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Subject: {ASSM} Friday chronicles I (humour) {arty}
Date: Sun, 12 Oct 2003 16:10:06 -0400
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http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/arty/www
" ... a pebble in the moonlight." - David Gemmell: Waylander
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<1st attachment, "fridaylocks.txt" begin>
Fridaylocks and the Mean Sheriff
by Arty (with apologies to everyone!)
Once upon a time there was devastatingly attractive, erotic
storywriter called Fridaylocks. (Though she preferred Friday
amongst friends.) Besides the aforementioned attractiveness,
she was also intelligent, talented, witty, ... (is this too
much?) ... and very pretty to boot! (Quieten down at the
back there! Now where was I?)
One day she had been taking a walk in the picturesque region
of Fairyland called FDWritings. Though it was a sparsely
populated place; the people that she had met were uniformly
handsome and talented too! (Look you can never be too
effusive!)
As she was walking she spied a pretty cottage nestling in a
sylvan* glade. (*I know it doesn't really mean anything but
I used the word in the teaser and now I'm stuck with it! -
OK?) Just as she was contemplating how tired she felt, a
shaft of sunlight broke through the wind-rustled tree cover
and illuminated the front door. "How convenient", Friday
muttered to herself. And so it was; a cheap trick by a
second-rate author had alerted her to the fact that she was
supposed to go in.
"Why should I?" Said Friday truculently. "If there's one
thing people hate it's pointless self-referential fiction
where the heroine starts complaining to the author and the
whole thing is passed off as some sort of ironic post-modern
investigation into the limits of internet erotica!"
As if in answer a distant rumble of thunder echoed
menacingly through the forest. The beam of sunlight
intensified slightly and then faded. The sound of rainfall
could be heard from afar and the wind started to pick-up.
"All right! Already! I was going, I just didn't want to give
in too quickly to the obvious." She started toward the door,
the wind died down and the squall of rain miraculously
skirted the small clearing and died away. The door opened to
her touch.
"Why are there never any locked doors in Fairyland? And
where is the bathroom?"
Inside the small entrance hall a door prominently marked
bathroom immediately drew her attention. So she tried to
open it. The door refused to budge.
"Oh very funny! Just open the damn door will you?" So saying
she gave the door a kick. This was enough to free the door,
which had just jammed slightly in its frame. (What can I
say? They just don't build fairyland cottages like they used
to.) By now Friday was desperate, so she pushed her way into
the bathroom.
"Oh just what I need. A Brit. author trying to take cheap
shots about American euphemisms for toilets!" The room
contained a bath and not much else. Actually it did contain
something else, a very small door with the initials 'WC'
engraved on it. Unfortunately not being 6 inches tall meant
that Friday was unable to go through it. However this didn't
matter as Friday's urge to pee had faded and this little
narrative cul-de-sac was revealed for what it was.
A little more exploration revealed the kitchen - with the
obligatory three bowls of porridge cooling on the table. Not
feeling particularly hungry, Friday was not tempted to try
any. Apart from anything else and along with all her other
good qualities, she was far too well brought up to be so
rude.
"OK there's no need to lay it on so thickly! Anyway I
thought I was tired, were do I sleep?" Back in the entrance
hall a hitherto unnoticed staircase led up to three
perfectly charming bedrooms. Choosing the room that had a
'Frank's Guests' sign on the door she thankfully collapsed
onto the comfortable bed and fell fast asleep.
"WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE FRIDAYLOCKS! THROW OUT YOUR AWARDS
AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" The amplified southern
twang of the Mean Sheriff echoed through the cottage. Friday
awoke with a start and noticed the flashing blue and red
lights reflected from the ceiling. Getting out of bed she
crept over to the window and peeked out. The clearing was
filled with police vehicles. All of them with their flashing
red and blue lights left on.
"OK! Don't shoot I'm coming ..." Before she could finish her
sentence the Mean Sheriff cut her off.
"WE DON'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR SEX LIFE FRIDAYLOCKS. JUST
GET OUT HERE WHERE WE CAN SEE YOU!"
As she was making her way downstairs someone started banging
very loudly on the door.
"Open this door!"
"OK! Jeez! You guys will never win any awards for patience
will you?" So saying Friday opened the door. Two deputies
grabbed each of her arms and pulled her from the cottage.
"We got her Sheriff."
The Mean Sheriff turned towards her.
"FRIDAYLOCKS YOU'RE UNDER ..."
With a resigned look on his face a deputy standing next to
him pulled the megaphone away from the Mean Sheriff's mouth.
"Uh Sir. You don't need to use the megaphone any more."
"Oh yeah! Thanks"
"Fridaylocks. You're under arrest. If you'll just strip off
we ..."
"Uh Sir." The deputy spoke again. "You need to show her the
warrant."
"Oh yeah! I forgot."
"Then we need to Mirandise her."
"Is that were we get to take things down?"
"Uh yeah."
"That's what I was doing."
"No, we write down what she says."
"Oh so that's what it means! When do we get to see her
naked?"
"Well first we arrest her; then we mirandise her; next we
tell her that we can get this sorted out much quicker if she
signs this waiver that we just happen to have with us.
Finally we thank her for agreeing to forgo her
constitutional rights and then we make her take her clothes
off so we can search her."
"Is that when I get to make her get into all sorts of
shamefully exposed positions?"
"Yeah well ..."
"And then can I make her bend over and spread her legs
really wide? So that we can see everything?"
"I suppose .."
"And then I can slip on my extra thin rubber gloves and use
our special Supaglide(TM) lubricant so I can slip my fingers
into her ..."
Before the deputy could answer, a stray thought crossed the
Mean Sheriff's mind, interrupting his salacious monologue.
"What are we looking for?"
"I don't know."
"How will we know if we've found it?"
"I don't think it matters. It's just an excuse for us to
feel up very attractive women that we otherwise wouldn't
have a hope in hell with."
"Is this a private exposition or can anyone join in?" Friday
was getting impatient. "What am I supposed to be under
arrest for?"
The Mean Sheriff squinted myopically at the papers in his
hand.
"It says here you're suspected of smuggling."
"Smuggling! What am I supposed to be smuggling?"
"Talent. It says here you're 'suspected of smuggling
previously undiscovered talent as evidenced by your recent
double Silver Clitorides award win.'" The Mean Sheriff read
the indictment with some difficulty struggling with some of
the multisillab ... multisyla .. long words.
"Damn! I thought I'd gotten away with it! OK I'll go
quietly. Where do I sign?"
This uncharacteristic capitulation on Friday's part was due
to an unsuspected desire that Friday had, had to be
strip-searched ...
"Hold it right there buster! If you think I'm just gonna
meekly take off all my clothes and let two strange men feel
me up, just so hordes of faceless readers can get their
rocks off. You can just think again!"
The Mean Sheriff and the deputy looked at each other in
bemusement. Who was she talking to?
Just then an attractive female deputy tapped the Mean
Sheriff on the shoulder.
"Sheriff. We just got a call from Judge Search'em.
Apparently there's a riot back in Strip-Searched county;
some guy called Arty is writing second-rate pastiches of Joe
Doe's stories. We gotta go and arrest him."
"Well missy it looks like you have got off lightly this
time. Just remember if you go about using undiscovered
talent like you are, anything could happen!"
"Yeah! You could write long, unfinished, multi-part,
romantic stories that win golden clitorides awards and then
keep your readers hanging on desperately for the next part!"
The deputy looked embarrassed by his outburst.
Meanwhile all but one of the big police cars had left the
glade. Turning to leave the Mean Sheriff called over his
shoulder.
"You have a nice day now!"
Shaking her head at the vagaries of life, Friday wandered
back into the cottage and prepared to wait for Frank to
return.
-Fin-
--
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/arty/www
<1st attachment end>
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