WRITERS WRITE... WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ Marooned without a Compass Day

(Ang and Zi on Skype) 

A:  Did you hear about the red ship and the blue ship that collided?  ...  Both crews were marooned.  (laughs as if her joke is hilarious)  This joke is courtesy of Marooned without a Compass Day. 

Z:  Color me amused.

A:  (Plucks a paint brush out of a tin and feigns painting him at the screen, laughing even harder)

Z:  (Doesn't share her humor, and instead offers the are-we-ready-to-work face)

A:  (Gives him a puckered look but then Ang begins to type as Zi reads her screen)

 

Upon retiring, George booked himself on a round the world cruise and clicked up his heels, partied till the pigeons came home, and had a good ole bucket list heyday.  That was until  the ship slipped into a fogbank, collided with a sea serpent, and sank.

One of the only ones to survive, he soon found himself stranded on a tropical island with no supplies.  He found coconuts, ones he had to climb a palm tree every day to acquire to keep himself alive.  

Time passed, storms came and went, sunshine bronzed his skin, and loneliness was his only friend.  Then miraculously, while bracing himself for another tree climb, a stunning woman paddled a rowboat up to the shore. Totally shocked, he first rubbed his eyes, thinking perhaps it was an hallucination.  When she stood before him and smiled, he finally spoke, "Where did you come from? How did you get here?  Do you have any chocolate?"

She adjusted her skimpy, palm dress to properly show off her amble bosom and responded.   "My cruise ship sank a long time ago, so I was marooned. I live on the other side of the island and lately, I decided to explore this side."

"Amazing," he said (referring to her bosom). "You were really lucky to have a row boat wash up with you."

"Oh, this little ole thing?" She tossed out her hand to indicate her craft.  "I'm a bit of a crafter, found some raw material and created the boat.  I whittled the oars from gum tree branches, wove the bottom from palm tree fronds, and the sides and stern came from a Eucalyptus tree."

George was still amazed (with her bosom).  "But...but... where did you get the tools?"

"It was easy," replied the woman. "I discovered a very unusual stratum of alluvial rock exposed on the south side of the island.  I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into ductile iron and I used that to make tools and used the tools to make the hardware."

"Say what?"

She repeated her process.  This time her words slow and precise, realizing the poor man seemed to be in a stunned state.  Malnutrition?  Dehydrated?  Sun stroke?  Or were her knockers too much of a knock after being alone so long?

George thought for certain this was a dream, and that the woman was just a figment of his imagination.  However, he could smell her flowery scent, see her long hair blowing in the breeze, and knew she was real as were her talents (bosoms). 

"Let's row over to my place," she encouraged when he stood there staring at her silently.   "and I'll give you a tour.   By the way, my name is Eve."

They boated to the other side of the island, and docked at a small wharf. George's jaw gaped open as he noted the long stone walk leading to a cabin and tree house.

While Eve tied up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man continued to stare, fully dumbstruck.

As they walked into the house, she smiled her charming smile.  "It's not much, but I call it home. Please sit down. Would you like a drink?"

"No! No thank you," the man blurted out, still dazed. "I can't take another drop of coconut milk."

Eve winked.  "I agree, I couldn't handle another drop of that so I made a still.  How would you like one of my Tropical Zombies?"

Concealing his constant amazement, George accepted. 

On her coconut hair woven couch, they discussed their survival stories until the woman announced, "I'm going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There's a razor in the bathroom cabinet upstairs."

Fully embracing Eve's remarkable skills, the man climbed the stairs to the bathroom and remarkably found a razor made from a piece of tortoise bone. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge were fastened on to its end inside a swivel mechanism.

"Eve is astounding," he said to his image in a mirror, she must have found washed ashore.  "I can't imagine what else she has in store."  He showered with warm water and decided he wouldn't even ask how she accomplished this remarkable feat. 

Once more downstairs, he found her sprawled out on the couch, wearing nothing but some small flowers on tiny vines, each strategically positioned.  Smelling faintly of gardenias, she patted the seat next to her.

"Tell me," she said huskily, slithering closer to him. "We've both been marooned for a long time.  You must be as lonely as I.  Tell me, when was the last time you played around?"

He couldn't believe what he heard.  His eyes brimmed with tears, he swallowed, caught his breath as his voice caught with deep emotion.  "You mean..." he swallowed once more, excitement building, "...You've built a golf course, too!?"

 

Z:  Ha...Ha...Ha...!    

A:  Are you being sar-castaway-ic?

Z:  Not totally.  It was decent but no cigar.

A:  I don't smoke, thank you very much.  And I'm not into Monica Lewinski kinky play.  (She crossed her arms and pouted)  Let's see if you can do better.

Z:  He typed and she looked on from her computer into his.

 

Three guys, Dan D. Lyons, Donny Brook, and Jim Shorts, were stranded on a little desert island, when a very old bottle, with intricate etchings, washed up on the shore.

"Look," the group noted.

They all gathered around and stared at it for a bit, then decided to see if anything was inside.  When they opened the bottle, a genie appeared.

"Yo, 'sup?" greeted the genie in genie-speak.

Startled at first, they soon warmed up to the idea of magic, especially when the genie granted the men three wishes, only three, and they chose to take one each. 

The men mulled for days and came back to make their wishes.

Dan D. Lyons, an astute fellow with an artist soul wished to be taken to Rome.  "Send me to Rome."

The genie snapped his fingers, farted a green gas, apologized, and Dan D. Lyons suddenly found himself standing in front of the Coliseum in Rome.

Donny Brook, an engineer by trade, wished that he was in Berlin. "Send me to Berlin."

The genie snapped his fingers again, burped pink smoke, apologized, and Donny Brook found himself standing in front of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin.

Jim Shorts, a usually happy-go-funky sort of guy, looked about and noted his solitary condition on the desert island.  After much consideration, he drew in a long breath, nodded his head decisively and said, "I wish my friends were back."

The genie snapped his fingers, and …

 

A:  Funny... funny... but not American Idol worthy. 

Z:  I didn't sing it.

A:  Hey, that might make it work!

Z:  (He sings and the dogs join in)

A:  (Ang quietly signs off of Skype)

 

Steel Embrace Excerpt

 

“He bears the mark, Mistress Nubula,” the Neanderthal announced as he released Titane.

 

Spinning about Titane clenched his fist. “And just what in hell was that all about?”

 

“I needed to know for sure,” responded the cool, sensual voice of a woman with a hint of a Scandinavian accent. Titane caught his breath as a cloaked figure stepped into the cell. A hood fell away, revealing Nordic blonde hair, scarlet lips and eyes cold as ice. Titane had never seen a more beautiful woman. Too much arrogance haunted her countenance, too much experience. Besides, despite the image of youth, there was something synthetic about her. He suspected she was probably far older than she appeared.

 

“I’m Titane Hunter. What do you want of me?” he said in an astonishingly controlled tone, as if they were meeting in a boardroom. He braced his feet apart and held out his dirt-encrusted hand, fingernails rimmed

with the filth of his imprisonment. He knew the only things more appalling than his personal stench was his mussed hair and untrimmed beard. Still, he stood there, hoping he didn’t break down and beg for mercy. He wasn’t proud of the thought, but if he had to spend another few months incarcerated, he’d surely go insane. He’d passively crawl as if a submissive and kiss his d’trix’s boots to avoid it and that sort of behavior wasn’t part of his nature.

 

“I know who you are,” she said. “I named you well before you were taken.”

 

“What!”

 

“I named you well before you were taken.”

 

“Taken?” His face scrunched with utter confusion. “Named me?”

 

“Ja,” she said.

 

“Ja?”

 

“As a child along with your brother, Steel. We were taken from here?”

 

“Ja.”

 

“Where is here?”

 

“Home.”

 

“No, home is back in the hills of Pennsylvania. This is a cold damn dungeon.”

 

She smiled. It held no warmth. “You are as dramatic as your father.”

 

“You know my father.”

 

Again, the cold numbing smile emerged. “Intimately.”

 

He didn’t respond, still fighting the fear that she’d soon be gone,

leaving him to flounder in puzzlement without ever knowing why he had

been abducted. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to demand any answers. The

reality of the time within the prison walls had taken something from him

almost galvanizing him with trepidation. He never thought himself a coward,

yet he certainly wasn’t acting like the man he generally was. A distant part of

him remembered, remembered how he could take command. He was slapped

into a confused wobble by her claims.

 

Titane mustered some of his old strength. However, before he could

speak, she further blindsided him. “It is time you knew who I am.”

 

He lifted a brow as if in compensation for a verbal response.

 

She grinned. “Again, you show your father’s traits.”

 

“You knew him?” he reiterated.

 

“He, too, acted as if fear couldn’t touch him. We were married.

Though not matched at birth, he had charm to keep things amusing.”

 

“You were married to my father?” Titane couldn’t help blurting out.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You lie.”

 

“Married and bore him children. You and Steel are two of them.”

 

“No,” Titane stated, fierce with emotions he couldn’t discern.

 

“It’s a truth.”

 

He gave a dismissive glare.

 

“Deal as you will with that.” She turned toward the exit, but

continued to speak. “You will spend another night here, but it’ll be the last of

your imprisonment. By tomorrow I will force the Sire, Zinc, to either

reinstate you as Rune, or kill you.”

 

 

***
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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com