Tell Me A Story
I recently bulk-emailed my 360 closest internet friends, declaring my utter boredom and demanding to be told a story. First to get back to me was WarCry with this brilliant idea. And then came the beautiful, talented, and hilariously funny Temmahkrik . . .
Tell Me A Story
by Temmahkrik
Once upon a time, there was a lovely young thing named Danjerus Kurves. Lots of people wondered where such a name had come from, but Danjerus Kurves’ parents, being of the notion that children are simply tiny adults with incontinence problems, had allowed her to choose her own name before she could actually read, write or spell. The name was charming, however, as was DK herself, and as she grew, many men, women and confused animals found themselves under her spell.
One day, an evil sorceress, whose name is not at all important (that’s what she gets for being evil), spied DK through her crystal ball or magic mirror or whatever was currently in fashion among evil soceresses(sorcersessi?) at the time. At the sight of the younger, prettier, thinner woman, the sorceress was consumed by an envy that not even a self-love preach-fest from Oprah would cure. She became enraged and consumed with the thought that DK must die.
The evil sorceress dispatched her minions to maim DK in a most upsetting manner, but upon their arrival at DK’s home, they were too charmed by her quick wit and beauty to harm her in any way. After tricking them to sleep with warm soup and wine, DK set her faithful army of kats on them and buried the remains in her back yard.
When the sorceress realized what had been done, she donned her best, black cloak–with hidden support shelf and subtle, slimming grey pinstripes–and rushed to DK’s house herself. After pounding on the door several times and claiming to be the police, the sorceress was greeted by DK, holding a robe and a camera.
“Quickly, change into this. We must get your pictures taken before the light fails.”
Caught off guard, the sorceress did what she was told. She stood in front of a back drop, lamely following directions as DK snapped several dozen photographs. Eventually, won over by DK, the sorceress began to improvise, and her photos began to take on an increasingly racier tone.
Finally, DK declared the photo shoot over and walked her camera over to a computer.
“What are you doing?” asked the sorceress.
“Posting these photos to my blog,” DK replied.
The sorceress suddenly remembered why she’d come to see DK in the first place, and she cursed herself for having slipped up in the presence of the woman she’d wanted to kill.
“I came here to kill you, you know,” the sorceress said as menacingly as possible.
“I know,” DK answered sweetly, tapping on a keyboard.
“So, I’ll make a deal with you: Don’t post those pictures and I’ll let you live. In fact, I’ll stop bothering you entirely, and I’ll even throw in some treats for your cats.”
“Kats,” corrected DK.
“How do you know I spelled it with a ‘C’?”
DK only arched an eyebrow. She agreed to the bargain, however, and promised not to post any of the incredibly revealing photos if the sorceress would get her big, fat ass out of her house immediately. The sorceress went back to her castle where she made several unsuccessful attempts at hacking into DK’s server to retrieve her photos, and DK received monthly shipments of salmon and turkey treats from 112 Evil Sorceress Lane.
And they all–with the exception of the sorceress and her dead minions–lived happily ever after.
The End.
January 3rd, 2007 at 11:06 am
This is an email I received from another lovely blogger, Myra Mains, who happens to be a professional in the media industry:
Once upon a time, there was this chick from England who was trapped in Houston, where she was regularly annoyed by random rednecks *and* the voice of an internet friend of hers who kept barking at her, via the radio, about how much she needed to go shopping for her new Toyota at Fred Hass Toyota Worrrrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllddddd, I-45 North at Louetta, just 2 miles north of 1960.
Now, our English friend did not want nor need a new Toyota. She simply required riches, hot men and a nice space on the dance floor…but lo, the annoying radio friend kept on and on, yammering away about zero for 60 and MSRP’s and other useless and aggravating crap. Fed up, the English maiden finally sent threats to the friend, only to discover that the friend had done it all out of desperation, having become completely fed up with the knowledge that the fair English rose had, and probably always would have, far better boobies than she.
The End
okay that kinda sucked, but I think my use of the run-on sentence is incredible. :-) Sorry I couldn’t help when you were actually bored…I can’t access this account from the control room at work.
p.s…were there no Halloween pics this year? (still love the Medusa)
Your annoying chum, R
January 3rd, 2007 at 3:03 pm
You have some pretty spiffy pals, DK. Pretty spiffy indeed.
Lick me, I’m famous!
January 3rd, 2007 at 6:03 pm
Temmahkrik is a very talented writer, quite funny and appears to have WAYYY too much time on their hands! I loved the story, I’m just jealous that no one is writing them for me…note to self - spam email all my friends and enemies in attempts of getting story written about me! Happy New Year DK!
January 3rd, 2007 at 8:07 pm
Temma: I thought we were putting off our not-quite-deeply buried lesbian fantasies? Has that changed? Did I get the memo? [frantically rummaging through desk drawers]
FunkyBee: “way to much time on their hands”? I thought I was the ONLY person who could see Temma’s imaginary evil twin! You know, you could start one of those incredibly annoying memes tagging people to write a story about you … ;-)
January 4th, 2007 at 4:26 am
Instant fabulous story generator: http://www.theyfightcrime.org/
“He’s a time-tossed chivalrous grifter plagued by the memory of his family’s brutal murder. Dangerous Kurves is a high-kicking insomniac Hell’s Angel with an incredible destiny. They fight crime!”
January 4th, 2007 at 6:05 am
DK: Psh, memos are for people with waaaaaaaayyyyyyyy too much time on their hands.
Also, I assume that FunkyBee wasn’t sure if “Temmahkrik” warranted a gender-specific pronoun like “his” or “her” and so decided to play it safe with “their.” Not the first time that’s happened, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
January 4th, 2007 at 6:06 am
DK: P.S. - You can’t tie me down with memos. I’m like the wind, baby.
Groovy.
January 4th, 2007 at 8:14 am
Temma: well, I’ve been meaning to bring up the matter of this androgyny issue … heh … I figger if we can’t make fun of ourselves and each other HERE . . . then it will have to be on somebody else’s site!! :-D
Folks, I neglected to mention that Ms. Temma is, in fact, a professional writer. She is currently writing for a newspaper and working on her next novel! Ta Dah!! I know, I know, I’m such a name-dropper! Next, I’ll be posting the generic mass-email I received from author Christopher Moore … along with 3,000 of his other fans.
January 4th, 2007 at 2:24 pm
DK: You got that email, too? Bitch, it’s on!