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July 30, 2004

Brett Barboursville and the Case of the Hairy Egyptian

This epic Ode to Bad Taste was inspired by the 2004 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest and my purchase of a new car last weekend. In our own defense, we can only say that we did not plan for it to happen - it was an accident. We sincerely apologize to the blogosphere and the literary world for any permanent psychological scarring that may be caused by reading it.

Brett Barboursville and the Case of the Hairy Egyptian: or How I Learned Not To Trust Pita-Stuffing Back-Stabbing Hirstute Female Fans Of John Kedwards And Their Flour-Powered Evil Sidekicks And Discovered the True Meaning Of Life, Liberty, And Just As I Did I Got Killed, But Then Even Though I Was Dead, I Came Back To Life Just To Kill Those That Killed Me, And In So Doing Retained My Dignity If Not My Life, Because Then I Died For Good.
It was a dark and stormy night, jet black as the plush leather seats of the Mazda RX8 that gripped Delilah's trembling thighs like an overzealous car salesman on a slow afternoon, the inky void relieved only by the eerily grinning face of the Bose radio dial... as her sandaled toe caressed the clutch gently to the floor and she experienced what she could only describe thereinafter as a low polar moment of yaw inertia, she was confidently aware that the pre-loaded multilink design in back would minimize any lag in rear suspension response as she headed into a steep curve and she suddenly knew she would never go back to Brett...it was over. Cassandra
Overcome with that sense of dread that only comes when a person suddenly realizes that he or she is about to lose the one thing that they truly love, indeed need to lend meaning and order to their otherwise miserable lives, Brett slammed the shifter back into fourth gear and, accelerating steadily up the blank pavement that was Barboursville Street, a street that was famous for its intimate book stores, cozy cafes, and the state's only Egyptian bakery, a street of lovers, dreamers and mimes, the small speedster immediately went airborne like an severely startled kitten, reminding Brett that, like his love affairs, Barboursville Street was also a street of speedbumps. spd rdr
Continue reading...

- Cassandra

July 30, 2004 at 09:48 AM | Permalink

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» We shall be graced with her presence for a while longer from Mudville Gazette
Via her commenting fans: Cassandra found herself drawn inexplicably to The City, to Barboursville Street, a street of lovers, dreamers and mimes, bookstores, and the site of the closed Egyptian bakery, Farouk's Souk and Pastry Nook. She looked down at... [Read More]

Tracked on Dec 7, 2004 8:34:27 AM

» We shall be graced with her presence for a while longer from Mudville Gazette
Via her commenting fans: Cassandra found herself drawn inexplicably to The City, to Barboursville Street, a street of lovers, dreamers and mimes, bookstores, and the site of the closed Egyptian bakery, Farouk's Souk and Pastry Nook. She looked down at... [Read More]

Tracked on Dec 7, 2004 5:04:58 PM

Comments

Next summer's sequel is already taking shape:
Phyllo Farook in The Pita Packer's Revenge: A Tale of Suspense Involving The Murdered Samson's Younger Brother, Who As A Child Witnessed First Hand The Abduction of His Older Brother By A Gang Of Black Burka-Wearing Women Who Smelled Of Almonds and Old Spice Cologne And Who Has Sworn Vengence Upon Those Who Would Cover Themselves With Cloth and Sents Rather Than Shave, As He Fruitlessly Searches For His Brother's Killer Not Realizing That the Guy Is Already Dead And While Searching Falls In Love With Gretta, The Down-On-Her-Luck Mime That Haunts The Cafe's And Squalid Pet Shpos Of Barboursville Street, Searching For a Knight In Shining Shoes To Take Her To Places She Has Never Been Before, Like Minnesota.

Posted by: spd rdr at Jul 30, 2004 10:28:10 AM

Oh for Pete's sake...

Posted by: Cassandra at Jul 30, 2004 11:03:58 AM

Oh please, don't write any more on account of me.

Posted by: Pete at Jul 30, 2004 11:07:01 AM

The unanswered question: was Delilah a shemale?

Posted by: Insensitive Sexist Man at Jul 30, 2004 11:44:32 AM

I now see the political allegory in this twisted tale of love denied and betrayal of
pita. Brett is the archetype of John Kedwards. Flip flops on all issues of life and death, and Roshomon like, many endings are possible.

I recommend that this short novella be taught at all major universites' womyns' studies courses, as well as ethnic diversity sensitivity issues training.

Of course, that could be like the Klingons being taught how to plumb their psyche by
the Betazeds.

Posted by: La Femme Crickita at Jul 30, 2004 6:10:50 PM

Oh, I can plumb your Klingon psyche, but it will be $75 an hour and double that on weekends or holidays. There is a two hour minimum and that doesn't include any parts you may need, that will no doubt not be on my truck.

Posted by: A-1 Betazed Plumbing at Jul 30, 2004 6:20:16 PM

This might possibly explain why I turned to drink.

Posted by: F. Scott Fitzgerald at Jul 30, 2004 6:24:07 PM

Was Delilah a she-male?

Come a little closer, KJ you big brute:

Someday soon I'm gonna tell the moon
About the crying game
And if he knows, maybe he'll explain
Why there are heartaches, why there are tears
And what to do to stop feeling blue
When love disappears

I know all there is to know about the crying game
I've had my share of the crying game
First there are kisses, then there are sighs
And then, before you know where you are
You're sayin' goodbye

Posted by: Boy George at Jul 30, 2004 6:35:03 PM

Actually, you and spd are the ones who went down that road.

I thought Delilah was a delicate flower of American womanhood until you two dragged her into the gutter with you.

Posted by: Cassandra at Jul 30, 2004 6:36:41 PM

Cass, like all good fiction writing, the characters are complex and as the story goes on you gain insights into their thoughts, character, and of course physical traits.

Posted by: Pile On® at Jul 30, 2004 6:39:33 PM

Physical traits aside, what could be more oogie than a deflated pocket of pita?

Posted by: La Femme Crickita at Jul 31, 2004 12:23:17 PM

All I can say is: Bravo! Loved it from pulpy beginning to finish :)

We did something like this in a college writing class - the teacher, who said she was famous but I'd never heard of her, was writing a chapter for a novel called "Naked Came the Manatee" and we got to pitch in.. something about finding a cooler containing Castro's head that had washed up on a beach in the Keys.

FWIW (re: Naked Came the Manatee) - I had heard of Carl Hiaasen and Elmore Leonard, but I've never seen a book written by my teacher, Evelyn Mayerson (I always envisioned her books as lining the romantic section of an airport newstand).

BTW - I'm waiting for the sequel: Seventh Son of a Leavened Samson ;)

Posted by: bahabuddha™ at Aug 1, 2004 12:53:07 AM