Fast Fiction 2008 - The Nun / Whore Wars
Title: The Nun/Whore Wars
Word: callipygian
Word count: 250
Requested by:
notdan
Just a little brandy, if you would. Thank you so much. What was I saying, Miss McAndrew? No, there’s really no difference. Everyone thinks there is, but once I’ve spoken to them, showed them my point of view, it’s so much easier for them to believe.
“Why no, Cardinal Lawrence, I declare I never thought of it that way before.” And that, my dear lady, was the Mother Superior. Nancy, I call her, of course. Such a shame all that auburn hair gets hidden under that coif.
Mother Superior… hem.
What’s your first name, Miss McAndrew?
Oh that’s lovely. It means ‘light’ in the original Greek, you know. Are you light, my dear? Just my little joke, haha.
They trip-trap through here, high heels and low tapping on the ancient stone flags. I can’t decide which is more inflammatory; the tight skirts and jeans outlining all there is to see, or the loose flowing habits covering callipygian delights. It’s hard, if you’ll pardon the pun. Difficult, if you rather.
And this will be in your column? Marvellous. No, we don’t get that paper, but I think - in your case, Miss McAndrew - I can make quite an exception.
Confession? Naturally.
You would have to kneel down, of course.
Yes, rather like that. Oh, I see. I quite misunderstood. No, my dear, there’s no need to get back up.
You see, Miss McAndrew, there’s really no difference, only that half of them call me Father, and the other half call me Daddy.
© H J M McAlroy 2008
Word: callipygian
Word count: 250
Requested by:
notdan
Just a little brandy, if you would. Thank you so much. What was I saying, Miss McAndrew? No, there’s really no difference. Everyone thinks there is, but once I’ve spoken to them, showed them my point of view, it’s so much easier for them to believe.
“Why no, Cardinal Lawrence, I declare I never thought of it that way before.” And that, my dear lady, was the Mother Superior. Nancy, I call her, of course. Such a shame all that auburn hair gets hidden under that coif.
Mother Superior… hem.
What’s your first name, Miss McAndrew?
Oh that’s lovely. It means ‘light’ in the original Greek, you know. Are you light, my dear? Just my little joke, haha.
They trip-trap through here, high heels and low tapping on the ancient stone flags. I can’t decide which is more inflammatory; the tight skirts and jeans outlining all there is to see, or the loose flowing habits covering callipygian delights. It’s hard, if you’ll pardon the pun. Difficult, if you rather.
And this will be in your column? Marvellous. No, we don’t get that paper, but I think - in your case, Miss McAndrew - I can make quite an exception.
Confession? Naturally.
You would have to kneel down, of course.
Yes, rather like that. Oh, I see. I quite misunderstood. No, my dear, there’s no need to get back up.
You see, Miss McAndrew, there’s really no difference, only that half of them call me Father, and the other half call me Daddy.
© H J M McAlroy 2008