Dec 22 2006

Fictionlet

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“Hmm,” said Greg, staring at the screen of his laptop. “Ganymede, maybe?”

“Ganymede?” said Brigid.

“Zeus’ cupbearer?” said Greg.

“Don’t know him.”

“Well, you know the gods lived on Olympus, right? Where they lived on ambrosia and nectar?”

“Yeah, vaguely. I haven’t thought about them since high school.”

“Well they had this chick named Hebe who would bring them their ambrosia and nectar; but one day she ran off with Hercules, so they needed a new cupbearer. Zeus spotted this teenage hottie by the name of Ganymede and decided he’d fit the bill perfectly, so he sent an eagle swooping down to Earth to bring Ganymede up to be his cupbearer and general sex-slave.”

Brigid raised her eyebrows. “Zeus would boink teenage boys, would he?”

Greg shrugged. “Zeus would boink anything that wasn’t nailed down, and a few things that were.”

“Okay, so that’s Ganymede,” said Brigid. “What about him?”

“I was just trying to come up with a male analog to Lolita, and the only one I could think of really was Ganymede. He’s the only notable male character I can remember offhand who has that whole ‘creepy underage sex object’ thing going on.”

“Heh, yeah, I can see that,” she said. “Ganymede works. But what I don’t get is why you are expending so much brainpower to come up with a male analog to Lolita.”

“Well, I was in Abercrombie and Fitch today, and–”

“Say no more,” Brigid said.

-The Gneech

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Dec 15 2006

Fictionlet

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“You know how there are snakes that can un-hinge their jaw to swallow prey whole?” Greg said. “After reading all these political rants I sometimes think there must be people who can do the same thing with their brains.”

“Finding their arguments a bit hard to swallow?” Brigid said.

“Well not just that,” said Greg, “but the underlying mindset. Push the right button, and somebody who was just now a perfectly sane, rational person will turn into a ranting banshee spewing nonsensical invective.”

“Hence, their brain has become unhinged,” said Brigid.

“Precisely.”

Brigid shrugged. “Makes as much sense as anything, I suppose. Although it gives me an uncomfortable mental image of a talking head with a dislocated brainpan.”

-The Gneech

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Dec 08 2006

Fictionlet

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“Howard Cosell was a lawyer before he became a sportscaster,” Greg said.

“Oh God, no,” said Brigid. “Don’t do this to me.”

“It’s true! He got his degree from the New York University school of law. He also served in World War II, attaining the rank of Major in the Transportation Corps, but it was his analytical and intellectual approach to sportscasting that made him such a ground-breaking figure.”

“Really.”

“Really! He was known as ‘the Edward R. Murrow of sports’ — pretty prestigious! Alas, he was taken from us in 1995 by a heart embolism. But his legacy lives on!”

“My fascination knows no bounds.”

Greg pursed his lips. “Have you no curiosity?” he demanded. “I suppose you’re not interested in Vinko Bogataj, either.”

“Vinko who’s-a-whatsis?”

“Vinko Bogataj. The ‘agony of defeat’ guy.”

Brigid pinched the bridge of her nose and scrunched her eyes closed. “Go away, Greg,” she said. “Go away. You give my brain PMS. Go away before it gets cramp.”

“Fine, fine,” said Greg with injured bravado. “I’ll go. But someday you’ll be playing Trivial Pursuit, and wish you had listened to me!”

-The Gneech

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