ForgetPants and enjoy the ForePlay of FictionalParadise with FridayPhrases!
Another serving of FP-ness, which sounds VERY rude if you say it aloud! It’s not the last unwieldy pun or play on words you’ll find if you read on – I have had some fun with such awkwardly deliberate mondegreens many times in my FPs (probably too many) but I’m in good company with that, I think. The first one presented below, as an example, was written one week when the theme was The Key To Oblivion, and all the good interpretations had been used by the time I got to the party so I had to bring a kind of Kobayashi Maru sensibility to it (and that’s not the last Star Trek reference you’ll find here, either).
The town was thirst and dust, as if scorned by the river’s wet breath. I saw the signpost as I moored my boat at the quay.
The Redshirt took 4 blasts to the chest then took the Romulans apart.
‘What’s your name, son?’ Kirk asked.
‘Ensign Chuck Norris, sir.’
The axe had cleaved his face in 2, dead eyes glaring at opposite walls. He’d said the 3 little words she couldn’t resist.
“I dare you.”
His boots printed the soil of another town into the carpet as his walk turned to a run. He’d come a long way to tell her he loved her.
An asteroid filled the sky. The crater had been a launch pad, not an impact site. After so many years, the dinos were coming home again.
Sweat dampened her temples. Her breaths were hard, the spandex like a second skin. She smiled down at him.
“I should be out running.”
I will carve you up in a hall of mirrors, just so I can watch you die again and again and again.
He felt like a voyeur, staring through the glass. Beyond the window, the outside world went on without him, tempting but unreachable.
All the King’s Horses and all the King’s Men DID eventually put him together again, but FrankenHumpty terrorised the land for months.
Strangers are just friends you haven’t murdered yet.
Just me and you, changing the rules like we always do, rewriting the proverb and being two in a million.
“I had that dream again,” she told me. “The guy in the mask, chasing me.”
I nodded. I knew the dream well, & tonight I would catch her.
Each night, he dreamt he was a clown killing without mercy. It felt good. Each dawn, he heard the same words.
“Breakfast, Master Bruce?”
The dragon was pleased the unicorn accepted his invitation to dinner. She was charming company, and her horn proved a handy toothpick.
As an exterminator, he’d killed 1000s of spiders in his life, & never regretted a single one, until their ghosts found him in his sleep.
Tenderly, she touched the cuts and bruises on his face, thrilled as his smile – and his blush – filled the spaces inbetween.
She wore more make-up than she used to, and more perfume, but it was Saturday night, and being dead wasn’t going to stop her partying.
Being a body-hopping alien isn’t easy. I dug at my eyes with tweezers for ten minutes until I realised my new host didn’t wear contacts.
His co-workers spoke endless, exhausting nonsense, oblivious to the secret pact he made with himself every day not to kill them.
She found another egg, not chocolate this time. It was already hatched, and the secret inside hissed at her.
“Now it’s MY turn to hunt.”
I was sad to see my boy throw a stick for his puppy, dead a week now, and horrified to see the stick hover as something brought it back.
The clock chimed 12 as she took his sword & removed his armour. Her fingers caressed, & he smiled when the hands stopped at mid-knight.
I watched thru the glass as the man drew back the sheet. I identified the body quietly, musing that the one I wore now suited me better.
That night he didn’t dare look at the clock, but every tick of it was the sound of a chisel against stone, chipping cracks in his heart.
“So,” I said. “What’s with the gender reassignment?”
He shrugged. “The #FP writer realised that ‘He’ is one less character than ‘She’.”
If you made it this far, thanks for reading. More of my FP scribblings can be found here: