Sexy Dames ~ Double*Feature Thursdays & Tuesdays

SEXY DAMES

AT THE BIJOU! 

Pirates? Sex!

Shaving? Sex!

Sheets? Oh Yes Sex!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   

To Moxie Mavens and Gusto Gents

AT THE BIJOU 

MOST PROUDLY PRESENTS

a Daring Dames Double*Feature

dishin' it, and servin' it up 

mighty fine  ~ Mmmm Mmmm

starring

 MADAM Z

and introducing

the sweet sensation

SUGAR ~ WENDY

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

(((  DOUBLE*FEATURE DAY IS HOT!  )))

(((  Let the popcorn be forgot ~ Get something on ice  )))

ENJOY!  ~ Absolutely*Kate

A New Script for Johnny and Me ~ by Madam Z of Harbinger*33

A New Script for Johnny and Me

~ By Madam Z, though some whisper she as 'Zelda'

Zelda: But Johnny, I'm so much older than you, you can't really want me to go to bed with you, can you?

-

Johnny: Zelda, I have waited for you since I was Edward Scissorhands. I saw you in the audience and knew that you were the woman that could heal me. My soul was tortured. I was only half a man. But I could tell that you were not attracted to me then. Perhaps it was the hands that put you off. But when I made the movie "Chocolat," I thought of you again, and made sure that the movie would be shown in Lancaster, at a discount theater, so you would go see it. I watched you from the balcony as your eyes rolled back in your head during the love scenes.

Then I did some research on you and discovered that you have a secret fascination with pirates. So I persuaded the studio to make a quick movie based on the Disneyland feature, "Pirates of the Caribbean." There wasn't time to create a whole new story...after all, you were getting older by the minute. And I knew you'd love Jack Sparrow.

-

Zelda: Oh yes, Johnny! From the moment I saw Captain Jack, I knew I would walk the plank for him. He could harpoon me anytime. And when you, I mean Jack, kissed the leading lady - OMIGOD! It was so sensuous, so lascivious. I gave up my treasure right there in the theater!

-

Johnny: Ah-ha! My gamble paid off! And what did you think of the sequel, my dear?

-

Zelda: Well, Johnny, to tell you the truth, it was a bit tedious. And you weren't on the screen as much as that hideous octupus-thingy. So I had to go home afterwards and watch my taped version of "Chocolat" to re-kindle my Depp-lust. But now, you're here and...and...wait - I can't! I'm married, and you...you're just saying all of this because you know I'm the president of your fan club, aren't you?

-

Johnny: What?? Of course not! I'm in love with you because you're one of the famous "Harbinger 33" authors. I've read your writing and am captivated by it. Also, I'm hoping you'll introduce me to Sugar. I hear you and she are always fighting over Harry, so I'll give him some competition.

-

Zelda: I don't know, Johnny. With my luck, you and Harry will be fighting over Sugar and I'll be deep-sixed. Though it breaks my heart, I must send you back to the video store. Arrrrrr...

 (c) Madam Z, 2009 ~ of Harbinger*33 . . . where, when you are very fortunate, you shall indeed read-relish MORE!  

* * * * * *

Ahhhh, what do you say about Madam Z? A tall, willowy Amazon with flame-red hair and jade-green eyes? No, not enough ~ she's rambunctious zest personified, inner zen gypzee casting spells at night. It has been rumoured that she put the "z" in zing as it held no potency when just "ing". Zelda is nuttin' if not potency.


Aboard the mighty ship Harbinger*33, she's the Pirate*Queen. (I'm serious, you can't make stuff like this up. Ask Sir Barry the Northener ~ she bade him design her a flag, and the other lusty sailors hoisted it up the main'mast, lickety-split. I told ya - Z's potent!) . . . But more, much more than this, she's talent. She's a message in any bottle waiting to parch a reader's quenching spirit.
 
More entizing Zelda can be found wherever you hear police sirens or quiet moans, or where you sail or roam to GET-YOUR-Zs < right there! (Ponder well, but be perplexed not. Z-sense makes sense and leaves common sense in da dust!)

Topsail thanks to you Queen of the Pirates, Madam Z . . . Never a dull-bladed moment with the swash you buckle as writer*woman par excellence. Honoured we all are that your zest o'talents be aboard Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies.

~ Gusto and Goodness; FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate and readers desiring all the more ~ their Z's

Sunday Morning . . . & . . . Morning Shave ~ by Sweet Sugar of Harbinger*33

SUNDAY MORNING

~ By Sugar – Wendy

She let out a contented sigh as she awakened wrapped in his sleep-warmed body under rumpled sheets and felt his chest swell and return as he slept unaware of her. Extinguished candles, crushed rose petals, and heady red wine lingered in the air from their first night together. She allowed the sensuous scents to fill her with arousing memories of the deliberate touch of his fingers and the need of his mouth on her. Awareness of a slight change in his regular breathing brought her smoky green eyes to meet his knowing gaze. Her awareness of his intrusion into her thoughts brought a rose flush across her neck and chest. His slow shrewd smile provoked a shameless shrug from her as she slid beneath the covers to find him.

 

MORNING SHAVE 

~ By Sugar – Wendy

 It was usually on a Saturday morning when she watched her father shave in the aqua-tiled bathroom of her childhood home. She recalled the smell of Burma-Shave mingled with steam from hot water running in the sink. He would squeeze shaving cream in the palm of her hand and use that tickly bristly brush to lather it to white mountains of whipped cream and then lean down to have her spread the frothy mess on his cheeks. She had wondered what it felt like to move a razor over tender skin and asked questions about what it felt like and why he had to shave his face and why God had put hair there. Her mind-ride back in time was interrupted by her lover’s strong hand layed inquisitively on her arm. Content to be in the present, she stroked his stubbly face that had left a pink blush on her neck just minutes before, smoothed the spicy woods shaving gel over his well-loved cheek, and as his smiling brown eyes gazed at her, finally knew the feel of a razor over tender skin.

 (c) Sugar - Wendy 2009 ~ of Harbinger*33

* * * * * *

Sweet Sugar-Wendy is a well-loved woman in this world, by all whose lives she graces. It could be the beat, beat, beat of her huge heart, or that she channels Mae West through every fibre of her being. You figure. She's class, she's action, she's moxie, she's minx . . . and damn . . . she knows how to use it . . . with a soft tender turn of the words . . . which just grrrrrrrrrowl . . . and then . . . purrrrr.

Aboard the mighty ship Harbinger*33, she shakes enchanting libations at The Sugar Shack Lounge (where MusicMike Whitney croons most evenings, and nautical know-how is chugged down again and again) . . . but more, much more than this, she's a First Mate of topsail know*how checkin' with the Captaine that all lines are runnin' ship'shape. Always takes spoonfulls of Sugar to make the editing go down.

Everyone needs more Sugar, and you can find the tender twist of the phrase that speaks emotion in motion at MORE SUGAR < right there! (Watch your heavy breathing and breathy sighs)

Topsail thanks to you valued Sugar-Wendy . . . The world needs more Moxie and that's why e'er we need You! Honoured we all are that your sweet caring attention to professional details are so lively aboard Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies.

~ Moxie shared and shimmied; FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate + readers discovering Sugar sweetness all the more

 

OUT OF THIS WORLD ~ on Double Feature Tuesdays and Thursdays

AT THE BIJOU

MOST PROUDLY PRESENTS

To lofty Ladies and well-grounded Gents

a Divine Duet

wandering ~ wondering

out under the sky

starring

Sir Robert Morschel

and his  sky*lit muse,

Lady Absolutely*Kate

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(((  Huddle in  )))

(((  The show's about to begin  )))

Lady Moon ~ by Robert Morschel of Harbinger*33

 Lady Moon

                                   ~ by Robert Morschel

Liesel turned to me. “Dad?”

“Uhuh?”

“Why do they say there is a man in the moon?”

We were sitting in our back garden, sipping cocoa and staring up at the incandescent moon above us.

“Well”, I replied, “I suppose it is because if you look carefully you can see two eyes, a mouth, ...”

“I know that, Dad,” she interrupted, sardonic in the way only a female teenager can be, “but why is it a man and not a woman? I mean, those eyes are heavily made up, and if you look carefully to the sides there is even a hint of rouge!”

I chuckled. I suppose she had a point, and said so, which pleased her immensely - she was like her mother in that regard: she liked to be right. 

We sat silently, gazing at our Lady Moon, enjoying each others company, dad possibly more than daughter, but I am not proud: somewhere around the age of thirteen Liesel stopped being my little princess, and turned into this slightly detached woman-daughter of mine, so I was grateful for the moment.

Suddenly she stirred, interrupting my reverie, and got up stretching. “I think I'll go to bed now.”

“Ok, my love,” I replied. “Call me when you're ready for me to tuck you in.”

She looked at me awkwardly. “It's OK, Dad. You keep an eye on Lady Moon for us. You know what she's like.”

I smiled, though my heart wrenched at the same time. “Night, Sweetie. Sleep tight.”

I watched her as she walked off, noticing for the first time a little feminine sway of her hips. How quickly she was growing up. Lady Moon continued to beam benevolently on me, offering some comfort to my bruised emotions. I looked up at her.

“Well, there you are,” I said. “My little girl is turning into a young woman. What have you to say about that?”

She did not answer, but I sensed that she understood.


LADY MOON REPLIES IN THE TALE WHICH FOLLOWS
THE GOOD HYPE ON OUR ROBERT MORSCHEL . . . 

 (c) Robert Morschel, 2009 ~ of Harbinger*33, where . . . when you're very fortunate, you'll read MORE!

* * * * * *
Robert Morschel, known as well to readers well as Mulled Vine is both fine vintage and churning thought. He'll take a train to a reality based place in his world, and put laptop to lap, and out will pop musings and impressions which splash an unfathomable depth to ponder. Oh how this wry-guy will make your inner-grin happen. Oh how this tender man will pluck at your heart strings in his on target views of the humanity he comes to view . . . and share with you. Sir Robert (to me) has writing which can ne'er be suppressed. His ink is his lifeblood ~ and therein', dear gentle reader we receive just reward.


LADY MOON is to be a series, a luminary collective philosophy between planets and thoughts and hearts and minds. Watch for it, as it continues to pluck at higher truths and higher selves out under any night sky. Honoured am I to once again duet with distinction and class which is this author's innate trademark upon writing walls we scrawl.

Aboard the mighty ship Harbinger*33, Robert Morschel is really a pirate. It didn't take that gasping parrot shoved in the oaken sea chest leaving the feathery tail trail that Michael Solender astutely reported, rather than NOT. Peggy found the spare peg leg - a natural deduction. None of this escaped Leon's private eye. The eye patch though didn't turn up for a fortnight at sea. You see, Jodi thought it a slingshot and was having a non-scurvy of a time with her limes, until Harry swiped it back to its natural owner, which inspired Paul to write a bloody tell-tale of the purloining crime, and Jeanette whispered a ladylike thing or two to Jodi while Laurita tittered. (She did, she tittered). Mike found this all very fine fodder for song lyrics and ignored Mongo to become a new Gilligan.

What's that? More? More Mulled Morschel of the meandering vine mind ~ Step softly into  MULLED VINE < right here. Then without fear, peer into what A DIARY OF AN OLD FART has to suggest about our peer.

Topsail thanks to you my trusted friend Robert . . . True inspiration happens all the more when you reach in and splash around across a mere pond, where a grand mind is flowing. A deux avec vous always is so true. Vraiment! Toujours! Honoured we all are that your mulling talents are aboard Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies.

~ Introspection and knowing smiles which see; FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate + readers remembering Mulled voice all the more

Lady Moon Replies . . . by Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33

Lady Moon Replies . . . 

  ~ by Absolutely*Kate

"I heard you."

"You heard from there? I spoke that loud, my thoughts?"

"Thoughts carry louder than words or water, my friend, and hearing is sensing and sensing is knowing. There is much you wish to know, eh?"

"Where do I begin?"

"You already have. Your gentle love for a daughter in a new stage of aging precedes you. Incandescent affirms transcendant and that kind of love always is."

"You're a wise celestial one, you are."

"Nah, it's the moonglow. From lowly earth you don't see perceptions in all the right perspectives yet. But there are some of you. Your kind are trying."

"It must have been the moonglow way up in the blue, it must have been the moonglow that led me to you."

"You're not the first handsome hunk of human that tried to ply me with Billie Holiday attunement. Now there's a great earthy lady. Expression with resonation knows no bounds. Boundaries never were all they were cracked up to be. Now take you -- "

"ME?"

"Yes Man of Earth, You. You already resonate and then call it melancholy out under the me."

"I do that?"

"Not all the time. Only when you catch yourself and have this foggy cloud of a notion of being grounded. Terra firma's not all its rooted to be either."

"What is, if I may pry into your sky destiny vision?"

"No pry. Your destiny was to start this conversation."

"You knew?"

"Remember Earth Man, I have time on my side, though your compadres bemoan it as slip, slip, slipping into the future."

"But my daughter -- "

"Lovely Leisel ~ and indeed she is, within true and through ~ is growing into the future which is her present. You'll share in different hues now, but it's all the same colour, your devotion. To each the other, it always is. Take your hot cocoa mug -- "

"My hot cocoa? Her hot cocoa?"

"Precisely. Absolutely. Timeless, ageless, soothing, sharing."

"Ahhhhh"

The sigh spiraled skyward. An answer came in the form of  a beaconed glissando. He felt the inner frisson touch an enlightened chord within, and without words, told her so.

They stayed like that . . . for about an hour under night sky. The "Farewell" he bid though, was far from goodbye.

TO BE CONTINUED UNDER THE RIGHT SKIES

(c) Absolutely*Kate, 2009 ~ of Harbinger*33, where . . . when very fortunate, you'll read MORE!

* * * * * * 
Absolutely*Kate, believes in believers and writers who soar all the more. From the confluence of rivers, or thoughts or ideas, or spirit or heart, she lets what's around the next bend, my huckleberry friend, show her . . . her lamp-lit, moonlit or torching way. It's not a shy way and she doesn't suffer fools, which all harbingers well to aide and abet grand authors she has met to reach their reading following all the more, all the more. In the brave new year, there's much to be for the vast masted sailing of Harbinger*33, and its ongoing legendary promotional destiny. Likewise jaunty banners hoisted for worthy authors we all revere along our way. Many that we revere you'll meet here . . . AT THE BIJOU.

***************************************************************************

 I thank you at this time for the resounding welcome

your theatre-reading Tuesdays and Thursdays

are bringing to writers and popcorn sales

AT THE BIJOU!  

Door's open to your greatness.

Do read, do laugh, do grace the place.

Submit at will ~ 

Double*Features showcase your skill 

<  RiverViewStudios@gmail.com >

~ Absolutely*Kate 

****************************************************  

LADY MOON is to be a series, a luminary collective philosophy between planets and thoughts and hearts and minds. Watch for it, as it continues to pluck at higher truths and higher selves out under any night sky. Honoured am I to once again duet with distinction and class which is this author's innate trademark upon writing walls we scrawl.

Aboard the mighty ship Harbinger*33, 

I'm simply, thus strongly honoured ~ there are all of thee.

What's that? More? More Absolutely*Kate to play around in your mind? Aw shucks folks, you have that here AT THE BIJOU, all the time . . . come rain or come shine; come Tuesday or Thursday or what sneaks on stage for the weekend's rage. Other sites are regracing their wordsmithery into the brave new year, after Harbinger*33 sets sail in manifesting destinies of promotional-publishing history. Henry Miller plays a tune of his own with what Louie Satchmo has to say where MEANWHILE, AT THE CONFLUENCE OF TWO RIVERS scrolls down to an earlier day. (Upkates coming)

Topsail *HAPPIEST MERRIMENT* to all so genuine at this sacred and *magical* holiday time. Do watch blue skies, nuttin' but blue skies for the first publishing launch of Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies . . . in the brave new year, and then, those happily ever after.

~ May *JOY* be You; FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate and the fine staff of renown AT THE BIJOU
 

*FULL LIVING, Watson*

*FULL LIVING,
Watson*

~ By Absolutely*Kate

of Harbinger*33

She didn't die when they said she was to.

So it's easy to deduce without a Sherlock, Watson, that she sips pinot, tastes passion and savours possibilities while pushing away pointless logics. She careens through colours, lights candles rather than cursing darknesses, (crediting Eleanor Roosevelt each time she plucks that line outta her pocket), clinks a drink to regale a moment, heats up hoopla, and percolates the masses to a stirring cheer, somewhat akin to a fresh morning's cream pour into robust coffee -- you know that sensation of splash, don't you? Lingering fingering of caresses slow, slow tracing honeysuckle scented skin, along with eyes ablaze across a crowded room on some enchanted evenings (and afternoons), spark and jolt the joie de vivre which essences her whole. To go through motions, to put up with agita, to merely be mere, to echo-nod comprehensively when a knowing touch to a comrade's arm or a laugh which bellies up the whole room makes all the difference of the difference is what she advokates in a minute . . . as a weathered Judy Garland Christmas tune affirms ~

"Never let a minute sit there on the shelf,
for there may be in it . . . all of Time itself".

* * * * * *

The best reason of this spirited season is that *magic* does exist ~ within and at unexpected edges and around any next corner and ALWAYS when your laugh *zings* up your eyes at the exact moment you hear Alvin and The Chipmunks tell you what they really want for Christmas ~ and you wonder . . . can Snoopy and the Red Baron be that far behind(?) -- well, that's why I'm wishing good*stuff, good*cheer into all your holidays this memorable 2009 year.

~ Absolutely*Kate, fully living the more,

with Joys and Perceptions of grand people like you,

who simply, thus strongly read this right through

Double*Feature Thursdays & Tuesdays! (warming'up well into the weekend)

Luscious Ladies and Groovy Gents!!

**AT THE BIJOU**
~ proudly presents ~

DOUBLE**FEATURE
TUESDAY & THURSDAY
~ From places out of the sense of this world ~

Yes, you heard me and you heard me well ~

************************************************
Tis the INTRIGUING LADIES show
************************************************

And "OH!" what stories they tell-tale tell!
Some childhood ... some fantasy ...
Some passion ... some grace ...
Plenty of sighs . . . all over the place!

Yes fine faluting Folks,
gather in your milk duds for these cool ladies
and careen your popcorn's crunch to two ~

DEBUT SCREENINGS!!

Yes! Two, TWO, two Debuts
at once, from Leading Ladies
on Double*Feature Thursdays & Tuesdays
this is the best of the zest way it goes . . .


~ This has been an Absolutely*Kate
promotional *joy* for your viewing pleasure

Author Laurita Miller is writer of known circumstance who in every chance, does enhance, and takes your mind where you never saw it going . . . and then holds it there and gives beware . . . and well, you'll just have to read the first excerpt of one of her new story*books to be ... to know what I already see . . . *THANKS* Laurita for this first glimpse into a book we shall want all the chapters of. ~ Absolutely*Kate and AT THE BIJOU's fine staff of renown

More than chance o'glance brings Author Jelena Vencl Olrogge, to the BIJOU spotlight from where she lives in Sweden now, but seems part of every country somehow. She loves her husband and her cats and purports to be normal . . . but read her . . . you'll know that's just a ruse! And "no", she's not being proudly showcased just because she mumbled out these words so nicely, "AT THE BIJOU is a lovely, über-cool and cute site (yes, something can be both cool and cute at the same time! :)). . . . .*THANKS* Jelena for this gander into a look of your steamier side! ~ Absolutely*Kate and AT THE BIJOU's fine staff of renown

The Fetch ~ By Laurita Miller of Harbinger*33

THE FETCH
~ by the mysti'cool Laurita Miller

My birthday. The one day of the year when I don’t have to worry too much about getting into some sort of trouble. Even if I have been unruly, Mom doesn’t usually scold me on my birthday. She didn’t have to worry this year. This year I would turn eleven and it was time I showed how mature I could be. Besides, I hoped to get a new compass and a set of mini binoculars and I didn’t want to ruin my chances. With those gifts I was sure to find some treasure, or at the very least, a new place to build a fort with my friends.

Nan came over just before supper to watch me open my gifts. Pop was running a little late, she said, and we should just go on without him.

“Just a little delayed. He’ll be here shortly with your present. You know what he’s like. He probably found someone to gab with.”

I did alright with the presents. I got my binoculars and compass, along with some books and clothes and a new ball and glove. I guess Mom didn’t hear about the plum tree incident, thank goodness. We were just clearing the table for supper when Pop barged through the door, looking frazzled and carrying a bundle in his arms.

“Sorry I’m late,” he boomed. “I ran into a bit of trouble on the road. Here Ro, hold this parcel while I get washed up, will you?” He passed me what looked like a rolled up coat.
The moment the bundle was in my arms it started to squirm. I let out a yelp and almost dropped it. Out wiggled a little black nose, all wet, sniffing in my direction. I quickly hauled off the wrapping.

“A dog! You got me a dog!” He was smallish and fuzzy with every colour that could possibly fit on a small body. His eyes were big and brown and sparkling with mischief.

“We did indeed, and with no degree of ease, I’ll tell you that.” Pop stood at the sink, scrubbing the dirt from his hands. “On the way home I got a flat. When I stopped to change the
tire, a car passed through a puddle and splashed me. Then, when I opened the car door, this little fellow decided to hop out. I spent a good fifteen minutes trying to chase him down. He’s a proper jinker, that one.”

“Jinker. That’s a good name,” Dad suggested. I agreed.

After supper, and a big hunk of chocolate birthday cake, I took Jinker out for a tour of the harbour. He sniffed every shrub and post along the lane. We stopped at the bridge and I threw a few rocks into the brook. I tossed a dandy that skipped eight times, but of course no one was around to see it. No one ever is when it’s a good one. I had to grab Jinker to keep him from following the rocks into the water. We carried on, crossing over to O’Toole’s meadow and making our way to the woods behind Eddie Pittman’s.

This was a spot that every kid in the harbour knew and we all spent a lot of our time here. A rotting fence stretched along the front of the woods directly behind the Pittman house, but the rest of the woods went on and on. Beyond that fence were paths winding for miles between the large spruce trees and a scattered clearing where the grass was as tall as a grown man.

It was getting duckish now and Jinker was restless. We wandered down to the back road, which really isn’t much more than a gravel path. The road would take us right back home. The evening was pretty quiet. In the fading light I could see someone walking toward us. We were facing into the sun so I couldn’t make out who it was. I thought for a moment it might be my buddy Jack and I would have a chance to show off my new dog.

But as the figure drew closer a sick feeling started to grow in my gut. I suddenly didn’t want to meet this unknown person on the lonely back road. The hair on the back of my neck bristled and I fought the urge to turn and run. The person walking toward us was no bigger than I was, but I couldn’t shake the sick feeling. Then Jinker stopped cold in the road, growling and
snarling. It wasn’t very menacing, but it scared me. It told me that I wasn’t alone in thinking there was something wrong.

We stood in the road, too afraid to continue on but, for some reason, unable to turn back. The figure stopped too, and even though it was much closer now, I still couldn’t make out who it was. My mouth was dry. I felt cold. I tried to tell myself that I was being stupid. The snarling puppy at my side told me that I wasn’t.

The sun was sinking behind the hills and even though I was scared I figured it was better to pass this person in the light than after dark. My foot was as heavy as a bag of beach rocks but I forced myself to take that first step. Jinker looked up at me and whimpered. He was probably thought I was nuts.

Once we started moving the figure moved too. I couldn’t swallow the lump of fear in my throat and I think, for just a second, my heart stopped beating. I looked straight ahead. No way was I going to look this thing in the eye.

As the figure neared , Jinker started to whine. I tried not to look. With every ounce of my being I tried. It was beyond my control. As I passed the figure my head slowly turned toward it and I could tell that its head was slowly turning toward me.

Nothing could prepare me for what I saw. Everything stood still as I looked into that face. My own face. The red hair was mine, the splatter of freckles, the nose, the mouth. The ratty sneakers and dirty jeans – all the same. Only the eyes were different. They were my eyes, alright, but they were dull and lifeless. Instead of blue they were dark grey, like a stormy sea.

I didn’t take my eyes from that thing for one second. I couldn’t. I opened my mouth to scream, so did the thing, but there was no sound from either of us. It seemed there was no sound
at all. The whole harbour was silent. I turned to watch it as it passed, it turned to watch me. Then it was gone.

I stood there in the middle of the back road in the dark with a shivering puppy at my feet. I could hear the gulls down by the wharf, the cars on the main road and some dog barking. It was like nothing had happened.

It took a few minutes before I could move again. My body felt heavy as I scuffed up the lane to our house. Jinker, who had been full of mischief at the beginning of our walk, moped along beside me. I grunted a greeting to Mom and Dad and went to my room. I wasn’t in the mood to talk; I don’t even think I could. I certainly didn’t know what to tell them.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I’m not a guy who cries a lot, but I couldn’t stop the tears. They just came. I knew what I had seen. I’d heard the stories over and over. It was my Fetch, a ghostly image of myself, and it meant one of two things. Neither of them was good. Seeing your Fetch means terrible misfortune, the absolute worst of bad luck. But it gets worse. It could mean the Grim Reaper is ready to call your number.

I never hoped for bad luck so hard in all my life.

(c) Laurita Miller of Harbinger*33, where . . . if you're very fortunate, you'll read MORE!

* * * * * *
Laurita Miller is an entity unto herself. Some, as myself DO believe she's mastered an out-of-body transport to actually date Poe on certain Friday nights. We don't know where they go, or what they talk about, but we've all experienced the out-of-mind way our lovely Laurita lets words, thoughts, impressions, scene-settings and oh! such memorable characterizations linger ... and stir ... and linger some more. She's done that here, with Ro and now JInker, also to appear amidst the HARBINGER*33 tales, on your bookshelves in the brave new year.

Aboard the mighty ship Harbinger*33, Laurita huddled her talents in her cabin all one night with pens and pastels and the coolest music and cooing and "OH YEAH" sounds . . . and her art and her fabric wove and tapestried and lo an behold (and behold and lo) ~ up she came with the true blue badge of courage banner of the Harbinger*33. You can see it over on the side'panel there as well as where some renowned writers write, turning and churning out their very best stuff. We're that proud . . . of Laurita, of each other.

What's that? More? More Laurita of the enigmatically sweet and scary prismatic sides of a writer woman on the muse: View the plop of her BRAIN DROPPINGS < right here.

Topsail thanks to you my dear friend Laurita . . . Life has been more insightfully shared since first we came upon each other at the wading shores of the 6. The day we actually *clink* our coffee mugs and muse and laugh and laugh and muse ~ why, that day, I'll know more of my life more complete. Honoured we all are that your luscious lasting talents are aboard Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies.

~ Laughter ever after, with FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate and readers to remember your voice all the more

Androids Can Be Bored ~ by Jelena Vencl Ohlrogge

Androids Can Be Bored

~ by sexy Jelena, of course

Your tongue is freezing from licking my skin; you complain I feel dead, more dead than any other android you've ever been with.

The temperature I can regulate, but being alive is a tad harder. I make a cut on your tongue with one of my razor-sharp nails. Your warm blood brings in the taste of life you are craving and stops all the complaints.

You are drooling, bleeding, spreading and sucking your own bodily fluids from all over my body, approaching your climax, making me a wet and somewhat bored observer.

Yes, androids can be bored.

(c) Jelena Vencl Ohlrogge . . . 2009

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Ahhh Jelena? Do you all know her yet? You should! You should! This classy writer woman tempts and teases wordplay into where she conjures it to go . . . and then the caress and the satisfaction ... oh, oh, OH! She's been known to wear spiked heels and walk the edge ... but she has a keen eye for 'what's what' and 'what's goin' down' and 'comin' round' and she'll never be caught off guard, nor fortunately, those on her watch. She's that worldy in the aware of her care.

Worldy? Jelena and I share some heritage from ancestral Czechoslovakian days and I know ... I just know ... when I am traversing a few dark alleys I never saw coming, that she has seen the reality of the situation and nods later, "Yes, it was so." Comfort? Skills of the IT nature? Oh, this dame headed to a new fame is so much more than that. She's friend to no end to those from Sweden's warm cool side and (don't - please don't tell her I let this out), her racy side is the front for the depth of a real sweet savvy softy. No such thing as a coincidence when certain folks are placed in your pathways . . . you just come'up that more the enriched, you do.

What's that? You'd wish to understand her better? Well try some browsing of your carousing over at MISS UNDERSTOOD <>Most honoured we are to have you DEBUT this line of your sexy musings here AT THE BIJOU Jelena. Forgive me please for publishing this recent share you sent my way. It's SO ON TARGET, that I rather sense it shall touch many of our readers in their own unique ways, as most all of us are privy to the intutions which say, "Hey - She's one of us." (Or was that Joseph Konrad?)

"We haven't met IRL, but I feel that one day we probably will. :) For some people it is like that, it just clicks and you totally get them no matter which medium is used for communication, and for some other people, three lifetimes would not be enough to understand how they are and how they function. I have a strong feeling that for me you belong to that first group. :)"

~ Laughter and dancing eyes backatcha Jelena!
~ Absolutely*Kate and readers to remember your voice all the more