The best part of waking up...
Is with your main-squeezes hand in your cup! Erm, oh, wait, that never happened. Was just a left-over dream I had from the night before. It was one of those strange, abnormal dreams that people normally get when they're exposed to a smattering of new things at once. (In my case, feelings and ideas. Shudders con horror!) I was playing soccer, like I did briefly back in middle school. The only game I really had any interest in, and that was only because it was more-sensical than football, but still less-ordered than Baseball. (Don't even get me started on my two weeks of lacrosse in high school.)
I was dreaming I was playing today, for whatever reason, and was decked out in all the gear. You know, shin guards, cleats, cup, the works, and was out on the field running. Only, halfway down as I was about to kick the ball I noticed that the grass wasn't grass any longer, but live, wriggling snakes! And the ball was some sort of weird mystical glowing sphere! I ran as fast as I could toward the side lines, and once there Lara took my hand (where she came from I don't know) and led me off to the bleachers. We got around to taking part in some meaningless snogging right off the bat (hence the first line there) when all of a sudden she drew her head back, looked me in the eyes, and let out one of those god-awful ear-piercing, heart-stopping, blood-chilling roaring screams I'd heard the other night. I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping and shaking, before turning over and pathetically sobbing myself to sleep. Why I do not know...
I awoke to soft, sensual hands caressing my forehead, brushing back my hair and stroking me in the most lovely of manners. I rolled onto my back and snored a bit before managing to wake up completely, which I think was misconstrued as purring. "Hmm, feels good." I murmured, or something along those lines, and I heard that oh-so familiar giggle. Ah, good, it was her! My eyes snapped open straightaway, and I found myself staring up and into the face of an angel. Garbed in a simple green tee that complemented the hues of her hair and flavour of her eyes, reading "Kiss me, who gives a f*ck what I am?!"; in addition to skin-tight tan pants, with flares at the ankles. (Leading me to believe she had to put them on upside down, Lord knows I'd tried to once or twice with my own.)
After surveying my girl's outfit, I sat up under my thick black comforter and patted the bed beside me. She took a seat and into my blurred morning vision swam sight of a paritioned tray, holding two coffees, fixings for said coffees, and two Rhasberry-cheese-danishes; all from none other than the local Stewarts.
"How'd you know where I-"
"Lived?" She finished, smiling and handing me my coffee along with creamer and sugar packets. "Is your own personal stalker not also my twin sister? She has a whole file on you. Oh, and by the way you'll want to change your locks." She added, laughing lightly. Her laugher seemed to ring clear, filling my far-too-cold bedroom.
"Common," She said, "Get up. It's a warm day and according to Mara you've only got one class, and that's not until 1."
I clearly remember taking a careful sip of my recently prepared coffee and looking at her, torn between doing as she wished and making a counteroffer of my own. (Which I can't help but feel I've no need to say word for word. You must know enough about me by now.) But still, I had to make some comment.
"Only if you tell me how you got into those pants." Another sip on my part, an evil grin on hers.
"Get showered and dressed in twenty minutes and I might just tell you how to get them off."
"What, not going to join me?"
"Make that fifteen."
And so, breaking with tradition I swilled down half my coffee, perhaps giving my- well, no, I've had my tonsils removed, so I guess it was just my bare throat- some second or third degree burns in the process no doubt. Stripping on the way, I darted into the upstairs hallway, which really was no more than the landing off of the straight stairs, and turned left into my bathroom. (It's pretty much my floor, with my own personal study to the right of the bedroom. Nifty, these little colonials...) The staircase actually happens to end in a door at the bottom, which just happens to be opposite the breezeway door. Hence my coming and going as I choose.
But back to the topic at hand, I rushed to get ready, and I walked back into my bedroom to find her sprawled out on my unmade bed, Cosmo magazine in hand, her legs crossed and with the one wiggling up and down in the air. I cleared my throat to let her know I was back. She glanced at me, smiled, and held up her wrist to look at her watch. "Hmm, thirteen minutes. Seems I'll have to do more than just tell you how to get me out of my pants..." Thus did I learn why to be a good little big-man-slave for my dear Mistress Lara...
We took her car, despite how poor Yon Ill Eclipse whined at me. I gave her some car treats in the form of Fuel Injector Cleaner and off we went in- if you can believe it- Sven, Lara's brand-spanking new silver Doge Intrepid, with the spoiler on the back and the nice script which read "Cock Hound". I gave her a quizzical look, nodding at the decal, and she just blushed slightly and muttered something about Sven being the only gay boyfriend she needed in her life. Perhaps that's why I kept thinking there was something poking at me through the bottom of my seat as we rode, or maybe that's just my incredulous rear pining for Yon Ill Eclipse. (Whose name I keep as a carefully guarded secret, much like the Jews with the Name of God, only this one is still vastly unknown and evokes power of massive acceleration when there is a need.)
While the ride was not like that of the Eclipse, it was terrific in its own regard, and I was forced to admit that I was almost willing to go bi for Sven. (Always with the Almost's, this one.) For bringing more than two people, he'd be great, what with Dodge's cab-forward design and all, plus he had some power to him. I didn't really pay too much attention to the road, seeming as how I was pretty well consumed with the site of Lara caressing and stroking her shifter's knob in between gears. I hate to admit it, but my own mind was in the gutter for most of the trip, and I think she must have caught me looking at it earlier on because the further we went the more and more provocative her actions.
"You're evil."
"I know." She said with a grin, "Sven seems to like it though, gives me better gas mileage and all that." Seems personal car taboos were somewhat universal. "We're here hun." She parked Sven, and we got out. It wasn't that long of a ride, only about fourty or so minutes as the Sedan flies, but looking around I saw we had made it all the way to the Heldaburgh lookout.
"Holy shit!"
"What?" She asked innocently, "Never been here before?"
"I've been here once or twice. It's just that-jeash, how fast were you going?!"
She smiled, and shook her head. "A good clip, but not that fast really. Still, you should be grateful I'm not that quick to jump your bones."
"Um...?"
"Might break something." We laughed, caressed, the works, and looked out over the 'city' of Albany that lay below, as well as most of the Hudson River Valley. I'd seen the sight before, like I'd said, but it seemed so much nicer to be here with someone you cared about.
"So do you see it yet?" She asked, gesturing vaguely over all that lay before.
"See what?" I asked, turning to look at her, but she physically turned me back around, wrapping her arms around me as she did. (It was then that I noticed she was as tall if not taller than I was, and thus did I remember how much I loathed Tiny women in comparison.)
"Your answer. I did some thinking last night after you dropped me off, and I think I know what your missing."
"Everything?"
She smacked my ass, and I don't mean lightly in a playful manner. It really hurt! But anyway- "Dink! Look past Albany..."
And then, just as I always knew it'd do, the forest clicked into view!
Time! Time was the factor! She wasn't the speedy type, I know, for reasons best left unsaid. But everything she'd done today, she was trying to clue me in! Timed shower, speeding to the lookout, her intolerance for my antics right when I was on the verge of finding out, instead of simply gropping me, it all made sense! She had given me the chance to redeam myself, but still, I doubt I'd have found it so readily had it not been for her.
But wait one moment, what about the Bandersnatch? Ah! She had been a clue in herself along the way! A Bandersnatch, a thing of old Ireland or perhaps Mr. Carroll's most deranged imagination, she was an intrical part of this! The raising and awakening of the Ancient Guardians, the constant occult activity. Oh no... Oh no, oh no, oh no! NOO! OOH! NOO!"
"Oh no what?" Damn, I was voicing my inner monologue again.
"The Sasquachian Schlong Furries Club! It's led by an Occultist Lunatic who wants to voilate one of the most intrical laws of Magick, and in doing so intends to haven ot only himself, but the entire world destroyed when it returns to him times three! Unless this isn't the first time the blasphemy has been done, in which case it could be nine, or twenty-seven, or worse!"
"A law reguarding time?" She asked, smiling faintly, perhaps not really comprehending what I was saying. "So I was right."
"Oh God yes Lara, but for the first and only time I wish yiou hadn't been! Wait, no, scratch that. Right or no it is what it is, just, ooh! I can't do this alone! The Lunatic is trying to reverse the flow of time! First the forests which have been sneaking back in. I knew Albany was looking more and more like a lone island of towers on a forested plain... Then the animals came back, not just the horrible monsterous ones, but others as well. Next they've been bringing back the Ancients, the Olde (with an 'e' no less) creatures of the world! Next come the glaciers, and once the world's ice he'll be waiting for his souped-up curse to strike and destroy it all!"
"Jason!" She said with a laugh, "There's no such thing as magic. And even if there were...Why would he want to?"
"Otherworld!"
"Otherworld?"
"You my lady, do not know your celtic lore! Otherworld, the other realm which we go to and from when we live our lives here and die. He must be an exile from there, who not only wants to go back, but make it so he can't be thrown out again! He must have been a no good, dirty, animal fucker of the first order! HOLY SHIT, WE NEED TANYA!"
"You've lost me..."
"Get in and drive, I'll explain in a less half-assed manner on the way!"
Was I really this hyper? Yes and no. Some is embellishment on my part, some is the way I felt when I actually sat down to write this. I've since calmed down a bit. This isn't the first end of the world plot I've seen, only the best planned out. (That is, if we've interpreted our data correctly.) So while I did go rushing off to Tanya, it wasn't to have her run off and gut the guy like a fish. I needed to confirm a few Druish facts, and there wasn't anyone I knew who was more Druish than Tanya.
We went straight to the Landscape Architecture firm she worked at in Rochester, walking right into her office, past the antzy looking secretary.
"Ah, Jason!" She greeted me, "I see you've finally found a woman subtantial enough to commit to as more than just an outfit accessory, mazzletof!"
"I thought you said she was Druish..." Lara muttered in my ear, and I couldn't help but snort.
"True," I said, "But dear Tanya is many things, not the least is Hebrew."
"The father's side." She chimmed in, having overheard our mutterings, "But that's beside the point. What can I do for you Cous?"
"I need all the books I can get on Celtic history, lore, and mysticism."
"What part of oral-history do you not seem to grasp!? The only books on the subject are written by stuffed-shirts with PhD's in anthropology, sociology, gynacology, etcetera, etcetera. If you want to know something all you need to do is ask-" I tried to say something, but she held up a silencing hand, "-And wait until we can sit down, half a few drinks, perhaps a good meal, and I can ramble it out for you."
Grudginly I accepted, and she resumed work on her- tequila bottle and lime? Somehow that didn't surprise me. We didn't leave right away however, seeming as how she had a lunch break in five minutes or so, so as she drank we chatted. I introduced Lara, and after looking at us Tanya just laughed maniacly.
"Jason you poor bastard!"
"What?!"
"There is a high doom upon your head! (And I don't mean the one sitting on your shoulders either!) That wench has you wrapped around her little finger."
"Hey!" Lara exlaimed.
"Sorry, I calls them like I sees them, mayven."
"Quite..." She seemed a touch cold, and I don't much blame her. Not many people like Tanya, and I myself only associate with her because she's a: family, and b: useful at times. Plus if I tried to resist she'd beat me...
So we went out to lunch, Lara and I had a couple of...'lemon-aids' complements of Tanya, and seeming as how I was skiving off classes anyway and Lara had the day off to begin with, we decided to just make a day out of Rochester while we awaited her to get out of work.
And now here I am, still waiting back at Tanya's pad, with Lara reading a book she found in the living room. She knows about my wonderful log of my entire daily life, and even wants to read it. Merr... I'd rather she didn't. It's personal, too personal, unless the person reading it is impersonal. You know what I mean, right? That fear of people looking you in the eye after you say something you hold as a deeply held belief, but can pass off lightly in writing, and they just look at you and know. Body language can be a killer, that or a luscious art form. Depends on what kind of 'mood' you're in at the time.
Ah, here she comes now!
I was dreaming I was playing today, for whatever reason, and was decked out in all the gear. You know, shin guards, cleats, cup, the works, and was out on the field running. Only, halfway down as I was about to kick the ball I noticed that the grass wasn't grass any longer, but live, wriggling snakes! And the ball was some sort of weird mystical glowing sphere! I ran as fast as I could toward the side lines, and once there Lara took my hand (where she came from I don't know) and led me off to the bleachers. We got around to taking part in some meaningless snogging right off the bat (hence the first line there) when all of a sudden she drew her head back, looked me in the eyes, and let out one of those god-awful ear-piercing, heart-stopping, blood-chilling roaring screams I'd heard the other night. I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping and shaking, before turning over and pathetically sobbing myself to sleep. Why I do not know...
I awoke to soft, sensual hands caressing my forehead, brushing back my hair and stroking me in the most lovely of manners. I rolled onto my back and snored a bit before managing to wake up completely, which I think was misconstrued as purring. "Hmm, feels good." I murmured, or something along those lines, and I heard that oh-so familiar giggle. Ah, good, it was her! My eyes snapped open straightaway, and I found myself staring up and into the face of an angel. Garbed in a simple green tee that complemented the hues of her hair and flavour of her eyes, reading "Kiss me, who gives a f*ck what I am?!"; in addition to skin-tight tan pants, with flares at the ankles. (Leading me to believe she had to put them on upside down, Lord knows I'd tried to once or twice with my own.)
After surveying my girl's outfit, I sat up under my thick black comforter and patted the bed beside me. She took a seat and into my blurred morning vision swam sight of a paritioned tray, holding two coffees, fixings for said coffees, and two Rhasberry-cheese-danishes; all from none other than the local Stewarts.
"How'd you know where I-"
"Lived?" She finished, smiling and handing me my coffee along with creamer and sugar packets. "Is your own personal stalker not also my twin sister? She has a whole file on you. Oh, and by the way you'll want to change your locks." She added, laughing lightly. Her laugher seemed to ring clear, filling my far-too-cold bedroom.
"Common," She said, "Get up. It's a warm day and according to Mara you've only got one class, and that's not until 1."
I clearly remember taking a careful sip of my recently prepared coffee and looking at her, torn between doing as she wished and making a counteroffer of my own. (Which I can't help but feel I've no need to say word for word. You must know enough about me by now.) But still, I had to make some comment.
"Only if you tell me how you got into those pants." Another sip on my part, an evil grin on hers.
"Get showered and dressed in twenty minutes and I might just tell you how to get them off."
"What, not going to join me?"
"Make that fifteen."
And so, breaking with tradition I swilled down half my coffee, perhaps giving my- well, no, I've had my tonsils removed, so I guess it was just my bare throat- some second or third degree burns in the process no doubt. Stripping on the way, I darted into the upstairs hallway, which really was no more than the landing off of the straight stairs, and turned left into my bathroom. (It's pretty much my floor, with my own personal study to the right of the bedroom. Nifty, these little colonials...) The staircase actually happens to end in a door at the bottom, which just happens to be opposite the breezeway door. Hence my coming and going as I choose.
But back to the topic at hand, I rushed to get ready, and I walked back into my bedroom to find her sprawled out on my unmade bed, Cosmo magazine in hand, her legs crossed and with the one wiggling up and down in the air. I cleared my throat to let her know I was back. She glanced at me, smiled, and held up her wrist to look at her watch. "Hmm, thirteen minutes. Seems I'll have to do more than just tell you how to get me out of my pants..." Thus did I learn why to be a good little big-man-slave for my dear Mistress Lara...
We took her car, despite how poor Yon Ill Eclipse whined at me. I gave her some car treats in the form of Fuel Injector Cleaner and off we went in- if you can believe it- Sven, Lara's brand-spanking new silver Doge Intrepid, with the spoiler on the back and the nice script which read "Cock Hound". I gave her a quizzical look, nodding at the decal, and she just blushed slightly and muttered something about Sven being the only gay boyfriend she needed in her life. Perhaps that's why I kept thinking there was something poking at me through the bottom of my seat as we rode, or maybe that's just my incredulous rear pining for Yon Ill Eclipse. (Whose name I keep as a carefully guarded secret, much like the Jews with the Name of God, only this one is still vastly unknown and evokes power of massive acceleration when there is a need.)
While the ride was not like that of the Eclipse, it was terrific in its own regard, and I was forced to admit that I was almost willing to go bi for Sven. (Always with the Almost's, this one.) For bringing more than two people, he'd be great, what with Dodge's cab-forward design and all, plus he had some power to him. I didn't really pay too much attention to the road, seeming as how I was pretty well consumed with the site of Lara caressing and stroking her shifter's knob in between gears. I hate to admit it, but my own mind was in the gutter for most of the trip, and I think she must have caught me looking at it earlier on because the further we went the more and more provocative her actions.
"You're evil."
"I know." She said with a grin, "Sven seems to like it though, gives me better gas mileage and all that." Seems personal car taboos were somewhat universal. "We're here hun." She parked Sven, and we got out. It wasn't that long of a ride, only about fourty or so minutes as the Sedan flies, but looking around I saw we had made it all the way to the Heldaburgh lookout.
"Holy shit!"
"What?" She asked innocently, "Never been here before?"
"I've been here once or twice. It's just that-jeash, how fast were you going?!"
She smiled, and shook her head. "A good clip, but not that fast really. Still, you should be grateful I'm not that quick to jump your bones."
"Um...?"
"Might break something." We laughed, caressed, the works, and looked out over the 'city' of Albany that lay below, as well as most of the Hudson River Valley. I'd seen the sight before, like I'd said, but it seemed so much nicer to be here with someone you cared about.
"So do you see it yet?" She asked, gesturing vaguely over all that lay before.
"See what?" I asked, turning to look at her, but she physically turned me back around, wrapping her arms around me as she did. (It was then that I noticed she was as tall if not taller than I was, and thus did I remember how much I loathed Tiny women in comparison.)
"Your answer. I did some thinking last night after you dropped me off, and I think I know what your missing."
"Everything?"
She smacked my ass, and I don't mean lightly in a playful manner. It really hurt! But anyway- "Dink! Look past Albany..."
And then, just as I always knew it'd do, the forest clicked into view!
Time! Time was the factor! She wasn't the speedy type, I know, for reasons best left unsaid. But everything she'd done today, she was trying to clue me in! Timed shower, speeding to the lookout, her intolerance for my antics right when I was on the verge of finding out, instead of simply gropping me, it all made sense! She had given me the chance to redeam myself, but still, I doubt I'd have found it so readily had it not been for her.
But wait one moment, what about the Bandersnatch? Ah! She had been a clue in herself along the way! A Bandersnatch, a thing of old Ireland or perhaps Mr. Carroll's most deranged imagination, she was an intrical part of this! The raising and awakening of the Ancient Guardians, the constant occult activity. Oh no... Oh no, oh no, oh no! NOO! OOH! NOO!"
"Oh no what?" Damn, I was voicing my inner monologue again.
"The Sasquachian Schlong Furries Club! It's led by an Occultist Lunatic who wants to voilate one of the most intrical laws of Magick, and in doing so intends to haven ot only himself, but the entire world destroyed when it returns to him times three! Unless this isn't the first time the blasphemy has been done, in which case it could be nine, or twenty-seven, or worse!"
"A law reguarding time?" She asked, smiling faintly, perhaps not really comprehending what I was saying. "So I was right."
"Oh God yes Lara, but for the first and only time I wish yiou hadn't been! Wait, no, scratch that. Right or no it is what it is, just, ooh! I can't do this alone! The Lunatic is trying to reverse the flow of time! First the forests which have been sneaking back in. I knew Albany was looking more and more like a lone island of towers on a forested plain... Then the animals came back, not just the horrible monsterous ones, but others as well. Next they've been bringing back the Ancients, the Olde (with an 'e' no less) creatures of the world! Next come the glaciers, and once the world's ice he'll be waiting for his souped-up curse to strike and destroy it all!"
"Jason!" She said with a laugh, "There's no such thing as magic. And even if there were...Why would he want to?"
"Otherworld!"
"Otherworld?"
"You my lady, do not know your celtic lore! Otherworld, the other realm which we go to and from when we live our lives here and die. He must be an exile from there, who not only wants to go back, but make it so he can't be thrown out again! He must have been a no good, dirty, animal fucker of the first order! HOLY SHIT, WE NEED TANYA!"
"You've lost me..."
"Get in and drive, I'll explain in a less half-assed manner on the way!"
Was I really this hyper? Yes and no. Some is embellishment on my part, some is the way I felt when I actually sat down to write this. I've since calmed down a bit. This isn't the first end of the world plot I've seen, only the best planned out. (That is, if we've interpreted our data correctly.) So while I did go rushing off to Tanya, it wasn't to have her run off and gut the guy like a fish. I needed to confirm a few Druish facts, and there wasn't anyone I knew who was more Druish than Tanya.
We went straight to the Landscape Architecture firm she worked at in Rochester, walking right into her office, past the antzy looking secretary.
"Ah, Jason!" She greeted me, "I see you've finally found a woman subtantial enough to commit to as more than just an outfit accessory, mazzletof!"
"I thought you said she was Druish..." Lara muttered in my ear, and I couldn't help but snort.
"True," I said, "But dear Tanya is many things, not the least is Hebrew."
"The father's side." She chimmed in, having overheard our mutterings, "But that's beside the point. What can I do for you Cous?"
"I need all the books I can get on Celtic history, lore, and mysticism."
"What part of oral-history do you not seem to grasp!? The only books on the subject are written by stuffed-shirts with PhD's in anthropology, sociology, gynacology, etcetera, etcetera. If you want to know something all you need to do is ask-" I tried to say something, but she held up a silencing hand, "-And wait until we can sit down, half a few drinks, perhaps a good meal, and I can ramble it out for you."
Grudginly I accepted, and she resumed work on her- tequila bottle and lime? Somehow that didn't surprise me. We didn't leave right away however, seeming as how she had a lunch break in five minutes or so, so as she drank we chatted. I introduced Lara, and after looking at us Tanya just laughed maniacly.
"Jason you poor bastard!"
"What?!"
"There is a high doom upon your head! (And I don't mean the one sitting on your shoulders either!) That wench has you wrapped around her little finger."
"Hey!" Lara exlaimed.
"Sorry, I calls them like I sees them, mayven."
"Quite..." She seemed a touch cold, and I don't much blame her. Not many people like Tanya, and I myself only associate with her because she's a: family, and b: useful at times. Plus if I tried to resist she'd beat me...
So we went out to lunch, Lara and I had a couple of...'lemon-aids' complements of Tanya, and seeming as how I was skiving off classes anyway and Lara had the day off to begin with, we decided to just make a day out of Rochester while we awaited her to get out of work.
And now here I am, still waiting back at Tanya's pad, with Lara reading a book she found in the living room. She knows about my wonderful log of my entire daily life, and even wants to read it. Merr... I'd rather she didn't. It's personal, too personal, unless the person reading it is impersonal. You know what I mean, right? That fear of people looking you in the eye after you say something you hold as a deeply held belief, but can pass off lightly in writing, and they just look at you and know. Body language can be a killer, that or a luscious art form. Depends on what kind of 'mood' you're in at the time.
Ah, here she comes now!