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Shady Stoat
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 Posted: Fri Oct 07, 2005 10:35 am Post subject: Best of Three |
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BEST OF THREE
By Shady Stoat
Larry leaned back against his front door. His brown eyes were closed, whether in despair or relief, who knew? He ran a hand through the patch where he expected his hair to be and felt the familiar pang of regret. It was definitely receding. He was losing his hair, millimetre by millimetre. Okay, it was an unimpressive ginger-brown to start off with, but five years ago at least there had been enough of it.
‘What’s next?’ he thought. ‘Bunyons? False teeth? Stress incontinence?’
He let his legs fold underneath him as he dropped quietly onto the hall carpet. It was all downhill from here. He knew it. And, if he hadn’t known it, this last succession of dates would have given him a walloping great hint!
“Why join a dating agency when you’re pushing forty? All you get is a list of all the losers who haven’t been able to make anyone fancy them yet!” He muttered. The thing he didn’t add – but thought – was, ‘Like me’.
Tonight’s date had by no means been the worst, but that wasn’t to say it hadn’t been a close-run thing. The girl was nice enough looking, and the first ten minutes had been promising. Then the topic turned to work, and the evening had gone downhill faster than the scary part of a rollercoaster ride.
Bambi (yes, alright, the name should have forewarned him) worked at Chester Zoo. She smelled slightly of stale fish. Apparently her speciality was penguins. Now Larry knew far more about penguins than he’d ever wanted to – than any healthy, self-respecting member of the human race should ever have to! He had tried manfully to steer the topic in another direction. Then he had tried politely. That hadn’t worked. Neither had frantically, feverishly, desperately, ironically, rudely or loudly. In fact, Larry had ended up wondering why this girl wanted to date at all. Penguins were her first – her only – love.
Then there had been the female body builder called Olga, who spoke only two dozen words of English, nearly all of them swear-words or threats. Before that had been… oh, let’s see… Kat, who, on their first date had confided a fantasy of getting him into bed with her twin, Geri. It had sounded quite delightful, until you realised that the twins were not identical and Geri was actually Gerry, a bisexual construction worker with teeth like the Bee Gees and body odour that could fell a moose at thirty paces.
He could think of other dating disasters but, frankly, he didn’t want to. It was too exhausting and, at the moment, all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and sleep.
He got up and headed towards the bedroom, shaking his head.
“Why is it,” he asked, looking up at the ceiling, “that in a whole galaxy worth of women, I can’t find just one?”
He lay back on the bed with a groan and shut his eyes. Maybe things would look better in the morning…
-------
It wasn’t morning and things weren’t looking better.
Larry woke suddenly as a burst of white light blinded him. There was an instant where he felt like he had been smashed into a thousand pieces and all of those pieces were being welded back together with a thousand blowtorches. Then it was over, almost as soon as it had begun.
He blinked and blinked again, trying desperately to clear the supernova effect from his vision. Slowly, the world came into focus again.
He wished it hadn’t.
An instant after waking up, finding yourself in a standing position can be very disconcerting. Add to that the fact that you appear to be standing behind a thick, red curtain, on a featureless wooden floor that you’ve never seen before and…
…you begin to wonder what the penguin-fancier slipped into your drink the night before.
He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. “It’s a dream,” he said. “Just a dream.”
A voice spoke in his right ear.
“You’re on.”
He yelped and whirled around. What he saw made him yelp all over again.
A six foot badger stood next to him, toting a clipboard and wearing a pair of extravagant shades in the shape of hearts. There was a gold pirate-earring clipped to one of its ears and it grinned at him, displaying far too many teeth for comfort.
As he stared in disbelief, the red curtain rose.
“You’re on,” spoke the husky voice again, and the badger gave him a shove forward.
Larry stumbled onto a stage. Spotlights hit his wounded vision, dazzling him all over again. He looked around wildly, trying to find some way to rationalize this away.
What he saw was equally strange. There was a semi-circular stage in front of him. The left half of it was partitioned off by another red curtain. A single barstool was placed close to the partition and that appeared to be the only prop. A woman (at least this one was human, Larry noted thankfully) with hair the colour of a glace cherry was beckoning him forward. She wore clashing colours and had the sort of grin that suggested one institution too many.
“Come on, come on,” she screeched. “Sit down. Larry Cludge, welcome to…”
A sonorous boom filled the air, as a bass voice addressed the auditorium.
“…Intergalactic, inter-dimensional, intercourse (with any luck - just kidding, folks!) Buh-liiiiiind Date!”
A horrible screeching rent the air. Larry could only presume that it was theme music of some sort. He felt panic creeping up on him and he looked around wildly for any way out.
The audience was no help. From what he could make out, humans were in a minority. There was something that looked like a minotaur in the front row, a group of garden gnomes farther back and a six-armed creature with far too many eyes near the exit. Not to mention the security guard that looked like a cross between a hog and Barbara Cartland; he wasn’t going to cross that in a hurry!
The stage exits to the rear and the side were populated with what he could only assume were technical crews. The equipment looked weird, but the people wielding it looked weirder. There was no obvious exit that way.
For lack of any other option, he walked forward hesitantly and sat down.
“Welcome Larry Cludge,” repeated the cherry-haired woman. “Tell us a bit about yerself.”
“Well, I…” he stammered.
“Fantastic, fantastic,” she enthused. “Now, behind this partition are three luverly ladies, all hangin’ on every word you say, my luv. You get to ask them three questions, then you decide which one’s gonna be the date of your life. I’m sure you’ll have a lorra fun.”
Larry looked at her blankly.
“So, my luv, what’s your first question for our three beauties?”
Last edited by Shady Stoat on Mon May 22, 2006 12:01 pm; edited 28 times in total
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Smee
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| Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2005 10:24 am Post subject: |
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Excellent 
"Well Cilla, do you mind if I call you Cilla? No...great. My first question for the lovely girls...
I'm a human, and as such I always find humans are right for me. Are you human or if not, what are you? That goes to gorgeous girl number 1."
Happy Writing. 
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Hyperion
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| Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2005 4:31 pm Post subject: |
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| That... Is definitely... the only thing that I would be able toask in the situation, assuming I was over 40 with a receeding hairline.
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2005 7:52 am Post subject: |
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| Smee wrote: |
"Well Cilla, do you mind if I call you Cilla? |
The name's Brilla, chuck. Brilla Padd. 
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 6:30 am Post subject: |
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| Okay, it's not worth putting a poll up for a single question, so I'll go straight on from here. Next post will be up shortly. Thanks Smee and Hyperion
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Smee
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| Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 8:14 am Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | "If cats looked like frogs, we'd realise what nasty, cruel little bastards they are" - Terry Pratchett |
ROFL - so true, but I love them anyway
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| Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 3:07 pm Post subject: |
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| Grrrr. I already said something about his sig... GET YER OWN! :wink:
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 7:22 pm Post subject: |
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Great start- What about:
"How old are you? And in my perspective how old is that?"
_________________
 Chapter 5: The Rendezvous 
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The Powers That Be
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| Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 7:36 pm Post subject: |
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"Uh...um, where am I?" Larry stammered. "Who are you? What's going on here? How did..."
"Whoa, slow down, loverboy! You ask one at a time, that's the rule. So we'll go with 'where am I?' What an...interesting question. Contestant 1, what do you say?"
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Abduction! is in the Stasis Hall, but read it anyway!
Got a problem? Write to Dear Dotty!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2005 12:00 am Post subject: |
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| <giggles> LOVIN' those questions, guys! I guess I'm not writing chapter two straight away then. I'll put the poll up later today. THanks for the contributions :biggrin:
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| Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2005 3:10 am Post subject: |
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| I ORDER you to post a second chapter!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2005 3:14 am Post subject: |
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| Hyperion wrote: | | I ORDER you to post a second chapter! |
Oh well, in that case...
<starts marching towards the computer and the hancuffs>
Hey, wait a minute, that wasn't an OFFICIAL order from {insert deity here} so I'm not gonna! 
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 11:47 am Post subject: |
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| Okay, votes are in. I'll be starting on chapter two shortly - and gods help us all! *whimper*
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HarmonyFaith
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| Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 2:37 pm Post subject: |
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| Can't wait. :biggrin:
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 10:03 pm Post subject: |
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No God involved,
It's all down to you,
The problem will be solved,
Then Larry will sue
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 10:06 pm Post subject: |
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| Smee wrote: | No God involved,
It's all down to you,
The problem will be solved,
Then Larry will sue |
ROFL!
Now who's not applying themselves to the next chapter?
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| Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 10:15 pm Post subject: |
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Lol - I can't do any productive writing at 7:12am
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 3:29 am Post subject: |
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Ack! I'm getting here late, and the limericks have already started.
*feels insecure again*
Definitely like the beginning to this one, the possibilities. Guess I'll have to patiently await the next chapter to contribute...
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 3:59 am Post subject: |
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| ethereal_fauna wrote: |
Definitely like the beginning to this one, the possibilities. Guess I'll have to patiently await the next chapter to contribute... |
Yeah. The possibilities. *glares at TPTB for suggesting the difficult option*
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The Powers That Be
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| Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 8:21 pm Post subject: |
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| Shady Stoat wrote: | | Yeah. The possibilities. *glares at TPTB for suggesting the difficult option* |
*smiles innocently*
You're welcome!
*wanders off to stir up trouble in Shady's other storygames, but not before stopping off to collect an entirely undeserved 10 Fables*
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| Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 2:56 am Post subject: |
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Here's part two. Hope you like it, feel free to criticize...
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CHAPTER TWO:
"Uh...um, where am I?" Larry stammered. "Who are you? What's going on here? How did..."
"Whoa, slow down, loverboy! You ask one at a time, that's the rule. So we'll go with 'where am I?' What an...interesting question. Contestant 1, what do you say?"
The impact of his current situation hit Larry suddenly, like a grand piano on the head. This wasn’t real. It was insane. He had to get out of here!
His nerve broke. In one gazelle-like motion, he was off out of the chair and running. He barrelled into the winged creatures that were operating the stage machinery. His legs pumped with quasi-bionic bravado through a blue troglodyte tea-lady. He had no idea where he was going, but there was a sense of crazed euphoria firing his body. He might just make it out of here! He turned a corner at high speed…
SLAM!
He looked up at the ceiling. Somewhere along the line, he had gone from running to lying flat on his back, without having been aware of any of the stages in between.
A face loomed over him. It was not the sort of countenance that reassured. It was a face full of teeth, with a wide, wide mouth and a horn above each ear. Paint it red and it would have looked like Satan with a flip-top head. Oh, and not to neglect the minor details – it was over seven feet tall and its torso must have been over two feet wide. The next time Larry saw a brick privy, he would have a point of comparison…
The… thing… picked him up one-handed and trudged back to the stage with him. Larry flailed uselessly, but it was like trying to fight a wrecking ball. This particular wrecking ball didn’t seem to notice his struggles. Instead, it deposited him on the bar stool again, so hard that all the breath left Larry’s body.
The presenter shook her head and lifted her eyes toward the heavens.
“Great galloping gristle! Where do you people get these guests? I am a professional, people.” She delicately patted down the strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Check my contract. I’m paid by the hour. Get it? MAKE-UP!!”
A blue squirrel with a bee-hive wig scampered onto stage with a basket. She (Larry could only assume the gender) dumped the hamper on the floor, lifted out a small rodent and pointed it, butt-end first, at the presenter. Then the squirrel shook the rodent violently. After a few seconds of tortured squealing, the little creature began to emit a gas from its rear end. This the squirrel sprayed around the red-head’s hair. Nobody seemed to find anything remotely disturbing about this, nor about the way the squirrel squashed a tiny centipede in her fingers before applying it to the presenter’s lips.
Larry found himself thinking about ‘beauty without cruelty’.
After her touch-up, cherry-hair sighed and turned her attention back to Larry. Her voice became jovial-game-show-host again, resuming the original odd accent.
“Congratulations, chuck. You’ve just earned yerself a sit in the comfy chair. All right, my darling?”
She turned, gave a nod towards the back of the hall and gave him a bright asylum grin.
Quicker than he could react to, the floor on either side of him peeled back to expose a pair of rising metal T-bars. They ascended to elbow height, nudging Larry’s arms into a resting position. His eyes had barely registered the metal clamps adjacent to his wrists before they clicked into place.
He was locked in. HE WAS LOCKED IN!!
He began to struggle, fighting the metal cuffs. The show host ignored him, calling out the placement of cameras, arguing with the producer, tutting and rolling her eyes and complaining about the violations in her union rights.
“Looks like we’ve got a wriggler, Ms. Padd,” twittered a creature with green, rubbery skin.
“What! Is everything my problem now? Just give him the injection, okay? And how many times have I told you – call me Brilla! It’s more friendly,” she snarled.
“What?” shrieked Larry. With a monumental effort, he forced his voice out of the soprano register. “Wait! No! I’m fine… really… I’m fine.”
He managed a grimace that might, in a dark room, have passed for a smile.
Brilla Padd shrugged. “Hold the injection. Right. Everybody ready? We’ll take it again from the last line. Three… two… one… Contestant 1, what do you say?"
“Wherrre arrre you?” A voice rolled sensuously from the other side of the curtain. “Well, I’d have to say… prrrecisely thirrrteen Earrrth feet and fourrr inches to my rrright. That’s not to say I wouldn’t enjoy getting closerrr…”
There was something about the voice that made Larry wish his hands were unshackled and folded firmly in his lap. It spoke of syrup and honey and silk sheets – although, to be fair, it might also have spoken of stilettos and stockings and leather whips.
From the other side of the divide, he heard a much lower voice mutter a single word.
“Hussy!”
The audience seemed to like this. They cheered and clapped. Then the way they said ‘Ooooh’ suggested that obscene gestures had been traded between contestants.
“Contestant number two,” trilled Brilla. “Over to you.”
It was the mutterer that replied this time. The accent was plum-in-the-mouth refined and she had a tone of voice that obviously was not used to being disagreed with. Larry was reminded uncomfortably of his fourth form Latin teacher, a woman with moustache problems and dresses that could have doubled as marquees.
“My dear,” answered the woman. “The facts are these. You are compelled to ask a group of comparative strangers where you are. Furthermore, when faced with three desirable and interested females competing over you, that is the best question you can think of. Lastly, you are prepared to entertain certain thoughts about the highly dubious contestant number one. Where are you? It should be obvious. You are careening full-tilt down the path to mid-life crisis.”
“Rrreally?” There was no mistaking contestant number one’s voice. “Then you two should be perrrfect company forrr each otherrr.”
“Why, you little…” There was the sound of a slap. Then a yowl of pain. The next thing Larry heard was a series of thuds and crashes accompanied by shrieks, howls and language that he understood perfectly, even when it was spoken in an alien tongue. The partitioned wall shuddered as a heavy weight fell against it. There was a grunt, an oof, a long drawn out wail and the sound of two bodies hitting the floor.
The next thing he saw was an iron helmet, soaring over the partition and onto the floor by his feet. It rolled like a dinner plate, landing with a dull cloing! Tufts of hair, fluff, fur and feathers drifted dreamily around the edges of the dividing wall, falling to the ground like very odd snowflakes.
By the sound of it, the two ladies were having an all-out wrestling match. Larry hoped that the technical crew would either break it up, or raise the partition and supply the pit of custard.
For the first time since he had got here, he felt his spirits begin to rise. These females really did seem desperate to be with him. Perhaps, for once in his life, he really was in with a chance.
From the sounds of it, the stage-hands were managing to break the fight up. Larry noticed that they hadn’t stopped filming this bit. Why would they? This was Date-TV and Jerry Springer combined into one. The ratings must be going through the roof!
Finally, the contestants were settled again. There was a lot of panting and muttering under the breath, but it subsided as Ms. Padd addressed the audience again.
“Contestant number three – you’ve been very quiet over there, luv. What will your answer be?”
“Where am I?” The voice was light and feminine, but curiously lacking in inflection. “I’m so glad you asked that question, Mr. Cludge. For did not the great poet Narkakakaka once postulate…”
She groaned. There was an explosive noise, like a post-vindaloo bathroom visit, then she began to heave and retch. Larry attempted to leap to his feet in alarm, only to realise that he was still cuffed into immobility. It sounded like Contestant Number Three was being attacked by a chest-burster.
It was only when the voice-over began its translation that Larry realised she was quoting alien poetry. He gaped, beyond words, as the translation rang out from above.
“Oh, the trousers of my life…”
“HNNNG! ARRRGHHH! GNIKK-ag-ag-ag….”
“…are soiled with the skidmarks of my inglorious past…”
“RoooIIIIIN! Hlup-hlup-SCHNNN…” (a brief pause for wheezing loudly)
“...the combined stenches of the laundry basket have contaminated their purity…”
“BLUUUuuRRT! PHHLLB! PHHLLBing!”
“…and a mustard-yellow stain mars the crotch-piece…”
“Schhnubl…”
“…and yet…”
“GRUug. PTAK! BRRRN! NEA-a-a-RZK!”
“…they are far too comfortable to throw away, and the new pair may not fit…”
Ms. Padd opened her mouth to interrupt, but the third voice had not finished yet.
“And that, Mr. Cludge, is, as I see it, where you are. Of course if you prefer philosophy, the great speaker Blarongo once stated…”
“…what I would prrreferrr is forrr you to shut up now.”
Another scuffle ensued. Inexplicably, the aftermath involved both manicurists and mechanics to sort out the mess. Larry wondered whether he would get to choose a contestant at the end of it all – or whether he would simply be landed with the last one standing.
The riot was under control. The audience watched with deep interest. Ms. Padd turned back to Larry, all smiles again.
“You’ve heard the first answer, chuck. Now, what’s your second question?”
Last edited by Shady Stoat on Sat Feb 11, 2006 8:04 am; edited 1 time in total
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Smee
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| Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 3:32 am Post subject: |
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ROFL, very good.
I'm sat at work on my lunchbreak, looking suitably embarassed for the amount of laughing I'm doing at a computer screen. If it wasn't my lunchbreak I'm sure questions would be being asked as to the nature of my work.
Larry, now securely stuck, and going nowhere, will have to focus for this second question. I think something along the lines of "Have you ever been to Earth? or Have you ever dated a human?" should be useful questions.
If I come up with better ideas I'll be back 
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| Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 4:42 am Post subject: |
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Hilarious!  You need to describe the look on the guy's face in painstaking detail, as I'm certain it's priceless.
As far as what to ask next: these ladies sound not only eager, but a bit vicious as well. Need to find out their expectations.
What quality do you appreciate most in a man? (and hope they answer virility-like every other man would)
What exactly do you want from a relationship? (again hoping virility-like....well, you get the idea)
~or simply cut to the chase, and find out if any look do-able~
Could you describe what the contestant next to you looks like?
How many appendages do you have and where are they located?
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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The Powers That Be
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| Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 8:27 pm Post subject: |
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A battle raged in Larry's head between his desire to be free and his, well, his desire.
Option A:
Freedom won out, but he didn't have any idea what to do about it. Then the thought came to him: maybe, just maybe...
"Ok, my next question is, 'If you were shackled to a chair on a stage and forced to participate in a bizarre game show and really really needed to escape, what exactly would you do?'"
Option B:
Loneliness won out. What the hell, he thought, it couldn't possibly be worse than that date with the incontinent taxidermist. He glanced at the bright green fur that had been liberated in the fight earlier. But it would be nice to know what I'm getting myself into...
"Ok, my next question is, 'Which member of the studio audience looks most like you?'"
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Abduction! is in the Stasis Hall, but read it anyway!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2005 4:17 am Post subject: |
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Thanks for the support, guys. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far
Ethereal, you're right. I sacrificed a lot of Larry's reactions for the sake of pacing - but it is his story after all, and he deserves a chance to react with suitable outrage. Chapter 3 will bring the focus back where it belongs, if I can manage it 
One more day for further suggestions, then I'll put a poll up again.
*tame stoatish snuggles all around*
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2005 8:30 am Post subject: |
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*enjoys snuggles*
An account of his facial reactions would be humorous at the very least, I'm sure. Although at this point he appears to be warming up to the idea, and maybe more than a little curious about the ladies that are interested in him.
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2005 8:20 pm Post subject: |
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The questions mentioned seem like good ones.
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2005 5:30 am Post subject: |
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| Poll's up. 3 days to vote. Then Larry gets to suffer again
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2005 6:32 am Post subject: |
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While I do like the if you were shackled option, I don't see these fiesty ladies giving straightforward answers to that question, or Larry really expecting them to offer an easily executed solution for his escape.
I chose to have him ask for descriptions. Again, the answers might not be altogether truthful, but he just might at least get some idea of what he's in for...
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2005 9:16 pm Post subject: |
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I voted for description
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2005 10:53 pm Post subject: |
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Okay, the poll's finished - and so is the next chapter. Enjoy!
CHAPTER THREE:
A battle raged in Larry's head between his desire to be free and his, well, his desire.
Loneliness won out.
‘What the hell’, he thought, ‘it couldn’t possibly be worse than that date with the incontinent taxidermist.’
He glanced at the bright green fur that had been liberated in the fight earlier. ‘But it would be nice to know what I’m getting myself into…’
He cleared his throat nervously.
“Um… Could you describe what the contestant on your right looks like? That goes to contestant number… uh… two.”
His eyes darted nervously from one member of the audience to another, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t end up with a date who looked like any of them. Imagine how he’d feel in the morning, waking up next to a hyena in a lime green knitted cardigan!
Larry wrenched his thoughts away from that particular nightmare with a shudder. The second contestant was beginning to speak in her best Headmistress tones.
“My dear, I cannot imagine why you would be interested in contestant number one. Not unless you enjoy the company of creatures that share their shade of colouration with mucus! Her speech impediment you are already, no doubt, aware of. I will pass that by, for now, and move straight onto her state of dress.”
Larry’s eyes flicked nervously toward the partition. There was a soft hissing noise coming from a space behind it. A space precisely thirteen Earth feet and four inches away from himself, if he had to hazard a guess! It was either that or a gas leak, and at this point, Larry honestly didn’t know which one would be worse!
The second contestant ignored the warning signs and continued blithely.
“She sports stirrup-heeled boots in a shade of ginger that went out with the Brojean Empire. Her skirt – if you can call it that – is made of deathwing feathers and lace, in a look that can best be described as ‘economy class brothel’. And, my dear, I have to say it...” and here, she presumably turned to the snarling companion on her right, “… that colour of handkerchief – oh, do excuse me, I meant blouse – really does accentuate the mange in your fur…”
“Why, I’ll scrrratch yourrr eyes out, you old…”
“Ladies, ladies,” admonished Brilla, twinkling at the audience. “There’s no need to get violent… again! You wouldn’t want us to take… preventative measures…?”
The audience hooted and applauded enthusiastically. There was a rumbling of heavy machinery and moving wheels from the hidden side of the stage. Larry noted that, although the audience was making a great deal of noise, the contestants had gone suddenly and remarkably quiet.
That didn’t last long!
“You keep that thing away from me!” Contestant number three’s voice was still curiously devoid of inflection, but her words and her volume certainly sounded alarmed.
“Me too,” growled contestant one.
Larry grimaced and took this opportunity to have a good tug at his shackles. Anything that could scare these females into submission was something he didn’t want within a hundred miles of him! After a few seconds, though, he gave up. The cuffs were solid and immovable. The only way he would get them off would be to finish this show and do everything these crazy aliens expected of him. Sawing his hands off at the wrists might be the more enjoyable option, but he didn’t have the tools available.
He settled himself down as the audience got ready for the next contestant’s answer.
“Contestant number one,” said Brilla, in a sing-song voice. “What’s your answer, my darling?”
“As I have no-one on my rrright,” purred the sultry voice, “I guess I’ll have to descrrribe numberrr thrrree. All I can say is I hope you’rrre not expecting herrr to be a serrrious alterrrnative to me. She’s all angles and harrrd edges. Not a good looking inch on herrr entirrre frrrame. Now me – I’m soft and currrvy and absolutely divine to carrress. Not to mention my abilities as an acrrrobat and gymnast. I can move into positions that you’ve only everrr drrreamed of, loverrr boy. As forrr what I can do with my tongue…”
“Ms. Padd,” interrupted contestant three. “I really must protest! This is supposed to be a description of me - not an opportunity for a narcissist with the brains of an inflatable sex-aid to sell her wares!”
Brilla opened her mouth but was interrupted before she started.
“You want me to say morrre about you? Verrry well. I’d rrrather have too small a brrrain than be nothing but one.” (For some reason, the audience appeared to think number one had scored a point here) “Oh… and yourrr nails could do with a polish. Not to mention yourrr nuts and bolts.”
Whooping. Clapping. Laughing. The audience was having a splendid time. Larry could feel his face wrinkling up into an ever more worried grimace. Just what the hell was he getting himself into?
“Contestant number three,” gushed Brilla. Larry glanced towards her – and would have leapt backwards out of his chair if he could. Before his very eyes, Brilla appeared to be melting! Her skin was fast becoming the consistency of treacle and all her features were slopping down into one great waxy blob.
“Curtain!” yelled a voice from the back of the stage. “Cut!”
A heavy black curtain severed the audience cleanly from the stage.
“Now what?” huffed Brilla, from between melting lips. “How am I supposed to wrrbk bn…”
She suddenly appeared to become aware of what was happening to her. Her head quirked sideways and got stuck at a jaunty angle.
“Costumes!” The voice from backstage screeched.
Before Larry’s horrified eyes, a team of squat creatures waddled out onto stage, carrying a stretcher. The tallest of them was only three feet high. They were green and warty skinned with antennae that were half as tall again as they were. The stretcher appeared to have some sort of mannequin resting supine on it.
By now, Brilla resembled nothing more than an unbaked lump of bread with a cherry-coloured wig on top. The costume creatures surrounded her in a circle and began tugging her in all directions.
Suddenly, Larry gave a rather-too-womanly shriek. Ms. Padd’s skin had split in three places. The creatures were peeling back the blubbery mess, tearing it off in great clumps.
He stared, eyes bulging. Emerging from underneath the melting mess was a completely different creature. First there was a portion of mauve flesh around the left calf. Then an elbow became visible. A chin, a foot, a rather muscular abdomen, an elbow, a cheek full of stubble and a…
Oh boy! Ms. Padd was a guy!
Larry swallowed with an audible click. Somehow, he couldn’t stop staring. God, how he wished he could!
“What’re you lookin’ at?” demanded the mauve human, in a deep bass voice full of gravel. “You try standin’ in a skin suit under the studio lights, if you think it’s so damn easy!” He turned to stage left and barked: “Somebody get me a cigar!”
A small bird, rather like a purple parakeet, flew in with a cigar in its claws. The man snatched it with one callused hand (the cigar, not the bird), bit an end off it, spat the mouthful onto the stage floor and lit up. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and blew out the smoke.
Meanwhile, the costume creatures were bustling about. They took what Larry now knew to be the Brilla suit off the stretcher. It slid onto the floor, wrinkling into folds, rather like a snake skin.
‘And to think,’ thought Larry, feeling sick, ‘I was considering charming Brilla into setting me free. I’d rather be in chains! Attached to an anchor! At the bottom of the sea!’
The cigar-chewing man took one final breathful of smoke, then stepped into the leg holes of the suit. The costume team winched it onto him, with many a squeak of latex against flesh. Finally, an instant before he took the cigar from the side of his mouth, they began to zip and clip. In a matter of seconds, he had disappeared, to be replaced by the host of the show. She whirled around, scanning the stage floor with her gaze, until she finally found the missing red wig. She jammed it onto her head then screamed for the squirrel in the make-up department again.
Larry’s mouth was still hanging open when the curtain came up. Brilla ignored him and seamlessly took up the flow of the game.
“Contestant number three,” she said, jauntily (and there was no trace of a gravely accent now – not one!). “How’s about your answer, chuck?”
The feminine yet flavourless voice spoke from the far end of the stage.
“Contestant number two is… well, I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman, really. What I mean to say is, personality can make up for so many other attributes that are missing, can’t they? I’m sure she’s a wonderful cook, by the look of her. Wasn’t it Madaraces the seventy-fourth who stated that beauty was more than skin deep? Oh yes, and he even backed it up with hard evidence. His vivisection experiments have become quite legendary on the Madaracean Homeworld...”
There was a distinctly audible yawn from the other side of the partition. Larry got the feeling that participant number two was getting her own back without invoking the anti-scuffle siege weaponry.
“Of course,” continued contestant three, “I wouldn’t expect everyone to appreciate a truly intellectual conversation. Contestant two, for example, would be too busy gnawing on whole roast oxen and downing quarts of beer to lower herself to something as tawdry as philosophy.”
“And some people lack any passion whatsoever in their loins,” snapped the plumy voice of contestant two. “Or any sort of loins at all, for that matter!”
“At least mine aren’t hidden by rolls of fat!”
There was a clunk, as of a brick hitting a car roof.
“Referee! Mr. Producer. Did you see that?” complained contestant three, sounding curiously smug for a voice with little intonation. “Completely unprovoked attack. I suggest a disqualification. No – not me – the queen of cutlery sitting next to me. I really must insist…”
Larry’s head was reeling as he listened to them bicker back and forth. This all seemed totally surreal, as if he was in a drug-induced nightmare. If he was to get out of here, though, he would have to think of a third question; one which might decide his fate once and for all…
Last edited by Shady Stoat on Sat Feb 11, 2006 8:05 am; edited 1 time in total
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2005 2:24 am Post subject: Wooo |
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Nice story!
This is very original. Definately good stuff.
Anyway, third question... Er...
"How far would you go on the first date?" 
(Trust me to lower the tone) <giggles in a girlish fashion>
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2005 2:31 am Post subject: |
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Forget the third question, and proceed to gnawing at your wrists. If persistent enough, you won't need a bone saw to get out of the shackles. 
Failing that, ask what could you possibly say or do to get out of here and be returned safely to your home.
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2005 6:55 pm Post subject: |
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"How many times have you gone out with a human before?"
"Would you be willing to marry me and follow me to earth?"
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Hyperion
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| Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2005 4:46 pm Post subject: |
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| I think I'll go with "IS THERE ANY WAY OUT OF HERE???"
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 12:19 am Post subject: |
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Some inventive answers to the problem of the third question! 
I'll give it another 24hrs, then put the poll options up.
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Smee
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| Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 8:12 am Post subject: |
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How do you keep sneaking these chapters in, and I miss them.
*narrows eyes at "View new posts" link *
Anyway, hilarious as usual. I once again make the mistake of reading stories in the humour section whilst at work.
I don't know about anyone else, but I'm sold on no. 3 - I pick her
Question number 3....hmmm.
"How will you woo me on our first date?"
Happy Writing.
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The Powers That Be
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| Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 8:30 am Post subject: |
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Larry racked his brain, trying to come up with a question that would help him get away from here. All thoughts of escape were driven away and replaced with terror when he noticed that one member of the studio audience looked just like a giant Black Widow spider. Escape was immediately replaced by self-preservation as the foremost thought in his mind. He blurted out the third question.
"Have you ever killed, maimed or perhaps, um, *gulp* eaten one of your mates?"
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Abduction! is in the Stasis Hall, but read it anyway!
Got a problem? Write to Dear Dotty!
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 6:26 pm Post subject: |
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lol, that's a good one...
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 9:48 pm Post subject: |
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| 3-day Poll again, everyone. Vote well, it's your last chance to help Larry out. After this he's got to pick one of those... ahem... beauties
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