Hiddlestoned
My Tom Hiddleston affliction continues unabated. If anything, it's worse than ever. I now have exactly 594 photos of the man in a file on my computer. Whoever does that 'delete my browser history when I die' can you also please take care of this folder for me? And by 'take care of', I mean, of course, bury me with glossy 8x10 copies and then
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Hoggle stared glumly at the carrot in his hand. It wasn't that he had anything against root vegetables. He quite liked them, in fact: boiled and mashed with plenty of salt and butter, roasted in duck fat with cloves of garlic and a sprinkling of rosemary, simmered in a stew with onions and tomatoes. Vegetables were a fine addition to the table and as a bonus they kept you regular. That was something Hoggle could appreciate. It was just that... well... this carrot wasn't merely a root vegetable.
"Art thou ready?"
Sir Didymus sat primly on the lawn in the back garden of the cottage, a rather large tome propped up before him. It was a specially commissioned book, researched and painstakingly handwritten, meticulously illustrated and leather-bound. On the cover in flowery gold lettering, it read:
The Joye of SexxeHoggle sighed and held up his carrot. "Best to get on with it, I guess ( ... )
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Hoggle closed his eyes and gingerly bounced two ripe apricots up and down on the palm of his other hand. They were warm and yielding, the fuzzy skin taut and near-bursting with juice. Next month, she'll remember, he assured himself, willing it to be true. Next month for sure.
Hoggle pumped, jiggled, stroked, fondled, squeezed and even manhandled for what felt like an eternity before giving in to a vicious hand cramp and fumbling the two apricots. They dropped to the ground with an ominous splat, and Sir Didymus tutted reprovingly.
"A regrettable lapse in form, my friend. But nay, we shall not dwell upon it, what's done is done. But hold, excellent news! I believe thou hast beaten thy best time yet." The little knight held up a stopwatch in triumph. "Forty-two minutes, by my reckoning! His Majesty will be pleased."
Sarah had once observed that Didymus was constitutionally incapable of innuendo, but on occasions like this, Hoggle wasn't quite so sure.
"Could we take a break now? I could use a... a cup of tea." A bottle of whiskey, ( ... )
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Probably still in too pissy of a mood to post the prompt tonight as I am in full on 'I DON'T GIVE A FUCK' mode, but maybe tomorrow...
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In the meantime, enjoy the whole lewd-acts-with-root-vegetables routine that is quickly becoming my greatest strength as a writer!
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Meh. It's nothing worth subjecting you to, really. I am going through a minor existential crisis which stems primarily from my dealings with epic, utter, unadulterated douchebaggery of the highest caliber. I suspect some part of it is hormonal, other parts of it are NOT and those are the parts that I am resisting the urge to end with the pointy aspect of a kitchen utensil.
No doubt, this too shall pass...hopefully before I forget why I need to resist.
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