A Flurry of Words

Here is another story from my youth. The previous story (Grapes of Wrath) was written during my last weeks of high school back in 1993. This story was written in 1994 I believe. If I’m not mistaken, my friend and I had been reading a local independent magazine. A writer had a list of words and dared his readers to write a story including the entire vocabulary. There was nothing stating the words had to be used in proper context. That is when our story was born….

Summerchild you freak me wild,” Paul cried. Then he crashed through the ice, the sharp edge dragging down his arm, a nasty laceration. “There’s a world down here, Boffo! I’m crazy for you and this ice is just a test. Sing me latitudes of your memory. Longitude is the dogma of man’s disguise.” He looked at his reflection in the smooth surface above his head. His aura was grodie. He would have preferred purple, in fact he yearned for it. He lived for himself now. #!@* the seqraciousness required up there. HAIL HEDONISM! “A-EEL EDONEEESM!” the moon Paul wailed. “So hey, I was thinking, what colour is your aura?” Maren questioned Paul as she was ardent for Pauly-Poo and his enigmatic aura. Paul unaware that Maren had been sensing his thoughts screamed “B-R-O-W-N. Brown, like a pumpernickel cow pie. Are you happy now?” “As a matter of fact, I heart this nautical wonderland,” Maren replied. “Golly,” Paul said, gazing deep into her soul with the X-ray lenses he had pulled from underneath his tuque. “I want you. You are a math goddess. Not to be irreverent, but you are the umbrage of my universe. I pay homage to my umbrage. Tungsten is my tulip. Look at that kelp. It’s to feed the wyvern I will give to you, my betrothed.” Paul lay just below Maren’s feet. “STEP ON MY HEAD!” he hollered, “because I want you”. “I would take your panleukopenis,” Maren said. “You, you, you, oh no, no, no….panleukopenis is not in either of your systems so stop your whining and thank me happily,” Melanie demanded as she slid down the, once ballistic, now defunct, missile tube into the slippery underworld. She watched Maren as Paul inserted his tungsten into their beautiful first kiss. Melanie plugged it into a nearby eel. “BZZZZ,” they went. “Wow, what a charge!” they shouted, running off to the nearest sea bed. Total beatitude. Melanie looked dazed. She was happy for them, but damn, she was lonely. Mr. McDonald, come on down!!!” She smiled slightly as he came zooming down with tremendous velocity.”Boy,” he mumbled, “this polyester sure is slippery, eh?” Melanie fell into his arms, but as she was wearing satin, they slid against one another and she fell into the current smacking her forehead on the ice. She was out cold. Maren, happily unaware of Melanie’s fermenting sexual repression, was also not aware of the resulting ‘fumbling towards ecstasy’ accident. She was more concerned with Paul’s cosmic mumbling. Paul was whispering “What do I say when it comes up? What do I do? I’m so scared. Oh my misfortunes!” “Beatify me,” Maren responded. “Oh, I can’t, I’m too scared!” “No, dodo, that’s what YOU say!” “OH! Beatify me!” Pauliam said. She did. Meanwhile, back at the disco-auqa, Melanie had recovered consciousness, and was doing her best to reach her zenith through Mr.McDonald, without seeming like a yucky yenta. The sky was xanthrous, the world was panthrous and Melanie had something to say. “I’m tired. Let’s go to sex-us texas.” “Yeah, okay. I’m in a lone star state of mind and my wiley wiggins is ever ready.” McDonald Man replied. “Unfortunately my batteries are dead so we’ll have to swim.” “Rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, star……,” and they were off.VROOMMMMMmmmmm Maren and Paul had found their comet. It had been a cosmic day. “You’re the Queen of my heart,”” he said. Melanie and Mister McD. were…occupied. They were making stew for the pretty horses. They had missed their lucky star and were forever now in the underwater dish world until the first day of spring, when the Shinook brought the Big Thaw. Since they were magnanimous, they made it. Maren and Paul had saved them a room in their mansion under a strip mall just outside of downtown London and were patiently awaiting their arrival. The loons had arrived in town and they were anxious to eat the rice and beans.
To be continued on some other boring day…..

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