Thursday, August 14, 2014


A: (Walks into the office carrying a white pastry box... she opens the box and removed a bear claw shaped like a penis... and bites it... custard squirts out) 
Z:  Cold girl... cold... where did you get them?
A:  A friend makes them... want to suck some custard?
Z:  I'll pass.
A:  More penis for me.  (She acts titillated at the option)  Not so long ago we wrote about being liars.  (She laps custard from the corner of her mouth only after she got Zi's attention)  Liar.  A writer has to be one in order to tell a fictional story.  However there is a reverse side to that.  We also tell the truth a lot.  That everything in a story even when writing about the most outlandish situation, or planet, for that matter, like Starling in SNAKE DANCE, there is always a foundation in truth.  Even the characters have a basis in truth even if they are nasty or naughty, heinous or humorous, exuberant or poignant. 
Z: (Rolls his eyes and flips a pen, watching it as it falls, catching it with perfect pizazz, notices the box and reaches for it)  Too, much sugar.  Back away from the buzz.  It is not truth, per se, but a consistency to the character's personality.  Remember we write fiction... fiction... F-I-C-tion.
A: (Holds it away)  Are you paying attention? 
Z:  Always… whatever you have to say is paramount.  (He stares directly at her with a serious glaze) 
A:  (Looks back but not certain if he is jazzing her or not, after all she still has the box filled with sweet delights, removes one, kisses it, puts it in her blouse pocket as a back-up treat... acknowledging better safe than penis-pastry free ) Since you mentioned Starling, look at Mong, evil to the core, rancid to the bone, foul to the extreme, yet down deep there is truth to the he of him.  I get it is more human nature of an evil creep... but truth nonetheless. 
Z:  Huh?  He of him?  (Gives the puzzled head tilt directed at her words and the mysteries of the box.  He repeats,) Huh?  (Notices the penis pastry head sticking out her pocket... winking a creamy wink)
A:  (Once more she opens the box, plucks out a mini-cream puff via Mama Stella’s famed recipe, and devours most of it in one bite... the custard oozes from the corners of her mouth... she giggles as a blob migrates downward toward her chin )  It was a tad too big! (She laughs and creamy stuff blurts forth)  Oops!  (Trying to be serious)  If a planet had all the elements just right, a creature like Mong could exist.
Z:  Exactly!  (Stands and picks up a conductor’s wand, waving it about as if leading an orchestra as his words come out in a sing-song refrain.  His gaze keeps shifting to the tasty treat just out of reach... in the box... not in her pocket) The key words, if and could.  Mong from SNAKE DANCE came right from my imagination.  There is no creature like him in the real universe.  I used that multi-personality thing to breathe life into him.  Mong was Mong.  Pulled by Mong's world and Mong's desires.  I had to immerse myself in the ugly of him to feel him and become him and that was painful.  Why?  He was heinous!  I am not.  But in fairness I can see myself going there if I remain pastry-free... those penises look good... smoosh one into a ball.  (He bounces his big eye-brows and we all know Zi is well-embrowed)
A: (Ang takes a penis-pastry and wags it at Zi who uses his wand to combat it in a makeshift fencing duel)  Ah ha, you admit, you suffer from Schizophrenia! 
Z:  (Conceding victory to her after a blop of custard is winged airborne and hits his face... followed by an Ick!) Ick!  (Finding composure) All authors do, at least when it comes to their writing.  They must.  They are not really the characters.  They have to imagine them.  And hopefully embrace the depth of their pathos.
A:  (Decides to ignore the logic)  Well, I still think Mong’s disposition and personality is so real that he could actually come from the depths of… well… you!
Z:  Take that back.  I am not a vile mean man.  I am a champion of women.  A pillar of virtue.   (Moves with the speed of a striking snake and snares a luscious delicacy, swallows with obvious enthusiasm)
A:  Not the you of you, but the you of your imagination.
Z:  Better Pastry-horny-dog.  Mong was born from the depths of my imagination.  Authors dig into the character, become the character to find the truth of that character.  Mong was based on a voracious mongoose who was a man and the rest was made up.  And by the way where are Mama Stella’s dessert recipes?
A:  (Looks off into the distance after using a finger to maneuver a bit of custard onto her tongue)  Well, a mongoose is real, isn’t it?  So that's the truth.  As for the recipes, the truth is… well, a mystery. 
Z:  I knew it!  You hid them! 
A:  Maybe?  (She holds the center shaft of the pastry and then cradles the globe portion... why... Ang is one huge tease)
Z:  You baked these didn't you?
A:  I refuse to say on account it may incriminate me.  (She puts the desert in reach so both can indulge)
Z:  (As if a homophobe he hesitates but picks up a penis... bites the nard portion... and speaks around a mouthful of cream)  Look in the dictionary under strange and you’ll see yourself, but you won’t find a single picture under mongoose that looks like Mong. 
A:  Mong is an eeeevvvvil (exaggerates the word imitating Austin Powers’ voice) humanized form of that animal or possibly a human with the eeeevvvvil traits of a mongoose.  So, down deep there has to be something that is in him that has a foundation in truth.  There is also truism in the way he idolized wRen.  Even villains have a weakness, a fatal flaw that leads to their own destruction.  His was wRen.
Z:  I wouldn’t say idolized… lustized.
A:  Is that a word?  (Checks the online dictionary, can’t find it, but decides she likes the word and puts it in her personalized dictionary: Words According to Ang)
Z:  In my book it’s a word.
A:  Mine, too!
Z:  Huh?  (Thinks he says that way too often around Ang)
Z:  You can’t handle the truth!  (Uses his best Jack Nicholson impersonation)

Z:  Thomas Jefferson?  (He bit another part of the penis)

A:  You do know your quotes, but that quote shows that even Prez Jeff knew that the foundation of all writing has a kernel of truth.

Z:  So you are saying there is a underpinning of truth that a planet Starling really could exist?

A:  Didn’t I say that earlier?  According to Winston Churchill, A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on.  So anything is possible.

Z:  So, it is possible that you would actually tell your true age?

A:  No... see the number is a lie.

Z:  You eating that bear-claw in your pocket?

A:  (She places a hand over her breast)  Don't touch this! 

Z:  Fine!

A:  According to Eminem,  A lot of truth is said in jest. 

Z:  That doesn’t answer my question. 

Z:  So what is your point?

A:  That even the most far-fetched tales, have a glimmer of truth, and I will never tell you where I’ve hidden Mama Stella’s dessert recipes.

Z:  (Grins)  Keep ‘em, just keep making the desserts to share.

A:  (Frowns, realizing she unwittingly weaseled her way into making all the desserts)

Z:  (Wondering how he would extricate that pastry from her blouse pocket without being thought a perv or creep... he eyes the pointer end of his conductor's wand... and bounces his well embrowedness) 

If you are interested in finding out more about the planet Starling, Mong and wRen, read, SNAKE DANCE.  

About the Story
In the vast ebony chasm of space, on the planet Starling wRen, a winged chickalas with the rare ability to fly defies a submissive heritage, braving the dark legends of the Asp to be with VeIper, enemy to the Kin, the protectors of her Nestling.
Meanwhile, VeIper seeks to free his species from ethnic cleansing as well as win the awe of the beautiful and defiant wRen.  Mong, a slayer, has already claimed wRen and vows to destroy those of VeIper's kind.  Each seek their vision with rapacious intensity but with Mong's impervious power, the subjugation of wRen and the death of VeIper might be pre-destined.

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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane - -

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