Previous | Index | Next
"First of all, I seem to be missing my sheep."
The room is near empty, mostly because the Yanks are off getting their taxes completed at the last minute. The handful of Europeans and others in the room chuckle. Rhonda glares out at them.
"It ain't funny." She didn't need the microphone when she shouted but used it anyway. "I know what kind of perverts you all are. I even hear that there are Kiwis among you! I borrowed those sheep and I don't want them hurt. Or anything else! Understood!"
There were a few more chuckles from the crowd, which then turned back to there drinks and discussion on the care and feeding of muses. A few even turned their backs to the busty Rhonda. She cleared her throat into the mike. There was a blast of feedback. Some thought the BirthdayRobot was making an announcement.
"I didn't dress like this just to come here and lose my sheep!"
More laughs escaped the crowd.
"I'm going to kill Gamera, when he comes back from that cruise," she mumbled to herself before speaking normally into the microphone. "What do I have to do get you all to pay attention to me? Take my clothes off?"
A cheer broke out. Here and there, a head nodded up and down like a cmsix bobblehead doll. A dance poll emerged from the stage, and a disco ball appeared from the ceiling. Appropriate music blared from the sound system.
Rhonda turned and sighed. She walked off the stage and through the catcalls. Before leaving, she stuck a note on the bulletin board next to the requests for odd jobs, hand jobs, blowjobs and beatings.
The note read, "Congratulations to Old Fart and his Story 'Jack and Jill, Book One', winner of the March Silver Clitoride Award and all the other nominees."
The rules for eligibility are HERE. The FAQ for nominations are HERE.
