The King of the Drunks

A heavily bandaged jem stares fearfully out at Tracer and Friday from a partially opened door, "Oh, it's you two." She leaves the door ajar while heading back into her house. Tracer and Friday follow.

Friday quietly asks, "What happened to your face jemmie?"

"Looks like she found a bargain rate on ebay for a plastic surgeon to me," cracks Tracer, "You planning on taking a trip jem?"

"Fuck you Tracer!" jem mutters, "Look I don't know what hit me, it was dark, fast and whatever it was struck in total silence. It was all over me, never making a sound and all I could keep screaming was, 'NOT the thigh, dear sweet Lord, NOT THE THIGH!"

"Well it looks like you stuck your head into a bag of cats, why not the thigh?" wonders Tracer.

"It does look an awful lot like cat scratches jem," consoles Friday, "I hope you don't get 'the fever' and turn into Ted Nugent, that would be awful!"

"Yes Friday, Ted was such a pretty little thing before he caught the fever," says jem, tears welling in her eyes, "Now so horribly disfigured. What an awful thing to have happen."

"Why not the thigh?" insists Tracer.

"Tracer she's been through a lot the poor dear!" interrupts Friday.

Tracer brushes past Friday, stopping inches from jem, "Why not the thigh?"

Jem softly replies, "Because of the tattoo. I can't have any damage before it's applied."

"Let's see it."

"Oh, I haven't done it yet, but I posted a picture of it in my blog."

Tracer scoffs, "Oh yeah, I saw that - that isn't the real tat, let's see the real deal."

Jem quietly hands Friday a photograph.

"OH MY GAWD JEM! That has to be the prettiest thing I've ever seen! I sooooo want a tattoo like that of my own!!!!" Friday hands the photo to Tracer.

Both girls avert their eyes and continue talking when Tracer brings out a battery powered black light which sets off his trench coat like the Fourth of July. He peers closely at the photograph, turning it this way and that.

Finally he moves between Friday and jem in his usual loutish way and says, "Hey Friday, what is this winged creature? Some sort of pixie?" while holding the black light over the photograph.

Friday goes pale and stutters out, "Uh ... Oh ... I ... I think so."

Keeping Friday's reaction shielded from jem, Tracer hands the photograph back, "Beautiful tattoo jem! Did you pick it out?"

"Well Princess had a lot of input, I wanted her to."

"Thanks, we'll probably be back with more questions. Oh! I nearly forgot. Where were you when BillyBear was shot?"

"I was at the parade."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"I was up in the book depository warehouse, it was the only place where I could get a good clean ... view."

"Anyone with you?"

"Nope, you two have to go, I have to change my bandages."

Tracer and Friday stand out in front of the house. They can faintly hear Cock Radio coming from jem's speakers and MsTara saying, "In other news the CareBear nation was deeply offended at the loss of, and I quote, 'the greatest Care Bear of all time!' Unconfirmed reports state that a million Care Bears are marching on Paradise swearing vengeance on an uncaring populace."

Friday says, "I'm sure there's a reason Tracer, there has to be!"

Tracer says nothing, just heads down the street. Friday follows along. They walk along the dusty main road of Paradise and enter the first bar they see.

Tracer buys a bottle of bourbon and asks for two shot glasses. He heads to a dark corner table and sits down. Friday sits to his right. He slops in some bourbon into both glasses and shoves one at Friday. He slams his shot back, lights a cig and mutters, "Not even eight hours into it and I already hate this fucking case."

Friday turns her shot glass around in slow circles between her hands and replies, "We can always drop the case Tracer."

"Are you kidding me Friday? We're broke and with the bear dead we're not gonna be seeing any of that settlement." Tracer glances at Friday's full glass before tossing back another shot, and then another.

Friday hates it when Tracer gets this way, "Slow down Tracer."

"Fuck off."

Friday tries a different tack, "Did you see how the pixie was pointing her middle finger at the name 'BillyBear' do you think it means anything?"

"Yeah, Paul is dead."

"What?"

"It means about as much as those dudes playing Beatles albums backwards and pouring over album covers. All it means is that someone really doesn't like BillyBear."

"Yeah, but who and why?"

Tracer stubs out his cigarette and lights another, following it with two more shots, "Well jem is looking pretty damned sweet for this, I've got Princess Grace's written confession along with this Princess Grace doppleganger walking around saying it was someone with gigantic boobs. And you know what that means right?"

Tracer pours bourbon all over the table trying to hit the shot glass, maybe he should have had that second breakfast burrito and skipping lunch isn't helping any either. Friday doesn't try to help, still staring into her untouched shot glass like it was some crystal ball, "Yeah, it means Gretchen and some other Mistresses."

"Yep, they loooovvveee me! I use to be pretty good at this ..." Tracer drunkenly laughs. He tosses another couple of shots back and lights a cig before noticing he has one in his hand, fuck it he thinks and takes a drag off of both of them, "I sincerely hate this case!" He barely notices as two dudes enter and head to the bar.

"I tell ya, I was the best! Do you remember that one case?" bellows Tracer trying to think.

"Which one, there were like five or six."

"The one with the panties!!!"

"They all had panties you idiot!"

Not even coming close to thinking, just reacting Tracer draws his forty-five and shoots Friday in the knee. Suddenly he's staring at two large caliber six-shooters, hardly hearing Friday's shrieks, trying to focus on the guns. The room is turning in slow, soft circles and he's waving his forty-five at something. Staring blearily at the two guns he says, ""You want some?" before his head hits the table.

The King of the Drunks begins to dream ... light ... dark ... light ... he's staring into a field, but the perspective seems wrong, low to the ground. A girl, maybe five or six years old is running towards him, her ringlets bouncing. Her smile is brighter than sunshine, she knows him ... dark ...

Upcoming Christmas Special on PRV

Charlie Brown, Rudolph, and A Christmas Story step aside, there is a new classic in town. Awwww poor babies. Coming Christmas Eve, ONLY on PRV!

This preview will DESTROY YOUR MIND, so view with caution!!!

It's Mighty Funny. The End of Time has Just Begun.

"He's back!"

"Who?"

"I'm not gonna say."

"Well thanks for the heads up you dork."

"Well it costs money to say his name and times are tight!"

"Oh my God - his house blinked back into existence???"

"Yep this is the third time the ancient one has returned ..."

Billy The Perverted Elf nearly looses his grasp from the garter of assuredly NOT Princess Grace's thigh. He's been busy wiping precum off of her thigh praying like a mantis that she wouldn't notice. She's been, he suspects, walking like a runway model on purpose to increase the friction of him pressing against her trench coat and then her stocking covered thigh. The bouncing up and down isn't helping much either.

With bated breath he calls down to lucky scurrying around in her boot ::tosses a slug hoping he wont notice::, "Is it true? Your house has returned?"

All he gets back are the fevered sounds of repeated edging and plaintive whispers, "Right now I am Your bitch. Your slut and Your whore. Use me for Your amusement. Make me fuck a melon while You Fuck me up the ass! Make Your whore cum hard then lick it all up after You ruin that orgasm all over my face! I am a filthy whore ... "

Oh great, lucky ::tosses a buck - this is going to be one long call:: has overstimulated himself, again. He's worthless in this state.

Billy releases his grip from definitely NOT Princess's garter and drops to the sidewalk. He defiantly returns the stares of the people around him. Perverted Elves are feared and loathed, even by shrimps who simply call them the demeaning 'perv!' Surprisingly in Paradise perverted elves are scorned. His people enslaved by Santa, he fled that tyrant swearing to liberate his people but he's busy, right now he's trying to figure out who blew his brains out just a little ways down the street. He has eighteen days ...

He returns to the shattered hole that once comprised BillyBear Labs, his crowning achievement. Finds that someone has dug open his secret cigar box where he kept his CareBear porn. "What sort of perverted freak would steal a Care Bear's porn?" he wonders. Praying frantically that they didn't dig deeper his panicky elf fingers scrape away the well packed dirt lying below the cigar box.

Sighing with relief he pulls out a shrink wrapped cigar box and rips it open. Carefully packed in it lies

The Book of Certain Doom

by the prophet BillyBear

A book he had written when he was lost in the wastelands. He flips to the chapter, It's Mighty Funny. The End of Time has Just Begun and begins to read:

a tattooed thigh
the ancient one returns
the master race arises
while paradise burns

mistresses enslaved
a bullet softly gleams
tombs close on those
better left unseen

the blink of a cat's eye
all that was is not
two riders approach
a bear loudly shot

it's mighty funny
the end of time has just begun
when dream's collide
there can be only one

Billy The Perverted Elf watches the wind flip the pages of The Book of Certain Doom. Softly he mutters, "I know who shot me."

Tragic Footage

PRV (the network that brings you Awwww Poor Baby!) has received incredible footage of the BillyBear 'Thanks Twenty Billion ace!' celebration parade just minutes before he was gunned down. Thanks MsTara and lil giselle for providing footage of the little blue darling!

Also seen is 'lucky pet' who said, "SURE! I'll perform my dark masterpiece Cumming Changes the World, beats my day job, but I insist on wearing shades and a wig so no one recognizes me" 'he' can be seen singing after taking monster hits from a helium tank. "The right key is critical to the mood of this song and since my testicles dropped a few hours ago I've been struggling with the high notes."

"I just wish the camera hadn't died like BillyBear did," said a forlorn lil giselle, "All I caught was BillyBear acting like a total ass and you can see that every darned day! Seeing him gunned downed by some unidentified, enraged pervert, well ... not as much." All MsTara would say was, "What a dork, we shouldn't loose sight of that!"

Cha-Cha-Cha Changes ...

The soft, casual click-clack of stilettos can be heard echoing down a hospital corridor. It grows quiet as they pause in front of a door labeled 'Morgue'. She pushes the door open and sees a man in a white lab coat bent over a tiny blue figure arrayed on an autopsy table, the lab coated man is holding a whirling skull saw in his hand speaking into a Dictaphone, "Subject is four feet one inch tall, covered in blue fur with what appears to be a large caliber bullet hole in the center of ... ma'am you can't be in here!"

"Did you just call me ma'am?!"

"Um, listen sweetie I'm sure you're all concerned about your teddy bear here but he's beyond caring and ..."

"You must be new to Paradise, where are you from?"

"I'm Doctor Ralph Morganstern I'll have you know! They flew me in from the Mayo Clinic to perform this autopsy!"

"Big deal back in the Real World huh?"

"I'll have you know I'm THE leading forensic pathologist in the country!!!"

"Wow and did all that book learning and practical experience lead you to the conclusion that someone shot in the head with the back of their skull blown out is actually dead?"

"Well yeah but there was never a brain - just stuffing."

"Lot of folks around here will tell you that's billy in a nutshell."

She's standing quite close to him now, staring frankly into his eyes. She looks menacing and vulnerable at the same time. He can't keep eye contact, keeps dropping his eyes down to the hint of cleavage he can see through her partially unbuttoned trench coat and then ping ponging away finally settling on the corpse on the table.

Smiling, her shining lips part as she touches the tip of her tongue to the lower part of her upper lip, "First time here?"

"Yes."

"I think you'll find Paradise ... unique."

"Oh it's just another place ..."

"Said the doctor about to autopsy a stuffed care bear." She titters behind her hand.

"Well ..."

"I think you should take a break Doctor Morganstern. Take a look around town, pay attention to what you see. You'll find a billionaire cookie maven who's allegedly Wonder Woman when he's not a tiger. You'll find a talking shrimp who's wit can shred you like the Ginsu knives he fears. You'll find a dude who'll charge you a nickel every time you say his name. You'll see a woman with the largest boobs you can imagine, flutterbyes, pixies, sissy architects, hockey fanatics, castles and an island filled with giant women and if you're lucky ... shit ... give me a nickel."

The doctor meekly hands her a nickel.

"Thanks, that reminds me I have to drop by the bank later for a couple of rolls, you might want to do the same."

"Why?"

"You'll find out. Anyway ... if you're ... fortunate ... you might even come across the succubi." She smiles primly at him.

"There are no such things!"

"Said the doctor about to open the skull of a care bear. I think you'll find you're no longer in Kansas Dorothy."

"I told you my name is Ralph! I'm no girl!"

"Uh huh." She slowly runs her finger down the center of his shirt, over each button. She whispers, "We all have needs Dorothy, hidden desires - I can help you with that and all just for the smallest taste of your soul - it's not too much to ask is it?"

"My name is ..."

"Unimportant." As he starts to protest again she raises her index finger to her lips, "Shhhhhhh, I'll find you tonight Dorothy-kins and we'll continue our little talk. Now ... go see the sights, you'll find our Victoria's Secret and other shops to be quite well stocked with whatever might catch your fancy. Buy yourself a pretty pink souvenir - you can show it to me later."

"I SAID ..."

"Shhhhhhh ... go! Mommy has work to do."

"Mommy? What ..."

"Go."

Blushing the doctor slams open the swinging doors of the autopsy room and heads out into Paradise.

She sits on the edge of the autopsy table and picks up the lifeless blue paw, "Oh billy ... you really should quit pissing people off. I better hear some nervous giggling and have these paws wringing soon! You have an appointment with a Christmas tree on the twenty-fifth you pervert."

She smiles softly and removes some mistletoe from a pocket in her trench coat, "Tara told me this should work, only I can do it though ..."

Holding the mistletoe over his head she kisses him gently on the lips and then sits back as the transformation occurs. No one, not even billy can explain exactly how he became a were-elf, but from December first till 12AM Christmas day he is an elf of unimaginable perversion. Three feet of leg humping desire.

She smiles as she hears the first ragged breaths and then jumps back from the table as he leaps up with his hands clasped over his head before bowing and blowing kisses. Suddenly he stops, noting his surroundings, "Where am I?"

"In the Paradise morgue. You took a round in the head. BillyBear is dead."

"Who shot me?"

"Don't know. I saw something ... could have been jem. Whoever it was had huge boobs, couldn't make them out for sure though, they were back lit on this grassy knoll."

"Who's on the case and please don't tell me it's Trace ..."

"Tracer and Friday"

"Super. What day is it?"

"December first."

"So I've got about twenty four days huh?"

"Yep."

"Bring me mittens!"

She sits and stares at him.

"Oh my, did I just give you an order? Look my brains were scrambled ..."

"I'll let this slide - once."

Sweating profusely he mutters, "I'll get a hold of mittens, who must have completed her ninja training by now. I need to identify the killer so that I can fix this ... um ... somehow."

"You should go into witness protection - if the killer knows you're alive they'll try again ..."

"Well it's tough to take out an elf, much harder than a care bear. I need to get out of here unseen."

She opens her trench coat, "Climb up my leg and hold on."

Billy climbs up her to her thigh.

"JESUS billy, the outside of my thigh and stop sniffing, you sound like a bloodhound! It's kinda gross and I am NOT in the mood."

"Yes Princess."

"And if you cum, puppy, I SWEAR your suffering will be legendary! You think jem was in a cage for a bit? I wont give a rats ass how insane you'll go in denial if you jizz on these hose! Toughen up buttercup! And be careful I think 'not lucky' is crawling around in my boot and if he gets off he'll suffer the same fate! I hate walking around town in squishy boots! DO YOU HEAR ME??!!!"

"Yes Princess Grace."

"Who said that?!"

"We did."

The soft, casual click clack of stilettos can be heard echoing down the hospital hallway. She giggles at the confused nurse as she strolls on by - a nurse who would later describe to the paparazzi that she could have sworn she heard the most pathetic whimpers and moans issuing from under that mysterious lady's trench coat.

Crime Scene Investigation

Update: Princess Grace posted a bit of a back story to this unwinding tale! Thanks for playing Princess - I suspect you'll be interviewed by Friday and Tracer and maybe even MsAva! :-) If you're a BSG geek Princess posted a nice comment on the Razor post too which I'll have to comment on too.

Tracer suspiciously eyes a lone singer on the sidewalk belting out tunes for change with a harmonica and a banged up accustic guitar, "You read the paper a few days ago?"

Friday positions herself between Tracer and the singer blocking Tracer from doing something rash. His loathing of street singing is well documented by various police reports ever since he got booted off of American Idol, "Yep - you mean that whining beggy article? Filled with 'I beseech you ...' and 'I implore you" ...'

As they near the singer Tracer pauses to listen.

Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth,
Blowing down the back roads headin' south.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You're an idiot, babe.
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

"Yeah, that one - I laughed my ass off."

"Well Tracer I did too but there was sincerity that I found endearing, and then I puked in my mouth a little."

Both detectives chuckle as they duck under the police tape. Tracer eyes Friday. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, she's wearing a white blouse and a gray ankle length skirt with white socks and mary jane shoes along with horn rim glasses.

"What's up with the outfit Friday?"

"Tracer you know that Paradise doesn't have a Crime Scene Investigation unit! That's why the town hired us. I'm just trying to look professional!"

"You don't wear glasses Friday!"

"I look more official!"

"Do not."

"Do too."

"NOOOOOTTTTTTT"

"TOOOOOOOOOOO"

"Well that dog collar you're wearing makes you look like a perverted librarian - professional my ass."

"Princess gave me that collar Tracer."

And Tracer knew that was that. End of story on the attire. He unconsciously takes out a cigarette and lights it and looks at the crime scene. Exhaling smoke he asks, "Any confessions?"

Friday glares at Tracer, "It's been thirty minutes since BillyBear was shot - so - no!"

"Was just hoping to get home a little early today Friday."

"Yeah I know Tracer - I handle your mail - I saw that your latest issue of Princess Tats came in."

"Well I'm hoping to see the legendary 'lower back tat'! It's suppose to be in this issue! So, where'd the shot come from?"

"THAT'S ONE OF THE THINGS WE HAVE TO FIGURE OUT!"

"I think that bun is making you cranky - simmer down. Hey! What's all this stuffing? Did your falsies pop out Friday? Wait - that evil check kiter jem, you know the one with the enormous gazoongas - is she doing that weird cummy game again? Ewwwww am I standing in jem jizz?"

"Ewwwwww Tracer YUCK!"

A brunette, wearing a long trench coat like a flasher, a fedora and black stiletto boots walks up muttering in a tinkerbell voice, "Those are billy's brains ..."

Both detectives jump back, "EWWWWWWW!"

The brunette, a hint of cotton candy about her, whispers in Tracer's ear.

"Thanks some hot babe who couldn't be Princess Grace! Friday! Get your ass out of Billy's Brain and let's go talk to this jem character!!! NOW GOD DAMMIT!"

"What Tracer?"

"Look at that poll over there! And that hot babe who couldn't be Princess said the shooter had 'HUGEEEEE big tripple E breasts.' Let's go talk to this 'jem'!"

The Grassy Knoll

Mr. Bear! MR. BEAR!!! Melinda Manjuice from Stroke HARDER You Worthless Pantywaist! Now that ace industries has paid you twenty billion dollars and eighty-three cents to restore the labs he maliciously blew up out of jealousy ...

Alleged jealousy at my obvious genius Manjuice - ace just wanted to end the case and this was most cost effective for him.

OK, alleged jealousy at your obvious genius ... what do you plan to do with the money?

You mean besides phonesex?

Yes.

Rebuild the labs of course! All the roboMittens need upgrades and we have a remarkable new prototype in the works already. The Killer Robot which through an accident of our random name generator is actually quite benign well except for the killing and all. We're trying to get it out before Christmas!

Mr. BEAR! Henry Handjob from Look at Me and Get Weaker Bitch Boi!

Yes?

Nothing just wanted a blurb on CockRadio for my new blog. I will say that it was most kind of MsTara to broadcast this historic occasion of ace having his ass handed to him live over the radio!

Mr. Bear! Mr. Beaaaarrrrr! Smithers from Sycophant-ace! Is it true that you used blackmail and 'hired goons' to coerce sweet. mild mannered, never hurt a fly and so much brighter than you could ever hope to be ace into handing over this trifling amount of money from his point of view?

GASP! Why I would NEVER resort to such nefarious means! You are a cad! Will one of my hired goons please beat this idiot up? Now I have a parade to attend to in my honor! It's not everyday I get to sit in a convertible and wave to my adoring fans!

MsTara here. The 'Waddling Blue Wonder' as he now refers to himself is being helped into the limousine by some bimbo in a pink pillbox hat. That's all she's wearing. It's a beautiful summer day here in Paradise and I have to confess I've never seen the grumpy little blue guy look happier!

They're proceeding at a parade pace down the Boulevard of Dreams. Awwww the asshole is mooning the crowd. He must think that's funny. What a dweeb. Now he's standing on the back of the car blowing kisses and taking bows ...

WAIT!

Something has happened ....

OH THE HUMANITY!!! BillyBear is down!!! BILLYBEAR HAS BEEN SHOT!

It sounded like a series of backfires and then BillyBear's head snapped back with a large puff of stuffing emerging from the back of his head!

The limo is serpenting for some unknown reason. Oh now it's speeding off, I hope you listeners can understand me through my uncontrollable sobbing at this potential loss to humanity!

BILLYBEAR HAS BEEN SHOT!

Who would have performed such a monstrous act of pure unadulterated EVIL?

Please vote on the poll to the right on who YOU think shot BillyBear! On this cliff-hanging season ending until the next post of Billy's Brain (now all over the back of the limo).

BattleStar: Razor

If you haven't seen it, this is nothing but spoilers, you've been warned!


I thought this was a pretty good flick but I feel bad for BattleStar. This has to tide us over until March - sheesh. NBC/SciFi is dragging this out too long. In fact I almost forgot the danged thing was on last night and would have had to perform unspeakable acts on mittens had she not leapted onto the remote and keyed in SciFi's channel.

Like Firefly only short of canceling the series could a network mishandle a series any worse than BattleStar is being handled.

Primarily the plot is about what happened to the Pegasus when the Cylons attacked. There was also what went on with Adama in the first Cylon war. One thing I caught was as a youth Adama radioed for the Galactica which gives you an idea of how old that ship is.

Gina (the 'Six' model) was Cain's lover and when she's discovered to be a Cylon it explains why Cain had her repeatedly raped as an 'interrogation' technique, "Lieutenant Thorne, I want you to interrogate our Cylon prisoner, find out everything it knows, and since it's so adept at mimicking human feeling, I'm assuming that it's software is vulnerable to them as well, so... pain... degradation... fear... shame... I want you to really test it's limits. Be as creative as you feel the need to be." I'm saying it explains it but certainly doesn't condone it.

Cain struck me as a psychopath. As the movie opens she's joking around with her XO and talking about visiting, once the war starts when he refuses an order she immediately shoots him in the head. She's ruthless and I found her behavior anything but human. This she explains by holding up a knife and stating we have to be 'razors' in order to be victorious.

Adama later muddies the waters excusing Cain's actions. I found myself more in the Lee camp at the movies end.

Kendra Shaw was awesome as Lee's first XO. Haunted by her actions though those didn't come to light until later. Katee Sackhoff (Starbuck) was awesome too.

I found the 'old' Cylons interesting and brought back memories. I was SO hoping the hybrid of theirs was the old Baltar from the original series but alas no. There were lots of fun little tips of the hats to science fiction movies, like the soldier being dragged off by the cylons before being shot in the head by Kendra was named 'Hudson.'

The big reveal by the old school Cylon hybrid, who appeared much more aware of his surroundings than the newer models are, "this has all happened before, and it will all happen again." Everyone and their brother is convinced this will be the pivotal plot point of the final fourth season. I tend to agree but am not sure exactly how yet - I hope to God an entire universe isn't trapped in some time loop much like Stephen King's The Dark Tower series (boy was I annoyed!).

The other big reveal was that Starbuck is the harbinger of doom. I've always wanted to be a harbinger of doom ... I tend to take this info, since it came from a Cylon hybrid with a HUGE grain of salt. Cylon's are masters at manipulation.

I really liked this movie and am left with a touch of melancholy. I REALLY miss this series!

Your thoughts?

Rumors and Innuendo

He slouches into the office catching a harried billybear on the phone, "I know ... I KNOW GOSH DARNIT!!! These dumb labs don't come cheap! Come on ace, I've fallen on hard times, hard times surely you can float a loan! I needed to blow the labs up, they were out of date and all."

The figure tosses a manilla envelope on the desk and lights a cigarette.

Muttering, "Responsable my ass ..." and slamming down the phone BillyBear stares at it, "What's this?"

"My paycheck."

Ripping open the envelope a photograph falls out. BillyBear picks it up and examines it before tossing it back to the detective.


"So? It's Wonder Woman, what am I suppose to do with this?"

"Look CLOSELY!"

Picking the photo back up BillyBear peers closely at it before beginning his crappy evil laugh which irritates anyone who's heard it, "Oh yes this is quite a nice picture indeed, should it be leaked to the press. Can't have that can we? HaHaHaHaHaha ha ... ha ..."

"Stop it."

"Oh PantySue will be green with envy!. I believe the labs will be open very shortly and you'll get paid!"

As the detective leaves the Motel 8 room he hears, "Ace we need to talk about your homework ..."

WonderAce!

Broken Toy

I got to get to her somehow
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now ...

The portcullis raised as the two approached. The wind increased in its violence snapping banners to shreds along the ramparts. An alarm bell could be dimly heard.

Reigning their horses in the courtyard they are immediately surrounded by suspicious castle security. The storm is much quieter here almost an echo of the rage that cavorts outside ripping through the once idillyc countryside.

Dismounting they hand their leads to one of the security men and wait.

A nervous man, carrying a pink umbrella, wearing a maid's outfit and collar approaches, "State your business."

"We wish an audience."

"Who doesn't?"

"We've come a long way."

"Who hasn't?"

Fed up the man in black draws his pistol and points it at the officious prick's forehead, "Listen riddle boy take us to her or I swear to God things will get very ugly, very fast."

"I can't"

He picks up the tempo of his reply as he hears the hammer cock, "She's around but not seeing anyone at the moment. It's near Thanksgiving and she's quite busy in her RealWorld! I ... I can take you to a messenger however ..."

Re-holstering his gun the two follow the man into the castle proper. He leads them through various hallways and foyers, all elegantly adorned with tapestries and furniture. Finally they arrive at a receiving room. A large fireplace warms the room, Sarah Mclachlan can be faintly heard coming from invisible speakers.

As they hang their sopping dusters and hats the officious prick addresses them from the doorway, "Would you like anything to drink? We have the most delightful Apple Martinis or perhaps I can scrounge up some Electric Pink Kool-Aid, though that's sooo yesterday's news and hard to find since the lab blew up ..."

They stare at him in silence.

Clearing his throat while he exits he says, "Um, OK then! I'll send for the messenger!"

Almost immediately a rotund yellow man, grinning from ear to ear enters the room, "You sent for me?"

"Who are you?"

"Aye Em"

"We wish to speak to the Princess!"

The yellow fool stands there grinning.

"Well??? Go tell her!"

"I have but she has not replied. Perhaps she is busy or uninterested. Currently she's not there but she frequently is, just invisible to me. She's quite popular you know and must pick and choose whom to give her attentions."

"And you did all this just standing there?"

"Yes."

"Well come back if she decides to reply."

The yellow man leaves. The two wait in silence.

After awhile the man in black gets up from the plush chair and begins pacing around the room, examining various knick-knacks in the curio cabinets.

"Do you think her fans sent her these things?"

"Aye, items that might have held her fancy for awhile and are now just for display. Have you sent her things? I have."

Examining a pair of pink sunglasses the rider replies, "Aye, I tried to send her things she would use. She may be using one of them now if she remembers she has it. I sent it to her about this time a year ago." Blowing the dust off of the glasses he sets them carefully back down and picks up a broken string puppet, absentmindedly dusting it.

"Heh, look at this, the poor lad has lost his leg," removing a pocket knife he picks up the puppets leg and carefully reattaches it, "Good as new!" Both riders grin as they watch the puppet dance on a coffee table before solemnly taking a bow. The rider almost reverently returns the puppet to its place in the cabinet.

"She use to brag about fixing broken things. That she liked to take them on. Remember how she seemed to enjoy just playing and cavorting with her friends?"

"She's changed."

"Yep, now one rarely hears from her. She hardly ever initiates a conversation. She no longer strolls through the blogs laughing or having fun, causing trouble ... seemed to start about a year ago, now that I think on it. And now you can only get guaranteed access once a week for an hour in a crowded room, much like a press conference. Some conversations you do not want to have in a room full of strangers where you're simply trying to get a word in edgewise."

"Well we mustn't push her!"

"What's that mean? Does that mean don't rock the boat? Stir the pot? Voice a concern or make a suggestion? Many times when I didn't think I was 'pushing' it was interpreted as such. I was just trying to figure things out. Eventually the conversation became a dance around the topic and me staring at the tea leaves afterwards trying to figure out what was said! I mean how does one 'push' a domme anyway??!!"

"You could call her, try and hash this out."

"Aye, I could and possibly will but I'm not sure she'll take the call. Anyway it's not the calls I'm talking about, it's the other stuff."

"The perks."

"Yeah, what happened to those? The IMs, comments, all that stuff. It just seemed to go the way of the Dodo."

"Well she said it could end at anytime, by either one of you."

"I know, but I was expecting a notice or something, not this death by asphyxiation. Something more dramatic! You know how I feel?"

"No."

"I feel like that toy over there, once shiny, bright and new now thoroughly explored and quietly collecting dust in a curio cabinet. An unwanted, useless thing. That's probably not the way it is, but that's how it feels! I tried so hard to amuse."

"You've amused many."

"I know, and that means a lot to me! But when I erected my tepee next to yours I was hoping for more interaction with her, for awhile I got what I needed ... wanted ..." the rider's voice trails off as he stares into the fire remembering. Softly he mutters, "Time to go ..."

He walks across the room and puts on his duster and hat.

"Where are you going?"

Staring at his brother rider from under his hat, rain from its' lip softly hitting the floor he replies, "Oh, I don't know. I'll still be around but I'm not going to wait for Aye Em any longer."

"I think I'll hang awhile longer."

"I know. That's why there are two. Of the two of us you were always the stronger. I hope you recognize that in yourself someday!"

"Some think I'm insane."

"Some are pathetic idiots and who gives a fuck what they think?"

The white rider smiles, "I'll miss you."

"I'm not going anywhere. She's changed, I've changed in response to that. I still honer, love, trust and respect that lady, the simple fact is she is incapable or unwilling to give me what I need. I need more ... interaction. I still think of myself as her friend. I'm still here, just not as involved."

The two riders stare at each other, one casually arrayed on the couch, the other in the doorway. The black rider nods, smiles and leaves.

But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue

Two Riders

Raw heat shimmers off the baked floor of the wastelands causing phantasms, demons, illusions and hope to dart in and out of existence. From nowhere they appear, both on horseback. One in black the other white, they ride in silence, heads down like their near dead horses.

They exit the wastelands and head east. Coming to a stream they dismount, water their horses and wash the dust from their clothes and themselves. They build a fire and sleep through the night, neither will ever mention what they saw in that desert.

They come to a home that is and is not there, it blinks in and out of existence like a promise yet to be kept.

"I hope it comes back, it sure was a swell place!"

"Two."

"Yes two places both different and yet the same, do you think there will be others?"

"Yes, but I don't know when the next incarnation will appear."

"Well I miss him!"

The other stares off, a smile flashing across his face the echo of a memory.

They move on eventually approaching a quaint home now run down and in disrepair.

"He said he'd be back, do you think he'll be back? He was such a nice man!"

"He was a gentle man."

"So, do you think he'll be back?"

"No. This place is too dangerous for him, he was a victim of his own appetites. Of course his appetites were encouraged but that's the nature of this place and we're all big boys, right? I hope he's happy where ever he is now."

"I think one of the dolls killed him! Those things are dangerous!"

They continue onward at a steady pace. The one in black lights a cheroot.

"Do you remember when we first came to this place?"

"Aye, it was a much different place then. It was more playful, more fun or so it seemed."

"It was new."

"So were we. Now we're old ..."

They enter the town of Paradise. Ambling their horses down the center of the town road they pull up in front of a saloon and enter. Over in the corner some drunk has been is blubbering to a bar girl with enormous breasts.

"I tell ya, I was the best! Do you remember that one case?"

"Which one, there were like five or six."

"The one with the panties!!!"

"They all had panties you idiot!"

The sound of the gunshot causes both riders whirl with lightening speed drawing their six-shooters as the woman falls to the floor clutching her knee and screaming like a banshee. The drunk peers wearily at the riders distractedly waving his forty-five at nothing.

"You want some?"

They sit at the bar and slam back a couple of whiskeys watching the drunk's head hit the table while his companion wraps a torniquet around her leg with well practiced efficiency. They tip their hats in her general direction, mount their horses and move on.

On the outskirts of town they pass a large mansion high on a hill. Dusk is falling and a storm is rolling in. Dark, angry clouds are illuminated by flashes of lightening. Thunder can be distantly heard.

They stare up at at the mansion as flood lights begin to blink on illuminating the well manicured lawn, the topiaries and shrines.

"They say he's gone insane, like Howard Hughes did. Only eats the cookies between two other cookies. Once cooked they can't be touched by human hands. I hear his mom is pissed, her baking load has tripled."

"Well 'They' say a lot of things."

"Do you think it's true?"

"No, he just got busy ... like the rest of us."

"You heard about Midnight Madness ..."

"Yes, it made me sad to hear there will be no more. I could rarely attend but when I could I would at least get to see him again inside that weird bubble of his. Now? ' Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;' What was seems to be succumbing to entropy. No one cares or seems to. This place is highly transitory anyway. I was hoping to stay longer."

"You think we're too late."

"One of us should make it."

"That's why there are two riders."

"That's why there are two."

Thunder rumbles through the landscape. Lightening illuminates a distant castle. They button their dusters and pull their hats down as a gentle rain begins to fall.

"Looks like a bad one."

"We've weathered worse."

"Trueeeeee ..."

"I wish I knew what happened. Everyone just wondered off. Well it all boils down to probability distributions. You can't know a particle's position and momentum at the same time. Change occurs and in some universe it was probably for the better."

"Do you always speak gibberish? I mean what the fuck?"

"It means God is in the details."

"What???"

"Look if that wasn't true then we should be able to construct a computer to predict to position of every atom in the universe at anytime. If we could do that we could predict the future with certainty. The fact that we can't know the position and momentum of a particle implies free will."

"So?"

"I don't like being a puppet. I want to choose! So I tend to look at change through those lenses. I'm not happy about where things are at compared to where they once were but I can't bitch too much about anyone choosing their path, I can only react to it. I've lost hope."

"I will never give up!"

Tears well in the black rider's eyes, "Which is why you're so loved. Your faith that things will work out shines from your spirit. Oh, and never say never."

They nudge their horses into a gallop as the rain starts falling in sheets.

A pet mans a rampart looking out over the newly constructed castle grounds. He shudders against the rain and looks at the rapidly advancing thunderhead with concern. Lightening begins to strike. Behind him rock music and laughter can be distantly heard, this is a place where the party never ends. As the wind picks up he wishes he was inside with the rest of them but knows he must perform his duty to Her.

Suddenly he stiffens, peering intenty into the gathering gloom before running to sound the alarm.

Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl ...

Ringing Up and Down the Line

As a nervous BillyBear approaches the mic, Bob Dylan nods and steps back. In a raspy, whiskey drenched voice BillyBear belts out the final verses of Dylan's masterpiece Spirit On The Water.

I wanna be with you in paradise
And it seems so unfair
I can't go to paradise no more
I killed a man back there

You think I'm over the hill
You think I'm past my prime
Let me see what you got
We can have a whoppin' good time

And remember, each time you cum without permission Princess Grace dies a little!

Happy Birthday Ace!

MsKate informs me that today is a certain tiger's birthday!

I offer this ill prepared congratulations on what I hope is the finest of days for you ace!!! You deserve better than this from me but it's the best I can do at the moment, sorry!

May all your wishes come true ace, particularly those involving MsKate :-)

Your friend,
BillyBear

Thursday on Awwww Poor Baby!

On tonight's season premiere ...

Two caged pets from two different Mistresses, both over 40 days in 'captivity.' One key, one whimper-dome. Add two M1 tanks, one mortar, 14 Kalashnikovs (they were on sale), a bunch of rotten eggs and tomatoes, seven mascara brushes, a pumpkin cannon and a dildo and you have a recipe for DEATH!

Tonight on Awwww Poor Baby! someone dies!!!

Will it be jem???!!! GASP!
Will it be ace???!!! GASP!

Will it be that sniveling whiner over there in the corner, let's HOPE SO!!!

WHO will deal the fatal blow? ace? (GASP!) jem? (GASP!) or Princess Herself ("This is taking too looooong, I'm bored" BANG BANG BANG) proving beyond a shadow of a doubt She needs more time on the target range with that pretty pink pistol of Hers.

Tune in at 10PM EST in the main chatroom and find out who lives and who dies (or at least gets a really nasty paper cut) on tonight's Awwww Poor Baby!

Fortunately it wont be me (I knew you were concerned, everyone releases a grateful sigh of relief). I'll be in the car heading south to visit another grave.

Good luck ace and jem, jem and ace! Princess sight that pistol for crying out loud, if you're gonna shoot somebody make sure it's the one you're aiming at!

Happy Anniversary Jem & Princess

Wow a year! That's an accomplishment! I really don't know how Princess did it! Valium? All the backstabbing and whining - amazing!

Billy snaps a salute towards the great state of Connecticut.

Jem is just 29 hits from 10,000 - drop by her blog and up her counter so she's not all pissy at TeaseTime tonight. Please! If jem is bitchy we all suffer.

Me? Well I've got 4,365 more hits to make 10,000! jem always was the prettier one...

::runs off sobbing::

Impact

Sign here ...

scribble scribble scribble

and here ...

scribble scribble scribble

Initial here

scribble

and here and here

scribble scribble

Are we done?

Yes we are

FINE! I just love having my ass handed to me by you legal shyster fucks!

Perhaps you shouldn't represent yourself in the future Mr. Bear.

Perhaps you should shut the fuck up Larry! Now shoo!!!

So I'm hanging out on the corner of the chatroom crying into a beer, while alternating between bong and cig hits minding my own damned business when this mushroom cloud of pissyness erupts from the west.

::billy tosses a roll of nickels into the bucket::

Apparently lucky didn't read the post thoroughly. I left instructions with roboMittens to set the comment thingy to one week after departure. It actually ran a little later than that, but at 7AM yesterday commenting was turned off.

Well lucky didn't like that. Nope. Not one bit. He voiced his displeasure with a comment in jem's blog and I knew my days were numbered.

Now listen up all you newbies and wanna bes in the Princess Grace realm of influence - take notes, PAY ATTENTION and dear sweet Lord take heed! After Princess Herself and tightpants the one person you do NOT want to irritate is lucky. Got that?

Irritate lucky ==> BAD.

Now everyone in the chatroom always starts chiming in at this point, "Who is this lucky?"

It doesn't matter you sniveling worms! He is a lumbering (and face it lucky you do lumber when the mood's upon you) mountain of a Pet (with a capital 'P') who crushes anything in his path. So make nice with lucky not because he's one of Princess's first pets but because he's a hell of a nice human being and I'm proud that I'm considered someone worthy enough of actually irritating him. I miss his blog though.

While this was going on I was watching with fascination jem's latest attempt at suicide over in Princess's blog. The banter between lucky and Princess was moving a little too quickly in the comment section and I figured they were either in IM or on the phone (I hope phone for them and Princess was having lucky do something particularly pervy!) but I figured he might be giving Princess an earful on this comment thing. It would boil down to, "Oh and by the way Princess I'm really not too happy about not being 'team member' on billy's blog." For the record, no one was a team member. It was the only way to turn off comments.

So let's fast forward to TeaseTime...

If you missed TeaseTime last night well too bad. Princess produced three MP3s for her adoring fans. The Stroke Princess Takes a Pet, Tease a sissy - which is just wrong if you think about it, sissies HATE being teased by hot chicks like Princess - though amnesty international doesn't seem to give a glorious goddamn about it after hearing the MP3 and Stroke Princess shows you how to fake. Princess 'requests' that you comment on those MP3s. I plan too. You should too.

Yeah so TeaseTime is hopping and Princess tosses out there that lucky says 'hi' and I ask her to relay 'hi' back and She mentions that she will but lucky is none too pleased with me at the moment. I mull this over while TeaseTime takes off, the particulars I'll leave to jem to report.

So my time is winding down and I toss out to Princess, "So how do I make nice with lucky?"

Do you know what I think? I think you need homework. Vacation is over billy, now get off your fat ass and open that blog back up like now.

Fat ass? Fat ass??!!! I'll have you know the webcam adds ... ... FORTY pounds to my ass PRINCESS GRACE! sheesh! Anyway Princess frequently speaks gibberish and I understood Her better back when I was a prophet but I'm pretty sure She's saying, "Let's not have a case of the pot calling the kettle black, billybear" - She might have a point - soft smile.

Then she tosses out that she'll be looking for me tonight. Well that may present problems but She is a Princess and more importantly to me, a friend so I'm going to do my damnedest to be there. If it happens it should be around the usual time Princess, if not I'll IM that too.

Princess knows I'm prone to fiiiiiiits, yes fits. It happens to super-geniuses such as myself and there may be something with the inbreeding too but I still dispute that! My sister-aunt-cousin-mom agrees with me 100% but Princess seems more than willing to toss me out into the blogosphere knowing full well my mind is not clear. Billy glares at lucky and jem, never at Princess the way he's seen them glare at Her when her back is turned. No, billy is the goooood pet.

So I ask Her what to blog about.

Well why don't you finish what you started?

That can be taken on so many levels. I've been staring at this fork in the road for about a week now. Let's go right, see what's down there. Here we go ...

Okay... cardboard box, Cylon base star, five near light speed nuclear missiles, roboMittens counting down to a blind jump

ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

What are you doing?

Larry what are you still here for? I shoo'd you!

I thought you were talking to me.

Well I wasn't! This is a blog and I was talking to myself wondering if anyone would actually take the time to read this drivel.

So what's with the ommmmm thing?

It's some hippie thing MsTara yaks about when trying to get back into the flow of a story.

---

... relay to zero, one, zero, zero

BANG BANG BANG BANG ...

end of line.

ju..

Impact. Five nuclear warheads silently blossom death in the void.

The end.

---

Well, I should have just wrapped that up on the other post. I feel kind of embarrassed now.

ahem

Ahem WHAT Larry?

You can't do that.

I just did.

Larry shows billybear the contract he just signed guaranteeing that there would be no sudden cliff hangers or dramatic 'is he dead?' endings for this post.

Oh for crying out loud! FINE! FINE! FINE!

---

A gentle breeze ruffles the curtains near his bed. His eyes blink open to afternoon light and a powerful headache. A man in an odd suit sits across from him.

Who are you?

You are number six.

Oh MY GOD not my wookie! Hey if I'm number six where's my rack and hot body? I've always wondered about multiple orgasms ...

You are not THAT number six.

Give me a mirror! Billy stares intently into the mirror, oh thank God, I thought I was Patrick McGoohan for a second.

You will be given many tasks and challenges to complete.

I am a carebear NOT a number!

You are number six, we will now begin ...

Where am I? roboMittens? Shhhhhhh, she hasn't noticed us. MY GOD! I wonder what tonydshrimp would make of THIS! OH! OH! I really didn't need to see up THAT dress! Maybe if we just creep away we can get out of this jam ...


DANGER! DANGER! WILLIAMBEAR DANGER!

Hush roboMittens! Oh for shits' sake...

Somebody needs a swishy queen makeover!

billySix RUNS!

Episode One: Escape from Giant Barbie Faggot Island

Come see billybear in his exciting new series:

billybear! The Prisoner Lost in Space

sigh, I look like a dork don't I? I just hate that!

Gone Fishin'

click

Is this thing on? I've got to be careful here because I don't want to burn any bridges.

Yes, Tracer gosh darn it pour gas all over it! We can't afford to leave any of these dangerous technologies behind, if they get into ace's or lucky's (tosses nickel) hands there will be hell to pay! Christ only knows what jem would do with this stuff - that's scary!

Billy lights a cig and stares at the Dictaphone. I hate dead blogs. People just leave, gone, their blogs left like so much cyber-litter, afterthoughts, abandoned children, stillborn ideas. Another broken down car on the information super highway. You never know what happened.

It irritates me, best to do one of two things. Put the thing down like a rabid dog the way lucky (tosses another nickel) did or go my route and mothball the thing until you can get back to it.

roboMittens turn on the comment clock for seven days, after that, no more comments till we're back. Nooooo leave that counter running ...

So I made a breakthrough in Superstring Theory and M-Theory allowing me to create the USS BillyBear! Isn't she a bute? Did you just roll your eyes mittens? Keep packing C4 into the transmorgifier - sheesh. You just don't understand engineering the way I do, genius is pain! I'm an artist, I'm sensitive as shit! It's a very sophisticated piece of technology and can be used as a FTL device. We're gonna light the fuse, jack roboMittens into the FTL, open a wormhole in folded n-space and pop out in front of Princess's house, where we can see the mushroom cloud that was once the labs while eating cucumber sandwiches and drinking Diet Mountain Dew (we brought a Diet Coke for Princess).

How cool is that?

Yeah, so ... anyway. I really like my blog and my stupid stories and trying to get a comment here and there. I'm not quite to the point of putting her down yet. I'm hoping to tidy it up, leave my 'gone fishin' post so if anyone strolls by they'll know, well, that I cared enough for my little blog to not leave it hanging.

My reasons for doing this are myriad, complicated and none of your concern.

All set? Cool, everyone into the USS BillyBear! Mittens, check, Tracer, check, roboMittens, check, dildoMittens, yes you too dildoMittens, I know you freak people out but you're still coming, check.

I'll light the fuse - OK, close the lid. roboMittens do your thing!

Two protons expelled at each coupling site creates the mode of force the embryo becomes a fish that we don't enter until A-plate we're here to experience evolve the little toe atrophy don't ask me how I'll be dead in a thousand light years thank you thank you Genesis turns to its source reduction occurs stepwise though the essence is all one end of line. FTL system check diagnostic functions within parameters repeats the harlequin the agony exquisite the colors run the path of ashes fifty-two percent of heat exchanger cross-collateralized with hyper-dimensional matrix upper senses repair ordered relay to zero, zero, zero, zero

end of line.
jump

DRADIS contact - Cylon basestar.

Super!

Nuclear missile launch, impact in three minutes.

beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! ...

Well that's overkill, I guess they're seriously annoyed. Tracer quit saying 'beep' and blow that thing out of the sky!

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Uh, Tracer I don't think a forty-five is gonna cut it pal, one problem is that it's gonna take about a year for the bullets to reach the target before they ping off it's shields.

Use the kinetic cannons and launch a counter battery of FTL missiles.

What do you mean you didn't bring 'that crap'?! It wouldn't fit??? You might have mentioned that before we left!

Impact in two minutes.

Oh for shits sake! roboMittens blind jump us out of here!

Insufficient power.

Nervous giggle, wrings paws

Come here roboMittens, let me slap a fresh set of AAs in you. Did I ever tell you about the time I spent a year in Philadelphia? I think it was on a Sunday - W.C. Fields, I just love that guy!

There! I hate those darned screws they put over the battery packs anymore. Stupid lawyers!

Impact in fifty seconds

Blind jump! Safety override, zed, zed, zed.

I know we might end up in the middle of a star mittens but that's gonna happen anyway if we don't get out of here ... come here kitten sit on my lap, we'll be fine, roboMittens is all over it!

Impact in thirty seconds

Execute roboMittens!

One degree angle nominal seascape portrait of the woman child cavern of the soul under pressure-heat ratio ides of evolutions have buried their fears find the hand that lies in the shadow of the light in the eye of the husband of the eye of the cow mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more intelligence a mind that burns like a fire end of line.

roboMittens how about canning the happy babble and getting to the jump? Drat! Here they come, toss me one of those guns Tracer, climb on my shoulder mittens so I can hear that yummy purr ...

FTL system check diagnostic functions within parameters echoes Schrödinger's cat seven percent of n-space cross-collated with hyper-dimensional matrix lower thermocouple repair complete relay to zero, one, zero, zero

BANG BANG BANG BANG ...

end of line.

Voodoo is the Best Doo-doo

"You're certain this will work? She hasn't posted since August 2nd!"

The gypsies' rheumy eyes are hard and cold. Her weathered face collapses into the myriad wrinkles of a shrunken head resembling a smile, "Of course it will work. Place the pen in the doll's hand, mutter the sacred words, 'Pretty, pretty please post! Me sooo horny, you post for me long time!' and She'll be COMPELLED to post. Anyway what have you got to loose?"

"Nothing"

BillyBear tentatively hands the old gypsy five dollah and takes the doll and pen.

Back in his lab he places the doll on an autopsy table, puts the pen in its' hand and says, "Pretty, pretty please post! Me sooo horny, you post for me long time!"

He begins to monitor Princess's blog closely.

Happy Birthday MsTara!

Well I was going to follow jem's instructions but I really couldn't bring myself to wish MsTara a very happy birthday under a post titled "BIG BLACK DICK." It just didn't seem right.

Anyway in typical billybear fashion, a day late and a dollar short I would like to say:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MSTARA!!!

I hope all your wishes come true!

Zulu Dawn

I like to write, just the act of it can bring me mountains of pleasure. My blog reflects this.

My August is shot. I mention this so that those of you who care, who read my musings understand that billybear is going to ground.

I will attempt to keep some presence in this space, sorta like ace and I hope to come back in early to mid September though I doubt I can keep my fingers off the keyboard that long.

Every weekend is booked. Work is handing my ass to me. Now I've just received 'the call.'

'The call' hurts, what is dragging me down is that I'm in the age bracket where not so much my peers are being taken down except for the occasional lucky shot but my parent's group is just being decimated. It's fucking Zulu Dawn over there and all I can do is watch and wait, not my turn to join the front lines ... yet. My father comes from a farming family, a large family, a close family. My Aunt lays on her death bed, her large heart finally failing. I watch my parents closely now, pay more attention to our time together. Soon I will get the next call, pallbearer time again, the ten hour drive to place my aunt in the cold, cold ground next to my Uncle in a family graveyard on a once was farm. Fewer will attend then the last God damned wake.

I'm sorry. These ramblings are not for what MsTara accurately calls the Willow World. This forever happy place.

I just wanted to let you know that I'm not pulling a banky here, I don't plan on just evaporating, not yet anyway but in all honesty I am flaky and fucked up with grief. Like her husband she is and all too soon 'was' a great lady. We are close.

I'll drop comments when I can, attend TeaseTime when I can and not bring anyone down with my woes. But my blog, well it's taking a bullet right now. Time for bed.

Thought you should know ...

Cold Turkey

billy paces back and forth across the lab chain smoking, humming.

Temperatures rising, Fever is high, Can't see no future, Can't see no sky

It's been over a week since he's heard from his pretty, pretty Princess. She couldn't make TeaseTime due to technical difficulties last night.

My feet are so heavy, So is my head, I wish I was a baby, I wish I was dead

The fact that it looks like his ENTIRE August is shot, every damned weekend filling up, might have made him a tad cranky.

My body is aching, Goose-pimple bone, Can't see no body, Leave me alone

So yeah, billy might have single handedly trashed the chatroom trying to start a riot by initially smacking mcatee3 over the head with a chair. That's what happens when you're a little too close to billy when bad news is delivered. Mittens®™ purrs her appreciation of poor poor mcatee3.

My eyes are wide open, Can't get to sleep, One thing I'm sure of, I'm in at the deep freeze

Maybe just maybe he paid lip service to MissAlana's 'behave' before setting jem on fire and throwing her at 'the messenger' pantysue. He almost feels bad about jem having given up smoking for three weeks, well she can go on the wagon again. Finally his rage culminating in blowing the fingers off of jennifer who was holding a stick of dynamite that an overzealous b4hercntrl lit.

Thirty-six hours, Rolling in pain, Praying to someone, Free me again

He is no longer angry with pantysue, regretting approaching her with a Spatula of Dispair. His initial jealousy consuming him that Princess had sent an apologetic SMS message to her and not him. His disappointment overriding all other considerations.

Oh I'll be a good boy, Please make me well, I promise you anything, Get me out of this hell

Even if Princess wanted to send an SMS to billy there is no way he could take an SMS message from Her in the first place. All the technology had gone into the n-space folder including his cell phone.

He feels bad about his actions, particularly his indirect disappointment with Princess. He looks distractedly for a suddenly missing mittens®™ before resuming his line of thought.

She's having quality play time with Her boytoy and was willing to play with her pets during that time and managed to figure out a way to communicate with the room that she can't get in.

Princess AND boytoy deserve this play time. She tried, She can't make it. Suck it up billybear. She's not my mom. I'll wait for Her, because I choose to. I'll miss Her as I always do when She's not about.

shrugs

August is going to be a cruel month for me, fucking RealWorld. Oh I'll be a good boy ...

Cold turkey has got me on the run ...

Thursday on Awwww Poor Baby!

Thursday on a tender, moving Awwww Poor Baby

A special someone will be further perverted during Princess Grace's TeaseTime (hosted chat: 10PM Eastern just about every Thursday)

"Well if you thought I was distracted with lucky awhile back, you haven't seen anything yet. I've been letting this young man 'stew' in his own juices under unremitting teasing for a very long time! He's so far beyond doing Anything for Me that there isn't even a word for it!" Said The Mother Fucking Princess of all time, "He said I could fuck him so I'm bringing the rooster 'pecker', he is so much more vocal and squirmy than a cantaloupe. And 'pecker' well he's quite a fighter, quite a cock. You think he'll likeeee?" She asks before collapsing under a hail of giggles, "Me toooooo!"

Yes one must be careful around these farm girls.

"Or maybe Sir Quacks A Lot, a pet duck. I've always wanted to say, 'Go fuck a duck!' with meaning." She suddenly looks pensive while rubbing a flogger across Her lips, "I can't decide, maybe both, let Me think on it," before shoving the flogger into a footlocker crammed with 'toys.' "Either way all that ruckus will make for a hell of an MP3! QUACK quack quack quack QUAAAAACCCCKKK! good times, good times"

Will Princess and Her lecherous toy show up at TeaseTime so that we can all offer our 'help' or will we be left in a Princessless chatroom mentally hearing the taunting cry of 'Awwww Poor Babies!'

Tune into the main chatroom at 10PM Eastern this Thursday, August 9th to find out!

Only on PRV!

A Still Summer Night (Princess Call)

Sitting in a puddle of moonlight near a wild strawberry patch, he plucks another succulent berry from the vine. Placing it in his mouth he rolls his tongue over the rough surface before biting down into liquid sunshine. Tart, sweet, both at war both in harmony.

He studies the fireflies as they blink on and off dancing like sprites, he's looking for a pattern, not finding one but believing it's there anyway, just beyond his ken. Sampling another strawberry he closes his eyes to better hear and feel the warm breeze as it blows across the tall grass and disturbs the trees making the most basic of music as it combines with crickets and other night sounds.

He isn't happy, he isn't sad, but he's at peace. A state of being he relishes as much as the strawberry melting in his mouth.

The aroma of strawberries have combined with other summer scents. Freshly cut hay, wildflowers, a hint of cotton candy merging with the sounds which fire off synapses of past summer pleasures, that first jump off the high board, fighting for balance on a training wheel free bike, driving a car, the first girl he truly noticed as a girl, his first best friend.

Springing from the tall grass she's upon him, pinning him to the soft ground, her hands on his shoulders, straddling him. Giggling she stage whispers, "GOTCHA!" before delivering a long, soft kiss.

"You taste yummy" she sighs as they settle back to look at the night sky and comfortably talk about whatever they want to talk about. Her head pillowed on his arm, she waits for him. Eventually he can take it no more, gently kissing her on the cheek he whispers, "I want you so badly!"

Rolling back on top of him, nuzzling his ear she whispers back, "Why do you think I'm here silly?"

Gentle giggles and soft moans merge with the other night sounds as two friends play in the moonlight by a strawberry patch.

We interrupt this post with a word from our sponsors!

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billybear labs PROUDLY presents the future of phone-sex!

I'm gonna make a fortune off this! evil giggle




Tonight on Awwww Poor Baby!

Crushed in the polls by an imaginary cat ...

I was NOT! It was a TIE!

Sold into slavery by an uncaring Mistress ...

WHAT?!

Look our ratings are down so we sold your contract to CBS. You're Couric's bitch now and she couldn't be happier!

But, but billy needs his Princess!

Look Princess would only agree to 'a little while' since you've been 'a bit too whiny of late.' Now off you go.

NO!

Is someone fussy?

You motherfucker!

Watch billybear throw a big hissy fit that will rival his famous chatroom meltdown. Gape in wonder at the lengths billybear will go to hear his Princess's perfect voice and watch as his face scrunches up, tears form and lower lip trembles when he finally succumbs to, "Awww Poor Baby!"

Tonight, only on PRV!

Special thanks to jem, lucky and ace for suggesting this!

What? What did you say?

Nothing.

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What the holy hell was that? Nothing quite like a commercial break to ruin the mood! Sheesh! I might have gotten laid here, darn it! What do you mean I post so much that blogger is charging us and we have to generate revenue with these commercials? For shits' sake!

As you may have surmised I had a call with Princess last night. I don't discuss my calls much in this blog, but if you want to know how it felt for me reread the paragraphs above.

Even if I don't talk much about them I will continue to acknowledge our calls. They are important to me. Any of you that have had the pleasure and fun of talking with Princess Grace know that She is a wonderful call. I've been hanging around as Her pet for 282 days now and what some of you might not realize is that our calls very much resemble two pals laying on their backs on a summer night simply enjoying each other's company.

There's only one way to experience that level of yumminess, because I can not adequately describe what effect the slow tick-tock of time has on two people, thousands of miles apart who will never meet but are starting to know each other quite well. Do it.

And if you don't wanna that's OK too, She'll still fuck you silly and you will walk away with a great summer memory!

Getting to Know Me Part IV

Another chapter in Princess's Get to Know Each Other game. Hmmmm, let's see what we have here.

1) If a spaceship lands next to you, and inside is "The Universal Book of Everything" and you have to write down one question that matters. Any question that you could then find out the answer too.....what would your BIG question be? And why would you ask that one?

(reading the book What the Bleep Do We Know!? and this is one of the first questions it asks us to ponder...thanks to the wonderful boy who got Me the book too *wink*)

I think my question is a different flavor of Princess's. Is there a God? I'm mildly amused that I'm asking a metaphysical question in a science fiction setting, the 'Is there life on other planets?' question having been answered by the spaceship.

2) So which would it be, if you could have sex with either Maryanne or Ginger? And why did you pick the one you did?

Not both? Well I've got this thing for a particular brunette farm girl, a real girl next door type, I choose Her. I have visions of Ginger getting me off and then bitching up a storm on the mess I just made on her pretty dress. Maryanne on the other hand would dig the mess I made for her. I think she would like sex, hard, nasty, sweaty and most of all fun.

3) How do you masturbate? Do you romance yourself? Get straight to the point? Read erotic material? Think naughty thoughts? (this is when your not calling Me lol)

billy props up a mirror at the candle lit table, "More wine my darling?" He feels that if he can get himself drunk enough he might, just might, get very lucky tonight!

Yeah when I call You it's much more of a production. When I'm all by myself I tend to shut my eyes and run a fantasy (starring Princess) in my head.

4) If you could turn into any animal, which would it be?

Human. Being a member of the care bear master race has its drawbacks (REALLY! It's true!)

In spirit of the question: peregrine falcon. I'd like to fly, and I want to be the predator, not the prey.

5) If money was no object, where would you move to live? Or would you stay where you are? Why?

There is a place in NC where I would go.