Monday, March 2, 2015

Fifty Shades of Parody (Chapter 17a)

Finally. It's what I've always dreamed of. Christian. Asleep in my bed. With me.
     And I have to go to the bathroom!
     Holy crap! I've got Christian in my arms. He's cuddling up next to me like a beached whale with a golf ball stuck in its blow hole, and all I can think of is how I can sneak away to, um, well... go back and reread the first part of this paragraph if you want to know so bad. The only thing more asleep than the love of my life, is the arm that he's cutting off the circulation to.
     My arm!
     I try to shift out from under him.
     Ouch!
     My hair!
     He's... on... my... hair.
     "Get off!" I say, and try to push him away. He's nothing but dead weight. Like arms and legs who've made the mistake of accepting a drink from Bill Cosby.
     Allegedly.
     His face is nuzzling against my neck.
     Gross!
     Who knew billionaires drooled just like horny frat boys at the tail end of a kegger?
     Finally, the man of my dreams begins to stir.
     "Good morning," he mumbles, letting out a small burp. At least I hope that was a burp.
     "You're so... close," I hint.
     "If I was any closer I'd be inside you," he says, lasciviously. "Speaking of which..."
     "Um, I've got to go to the bathroom," I tell him.
     "Well, if you insist," he says, and disentangles himself from me.
     "Unless..." he says
     "Unless what?" I say back.
     "Unless you happen to be into water sports."
     Water sports? WATER SPORTS? I don't even like to bathe if I can help it. If God intended us to play sports in the water, He would have given us gills like Kevin Costner in Waterworld.
     "What am I thinking?" Christian says, slapping his head like he could have had a V8. "There's a meeting and I'm late, and I don't do late."
     "Or me, for that matter," I mumble.
     "What?"
     "Would you like some breakfast before you leave?"
     "I wouldn't want you to go through any trouble, Ana," he tells me.
     "Oh, no trouble. I think we have some Wheaties. It's the breakfast of champions, you know."
     "No, thanks. I'll grab something on my way to the meeting."
     He grabs his clothes on his way out.
     "I'll dress in the car," he tells me, and leaves.
     I get up languidly, and make my way to the kitchen. I get the box of Wheaties. Screw that! I'm in the mood for some real food. Since Christian is no longer here, I make myself some eggs, ham, sausage, and bacon. With pancakes on the side. Buttered sourdough toast with honey, and a carafe of coffee. What they hey, I have a little time. Some homemade cinnamon rolls topped with aged cheddar cheese melted on top would sure hit the spot, and they do. There, that should hold me over until I can make myself a real breakfast. It's not that I don't like cooking for anybody, it's just that I don't like cooking for anybody, and, when it comes to men, what they don't know won't hurt them. I think Nietzsche said that.
     Somehow, I'm still in the mood for something, but I don't know what. I wonder if we still have that side of beef left. No, I finished that the last time I was in the mood for a little snack.
     What the heck, I decide to shower. While I'm in there, I wash some veggies for a nice salad I want to make later. I saw that done on Seinfeld. That Kramer, he's full of good ideas. I just wish he wouldn't have used the N-word--"Nihility"--because I don't know what that word even means.
     Once I'm out of the shower, I decide to send Christian an email, because there's nothing a man likes more than being bothered by some woman with some trivial nonsense while he's in the middle of doing something important.
     I type:
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey, I know you're busy, but I just have to know... what did you have for breakfast?
  
     He writes me back immediately.
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele, I'm in the middle of an important meeting. Can we do this later?
 
     Men. They always play so hard to get.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
Was it a side of beef? Because I was in the mood for a side of beef this morning after you left.
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Ana, please. I'm in the middle of a major negotiation with the Japanese, and I need to keep my wits about me. I'll speak with you later.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
The Japanese? Does that mean you're having sushi? Ugh! I don't like sushi. But I'll eat it anyway.
  
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele, I have a Japanese businessman about to commit seppuku. If he does, it will cost me millions. Please, I will talk to you later.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
Millions of what? Rice? I don't know how the Japanese can eat rice. A million of anything is too much for me.
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Ana, I'm begging you. Please stop.
 
     Who does Christian think he's kidding? If his meeting is that important, why is he answering my emails?
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
Oh, you're so funny, Christian. You almost have me believing I'm bothering you.
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
That's because you are. I'm at work, Ana. You do know what work is, don't you?
 
     Do I know what work is? What is this, a test? If I wanted to continue taking tests, I would have stayed in college.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
Work, schmurk. Here's a question for YOU, smart guy. What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
What do you mean? An African or European swallow?
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
What? I don't know that!
 
     Bo-iiing!
     "Auuuuuuuugh!"
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
By the way, Ana, I got tired of seeing you driving that deathtrap of a Yugo of yours. I decided to get you a new car. It's downstairs waiting for you.
 
     A new car? Holy crap! What am I wasting my time talking to him on the computer for?
     Gotta go, I type and rush out of the apartment to see what my billionaire boyfriend bought me. Is it a Ferrari? Is it a Lamborghini? I hope it's not an Audi. I hate Audis. I bet it's a Mercedes. A beautiful new Mercedes convertable. I've only wanted one ALL my life.
     Christian's bodyguard, Sonny Crockett, is waiting for me outside. He's dangling some keys in front of him for me to take. I snatch them out of his hand like Kwai Chang Caine at the beginning of the TV series Kung Fu.
     "Oops, sorry," I tell him, and hand him back a finger.
     Crockett politely pretends he's not bleeding, and tells me, "Enjoy your new car, Miss Steele."
     I look up and down the street, but I don't see a Mercedes. Or even an Audi, for that matter. I hate Audi's, but I would have settled for that. Instead, I see a car that's made of... um... mud.
     "Is... this it?" I ask Crockett.
     "Yes," he tells me. "It's an Adobe SNL. Christian saw it advertised on television late one Saturday night, and he thought it would be perfect for you."
     I take a closer look. The car isn't made of mud, after all. It's made from a kind of clay.
     "Adobe," Crockett corrects me.
     "Adobe..."
     "Yes, it's the safest car you can possibly drive. The adobe will absorb the impact of any collision you may have, and, instead of having to pay a body shop to fix the damage, all you have to do is mold the adobe clay back into its original shape."
     "Adobe..."
     "You can do that by hand. Just try to keep it out of the rain."
     "Adobe..."
     Just then, Kate pulls up in her car. A Mercedes. She looks at me, looks at my new car, looks at me, looks at my new car, looks at me, and looks at my new car.
     "Bwah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" she laughs, pointing at the car. "What loser bought that piece of..."
     "It was a gift from Christian," I say quickly, interrupting her. "He wanted me to be safe."
     "Oh, you'll be safe all right," she tells me. "No one will want to come near that thing."
     "Well..." I say.
     "Well..." Kate says.
     "Well..." Crockett says.
     "Do you want to go inside?" Kate says.
     "Sure," I tell her.
     "I wasn't talking to you," Kate tells me, and takes Crockett by the hand. She leads him inside.
     "Um... Kate?" I say.
     "Why don't you go for a ride in your new car?" she tells me with a wink. "Make it a long one."
     I look up toward the sky.
     Hmm... rain.
 
 
Fifty Shades of Funny
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