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Sunday, January 23, 2011
Writing the Blues Away
Today is an interesting day of the year. It’s Blue Monday; and tall drinks of rum are in order. Why? Because this is officially the most depressing day of the year. According to some guy’s complicated computations, based on weather, debt, failed resolutions, and time elapsed since Christmas, today is the pinpointed day of greatest depression. Probably also doesn’t help that we don’t have another major holiday until Memorial Day.
As ridiculous as the calculations are, I’m looking out my front door at the piles of snow, shivering at the bitter wind that’s whipping past me to raise my heating bill, and I have to admit: weird math dude’s gotta point. I’m not feeling especially hopeful right this second. I’ve huddled up in my apartment all weekend and accomplished only a new record for sleeping and eating. However, even in the most gray cloud there is a silver lining. He who calculated the most depressing day of the year also calculated the most happy day of the year, which coincidentally falls around the summer solstice. Basically the day of the year where we have the most sunlight, we’re the happiest. We just need to hang on about six more months.
So I’m assuming a lot of pirates are suffering from similar bouts of whining, shivering, eating, drinking, and sleeping. Any writing is lambasted with nasty criticisms from the internal critic until we learn to avoid our laptops altogether. Therefore, today, we’re going to do a little writing exercise to scare away the doldrums and the nasty critics—and this will work because it will not be a story that has hope and dream pinned to it. It will be a story written for the joy of writing. Bad grammar and verb tense and headhopping are all welcome here. Every trope will have its day. Purple prose will violet up the place. Bring it, pirates, I dare you. Let’s have FUN on this most depressing day of the year.
I will start us out.
I’d heard my share of wedding day stories: beautiful lovely ceremonies that only confirmed the love and cherishing that all my friends and cousins had found with their Prince Charmings. Today was my story; and Kevin was well on his way to trumping every story. As the minister read the familiar vows, Kevin smiled down at me, lifted one of my hands that was clasped in his, and kissed it. I could practically hear the congregation sigh. How could you not love Kevin?
“If there is any reason why this man and woman should not be joined, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
For some reason, I held my breath, which was ridiculous. This was Kevin. But I hadn’t finished holding my breath when the church door opened, and I and everyone else turned to see who would show up to a wedding ceremony this late.
A man strode down the aisle, looking like a tall, brawny tornado of menace and irritation. “This wedding is canceled.”
What? No. I stiffened. “Excuse me? Who are you and what are you doing here?”
The man glared at me and I was paralyzed beneath the stormy gaze of his slate gray eyes. “I’m Federal Marshal Evan St. James, and this man, Kevin Woods, is under arrest.”
Okay, that’s the beginning. Now fling in every cliché you can think of. Secret babies, secret wives, time travel, a kidnapping, werewolves, vampires, whatever—now’s your chance to excise your bad writing here so you can write the good stuff in your own work. You don’t have to go in order, you can just write some dialogue or a scene—or just tell us what you think happens next. Let’s make Blue Monday purple!
As ridiculous as the calculations are, I’m looking out my front door at the piles of snow, shivering at the bitter wind that’s whipping past me to raise my heating bill, and I have to admit: weird math dude’s gotta point. I’m not feeling especially hopeful right this second. I’ve huddled up in my apartment all weekend and accomplished only a new record for sleeping and eating. However, even in the most gray cloud there is a silver lining. He who calculated the most depressing day of the year also calculated the most happy day of the year, which coincidentally falls around the summer solstice. Basically the day of the year where we have the most sunlight, we’re the happiest. We just need to hang on about six more months.
So I’m assuming a lot of pirates are suffering from similar bouts of whining, shivering, eating, drinking, and sleeping. Any writing is lambasted with nasty criticisms from the internal critic until we learn to avoid our laptops altogether. Therefore, today, we’re going to do a little writing exercise to scare away the doldrums and the nasty critics—and this will work because it will not be a story that has hope and dream pinned to it. It will be a story written for the joy of writing. Bad grammar and verb tense and headhopping are all welcome here. Every trope will have its day. Purple prose will violet up the place. Bring it, pirates, I dare you. Let’s have FUN on this most depressing day of the year.
I will start us out.
I’d heard my share of wedding day stories: beautiful lovely ceremonies that only confirmed the love and cherishing that all my friends and cousins had found with their Prince Charmings. Today was my story; and Kevin was well on his way to trumping every story. As the minister read the familiar vows, Kevin smiled down at me, lifted one of my hands that was clasped in his, and kissed it. I could practically hear the congregation sigh. How could you not love Kevin?
“If there is any reason why this man and woman should not be joined, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
For some reason, I held my breath, which was ridiculous. This was Kevin. But I hadn’t finished holding my breath when the church door opened, and I and everyone else turned to see who would show up to a wedding ceremony this late.
A man strode down the aisle, looking like a tall, brawny tornado of menace and irritation. “This wedding is canceled.”
What? No. I stiffened. “Excuse me? Who are you and what are you doing here?”
The man glared at me and I was paralyzed beneath the stormy gaze of his slate gray eyes. “I’m Federal Marshal Evan St. James, and this man, Kevin Woods, is under arrest.”
Okay, that’s the beginning. Now fling in every cliché you can think of. Secret babies, secret wives, time travel, a kidnapping, werewolves, vampires, whatever—now’s your chance to excise your bad writing here so you can write the good stuff in your own work. You don’t have to go in order, you can just write some dialogue or a scene—or just tell us what you think happens next. Let’s make Blue Monday purple!
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I shrieked, yes, I shrieked. "NO!" Drawing my massive broadsword from beneath my hooped skirt, I ran at the interloper.
Federal Marshall, my ass! I recognized the Angel Gabriel and my demon blood boiled. I was taking this groom of mine to hell and I didn't care who got in the way!
First, I was in the mood for some buffalo angel wings!
giggle. And I'm not going to say how incredible the weather is right now on the central coast. (74 degrees.) Or how I ate lunch sitting outside in the sunshine and came home to a pair of contracts to sign from my agent for two short stories... Nope, not going to mention any of that. I want to live.
Ooops.
It's good of you not to mention it, Chance. *LOL* *throws empty rum bottle at her* Though congrats on the new contracts! Woot, whooot!!!
I'm loving the demonic turn. Angels are SOOOO in! And a sword does seem like a likely thing to carry under one's skirt.
The organist then felt the need to assert himself. This was his big chance. Muttering "Hell, I can call demons from the vastly deep", he hit the bellows with massive force and the church nearly exploded with the sound of 'Hark the Herald Angels........'.
The carved angels around the roof came instantly to life and descended on Evan St James like vultures descending on prey. The poor man, already cowering under the sword of Helli,now had no chance. The undertaker was already digging a hole in that special plot assigned for such events.
Nice one Helli!
What other secrets do you hide under those skirts? :lol:
Congrats Chance, you're becoming a contract collector!
You should frame them and hang them around the ship as decoration. I suggest a lovely pale shade of green for the frames. 8)
Wow, this is awesome. Unfortunately, I am not. LOL
It was minus 9 degrees last night, and this morning my toilet decides it doesn't remember how to fill with water. I've done what little fixing I can do, so hopefully I can get the landlord over here soon.
I will quaff a couple gallons of coffee and then return. Although I suppose I should just chew on the coffee beans instead. . .
Congrats on the new contracts, Chance!
Congrats, Chance!! You're rocking along there, girl!
As St James matched me blow for blow, the angels swirled around our heads, swooping in when they saw a weakness.
"Please. A baby," he gritted out, catching my vicious slash between a set of nunchucks he'd produced from his belt. "There's a... baby."
A baby? I paused in my hacking, sword in mid-swing. St James bent over his massive beer gut, panting like the out of shape lawman he was. What the hell?
Spinning, I faced the man I'd agreed to marry. "What's he talking about, cupcake?"
Kevin rubbed the back of his neck, his face taking on the toe-rub-in-the-dirt, "geez whiz" look of a second grader. "Now, pookie.... Don't overreact...."
I hitched my hoop skirt in one hand, the broadsword in the other, and skipped up the steps with the hard-won grace of a master vampire-slayer. Which I was.
"Overreact? Muffin..." I said dripping sugary sweetness, my hand tightening around my sword hilt. "This guy just ruined months of careful planning. Flowers from Peru. French couture that cost me an entire vampire bounty! You haven't even seen overreacting. What baby?"
"I'll tell you who's baby." A voice from the door made everyone spin back to the entrance like spectators at a tennis match. A tall, incredibly handsome man stood there, dripping male virility. "My sister's baby."
I rolled my eyes. "And who the hell are you?"
"The Duke of Rothmore, of course."
hee hee.... So fun....
Kevin's face paled. "Wha-what are you doing here, Rothmore? We had an agreement."
Rothmore nodded, curtly. "Yes, but I would say you have broken that agreement by agreeing to marry someone else."
I spun around to look at Kevin. My fingers twitched on the hilt of the sword. I wasn't sure who I wanted to run through first. Hopefully my arm would not tire before I finished all this slashing that was in my near future.
"What does he mean, Kevin? What agreement?"
Kevin's face flushed. He glanced up at the minister. "Rothmore and I--well, it's legal in some states. I was pretty sure it wouldn't be recognized here."
My shrieks filled the church.
http://christinadodd.com/blog/blog_submonth.php?monthid=02&&yearid=2010
There is some really good stuff here....
OMG! Y'all are killing me. LMAO!! Awesome idea, Hellie. Just got to work so I might contribute later, but holy crap someone keep this going. LOL!
Marn, I just read that last night--someone had posted it on Twitter--and I thought it was great too.
Absolutely great stuff in there, Marn. Christina is so funny and I sure needed to read some of that today. Now, off to process checks (which are never for me...)
Q, I'd show you what else was underneath my skirts, but then Mrs. Q would kill you. :D Let's just say Weapons of Mass Destruction.
Nice entry through! Love the visual of the gargoyles coming to life and swooping down on Evan! (Great show of how secondary characters can totally trump main characters as well! Go, organ player!)
Donna, the cold is a bitch, isn't it? Our radio guy said it was 24 degrees outside and I was like, "Yeah, but what's the wind chill?" and as if he heard me, he said, "But the wind chill makes it feel like 9 degrees." Yeah, that's more like it. Punks. About 7 more weeks of winter, guys. Not much longer now!
*LOL* Marn, I want to quote your whole entry! PRICELESS! St James bent over his massive beer gut, panting like the out of shape lawman he was. ROTFL and you inserted a DUKE! BRILLIANT! And of course, the secret baby.
I'm loving this story!!
And the nicknames--"Muffin" and "Cupcake"--*snorks*
Donna! *LOL* OMG! Now I really feel sorry for the bride! Though admittedly THAT one would be my biggest fear. You know, once burned, twice shy....
The tip of my sword fell with a thud to the floor. Take a breath, Helli.
"Okay, let me get this straight, my fiancee of eight years--EIGHT--is married to you?" I asked the gorgeous man who was now glaring up at us. I looked at Kevin, who was making calf-eyes at the man. The same calf-eyes he'd been making at me just ten minutes before. Seriously, where did I find these men?
The duke nodded once. "For the last three years. And my sister is having a baby for us."
I turned, sword raised high to strike my feckless fiance into pieces when he suddenly changed before my eyes.
"What the Hell?"
I was suddenly staring into the giant round eyes of a white owl. This explained Kevin's propensity to sleep all day. And here I thought it meant we were made for each other.
In a clear move of self-preservation, Kevin the Owl spread his wings and flew out one of the stained glass windows broken in the angel dessention from on high.
Blinking in disbelief, I turned to the Duke still lingering in the doorway.
Leaning on the doorframe, wearing a look of utter boredom, he smiled, though the expression never reached his eyes. "I see there are other things he never told you."
"But... you're a...." I could hardly spit out the words. "You're an angel!" I sneered at the handsome duke.
I gestured toward where my fiancee had just exited. "And he's a demon!" I rubbed my forehead, trying to press away the throbbing ache behind my eye, a sure sign this demon's blood pressure was up and things were about to get ugly. "This is against every immortal law."
"That's right." A lazy drawl came from the door. Once again, we all spun to see who it was.
"Lots of uninvited guests at my disaster of a wedding," I muttered. But I didn't mind when I noticed the man who belonged to the drawl.
Tall and handsome in the way of Richard Armitage, he glared at Rothmore. The dark expression gave him a dangerous look. This was the kind of man who meant what he said. Not the kind of man who could lie to a woman for years. My mouth dried.
"This IS against every immortal law," the hunk continued. "You can come quietly and help me find your avian other half or I'm going to be forced to take you down. Without my shirt on, of course."
Ahhh... Well done Ter and Hal. :)
This is a totally fun idea. I'm definitely feeling the please-don't-make-me-drag-my-ass-out-of-bed-blues today. Maybe the weird math guy is right (in which case, it can only get better from here!).
This explained Kevin’s propensity to sleep all day. And here I thought it meant we were made for each other.
*gimlet stare at the Bo'sun* Oh, you're FUNNY.
But I do love the sardonic drawl of "I see there are other things he didn't tell you either" *LOL*
I've never gotten to write that bit about the smile not reaching someone's eyes. LOL! Now I've done it!
I can't wait to find who this hunk is! (Tell me he's not the sister. Please.)
“Just as well,” said the Richard Armitage lookalike. “I’m forbidden to reveal my identity by my organization SHTTSH (Super Hot, Time Traveling Secret Heroes), and in any case, I don’t know my name. I’m still recovering from a blow to the head sustained when a pirate ship exploded. Damn thing left me with temporally graded retrograde amnesia.”
“You can come quietly and help me find your avian other half or I’m going to be forced to take you down. Without my shirt on, of course.”
OMG, you guys are spot on today. I'm laughing so hard, my coworkers are going to call the people with the white coats.
I hope Helli finds true love at last.
Oh, no she didn't. LOL! Amnesia. Brilliant, Janga!
I think we need a love scene here soon...
amnesia! Nice addition Janga!
SWEET! Amnesia! Great touch, Janga!
You guys are freakin' hilarious today. LOL
"Without my shirt on, of course." *snicker* And "demon goo". And the secret organization.
OMG. Have we got a bestseller or what? LOL
We certainly have all the elements of a best seller. LOL!
*clapping excitedly at Hal's entry* OH, A SECRET! How could we have forgotten that trope? What's the secret?
I knew Janga would not disappoint!! Amnesia!
Bestseller, obviously. But this has all the makings of a Lifetime Movie as well! With Richard Armitage playing himself of course, as the hunk with amnesia.
I'd had enough of owls and demon goo and seriously needed a drink. . .a gallon of vodka ought to do the trick.
"All right, let's get the reception started." I waved my sword like a flight attendant directing the occupants towards the exit.
"You." I glanced at the hunk. Only all of a sudden I was seeing double. "Wait. You're a twin?"
Leave it to Donna to double the hotness! LOL!
*curtseys*
He might be an octuplet by the time we're done. LOL
"Clones, actually. Working for SHTTSH can be dangerous, and losing this kind of hotness forever really would be a crime."
Hunk with Amnesia flexed and I had to admit he had a point.
"So how many of you are there?"
"Eight at last count. Though two have been dispatched to the planet Alabama to settle some domestic issue. Few make it back from that kind of assignment. Or if they do return, they're not the same."
*giggles* How can anybody be blue after reading that?
this is seriously improving my day :)
Clones!
"Thank goodness they're not all here," I said. "The caterer would have a fit if I tried to add any to the reception NOW."
I glanced around the church, looking for the owl that used to be my groom.
"I guess if we threw him on a plate, we could add a couple of you SHITTISH guys. If you're light eaters."
"That's SHTTSH."
I brandished my sword, although my wrists were getting tired. Hunk #2 (or was he #3) ducked just in time.
Drat! I have a typo where the italics should end--after "mind."
LOL, Janga -- I've got a typo in mine too. Lemme see if I can go in and fix them.
There are no typos today, Janga! And I thought you were going in a totally different direction before you got to the speaking Chinese bit. LOL!
"Which dialect? I can manage some Mandarin."
"NOpe, need Szechaun, pity. Might have been fun."
"Teach me, I'm a fast learner." I wasn't going to give up a chance to ditch this disaster!
He waggled his eyebrows at me and leaned in close. "I'm sure I could teach you many things..."
My skin shivered as he ran a hand up my tattered sleeve until he touched the handle of my sword. Pulling me closer, he paused. "What else do you have under that skirt?"
Ooops, he found the cannon.
I had to distract him. And fast.
"You know, you're so handsome you should be in a romance novel."
"I was," he said. "It was actually my previous career. As well as the reason for the cloning." He hesitated before adding, "I've also been a cowboy, a cop, and a rock star."
"Just a minute..." I let him take the broadsword and ducked into an alcove. Lifting my skirts, I unbuckled the straps holding the gun I liked to call 'the cannon' to my thigh. Hey! Weddings can be dangerous. Turning around, ran into his chest.
"Well, I'm quite relieved. I was worried you were just happy to see me." Boone took a deep breath and I felt his chest rise against my cheek. Damn, this man smelled good! Or was that the incense?
He dropped my broadsword, and pushed me up against the wall. "I love a lady in white."
"Where the hell is she? I have a gun!" At least he'd said lady. One more Kevin the owl and I was going to join a nunnery. If I could find one that took demons from hell.
Wait a minute, didn't someone mention a secret not long ago? This bozo was trying to distract me. Grant it, he was doing a good job, but if the lack of something against my thigh was any indication, this 'hero' wasn't happy to see me.
"Get your pre-processed hands off of me, you fourth generation knock-off!"
Thank goodness the cannon was still within my reach. I pointed the giant barrel at pencil boy's forehead and he was smart enough to freeze.
"Where's your partner?" I glanced around, keeping one eye on Mr. No-Show. "And where is that damn bird?!"
I sensed movement to my right and spotted Rothmore heading for the exit. With one well-placed shot, he changed his mind.
"Now, nobody better so much as scratch a nut until I get some answers."
Everyone froze. I was pleased. It was about damned time people started paying attention. I was the bride after all. This was MY DAY. And here I'd been upstaged by a duke, octuplet clones, and a cheating avian fiancee.
I was never trusting Match.com again.
Just as I was about to take a breath and start questioning the nearest clone, the church door opened again. A man with a ball cap and a white shirt with a name tag strolled in.
"Did someone order Jimmy Johns?"
Seriously, someone ordered takeout at my wedding?
I glared at the people around me, but it was Hal in the congregation who gave me a sheepish wave and held out some cash.
"Sorry, sorry, I got hungry. I wasn't sure how much longer it'd be before we got to the reception."
Pirates.
LOL!!!
*spitting soda onto my keyboard*
Nice Helli :)
(ironically, I'm sitting here eating take-out while reading this)
I was still laughing at "pre-processed hands" when I reached I was never trusting Match.com again and was engulfed in a new wave of laughter, and then I read about the arrival of Hal's take-out order and choked on my Big K diet lemon-lime. I'm still laughing
Clone #3 sighed. "Jimmy John's forgot my pickle."
Rothburn snorted. "You just said a mouthful, sister."
Whooops, that was ear lobe... ;-)
Suddenly, a deafening boom shattered every remaining window in the church. Damn, I was never getting that deposit back.
Gathering my voluminous skirts, and hauling pencil head out by his ear love, I joined the exodus to the open air.
"Prepare to be boarded!" hailed from above.
I tilted my head up. Strangest looking pirate ship I've ever seen. There were lights dancing all around the railing, colored and doing some strange combination. A disc whirled at the top of each mast. Gazing down at me was a green skinned alien. Waving two femur bones and crossing them periodically...
Great, alien pirates! What the hell could they want?
"Bride! We want the bride! Surrender the bride or we will fire again and ... and it won't be pleasant. Please? Send up the bride."
Please? Polite alien pirates? Screw it, let them be unpleasant to the crowd.
Though it was nice to be wanted!
I kinda like "ear love" actually. LOL
I knew I could count of you to bring on the aliens, Chance!
I put the clone's body between mine and the alien, letting him catch the green slime before it hit my dress. I'd bought the damn thing at Kleinfelds and I wasn't going to let it get ruined.
Well, more than it already was.
As the space-pirate-ship drew closer, Rothmore ran past me yelling, "Dude, where's my carriage?!" The twit was hysterical, his knickers in a royal bunch.
I considered shooting his ass, but Clone #1 lasso'd him before I could get off a shot. Turning back to the new development hovering above me, I asked, "What the hell do you want me for?"
The sniveling green creature pinched the bridge of his nose as if HE'D had a bad day. "It's the zombies. They're demanding more brains and I figure anyone stupid enough to marry a cheating owl won't be missed."
"How did you hear about this cluster?!"
"Twitter."
I turned quickly to the crowd of guests. The culprit was easy to spot. "Damn it, Donna."
Aliens! Of course! That explained how Rothmore had morphed into Rothburn. At least I hoped it did. My head ached. It felt as if I was in the midst of a dream. Or my life was being written on the fly by half a dozen crazed pirate wenches.
ROFLMAO! Terri, you are too much!
Rothmore, Rothburn--who can keep all these damned dukes straight?
*LOL* OMG. Stop sacrificing MY brains!
Sacrifice one of the clones.
A huge limo roared up the drive and the door shot open. A hand beckoned, "Quick! Come on, Helli!"
Nora Roberts came to my wedding? Who else was in that car. Linda Lael Miller?
I was dead, wasn't I?
"Come on! I hacked your computer and sent your manuscript to Avon, they want to publish Lucy's story! Hurry! The offer expires in twenty minutes!" Nora shouted.
I was dead and had gone to heaven?
Twitter. LMAO!!
I ran for the fucking limo as fast as my Chinese Laundry platforms would carry me, thrashing four of the pirates who ran before me, all claiming to be Helli.
"Bitches, get your own fantasy!"
hahahahaa!!!
“Bitches, get your own fantasy!”
hahahahaha!!
I got into the limo, and we immediately pulled away. I laughed victoriously. Nora smiled like the Cheshire cat, and Linda Lael Miller handed me a flute with champagne. Now THIS was more like it. Who needed a husband? I had a publishing contract!
"Do you all always have champagne?"
Nora gave a tinkling laugh. "Of course! We're romance novelists! How else would you expect such glamorous people to act?"
Of course. I brought the champagne to my lips, but had a niggling of doubt. Glamorous? Then why was Teresa Medeiros always posting pictures of herself in sweats? I thought the life of a romance novelist was work-work-work all the time?
And it was then I smelled the iocaine powder. And it was then I knew this was not Nora Roberts. I'd been kidnapped by another set of the clones. Undoubtedly the ones from Alabama.
Fuck.
Of course. After the zombies, LaNora was the only thing missing. LOL!
Of course! The planet of Alabama would never allow a book that all but redeemed Lucifer make it to print!
I snagged LaNora's pink feather boa and
Wait a minute, iocaine powder has no smell or taste! LOL!
That was the last time I got engaged to a freakin' owl. We should have just eloped. But noooo. I wanted the "dream wedding". I got the nightmare version instead.
At least I could fix it during revisions.
*grins* I wondered how long it would take you to remember that.
Screw it.
wrapping the feather boa tightly around the fake LaNora's neck, I kicked the clone LLM in the throat and she dropped like a sack of rotten potatoes.
"Now, take me back to my wedding...no, wait. Take me to the nearest bar.
LaNora chocked out directions to the driver when I let her have a small bit of breathing room. I continued to apply the pressure until the limo stopped at a massive building with a broken neon sign, trying to spell something out.
I eyed it The Twisted Twit.. Sounded about right for my day!
I gave a final jerk of the boa. The snap of her neck sounded good. Man, do not f*ck with a hungry writer! That would teach them to send in the clones after me!
I slid from the car and entered the bar. The pounding of music was music to my ears. Strolling to the bar, I shouted, "A Kracked Kraken! Double!"
Down at the end of the bar, a massive shadow moved. Suddenly a tentacle lightly settled across my shoulder and a burbling voice came in my ear. "Can I eat anyone for you today?
This might come in handy!
I knew about the iocane powder right away! But I was trying to get this dang mail package out before the UPS guy got here. LOL!
So, I'm a little slow today. Took me hours to suddenly question why Donna was pouring coffee down her throat if her toilet wasn't working... Still haven't quite wrapped my head around that one... Seems a bit, uh...counter to what I might want to do in the situation...
Chance, you know caffeine is the only reason I have any sort of personality, at all. And yes, I had the same thought about intake and output. LOL That's why I mentioned chewing on coffee beans instead.
Fortunately the situation was taken care of in record time. Some of the pipes in the bathroom had managed to freeze last night -- that's what happens in minus temps, even with a heater on the pipes. But all is well now. :)
Boston was in our news today...how cold it was!
Hey, come on...who is going to tackle the Kraken's offer?
Oh, thank God, a Happy Ending in sight. Provided he's not actually another clone.
LOVE the eyes the color of butter rum imagery. Nice.
I figured we needed to bring a real hero into this. LOL! And since Chance's Kraken is a matchmaker, seemed about right.
Thank God for the Kraken! Three cheers for the Kraken!
Jack lounged on the barstool next to me and refilled my rum glass. This was a man who knew me well.Perhaps even better than I knew myself.
"Hellie, my love, You're looking beautiful, if a little ragged on the edges."
I downed my drink, then pushed my empty glass towards Jack, who poured another. "My wedding was canceled today because my fiance was actually some sort of bird demon, and there was your usual action with some demons I had to slay and some double-crossing clones. Oh, and zombies."
"I hate zombies. As you'll see in my next movie."
"Not a fan myself."
"So are we going to make out or what?"
"I was just waiting for the 80s music to cue."
As Whitesnake began to play, Jack leaned forward and boldly captured my mouth with his. Maybe this day wasn't so bad after all. I got to wear a gorgeous dress, then make out with the most wickedly devilish man on the seven seas. And being he was trying to remove said dress with his nimble larcenous fingers, I had a feeling this evening could be salvaged totally with some bar counter sex.
"Would you look at that?" he said with a grin. "My favorite kind of Hellion. The kind who isn't wearing underwear."
"Ah, but am I wearing all my knives."
"As I said, my favorite kind of Hellion. Armed and dangerous."
And he kissed me again. Yeah, I was going to have to send the Bo'sun a thank you card later for sending him into the bar.
All of a sudden the Deerhunter appeared, a sword gripped in his hand. He sighed as he saw Jack fumbling to undress Hellion.
"Here," he said. "I'll show you how it's done."
*LOL*
I love the ending. Hells, your HEA is perfect. Well, and Donna's addition is pretty good too, though I am a bit partial to Jack. LOL!
Lots of fun today, girls. :)
Oh, and I love the cheesy Whitesnake at the end. Classic.
Just remember, Krakey is around to eat all who bug the pirates...
Wonderful ending! LOL! This was so fun and I'm going to have one hell of a time trying to follow it!
Hey Pirates - that was LAUGH OUT LOUD funny! Great job one and all!
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