome tales, they need not read them. That seems to be a common sense approach to me.

Norc wrote:don't mind my sensitivities...

Ol' Anon certainly doesn't!  

naah.. i'll let u know if you've crossed the line  as far as i can tell, everyone get a fair bit of pounding here

everyone get a fair bit of pounding here- Norc

A suitable turn of phrase for describing Ole Anons work!  

what incorrigible naughty rudery! I cant read these stories without blushing. What must a delicate flower like Norclet think! dear deary me. tut tut. Its enough to give a lady palpitations of the thrutch glands.

I have something can cure that Figg- usually about five minutes after I turn up.  

Yeah, a bit more of joke. As unshockable as norcs sensitivities seem to be.

Odo, I certainly don't mean to imply you should apply any self sensorship. If you ever as you say "sail to close to the wind" then that's an artists prerogative I think.   One shouldn't limit ones creative output.

  I really hesitate to ask what that means Petty.

[Edit: Referring to Norc's last post!]

 I dare say some have so far  --- and others will...  

Blue has raised something interesting to him though, something that is often - or always! - playing on his mind when Ol' Anon's creativating. Where's the edge of things? All he knows is it's an edge he is always walking on. All he knows is, naughtiness, irony and cheekiness never cease to amuse him (and me!)