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Thursday, November 26, 2009

Jenz Seventh NaNo Post

 I looked down. One of the sculptures at the far end of the lawn appeared to be moving. I’d never liked this particular sculpture. Depending on your mindset, it looks like six misshapen and partially melted giant grey rotting Hersheys Kisses, or six misshapen giant grey rotting cocks and balls. Or, I suppose, lumps of poo. Well, my mind tends toward the dirty so I pretty much call them the Six Dicks of Dallas.

The Six Dicks were on the move. First one, then the others and finally the whole group began to bounce around. At first it was just an experimental bounce or two. Then they bounced a little more excitedly, and pretty soon they were bouncing around in earnest. I watched one in particular go boing boing boing boing boing across the lawn toward the fountain, scaring hell out of the WFAA news crew and bringing around of uproarious laughter from Bill and his gang of crazy friends. Then it went boinging back the other way, boinged around its fellow bouncing penises, and boinged up and down around the rest of the group. This particular round of boinging must have been some form of communication, because pretty soon the whole gang was boinging up and down together in unison. This would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been so deucedly weird. It was like watching a Keith Haring drawing that had somehow come to life.

“I did that?” I asked Loki as the penises started to boing toward the group of animal statues looking up at my window.

“I told you to can it on the Skadi jokes. Look what you did.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” I asked. The group of boinging penises had reached the WFAA crew again, scattering them to the four winds. As I watched, they boinged up to the longhorns, hopping easily over the Crime Scene Do Not Cross tape. The longhorns seemed to recognize them, or at least, they weren’t too bothered by the boingy new arrivals. In fact, when the lead penis went up to the lead longhorn and snuggled up next to it with a weird chirpy purrlike noise that I could hear even through the window, the head longhorn didn’t even flick it with its tail. Instead, it nuzzled back, which was among the more disturbing things I’ve ever had to witness. Maybe the longhorn was a gelding and it was meeting its former genitalia, all grown to large angry life and boinging around on its own. I think I’d be just fine with never seeing anything like it again.

“Oh, why not,” Loki sighed. “Skadi’s this sleeping giant. You reordered all reality and it pissed her off.” He frowned, thinking. “Yeah. That’s mainly the gist of the thing.”

Cheryl poked her cute blonde head around the corner. “Hey, have you seen my ch–what the hell is that?”

Loki looked offended. “Well, nice to meet you too, Toots.”

I groaned and rubbed my temples. Naturally, Cheryl could see him. That meant I wasn’t hallucinating and couldn’t console myself with the notion that I’d temporarily gone insane. Sigh. “Loki, Cheryl. Cheryl, Loki. Pasnakomtyez.”

“Spaciba,” Loki said. “Radavats skhadeetvee.

I elbowed him. “Don’t be rude. That’s ‘pleased to have sex with you,’ not ‘pleased to meet you.’”

“I was serious. She’s hot.”

Cheryl was, of course, goggling at us. I decided to keep it simple. “Cheryl, Loki’s the Norse god of chaos. He’s here because, um, because the statues are all down there and, um, it’s his fault.” Which was simple enough.

“Why are you in my office chair?” Cheryl asked. Which wouldn’t have been the first question that came to my mind, but am I Cheryl? No, I am not.

“Because it’s fun.” Loki pushed himself around in a circle. “Good thing I don’t have one of these. I’d spin myself around all day long.”

“Should I call security?” Cheryl asked me.

“I doubt it would do any good,” I said. “Him being the god of chaos and all, I’m sure he could scramble their walkie-talkies and keep them from getting to a working elevator.”

“Hey,” Loki protested, as if I were giving away state secrets.

“Look, it’s a long story,” I finished. “We’re going to check out whatever’s happening downstairs, right, Loki?”

Loki looked blankly at me, then at Cheryl (well, actually at Cheryl’s perkily perfect size-B breasts, but anyway, in Cheryl’s general direction) and then back at me. “We are?”

“Yes, we are,” I said, even more pointedly. “Come on.”

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