» Cougars and Sugar Daddies

I don't have a story this week.
_{Any allusions to truth in the following are grossly misrepresented.}

Was but a boy of seventeen,
Still innocent, and still so keen,
The physics that this teacher taught,
The laws revealed, equations wrought,
The scientific method made,
The new altar at which we prayed,
The woman with the deep dark eyes,
With short brown hair and full, firm thighs,
In someone twice as old as me,
An unexpected fantasy,
I told myself this was not right,
...but why I else did I think about physics each night?

Yet one day as the class did go,
She asked, "Do stay a moment, Crow,
She smiled and said "No need to fear,
Why, no one even knows we're here."
I pondered every variable,
If we were caught, there'd be such trouble,
Such thoughts flashed by in but a second,
As her experienced lips a-beckoned,
Common sense could not prevail,
My variable resistance failed.

She climbed on me and made to straddle,
I stroked the contours, found the saddle
point between those buttocks firm,
And probing fingers made her squirm.
In a quantum of uncertainty,
Clothes disappeared quite rapidly.
Her eyes lit up as she disrobed,
My swollen, sweating, young Hall Probe.
I begged, "the pressure is too great,
"I'm going to...supersaturate..."
She smiled, "Well, let's relieve that first,"
Opened her mouth and let me burst,
And swallowed then so artfully,
My column's potential vorticity.

She did not gag, she did not gurn,
But kissed my neck and said "Your turn,"
And begged that I should use on her,
My huge interferometer.

And so I found myself a-rising,
Beyond her moist event horizon,
Trapped inside so tight a hold,
By the pull of this black hole.
She goaded me and cried for more,
As she enticed me to explore,
And find within this no-pants dance,
A frequency of resonance.
Our sinusoidal oscillations,
Hurried on a strong sensation,
Wishing it would not be over,
But soon this mass went supernova,
And with a gasp, she seemed to lift
Up on my violent Doppler shift.

And the woman with the deep dark eyes,
With short brown hair and full, firm thighs,
This psiren, twice as old as me,
My unexpected fantasy,
Just caught her breath in time to say,
"Why can't they make all men this way?"

...Well, how else do you think I got an 'A'?
(Tue 9th Dec 2008, 10:39, More)

» School Projects

Saved by ACCIDENTAL BEE!
I've just remembered a story from my primary school days, when, as I mentioned in a previous post, I was at a C of E school. (Well, tambourine-banging evangelism masquerading as C of E...) I don't remember much of the work we did in the first few years...mostly just sheets full of sums to complete or handwriting exercises. But I recall one afternoon when the teachers got the paints out. I think we'd been studying Noah's Ark, because we were set up round a table with the watercolours and told to paint animals. I could only have been about 6 years old at the time, and the class was taught by Ms J, who was lovely.

The assistant teacher, Mrs S, however, I was slightly afraid of. She was alright really, but had a tendency to be a bit shouty if she didn't like you. When it came to my turn to paint, she was supervising the group. I wasn't too worried to start with and just started dawbing at this piece of paper, absent-mindedly.

After a few minutes, I realised I was daydreaming. As I'm often wont to do, even to this day, the part of my brain in charge of regular, rational thought just departed this world and disappeared off into some fantasy world which probably involved dinosaurs and my cat, Morris. (I loved my cat. He was awesome.) Morris and I had likely just hitched a ride on the back of a triceratops when I heard a voice cutting through the fabric of my Cretaceous wonderland.

It was Mrs S.
"So, what animals are you all painting?"
Oh crap. Oh holy fucking crap. I've been daydreaming.
My heart did not so much skip a beat so much as a Gene Krupa drum fill. My hand had just kept daubing at the paper as my brain had imagined me climbing a tree with Morris to escape a hungry megalosaurus. I'd forgotten I was supposed to be painting an animal and I'd just wasted a load of time and paint and Mrs S would be angry and shout at me because I hadn't done as I was told...

Time ticked away. Johnathan was painting a lion. Kirsty was painting a horse. There were only a few more kids left between me and the wrath of Mrs S.

I had to think fast - and not about the possibility of being saved by a conveniently placed and benevolent ankylosaurus - could I turn this collection of daubs into an animal of some, any description?

Christopher was painting a pig.
Fay was painting a zebra.

I looked down at the piece of paper. What had my hand been doing all this time?

Robert was painting a bird.

I looked down and saw a series of yellow and black lines.
Oh god oh god what's yellow and black and striped and...well, it's just yellow and black stripes, like...a zebra covered in wee...or...
"A BEE!" I said.

Fuck knows how, but my brain had managed to save me by drawing Accidental Bee. At least, brain had painted something which I could turn into a (very long) bee. I could paint a bee and then Mrs S wouldn't shout at me.

I resolved to finish my bee and return to my Cretaceous paradise at a later date. That was too close. Thank goodness for Accidental Bee.
(Wed 19th Aug 2009, 12:23, More)

» Gyms

I had sex once
In a gym.
With a horse.

The horse looked rather confused.
As he looked round at me, his expression almost seemed to say,
"Why have you bought me to this gym? I was perfectly happy in my stable."
And as I jackhammered away at his behind, my thoughts turned to the
Honda Accord parked
outside
glinting
in the moonlight.
Oh, yeah
That did it for me.

My duty done,
I let the horse run free.

He galloped.
He ran.
Free
as the wind.
Until he tripped over the rowing machine and broke his neck.

The moral of this story?
Don't go the gym to have sex with a horse.
(Thu 9th Jul 2009, 13:59, More)

» Siblings

I wish I could remember more of these
I've always been very close to LittleSisterCrow - certainly it surprised me that most of my friends didn't get on with their siblings. So obviously, I have tried to be understanding and behave myself when she asks that I do not let on to her friends that her nickname amongst the family is "Moose."

She does, however, have a peculiar and scatological outlook on life, (which I have been told is similar to mine...should I have been offended by that?) which has led her to come out with some rather 'special' little quotes. Sadly many of them escape me right now, but I shall tack them on to the end of this post if I remember more:

"Do bears eat trees?"

"So was Jesus...a Jew?"

And upon hearing that my housemate had borked his leg:
Moose: "So has he got a wheelchair?"
Me: "No, he's on crutches. Wheelchairs cost a small fortune"
Moose: "Can't you make him one?"
Me: "Make him one?"
Moose: "Yeah. Make him one. Out of physics."

More to come when I remember them. If anyone cares, that is.

Update: Just remembered a recent one. She commented that the gas bill in her student flat was surprisingly high one quarter:
Moose: "We're just surprised, 'cause we haven't had the heating on, and the oven's electric."
Me: "What about the hot water?"
Moose: "Does that use gas as well?"
Me: "Yes, it comes from the same boiler as your heating."
Moose: "Oh..."
Me: "Where did you think it came from?"
Moose: "...water company...."
(Mon 5th Jan 2009, 13:56, More)

» The most childish thing you've done as an adult

"Lysis" is Greek for "splitting"
So "hydrolysis," for example, means "splitting water."

If you're as immature and disgusting as me, you'll never look at the word "analysis" in the same way again.
(Fri 18th Sep 2009, 16:25, More)