Tales of the Village Msagro continued

Last time in the Tales of the Village Msagro…

Long-Tongue stood for a moment outside of her darkened home, allowing the heat from the souls of her feet to saturate the moss beneath them, taking in deep, calming breaths. Fire-Crotch was safe in a room with all of her friends. Gandalf and Mr. Sparkles were large and the rest were clever. She was safe for now. Long-Tongue focused on calming herself. It was halfway through one of these breaths that something small but powerful threw itself into ribs and the darkness flooded up from her lungs into her brain and the night and all of its characters were lost to her. Her eyes fluttered shut…Back at the hut, Guppies absently noted that Fire-Crotch had stopped her stirring and now lay very still.

(.)(.)

) . (

( v )

 

Only Dances-with-dildos and Runs-with-guppies were aware of the connection that existed on some intangible plane between Fire-Crotch and Lezy-Long-Tongue, so they were the first to feel stupid when Fire-Crotch's eyes snapped open and a look of terror flittered briefly across her face. She locked eyes with Guppies and mouthed: not me. It wasn't Fire-Crotch who was in danger of being taken by The-Camera's thugs. What's worse, by clumping them all together in the hut to protect her they'd given them the perfect chance to slip in and take Long-Tongue and get a decent head start before they could all even put the pieces together.

    The next few hours were a flurry of curses, arguing, packing and unpacking as the plan was changed or modified a hundred times. The only thing that kept Fire-Crotch from chewing her lip into ribbons was the knowledge that The-Camera wouldn't allow her daughter to come to any lasting physical harm. The only danger would be if Lezy was stupid enough to try and escape and ended up wandering around alone in some foreign area. Fire-Crotch knew her well enough to guess she would be feeling burned enough to try just that.

    In the end it was Fire-Crotch, pack slung over one pale but strong shoulder, who stepped calmly into the clearing, scattered with angry villagers and discarded scraps of packing. She cleared her throat. The sound was such a contrast that they all looked up, slightly dazed.

    "I'm leaving now. There's only one way out of the valley so I'm gonna go ahead and guess they went that way. Anybody who doesn't have an elaborate strategy involving inventing a helicopter from a horse skeleton" here she looked pointedly at Mr. Sparkles who glanced down "has ten minutes to get their shit together and catch up with me." She nodded and started down the valley. The villagers looked at each other.

     With a cheerful shrug Tweak jumped up and began securing a giggling Enchanted Bug to the saddle of their mule. In succession Bends-for-Bottoms, Runs-With-Guppies and Dances-with-dildos followed suit, leaving Mr. Sparkles and Gandalf to hold down the village and track down The-Camera for a much needed little chat.

Tales of the Village Msagro

    

Last time in the Tales of the Village Msagro…

"We need more blankets if we're all going to stay here tonight."

    Long-tongue nodded "There are some in our home, I'll be right back." She shrugged into the wool coat and slipped out the door and into the night, leaving the hut and its occupants blind and vulnerable.

(.)(.)

) . (

( v )

 

The Perfect One jogged easily through the corn fields, wondering absently to himself again why they were even there. His mind was muggy at the moment. His qualms about betraying his sister yet again clashed with the desire to continue favor in his parents eyes. Whatever the case, he was mere yards away from the Sacred now, and turning back was out of the question. He sucked in a breath and pressed on, feeling the hard earth of the outer ring give to foliage under his feet. Ever since his sister had taken up residence in the Sacred she had worked on turning the entire village floor into a carpet of moss and ferns. Nobody in the Sacred had used shoes ever since. Perfect removed his hastily; even if he had to do this he would not disrespect her work. He turned back to the two thugs behind him and glared until they did the same, then he signaled and continued forward, now at a creeping pace, towards the cluster of huts speckling the hill ahead of them.

    Fire-Crotch remained curled up on the floor where her lover had left her, she drifted in and out seamlessly, catching snatches of murmured conversation from the others. She was briefly aware of the empty feeling along her chest and stomach and thought that this may have been the first time she'd slept without Long-Tongue in a very long time. She had been tossing and turning for a while now, she could feel it in her limbs, they were charged with energy in her bones, but felt heavy. She blinked wearily up in time to look over Bottoms' shoulder and sleepily register a dark form approaching the window.

    Long-Tongue stood for a moment outside of her darkened home, allowing the heat from her souls to saturate the moss beneath them, taking in deep, calming breaths. Fire-Crotch was safe in a room with all of her friends. Gandalf and Mr. Sparkles were large and the rest were clever. She was safe for now. Long-Tongue focused on calming herself. It was halfway through one of these breaths that something small but powerful threw itself into ribs and the darkness flooded up from her lungs into her brain and the night and all of its characters were lost to her. Her eyes fluttered shut…Back at the hut, Guppies absently noted that Fire-Crotch had stopped her stirring and now lay very still, her eyes had opened suddenly.

Tales of the Village Msagro Chapter 1 part 2

    

Last time in the Tales of the Village Msagro…

"Well. We are in no power to move her back. We'll have to find some other way."

Long-Tongue leaned heavily on the side of the hut, oblivious to the rough siding diviting the skin on her back. Scuffing footsteps approached the door. She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed off the wall, bolting back to the Sacred, the inner village.

(.)(.)

) . (

( v )

 

Dances-with-Dildos checked the locks on the door again. Touching every latch with delicate white fingers. Runs-With-Guppies was fiddling with her shining black curls, glancing up every so often at her sister. Dances-With-Dildos forced a reassuring smile and made another lap around the room, touching each of her friends briefly, lovingly, playing the mom she was so good at.

    Shortly after Long-Tongue had stumbled back into the Sacred, she had gathered all of her allies and related what she had heard. They all had different ideas on how to deal with the situation. Bends-For-Bottoms' proposal involved a rope, a paperclip, a mouse and some personal lubricant. Fire-Crotch and Tweak's idea utilized Fire-Crotch's excellent marksmanship and memorizing The-Camera's schedule. Long-Tongue simply clung to Fire-Crotch's side, terrified to let her out of her site.

    Whatever the plan ended up becoming, they all agreed it was important to keep an eye on Fire-Crotch and make sure she was not left alone the next few days. That is how they all came to be hold up in The Gandalf's home. Mr. Sparkles, Gandalf, Tweak, The Enchanted Bug, Bends-For-Bottoms, Runs-With-Guppies Dances-With-Dildos, and Lezy-Long-Tongue all took turns making loops around the hut and awaiting some kind of kidnapping brigade come for Fire-Crotch. Long-Tongue volunteered the most times since she knew the minions of her parents wouldn't dare touch her.

    Dances-With-Dildos peered out the door cautiously then stood back to briskly allow Mr. Sparkles to step back in.

"I'm next." Long-Tongue gently removed Fire-Crotch's head from her lap and allowed her to continue sleeping. At the door, Dances stopped her briefly, squeezing her hand.

    "We need more blankets if we're all going to stay here tonight."

    Long-tongue nodded "There are some in our home, I'll be right back." She shrugged into the wool coat and slipped out the door and into the night, leaving the hut and its occupants blind and vulnerable.

Tales of the Village Msagro chapter I in earnest…

 

Last time in the Tales of the Village Msagro…

 

None of them ever suspected that that day would change their lives forever…so it didn't

(.)(.)

) . (

( V )

The cool water was a refuge on this scorching July day on the last edges of the village. Things were different in the Outer Ring. The Gods were different, the life was different, and the love was different. The Outer Ring hugged the river and was threaded through by some smaller brooks and naturally occurring ditches. Lezy-Long-Tongue was perched naked on a soft mossy boulder that protruded from the center of the stream. The sun licking the tiny droplets off her belly and shoulders warmed her skin and everything was right in the world.

    The peaceful busy white noise of the water was interrupted by tense muffled murmurings emitting from The- Camera and The-Burdened's home. The sound was stressed and abrasive to her energies. Irritated she slipped off the rock. She had brought Fire-Crotch's cloak with her and she wrapped herself tightly in it now as she marched purposefully towards the hut. The voices grew as she approached.

"…is just after her birthday. We can't do that, that's not who we are."

"I'm so tired of you telling me who WE are. What about me? What about you? What about me? We are only a 'we' when we agree."

"You're getting off topic. Its one of those days isn't it? You just want to fight."

"No! This is important! We just can't have it her fucking around in there. Its not right! Her…'lover' is not one of us, Burdened! She doesn't belong here. She belongs back on the other side of the mountains where she can't touch our daughter. It's a disgrace. You saw how they ignored me last meeting. This must be stopped."

A sad resigned sigh slipped through the air, shifting the energy entirely, it sent goose bumps up her spine. The cloak slipped from her shaking shoulders, pooling around her hips in her lower back.

"Well. We are in no power to move her back. We'll have to find some other way."

Long-Tongue leaned heavily on the side of the hut, oblivious to the rough siding diviting the skin on her back. Scuffing footsteps approached the door. She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed off the wall, bolting back to the Sacred, the inner village…and away from her parent's home.

Tales of the Village Msagro Part I chapter 3

Last time, in the Tales of the Village Msagro…

Then Ellen saw the hate rise and she took a scoop of the mud of good gay humor and mixed it with a rib from Eddie Izard's side and created her daughter to watch over the land she had created. She called her Margaret Cho. Then Ellen in all her glory, rose above the Earth and was gone."

(.)(.)

) . (

( v )

 

The calm intense light faded from Long-Tongue's eyes to be replaced by their usual intelligent but mischievous fire. The gathered villagers noted the shift and began to rise and disperse silently into the night as Long Tongue peered curiously up at the stars. Fire-crotch kissed her fingertips and touched the heel of the goddess sobsel for serenity before trotting to Long-Tongue's side. She caught her just as she started to tumble aimlessly off the rock. Longue-Tongue executed a small yelp upon gentle impact then snuggled briefly under her lover's chin before popping out of her arms and chasing off into the night. Fire-Crotch smiled and let out a resigned sigh, beginning the process of catching and calming that was usually necessary every night before either of them could get any sleep.

 

Hours later the sun was beating down on the corn fields (that seemed to be there purely for decoration). Bends-For-Bottoms was in his hut working out, Runs-With-Guppies was setting up another fish trap in the creek, Longue-Tongue and Fire-Crotch were working on the gardens that dotted the village, and Dances-With-Dildos was…well…practicing her namesake. None of them ever suspected that that day would change their lives forever…so it didn't.

Tales of the Village Msagro part I Chapter 2

Last time, in the Tales of the Village Msagro…

Long-Tongue stands, swaying, upon the boulder and begins to speak...
"So, my family. You wish to hear a story. Tonight I have brought with me, the epic of our beginnings. Would you like to hear of the great ones?" She gestures to the wall grandly under the moon as the villagers nodd eagerly...

"In the beginning there was only closet. Then there was Ellen. Ellen saw the closet and saw that it was not good. So she raised her arms and said: 'let there be light!' and there was and she saw that it was good. Then Ellen said 'let there be night' and there was and she saw that it was good. Then Ellen said 'let the days be for nomming foods and the nights for nomming genitals' and it was so and she saw that it was orgasmic. Then Ellen saw the land and noted that it was flat and she said 'let there be lesbians! Let they be strong women with strong moral fiber—mmmm….fiber—and let they range in scale from lipstick, hard femme, femme, soft femme (that's me!), innocent, soft butch, artsie, butch, hard butch, boi, stone butch, bull dyke to trans men!' and it was so and she saw that it was vagina-tastic. Then Ellen saw that the world lacked flare and she said 'let there be gays! Let they range in whatever realm they may range in and let that be self explanatory because years from now the narrator of this tale will be a lesbian and not so savvy in the realm of gay men!' and it was so and she saw that it was…whatever it is.

Then She saw that the world lacked the interest of conflict and she said 'Let there be haters and homophobes and angry closet cases!' and it was so and Ellen bit her lip and said 'um…too much.'

Then Ellen saw the hate rise and she took a scoop of the mud of good gay humor and mixed it with a rib from Eddie Izard's side and created her daughter to watch over the land she had created. She called her Margaret Cho. Then Ellen in all her glory, rose above the Earth and was gone.

Tales of the Village Msagro part I

There is a harvest moon, dripping down over a tiny village nestled in a rocky valley. Stalks of corn stand uncomplainingly, laying thin shadows in the moonlight.
There is a sheer cliff wall at one end of the village with portraits of four deities carved shallowly into its sandstone side. below these massive watchers sit three young adults, cross legged under their respective patrons.
Runs-With-Guppies is fidgeting with her long dark curls under Efilasdeen, goddess of the crop. Beside her is Dances-With-Dildos. She sits peacefully in contrast with her sister, ice blue eyes open and calm. Above her towers the goddess Ofmyn for fertility. Under the God Maximus Clamberus, Bends-For-Bottoms is leaning against the cliff itself, for reasons undisclosed he is unwilling to sit at the moment.
The all seem focussed intently on an empty boulder with a flattened table-like top. None of them look behind it where a hut stands, little thuds vibrating its walls. They seem to be waiting for something.
Soon the moonlight cuts two figures emerging from the hut. It is Lezy-Long-Tongue, and her lover Fire-Crotch. Fire-Crotch makes a line for the others, sitting between Bends-For-Bottoms and Dances-With-Dildos under the goddess Sobsel as Long-Tongue clambers up onto the rock. Because of Long-Tongue's accessively drifting attentions she can only concentrate enough to relate a tale in the quiet strength of after glow and so stories are rare. The gathered villagers know this and savor the expirience.
Long-Tongue stands, swaying, upon the boulder and begins to speak...
"So, my family. You wish to hear a story. Tonight I have brought with me, the epic of our beginnings. Would you like to hear of the great ones?" She gestures to the wall grandly under the moon as the villagers nodd eagerly...

To be continued...

Meet the Gandalfs

Last night, just like every Tuesday, I went to crash with Gandalf, Tweak and The Bug. The Bug was very happy to see me. Upon my enterence she began squeaking and talking up a storm (unfortunatly I didn't catch it all. Something about "mmmiaaaagupppt!" and "wyaaaa?") and decided to illustrate her point by toddler-jogging in a tight circle around the high chair then plopping on the floor and sticking her feet up in the air and kicking. Needless to say: I agreed whole heartedly.
I helped Tweak clean a little. It wasnt' really any worse than my room until we peeled (or pryed rather) up the maton the high chair... and encountered Death! Death can come in many forms my friends. It can be a robber of your body, or a muck-about of your soul. It can come in the form of a knife, a gun or, I have recently learned, several months worth of congealed baby sustanence that looks as if the idea of leaping up and devouring your brains has occured to it on more than one occasion.
Tweak thinks she's getting old. I say: who can be old who still holds to the three pillars of teenage-dom: music, the internet, and ignoring cleaning the room for more shiney ideas?

Until further, more interesting events arise, I leave you with a poem, compossed at 6:30 this morning within 5 minutes (so don't judge me).

In slow motion
We explode

Then we peer about
And Quietly we implode

It takes several years
For the unfurling to peak

For us to rise to power
Only to be rendered weak

On so many planes we bloom
Until the life force is faded to gone

Then we choose a comfortable room
And inwardly we abscond.

Coyote out

Genesis

I had intentions to have my first blog be full of deep thoughts about society delivered with dry detached wit or a sarcastic spin but now that my fingers are on the keys I find absolutely nothing in my head save the events of the morning (nondescript and routine) and what is marching obediently onto the screen right now.
I guess I wanted to start this because I feel like there are hundreds of me out there. There are hundreds of little poser-redheads with glasses and few friends. A little recently out girl in a school counting down the days until she's 18 for the legal rights to celebrations, inebriations, fornications, ...inhaling small conflagrations, and all the other -ations that come with the accomplishment of surviving for 216 months. Its funny. They've turned life into a video game. when you turn 15 there's level one: congradulations you can now go to therapy without parental consent and have confidentiality with your doctor. level two is 16, now your car can take you to those appointments. 17: level three. Now you can drive, in your car, to your therapist, to talk about the R rated movie you just saw. 18 is the second to last level most people get to use. Now you can smoke outside the R rated movie leaning against your car plotting who you'll vote for, and which porn video you just purchased will make better fodder for your therapy session.

There, I've commented on the mediocrity of society in a detached sarcastic manner.

But really, my life is logically a very good one. I've got everything I need. I've got a dog who worships me when he's not worshipping himself, a dad who, while still growing, makes me the apple of his eye, and a girlfriend who the most realistic person I've ever dated. Somehow her seriousness, her authenticity makes this the first valid, adult relationship I've ever been in.

I just thought that my pedestrian experiences and somewhat esoteric ponderings should be documented and published, not because I am somehow extraordinary, but because I know there will be others who had nearly the same day and will be glad they weren't the only ones.

I wish I could say that I am sitting in a local coffee shop that's struggling under the recession and recent invasion of Starbucks. I wish I could say my bangs are a curtian over my horn rimmed glasses while I sip a black coffee (to match my soul of course). I wish I could talk about the muggy day and watching some overly perky cheerleaders bounce along outside like breast-augmented sheep in social droves while Malissa Ethridge tells my iPod about "refugee" and my "tree hugger" sweatshirt clings to my shoulders.
Unfortunately for my reputation (forntunatly for my mood) I'm in chemistry waiting for class to start. There's a Gatorade next to my (unadorned) lap top (this is to appease my girlfriend, we'll call her Numbers). I'm listening to "The Shins" and my T-shirt says "pickles: cucumbers soaked in evil".
I lent my calculator to Lieutenant Bowie last class. The screen, upon awakening for me just now, blinked, lit up, and flatly told me "BOOBS". He is in this class also and He's snickering from his table. Thank (insert respective higher power) that some of us can still regress to 4th grade. we need more of that in these times.


That's all for now.

Coyote Out