
Message-ID: <55609asstr$1176513002@assm.asstr.org>
From: Russell Hoisington <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP GSN22 - Girl Scout Hookees {Russell Hoisington}(nosex, humor, scoffing, digressing, eye- rolling, wet spot, surgical tape)
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Date: Fri, 13 Apr 2007 21:10:02 -0400
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===================


                   Girl Scout Nookies 22
                     Girl Scout Hookees


                     Girl Scout Hookees
                     Russell Hoisington

************************************************************

Welcome to the Girl Scout Nookie story collection.  In
honor of the Girl Scout Cookie season, this collection is
being reposted in the story order sequence we used in the
Girl Scout Nookie Collection story site at

    http://www.asstr.org/~denny/

This is story number 22.

Do you know what it's like to wake up and find four cute
little bareassnaked nookies in your bedroom? It's yet
another nightmare if you're Russ.

************************************************************

   Author's Attempt to Cover His Ass Once More Yet Again

This is an erotic fantasy and, in case you've forgotten
the rules, you shouldn't read it if you are:
    1) under legal age.
    2) living where reading this material is forbidden.
    3) in your right mind.

Once again, similarities to any "Girl Scout Nookie" events
chronicled by the talented writers remain absolutely
coincidental and irrelevant to the fact that they still
remain taped to the computer desk in front of me. My own
Girl Scout Nookies en Passant and Girl Scout Wookiees and
Girl Scout Crookies are taped there too, and you should
confine your snooping to those. The insignificant
coincidences, sometimes incorrectly described as "being
identical," remain unworthy of worrying about, except for
Girl Scout Nookies en Passant and Girl Scout Wookies and
Girl Scout Crookies because these events take place after
those three.

************************************************************

Do you know what it's like to wake up and find four cute
little bareassnaked nookies in your bedroom? Neither do I
because it was a dream, interrupted by the blasted alarm
going off at exactly the wrong moment. I squeezed my eyes
shut against the thoughtlessly intruding ray of unwanted
sunlight that had wound its way from a gap in the curtains
to my face, muttered something that would cause my mother
to die just so she could spin in her grave, and rolled over
to shut it off. Before I could reach for the button, the
noise quit. I dragged open my eyes, expecting to see that
Allie had turned it off. Instead I beheld two things: one,
four variously shaded cute little bareassnaked nookies
ranging from completely smooth to fully thatched, and two,
a quirt held in a cocoa-colored hand.

Okay, three things: no Allie. Which, it seemed, wasn't
that much of a problem at that point.

All four started laughing with an overabundance of glee.

"What's so funny?" I asked through a yawn.

Maria's lustrous brunette hair coruscated in scintillating
waves as she shook her head. "You don't know your own name."

Ming's red bangs bounced like silicone implants on pogo
sticks as she nodded. "Instead of Mister Hoistigon..."

"Hoisington," I corrected.

Mistress Star shrugged her supple burnt sienna shoulders.
"Who cares? And knock off the stupid adjectives and
similes."

Buffy finished. "...you think you're Mister Naive."

I was dumbfounded, bewildered, and perplexed, not to
mention stupefied. "What makes you think that I think that?"

They exchanged THAT LOOK. Maria's bemused gaze returned to
smirk at me. "Because," she scoffed, "nine paragraphs ago
you said that our being here instead of the fat bitch
wasn't a problem."

"Oh." Hey, I'd just been rudely awakened from a pleasant
dream, okay? Just how well do you think under those
circumstances? "So, why are you here?"

"Because there's a problem," said Buffy, sighing and
rolling her ice-blue eyes in a precise imitation of the
manner of a female who is speaking to a male who can't
grasp the obvious.

I yawned again. "Well, remind me to look surprised next
Tuesday. OWTCH!!!"

Mistress Star's hard hazel eyes examined the tip of her
quirt to see if I'd damaged it by striking it with my
shoulder while Maria rolled her warm umber eyes and said,
"Can't you wake up enough to keep your stories straight?
This is a Girl Scout Nookies story! Use the right phrases
for it!"

I was now awake. I rubbed the welt on my shoulder. "I
believe the 'OWTCH!!!' was right for a GSN story," I said
painfully.

Mistress Star drew back the quirt once more. "Are you
going to start those silly Tom Swiftie adverbs again, worm?"

"Ummmm..., no?"

"Good. Now wake up! Here." She indicated me to the others
with a jerk of her head. Maria produced a steaming cup of
coffee. One of these days I need to find out where they
hide things like cups of coffee, sheaves of papers, and
Chicom AK-47s when they're bareassnaked. The only thing I
know with certainty is where Buffy keeps the ink pen they
use for me to sign the mortgages and other documents that
Ming carries... wherever.

"I'm glad you mentioned that," smirked Ming as she
produced a sheaf of papers and extracted one. She handed it
to Mistress Star, who turned the printout to me and slapped
a line with her quirt.

"See this line? Thin Mints are now up to five hundred a
box, Samoas at four-fifty, shortbread at four-and-a-
quarter, and they're all still climbing. Each will be over
a thousand by Christmas." She lowered the printout before I
could focus on it. Fortunately, she also lowered the quirt.
More fortunately, she lowered it slowly. Most fortunately,
she didn't lower it on me.

"That can change if you don't stop digressing, worm," she
warned me.

I gulped a mouthful of the coffee, hoping the caffeine
would wake me up. The sudden blisters did that before the
caffeine could kick in.

When I stopped screaming Mistress Star shook her blonde
Afro and continued. "The boxes we sell are making money
hand over fist. In fact, you've paid off all but your
original mortgage with your share. But at the rate we're
going, we'll still have..." she glanced at Ming, who handed
her another printout. She scanned the bottom line.
"...forty-two cases, mostly shortbread and peanut butter,
left over by the time the new cookie season starts." When I
said nothing she added, "When the price goes back to
NORMAL." She stared at me, as if expecting a response.

"Could I have a shortbread cookie to go with the coffee?"

Apparently that wasn't the response they wanted.

"A peanut butter?"

Maria rolled her luxuriant burnt umber eyes and produced a
Thin Mint. I hoped it came from where I thought it did. "I
suppose you'll ask for this next?"

"Say, would you mind crumbling it back where it came from?
Allie and Nykki both love having me eat them from there.
I'll bet you'd also...."

The quirt caused me to scream and drop the scalding
coffee, which landed in my lap and immediately soaked
through the thin sheet, causing more screaming. Buffy
produced a bowl of goldfish. Each took two and stuffed them
in her ears as the light faded into oblivion.

                           ~ ~ ~

"I think he's coming to," said a muffled voice that
sounded vaguely like Ming's.

The water mattress jumped with the redistribution of
multiple weights. My eyelids quit resisting and began
creeping open slower than a snail on tranquilizers,
revealing four kneeling cute little bareassnaked nookies
with what looked like dark crumbs lining the three slits
that weren't totally obscured by thatching. I reluctantly
raised my eyes up their bareassnaked bodies, past the flat
stomachs, past the grapefruits, softballs, baseballs, and
lemons, and past the glistening smirks decorated with
flecks of more dark crumbs, to dreamy, satiated eyes.

"You were right," Maria purred with satisfaction. "I DO
like it."

That brought me back to consciousness. My eyelids
separated like mats of seaweed in a tidal swell. "Well, in
that case, let me...."

"You're too late," sighed Buffy, her languid, enchanting
ice-blue eyes glancing at the clock. "Play time is over.
It's back to work time now."

"Besides," murmured Ming as her dreamy jade eyes glanced
at my crotch, "you'd probably get a boner and pass out
again before you could finish."

Frowning, I lifted my head from the pillow. The top sheet
had been removed and thrown over the clothes hamper, where
it dripped dark brown coffee onto the light beige rug. I
beheld Mister Happy and his two travelling companions
wrapped in large bandages covered with white surgical tape.
"Is it...?" Fear of the answer kept me from finishing the
question.

"Just severe first degree burns," Mistress Star said with
a smile. "Hardly any second degrees worth mentioning. And
you also killed off any possible crab infestation. It will
be fine," she waved her quirt and warped her smile into a
snarl, "unless I need your attention."

I gulped like a sweet young thang swallowing a cmsix pick-
up line. "You have it!"

"Good." She turned to Maria, Ming turned to Buffy, and
they licked the residual Thin Mint crumbs from each other's
faces. I started to groan with envy, but Mister Happy
decided to respond to the sight, so instead I screamed with
pain.

                           ~ ~ ~

"I think he's coming to again," said a voice that sounded
like Ming's.

"I hope so," said a voice that sounded like Maria's.

"We don't have all day," said a voice that sounded like
Buffy's.

"If he doesn't wake up, he'll wish he had." That, without
question, was Mistress Star's. My eyes flew open faster
than the legs of a ten-dollar hooker looking at a roll of
hundreds. They were now sitting in the lotus position
beside me. I ignored the open nookie display that disproved
the hair color on their heads and concentrated on their
faces.

"We should have thought of the bandages months ago," said
Ming. The others nodded in agreement.

"And the goldfish to muffle the screaming," said Maria,
pointing at the thrashing tails sticking out of her ears.
More nodding.

"I still don't know what you're doing here," I grumbled.
"And I don't know why you're naked, for that matter."

They looked at me as if I were the results of a backyard
trip by Baggins after he'd eaten his fill of cookies and
they had found me stuck to the bottoms of the shoes they'd
removed. "You're hopeless," Buffy sighed, her fishtails
wiggling as she shook her head.

"Do you really think anybody would still be reading this
crap if we were dressed, worm?" Mistress Star's fishtails
wiggled in as disgusted a manner as can be wiggled by dying
fish.

But, unfortunately, she had a valid point.

"Um, do you mind if I get up? I'm lying in a puddle of
coffee, and my butt's getting cold."

Group eye-rolling ensued. If synchronized eye-rolling ever
becomes an Olympic sport, I know a guaranteed-gold-medal
team. "Oh, sure! It's a problem if YOU are the one lying in
a wet spot, but it's okay if women have to sleep in it,"
scoffed Maria.

"Ummm...." Clearly it was time to change the subject
again. "What did you say the problem was?"

"We haven't said because you keep digressing!" screeched
Mistress Star, drawing back the quirt.

Maria blocked the downstroke. "If he keeps passing out,
we'll never get ourselves out of this stupid story."

Mistress Star's face slowly faded from cinnamony chocolate
to plain cocoa chocolate with marshmallows where her fangs
showed. She nodded reluctant acquiescence as Ming said, "If
we don't sell all the cases of cookies, we'll fall short of
our anticipated financial net profit goal."

"If that happens," Buffy continued, "Officer Sherry might
not be able to acquire the entire Girl Scouts operation in
one purchase. The price for the remainder would skyrocket,
and it would remain serious competition until we could
afford to acquire it at the new, much-higher price."

Wheels spun, gears clacked, and realization loomed like
the income tax deadline. "Let me guess. You have another
mortgage in that stack of papers?"

Mistress Star laughed, which is not so pleasant a sound as
it might seem. "Not exactly, worm."

Ming nodded smiling agreement. "I have three of them."

                           ~ ~ ~

"He's coming to again," said Ming's voice.

"The worm had better, or else!" You know whose voice that
was. So did I. My eyelids snapped upward faster than
politicians snapping up campaign contributions.

Maria resumed where I had rudely interrupted Buffy. "So,
we have two choices: you make up the difference or we hook
more customers."

I rubbed my stubbled chin. "There's a third possibility,"
I mused.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" It was the standard greeting from CJ, my
Museypoo, freshly returned from the latest Muse Convention.
"I'll do the musing around here!"

"I think you're too late," said Buffy. "Read the story up
to this point."

CJ did. "You loser! She's right." She qualified herself
for an individual eye-rolling medal. "There's no way I can
salvage this amateurish drivel," she scoffed. "Anyway, I
have to leave for the Muse Standards Council meeting." She
spun on her heel and strode out of the room.

I was astounded. "I didn't know muses had standards."

More synchronized eye-rolling. The Olympics committee
might have to create a platinum medal. "You sure can't tell
it from your stories," scoffed Ming.

"CJ does some excellent scoffing," said Maria, who was
still staring at the door where Museypoo had exited. Her
voice bore a tone bordering on uncompromising admiration.

Mistress Star scowled and nodded agreement. "No doubt she
gets a lot of practice with this worm since she obviously
doesn't get to do much musing. You have to be pretty
pathetic to have a muse and not listen to her."

"Now who's digressing? We're already at the top of page
five."

I will realize in retrospect that my comment wasn't the
right thing to say because the quirt lashed out.

                           ~ ~ ~

"He's coming to again," said Ming's voice.

"Damn," groused Mistress Star's. "I really did want to try
this."

My eyes flew open like the doors of a casino evicting a
card counter and focused on the object in her hands. "A
metal dildo?"

"Not exactly," she said with the smile that frightens
sharks. "It contains the modified works of a cattle prod."
She did something to it with her hand. Electric arcs
sizzled and danced over its surface.

I gulped and rushed out the words. "As I was about to say,
I think I have a solution to the problem."

The electric arcs vanished. She looked at me with the
pleasantry that housewives reserve for special occasions,
such as discovering slime mold on the shower wall. "Go on,
worm."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, we can 'borrow' the
money using Tesseract's credit cards and...."

The arcs sizzled back to life and she snapped, "You have
absolutely no shame, do you, worm? You'd actually do that
to one of your friends, wouldn't you, even though Mister
Tesseract is..." she thought for a second and then cooed,
"nice."

"He's kind," sighed Maria.

"He's sweet," giggled Ming.

"He's a dreamboat," moaned Buffy.

I shrugged my best 'try to look nonchalant while trying
not to piss yourself' shrug. "The less of his money I
spend, the more of my own I have to lay out, and that means
less will be left over for you and Officer Sherry."

"He's a slimeball!" snarled Mistress Star.

"He's a scuzzbucket!" growled Maria.

"He's a pimple on the ass of humanity!" barked Ming.

"He's a Canadian!" retched Buffy.

Mistress Star stopped snarling and cogitated thoughtfully.
"You're right. He is. And you can't buy much with their
Monopoly money. Guess that leaves us with Plans A and B,
worm. I expect you'd prefer Option B."

"Um.... Which one was that again?"

Buffy's goldfish tails waggled, spasmed, and went limp as
she shook her head in disgust again. "Hooking more
customers."

I blinked. Several times. "You want me to be a hooker?"

It's not often you get to see that quality and quantity of
synchronized eye-rolling from one consolidated source. I
felt rather privileged while at the same time feeling
chastised, chagrined, and chattled.

Hey, I was desperate for another "ch" word at the end, okay?

"Where do you think the fat bitch is, worm?"

"Ummm...." No clue. "Shopping for groceries?"

They blinked at each other in surprise. "The blind monkey
caught a peanut!" murmured Maria.

"Almost," said Mistress Star. "It's more like he caught
the empty peanut shell. She's in the parking lot at
Safeway, handing out samples. One sample each. She knows
the tell-tales to look for in a sugar junkie, so she knows
just who to hand them to: the ones with that donut-glazed
look in their eyes who went cold turkey when the cookie
season ended and they ran out. That's the thing with
junkies: they need just one and they're hooked again. And
desperate."

"So..." I noticed that keeping my eyes on their faces had
the advantage of providing Mister Big Head enough blood to
power some serious thinking. "I'm supposed to be a hooker
and hand out samples, too? Halloween's in a couple of
weeks. How about me giving some out as treats?"

Well, maybe the blood supply was a few drops short of a
transfusion. Copious synchronized eye-rolling followed,
accompanied by eight dead fish tails flopping.

"He's hopeless," sighed Buffy.

Ming closed her almond-shaped jade eyes and waggled her
fish tails. "Yeah. A total loser."

"You wouldn't know who to give samples to, worm!" scoffed
Mistress Star. The quirt left a breeze across my nose, but
no agonizing welt, and slammed into the mattress next to
Mister Happy. "You'd use up the profit in wasted giveaways."

Ming nodded. "The fat bitch will be the hooker. You'll go
along and provide protection, since she doesn't know how to
defend herself the way we do, and you'll collect the money
from the hookees."

"Understand now?" asked Maria. Clearly she expected the
answer to be "No."

"I'm Allie's... pimp?"

Maria's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

Buffy shrugged. "Close enough."

Ming produced three documents from her sheaf of papers.
"Or you can go with Plan A."

I gulped. "You know, everybody chooses Plan A first. Let's
be different and go with B."

Ming replaced the papers and pulled out another. "By the
way, you owe us for the samples you'll be distributing plus
the ones you ate from the fat bitch's nookie, plus the Thin
Mints we had while we were waiting for you to come to."

"The ones YOU had?"

Buffy shrugged again. "Well, it was your idea, after all."
She produced the pen and held it forward.

Ming offered the paper. "Sign here, please, and the
treasurer--that's me--will deduct the cost from your share
of the profits."

I signed. Well, I didn't feel like arguing because I'd
been awake--mostly--for some time now and was still in
bed. I really really really needed to go to the little
room in the corner.

"Uh oh," said Mistress Star as she glanced at Buffy.

"Oh no," said Buffy as she glanced at Ming.

"Oy vey," said Ming as she glanced at Maria.

"Damn," said Maria as she slapped her forehead. "We forgot
to leave you an opening in the bandages."

I gulped and then grabbed Mister Happy, noting with a
degree of mixed pleasure the increased apparent size, and
looked at his bandaged nose. Maria was right. "Not a
problem," I said. "I'll just remove the bandage and replace
it."

"Um, you might not want to do that until it's fully
healed," said Maria.

"You see, we couldn't find any gauze," added Ming.

"You mean...."

"It's just tape," finished Buffy.

"Don't worry about it," said Mistress Star as the world
began darkening. "After all, you men think it's no big deal
when you have women wax their bikini lines for you."

As I sat there, staring at the white bundles, they trooped
out of the room, removing the goldfish as they went. I
heard Maria in the hallway ask, "Do you think we should get
dressed before we leave?" and Ming answer, "Nah. Mister
Coldmelon is up by now. He probably needs a thrill," as I
reached for a loose end of the tape.

I tugged, and then I didn't hear anything for a
considerable length of time. I didn't have any goldfish,
and I think the screaming damaged my ears.

************************************************************

Copyright Russell Hoisington 2005

--
Go to massage therapy school and make up to $150/hour, click now!
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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