Oh my! T.I.R.O.M is early this week! My loss is your gain; I loose my weekend and you get to read my blog early. The reason for the early blog is that I am in Thetford (some hole somewhere in the glorious but frustratingly wet and cold English countryside). The reason for me being in Thetford is my school’s annual dick waving competition otherwise known as Army Expeditions Weekend. Every year, somewhere in a lightly wooded area somewhere in England an assorted bunch of testosterone fuelled pricks run around beating each other up in the pretence of some sort of military training.
I’m sure you are all wondering why exactly I signed up for such an endeavour in dick waving, well the answer is that I didn’t! Instead I joined the Royal Navy section of the school CCF (que hilariously predictable jokes about anal penetration and other ‘things they get up to in the Navy’). For some inexplicable reason us reasonable bunch who prefer Expeditions Weekends in which we get proper food and decent beds, get lumped in with the dick wavers this year.
So I loose my weekend along with my sanity and my sleep. Fortunately for you this means that I decided to post this blog up early!
This week I didn’t have the time/inspiration to write anything new or ranty, so I though I’d let you read the second (and inconclusive) section of the story I wrote a few weeks back, found here. I wont give you a plot update because I cant be bothered, go reread part 1 if you care enough. Note: this section is not as long as the first one!
Marcus watched another beleafed female wondering from one building to another. The wonderful thing about this tribe, as Marcus had discovered, was that the females did not bother to use leaves to cover their upper body, just the lower, leaving their breasts to sag freely and happily bounce around when they broke into a run. This was of course all well and good for the younger and more attractive members of the tribe, and Marcus and not been able to believe his luck when he had first discovered this phenomenon, but it became a progressively less appealing as the age of the woman in question increased. Marcus had seen enough pairs of saggy wrinkly and altogether very unpleasant breast in his short stay.
The woman who was walking provocatively in front of him at this moment however was one of the more attractive of the tribeswomen and he was perfectly free to ogle as her wonderful breasts as much as he wished. The young women of the tribe had found his constant staring quite amusing and were happy to bounce merrily in front of him for the sheer amusement of the look on his face.
It had certainly made his time in the crudely built but remarkably durable cage more interesting. The life of a prisoner was not too bad in this particular tribe; they fed him, gave him water, showed him their ample breasts and generally kept him as content as one could be when you are living in a small cage surrounded by a bunch of savages (although they had not really show any signs of savagery other than capturing him in the first place).
The main problem he faced was withholding the endless attacks of boredom; once he got bored he tended to get into trouble. So far he had been able to quell his boredom by watching the tribe go about their business (and enjoying the nakedness of the better looking females). Now however the tribe were not doing anything in the communal area of which he was the centrepiece due to the fact that most of them were asleep.
They had spent a good deal of the night partying; apparently the capture of prisoners was a rare occasion so they felt the need to dance round a campfire (boobs and all) and eat, drink and be merry. For the drinking and being merry they had a helping hand in a strange drink that was apparently very alcoholic. Unfortunately Marcus had not been invited to the party thrown in his honour so he had to sit out and watch like some socially repressed Billy-no-mates at a party (a little too close to home for the author come to think of it…). It had still been an amusing night however because drunk, beleafed tribesmen (and women) are hilarious to watch. Clearly the parties did not happen very often because they were not very experienced drinkers and subsequently were twice as funny as drunken people normally are.
When the morning however there was no source of amusement so Marcus would have to amuse himself, which was easier said than done. As he often did when he had nothing else to do, he removed a coin from his pocket and began to roll it over his knuckles, as I’m sure the reader will have see in many a Hollywood film.
One of the tribesmen (not the good-looking, nicely breasted woman of a few paragraphs ago, another, more male tribesman) happened to walk past and notice him playing with his gold coin. His eyes lit up and he raced up to the cage. Taken a little by surprise by this chain of events, Marcus jumped and scurried comically to the back of the small cage. He crept forwards and the startling tribesman looked continuously at his hand, in which his coin was clutched tight. Noticing the rather unsettling intensity of his gaze, Marcus opened his hand and held the simple coin that he had robbed off some unsuspecting drunk in the palm of his hand and under the tribesmen’s nose. He stared at it for a few seconds in which Marcus became increasingly bemused by the shocked look on his face. After a moments ogling (much like the ogling that Marcus himself had been doing earlier), the tribesman fled.
Marcus sat with his hand still outstretched and the gold coin still glinting in the sun upon it. He blinked a couple of times, trying to wake himself up from the bizarre situation that could only be a dream. Once he realised that it had actually happened he smiled, shrugged his shoulders and went back to playing about with his coin and wondering to himself what was happening to Rebecca and Fernando. Which is an excellent writing tool for shifting the action onto another set of characters.
“Ow!” cried Fernando as the tribesman shoved him again. “Gerroff!” The beleafed (that is not actually a word by the way!) tribesman had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and was practically dragging him along.
Rebecca, who was walking quite calmly beside the tribesman and her brother, rolled her eyes at his struggle. “Shut up Fernando, you might as well go along with him, we probably have a better chance of finding Marcus if we are actually in human contact; he has a habit of getting himself into trouble.”
“But…” Fernando protested ineffectually. “Who knows what they might do to us! They could eat us, these tribesmen do that you know? Eat people that is.” He voice was pleading.
“Fernando, they are not going to eat you, you smell far to horrible to be eaten. There isn’t enough meat on you to make a good meal anyway, it would be a waste of effort.” Fernando did not reply; he was too stupid to think of a witty retort.
After another half an hour or so of walking (or shoving), they arrived in a rickety assortment of mud brick buildings, most of which were poorly built and looked about to fall down. Clearly this tribe were not master builders. Although, looking around the grassland, there were not many building materials with which to build a decent house.
The thing that both Fernando and Rebecca noticed very soon after arriving in the village was that none of the tribeswomen wore any leaves to cover their breasts. Fernando could only let out a breathy ‘wow’ and stare unsubtly, almost forgetting how to walk in the process. Rebecca only sighed, rolled her eyes and loosened the bosom of her dress some more (if that was possible), slightly envious that she had been outdone by these people.
They were led by the triumphant tribesman through the village, clearly they were arousing quite a lot of attention because they had a large following of semi-naked tribes people, at which point Fernando realised the downside of the female’s nakedness. He was suddenly breathing rather very heavily and averting his eyes. He looked as though he was about to throw up.
When they arrived at the centre of the village Rebecca was shocked be the sight of Marcus sitting on a throne on a very flimsy looking dais. He was dressed in more leaves than the rest of the tribes, which was a good thing given that his pale, flesh body was not the most pleasant of sights. He also had two rather attractive women, wearing very few leaves, sitting next to him pampering him. She only got a short look because she was thrown face first into the dirt at his feet as soon as they were close to him.
“Well, well, well…” he said in the most cliché way imaginable. “How did you two find me?”
Rebecca stood up, dusting herself off. “I have a feeling we had a little bit of help from artistic licence.”
“So did you fail the test too then?”
“Yeah, Fernando couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life. What about you though? You look as though you’ve done well for yourself.” (yeah, I’m not very good at storytelling through dialogue!)
“Um… They seem to think I’m some god of some sort. They all started bowing down to me a while ago, very amusing, shame the reader was off reading about you guys.”
“How by all that is unholy and evil did you mange to convince them that you were a God?”
“They seem to think that gold is a godly thing, I happened to have some gold coins to they assumed I must be a god.” He removed a gold coin from his pocket and tossed it in the air. The tribesmen’s eyes followed the coin intently.
Rebecca shook her head and crossed her arms
Fernando, who had remained mercifully silent throughout the entire exchange, spoke up. “But you’re not a god! That isn’t fair.” Rebecca glowered at him.
“No, it isn’t fair Fernando, but when have I ever been fair?” (I was about to insert a rant about how society is not fair and how the only way to get ahead in that sort of society is by being unfair, but I thought I’d spare you it! You only need to read every other blog on the Internet for your fill of that sort of tripe.)
at which point I ran out of dialogue ideas. Enjoy your weekend, I certainly wont. Spare a thought for me as you drift of to sleep on Friday and Saturday.