we live underground in a fiberglass tree

[brandywine28]

I set aside a little chunk of time for writing this morning, so of course I'm looking at old WIPs instead.

Now I'm not gonna do that same-old, overly modest thing I do so well, and make big blanket statements, like 'everything here is terrible!' Because it isn't. Some of it's decent.

But this one thing. Wow.

Okay, so basically: JC buys a theremin. You know that instrument that sounds like a ghost having an orgasm? One of those. And he gets really into it and becomes proficient pretty quickly (Is theremin proficiency even a thing? Are there any theremin virtuosos out there? Not counting the dude I just linked to, I guess.) And the other guys are starting to worry, 'cos he keeps canceling plans to stay at home with his theremin and...

That's all she(I) wrote. I truly have no idea where I was going with this. It's gotta to be at least six, seven years old and I have a memory like a goldfish.

I mean...

Is it possible I had only just learned what a theremin was and felt like showing off? I'm grasping at straws here. What the hell was I thinking?

Dang, I really wanna end this on a positive note. Oh! Okay, here we go: one that still makes me laugh. Hey, zebraljb, remember 'JC and the Seven Whores'? And the pine cone contraceptives? (Dear God, someone ask me about the pine cone contraceptives. I am suddenly dying to talk about the pine cone contraceptives.)

Comments

[turps]

Obviously, he was going to end up having sex with the theremin, the stick part involved somehow, later sitting with his head resting against the hoop part while murmuring happily they were always meant to be.

The others obviously worried because they know JC and know the possibility of a theremin related sex injury is high.

Or something like that!

Now tell me about pine cone contraceptives to take my mind off JC/theremin.

[brandywine28]

I was thinking the theremin might've been a metaphor for something, but I like this so much better!

Except now I'm worrying about the possibility of electric shocks. Sex with traditional instruments: so much safer (as Chris desperately tries to explain to JC during the most upsetting intervention ever.)

...

So I've had two days to mull it over, and I'm thinking I may have oversold the pine cone contraceptives. I forget not everyone is as easily amused as I am.

However:

Okay. It's kind of a Cinderella/Snow White mash-up thing. JC, for reasons, flees his stepmother's castle and runs away to the woods where he's taken in by seven friendly prostitutes who live in a hollowed out oak tree that's much larger on the inside than it looks on the outside. Because magic, I guess.

They're the quaintest, most fairy-tale-like of forest-dwelling prostitutes. They sing cheerful working songs and use berry juice to rouge their lips and cheeks and, yep, craft their very own handmade pine cone contraceptives.

Which I'm just now realizing implies the existence of mpreg in this universe, something that -- *squints at WIP* -- yeah, nope, is supported nowhere else in the text.

There's no conflict. Barely any romance. Just ten solid pages of merry tree hookers. It says so, so much about who I am as a person.