The wonderfully funny Brian Lageose, from down at Bonnywood Manor, set forth to his readers a challenge. Thrusting down his Louis Vuitton gauntlet, he decreed that those willing to take up the provocation, would be giving three words of his choosing. And thus the challenge became known as The 3 Word Challenge…see what he did there? The object of this task is to take those three words and create a beautiful piece of literary masterpiece…er…I must have missed the last part of that memo… Anyhoo, about 3 years ago, I wrote a couple of posts about the object of my affections and for this challenge, I thought I’d backtrack and write a prequel to my blind obsession. A big thank you to Brian for having faith in the fact that I could come up with something somewhat entertaining…silly Brian, will you never learn?
Guest Writer: Lily
The Three Words: Rambunctious , Happenstance, Overwhelming
The Result: “The Object of My Affections”
Today I decided to take a giant leap of faith and do something that I had been putting off for a very long time. Fed up with my cowardly nature and sick and tired of whinging about “what if”, I decided that today would be the day that I finally approached the object of my affections and told him exactly how I felt about him. Brimming with a newfound confidence and with my wing-man firmly by my side (that would be Spawn, my matricidal boy genius), I quickly made my descent to the place where I knew that he would be.
On arriving at my destination and with a swell in my heart…which could possibly have been a symptom of some undiagnosed Aortic condition…I entered the shop and suddenly stopped dead in my tracks at the spectacular vision that greeted me.
There he stood, blond hair blowing wildly in the summer’s breeze, muscles almost ripping through the cotton of his shirt. His pecs did a slight dance of contraction as his sinewy arms stretched up to grab something off the top shelf that was just beyond reach. As he turned and looked in my direction, I almost gasped out loud and caught my breath in wonderment, as his smile radiated the light of a thousand light bulbs and butterflies danced around his head, interacting with the glow of the halo surrounding his golden flaxen mane.
Overcome by such a glorious apparition, I returned his smile, my heart bursting with an overwhelming feeling of joy…or a ruptured blood vessel…only for the smile to abruptly die upon my lips. For it turned out that the gleam from his pearly white teeth was not meant for me but for the equally flaxen-haired beauty who now stood graciously before him. Was it just happenstance that she happened to be there, or like me, had she been waiting for a chance to stalk her prey?
Immediately I was filled with a sense of rage, my heart broken and shattered. Who was this beautiful creature talking to MY man. Where had she mysteriously appeared from? There the two of them were, laughing and joking, and I suddenly felt like a fool. I wanted to hurt her. Pull out her flaxen hair one flax at a time, though I wasn’t even sure if the word flax actually existed.
Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, for here we were, stood in the middle of a cake shop and the flaxen haired beauty was really an 80 year old woman…with a hump. And OK, he may not have been flirting and was merely serving her as he would any other customer, but the way in which she asked for half a dozen crusty rolls, left me in no doubt that what she really meant was, “I want you to take me big boy and ravish me between the Belgian buns and the split finger doughnuts.”
After Thor had finished serving and the old wench woman had finally left the shop, he turned towards me and let blast the full force of his radiating, incandescent, luminous and any other word that I could find via the thesaurus, smile and I melted.
“Hello again. It’s good to see you,” he smiled, the sweetness of it coursing through my blood like diabetes. Uh oh! In my haste to profess my love for this god like being, I had completely forgotten that in order to do so, I would have to speak…actual words…with structure…and comprehension…and ones that made sense. I wasn’t quite sure if I was up to such a challenge but I had to give it a try. I couldn’t stand a lifetime of thinking, ‘if only’. So I took the plunge and decided to forge ahead.
“I’m good thanks. And how are you?” I replied. Phew, so far, so good.
“All the better for seeing you,” he grinned with a radiance that brought forth butterflies and turtle doves. Laughing like a braying donkey, I could only dip my head, so as to hide the lust filling my eyes. “So, what can I do for you today?” He asked in a voice so silky, that silk worms automatically started spinning their threads.
“Impregnate me with your majestic seed,” I blurted, and that’s when everything came to a screeching halt.
The birds that had been feeding from the palm of his hands and the deer that had been frolicking gaily among the Pain Au Chocolat, soon bolted for the door. I could only stand there in horror as I gasped, “erm…can I have some seeded bagels please?”
The confusion that had lined his face a few seconds ago soon disappeared. “Oh, for a moment, I thought you said something else. So, how many would you like?”
“Sex,” I spluttered before correcting myself. “Six, I meant can I have six bagels please.”
By now I was sweating quite profusely and Spawn, who usually was rambunctious by nature, had, to my relief, been unusually quiet…until now. “Wow,” he smirked, a smirk which denoted pure evil, “that was so embarrassing, even our ancestors felt it.”I chose to ignore him as Thor fetched and bagged the seeded purchases.
Just then, my mouth decided that it wanted in on the action. “You have lovely blond hair,” it trilled, and I seemed to have Tourettes as I continued unabated. “I mean it’s not really blond…more of a dirty blond really…I don’t mean dirty as in, you know, covered in dirt…more like you haven’t washed it in a while…not saying that you don’t wash your hair because I’m sure you do because you look like someone who washes once in a while…when I say once in a while, I’m not implying that you only bathe like once or twice a week because I’m sure you wash… as often as you wash your hair…”
“Whoa, I was wrong!” piped up Spawn. “THAT was embarrassing.”
Practically throwing the bagels at me, Thor uttered a stiff “here’s your purchase”, whilst I wished vehemently that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. “Thank you,” I squeaked in the smallest voice that I could muster, before leaving the shop.
After that day, I cried for forty days and forty nights, until Noah came to me and told me to shut the hell up, as no way was he building another ark. No more will I love again and no more will I ever eat a seed bagel.
Read more about the 3-Word Challenge here.