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Title: Contes de Romance Peu Orthodoxe (Tales of Unorthodox Romance)
Author: Shadrach Evans Overview: Un livre rempli d'histoires exotiques qui vous feront réfléchir à deux fois sur l'amour. Word Count: 89,849 Pages: 361 (6"x9") Target Audience: Hopeless romantics, the romantically hopeless, and anyone in between Genre: Fiction/Humor/Romance Comparative Analysis: Anything written by Jane Austen
Synopsis:
Romance stories don't always have to be an entire novel in length, either. The original title of this book was The Three Minute Romance — not because it's a self-help book on how to have a three-minute romance, or how to start a long-lasting romance in just three minutes, nor to learn in only three minutes how to have a romance. It is a collection of romance novels each condensed into three minutes or less for those who don't have the time or patience to read an entire full-length romance novel. Not all are precisely a three-minute read and some people read faster than others, while others, in turn, read slower than those who read faster, but they should average out to three minutes, unless this book has not yet been translated into your language and you struggle with English. Should these stories still prove too long a read, then speed-reading may reduce the amount of time it takes to read them all, which is forcing one eyeball to start at the beginning while the other eyeball begins from the end and having both meet in the middle. If the parts of a story span multiple pages that have to be flipped back and forth in order to read simultaneously, then alternate between closing each eyelid while flipping the page. With practice, speed-reading will eventually be as easy as double-knotting your shoe, driving an eighteen-wheeler, or debugging programming code. As you have obviously surmised by now, this is also not a collection of your typical, run-of-the-mill, traditional, mainstream, conventional, standard-variety, dime store romances. Nor are they popular, for that matter. These are unconventional, queer and peculiar tales of unorthodox romance. They are undoubtedly not even your style and you probably won't even get all the way through before regretting the time and money you already spent which you will never get back. If so, please deposit this book in one of those community library boxes alongside the road in order to trick others into picking it up and taking it home. Extract: (First 20 pages or so...) Romance Peu Orthodoxe Tome Un Post cards are old-fashioned and a little creepy, but call him old-fashioned and a little creepy because he liked sending post cards to her. They were his preferred method of communication and his message was always that he loved her. He believed that just a few post cards could not begin to convey his desire for her, but quite possibly a few thousand over a period of years would suffice to convince her that through the sheer volume of post cards he meant what he said when he said that he loved her. Of course, some of them were indirect, metaphorical, cryptic, enigmatic, and even subliminal. He had a habit of writing in areas that were covered over with post office seals and POSTNET bar codes. Some of them he forgot to put postage on, but the U.S. Postal Service delivered them anyway because there was no return address. He felt that nothing said "I love you" quite like actively shopping for post cards, purchasing stamps, hand writing something personal yet unique each and every time, and hunting down a mailbox from different locations. Some men take the easy path by simply buying expensive jewelry or other consumer products, but she deserved better. He sent her post cards from work, while on the road, when out of town, and even from their own local post office. It was his dream to save up enough money to take a trip to some far-off, exotic location and procure a post card to send back to her at home, letting her know that he was thinking only of her and wishing she was there with him. He knew he would surely miss her and looked forward to writing her every day of their time apart. Whether a European country, a tropical island, an African safari, Icelandic hot springs, or someplace in the enchanted Orient, the post cards would be epic and – as he was sure she could appreciate – well worth the effort.
Jedediah sat across the candle-lit room from his new bride, Rebecca Elizabeth. In awkward silence sat her mother, Sarah Bethany, her grandmother, Sarah Elizabeth, and her aunt, Rebecca Bethany. He nervously eyed a jug of cider on the hardwood floor next to Grandmother Sarah Elizabeth's chair, to which she shook her head in disapproval. Rebecca Elizabeth stood on the opposite side of the modestly furnished room and slowly removed her bonnet, letting it slide down her hair and onto the floor. Aunt Rebecca Bethany bent over and picked it up. Rebecca Elizabeth then untied her apron, letting it fall to the floor. Mother Sarah Bethany bent over and picked it up, folded it, and laid it across her lap. Rebecca Elizabeth untied her white wedding cape and handed it to Grandmother Sarah Elizabeth, who would hold onto it for the marriage of Rebecca Elizabeth's sister, Elizabeth Rebecca. Then, finally, Rebecca Elizabeth removed her blue linen dress. There she stood, naked as the day she was born, save for her woolen undergarments. All was quiet, except for the ticking of the clock and the sound of Aunt Rebecca Bethany chewing a stalk of celery. "Ahem," Mother Sarah Bethany cleared her throat and nodded at Rebecca Elizabeth, who slowly began to unbutton her beige modesty frock. Rebecca Elizabeth dropped her last article of clothing and walked across the room to where her newly-wedded husband sat with nervous anticipation and presented herself fully to Jedediah, who remained motionless. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face, reflecting the flickering candle light. Aunt Rebecca Bethany stopped chewing her celery. The clock ticked. The floor creaked as Rebecca Elizabeth shifted her weight to reach out her hand and take Jedediah's hand, which she placed upon her body. It was hairy. Every part of her body was hairy, some more hairy than others, and the bottom hairier than the top. It was then that Mother Sarah Bethany slid the key to Rebecca Elizabeth's chastity belt across the floor to Jedediah and Grandmother Sarah Elizabeth blew out the candle.
They met at a honky tonk bar where he swept her off her feet and they danced the night away in sequined shirts and Wrangler jeans. He told her that she was purtier than his momma on her third wedding day and she assured him she had no kids. But at midnight the princess turned into a pauper and drove off in her rusty '76 Honda Civic station wagon, leaving behind one cowboy boot. With this one boot he scoured the entire countryside looking for her until after a year had passed and he finally found her at a different dive bar in another sleazy part of town, where he once again swept her off her feet and never let her go. At least that's how he recalls it. She, on the other hand, remembers that he was arrogant and overly critical of her dancing. He also got so drunk he couldn't stand up and pulled off one of her boots to throw up in, so she let him keep it. It wasn't until a year later when they next met, after she had taken enough dance lessons to go out and show that conceited asshole a thing or two, except now he was sober and not so bad to be around. Either way, it was meant to be. They were soon pregnant, hitched and, before long, they were growing old and fat together, but still dancing on occasion. Those who were jealous of their seemingly perfect marriage obviously didn't realize the luck and good fortune that go into a successful partnership. While some worked hard at it, even going to professional counseling, they just let it naturally take its course.
Coming this holiday season to the Hallmark Channel: Marilu Henner stars as Elizabeth, a jaded socialite from Upstate New York on her third divorce; Christopher Lambert is Connor, a loveless county clerk and notary public who has a dark past. They were the least likely pair to ever end up together but due to unforeseen circumstances in the small town of Marble Fleck Falls, combined with the warmth and glow of the yuletide season, Christmas calamities ensue along with holiday hijinks and festive decapitations, only to become the surprise gift of a lifetime. Co-starring Ed Asner as Gramps, Sally Struthers as Ma Prichard, George Takei as the effervescent Mr. Yin, and with special guest appearance by Clancy Brown as the resurrected Victor Kruger. This is a story guaranteed to melt your heart and make you say, "What the hell?" Bells will be ringing and heads will be rolling when immortal warriors from throughout the ages converge with their adopted families and loved ones for one final Christmas Gathering to exchange the ultimate present — peace on Earth and goodwill toward man. There can be only one... truly special Christmas story this holiday season. So, be sure to make it A Highlander Holiday to remember.
Her nose began to bleed each time she was in his presence. Could this be a sign of true love? If so, would it bleed forever? She stuffed some tissue up her nostril and approached him at the local soda fountain to ask if she could join him. They looked longingly into each other's eyes as they slurped soda from straws in the same ice cream float. She burped some fluid up into her mouth and he snorted foam out his nose in response. They both laughed. Then he farted. That's when the laughter died down and the moment became uneasy. He became nervous and began to laugh some more, causing irrepressible flatulence. Her nose then began to bleed uncontrollably and before she could say anything the tissue was saturated. Without a second thought, she pulled the red plug from her nose and it leaked like an oil pan. Immediately he vomited on her. They knew without a doubt it was true love. At first it was disgusting, but in short time they learned that no lasting relationship is without its messes. She stood to go to the restroom but slipped on a pool of blood and fell head first onto the table. This caused him to laugh so hard he pooped his pants. Then he passed out. When he came to, he found himself naked and in a dumpster behind the soda fountain. He would then spend the rest of his life looking for her, longing to find out what had happened, yearning to know if she was "the one."
Gently, he caressed her face with his one remaining toe. He recently lost both arms and a leg in the freak carousel accident that claimed eight lives. As tears streamed down her face and she sobbed uncontrollably, he demanded she move on, live a normal life, and start over with a new husband while he rotted away his few remaining years in a nursing home wiping himself with one toe. She kissed him one last time and then she said goodbye forever, never expecting to see him five years later as a circus sideshow performer wiping patron's butt cracks for a dollar. It was the most pitiful demise she had ever witnessed, but what she failed to realize was that his lifelong dreams of becoming a live entertainer had been fulfilled. The outcome was best for all. On her way home, she turned on the car radio and listened to the song "Alphie," followed by "Message for Michael," a double shot of Dionne Warwick. This made her think of him and his one toe, which made her sad... a Righteous Brothers or Roy Orbison kind of sad, but not Burt Bacharach and Hal David sad.
She was his favorite model, posing nude for charcoal drawings patiently throughout the years: as a young woman getting in and out of the bath tub, reclining on the sofa, stretching by a window, washing dishes in the kitchen sink, or performing yoga on a rug in the bedroom. In her advanced arthritic years: sitting on the toilet, napping in a lukewarm bath tub, slumped in a chair drinking a Diet Coke, or lying face down on the basement floor at the bottom of the stairs. Even in death she was the perfect model, posing with the aid of his interns or by means of heavy-gauge wire inserted throughout her limbs. But then one day her spine snapped and she was never the same. He buried her in the garden, where she had posed nude all those years while pulling weeds. No one ever contacted him as to her whereabouts. He just considered himself blessed. Yes, others came and went, but none could replace her, no matter how demanding and insistent he was. From time to time, he'd pull out the drawings and remember her fondly, until one day he stopped recognizing her and wondered if his memory was failing. However, a comparison between his drawings and photographs revealed that all these past years he just wasn't a very good artist after all.
They were the Sabine Frogs of antiquity, dancing and jumping, croaking and twirling, chirping and frolicking amongst the lily pads throughout the Italian nights of old. They danced in pairs, in groups and parties, and even all alone, kicking their frog legs and bowing to their frog partners. Bartleby would don his itty-bitty formal wear and Beatrice would curtsey in her wee little evening gown, then they would engage in shared rhythmic motions to the music of the amphibian orchestra under the stars until late into the evening – that is, until the Romans came and conquered them in 290 BCE and ate their legs. As for the Sabine people, the Romans raped their women and enslaved the men. History aside, modern science has yet to determine whether or not frogs have the mental capacity for happiness. Thanks in part to Bartleby Carmichael Phineas Higginbotham LXXXIII (83rd), Esquire to the Bog of Ribbitshire, who was dissected and studied by medieval herpetologists, we have come to learn that a frog's brain closely resembles that of a human brain, including the parts that deal with emotions and feelings like sadness, happiness, or fear of frog guts. The details and specific names of these parts of the brain may seem boring to anyone other than a biologist, a psychologist, or a neurosurgeon, so we'll just call them the glad glands. The glad glands consist of the Hypothalamus, Hippocampus, and Amygdala, which collectively make up the Limbic System. Frogs have a very primitive Limbic System. This doesn't necessarily mean they are stupid. They are smart enough to avoid paying taxes. However, until we are smart enough to understand frogspeak, we will continue to have to dissect frog brains in search of happiness. Whether or not Bartleby and Beatrice were happy is beside the point. They were content, which is more than can be said about most people.
She quivered in anticipation as she approached her longtime male coworker and felt like a nervous school girl. She had put off the inevitable encounter far too long and felt the time had come at last. What would he think of her if he were to decline her advance? If she was successful, what would others in the department think? This kind of relationship, although not forbidden or taboo, was discouraged among management and rumored about around the water cooler. She cleared her throat and paused, then asked shyly, "Would you be interested in buying some Girl Scout cookies from my daughter?" There, she finally said what she had been so eager to say for so long. The cat was out of the bag. An awkward silence hung in the air before he answered without even looking at her. "No, thank you," he plainly replied without explanation. Once again, there was awkward silence as she slowly retreated in rejection and shame, trying to fight back feelings of humiliation and regret. Would he keep this encounter to himself? Would their work relationship change in any way? Would he lose respect for her professionally? Would her reputation be forever tarnished? Worst of all, would her daughter be disappointed in her? They didn't speak at all the remainder of the day and intentionally avoided contact. The next day, he put in for a transfer to another office across town.
They first met on the Soviet dating show Russian Roulette, where contestants choose one blind date out of six without knowing anything about them other than a brief bio and a quick introduction from behind a curtain inside a dark, intermodal shipping container. Their date consisted of being kidnapped and driven to an undisclosed location with bags over their heads, where they were tied back-to-back and tortured to reveal deep, dark secrets about one another. But there was something about the experience besides rope that bound these two contestants together. They continued with further dates but insisted on keeping the bags over their heads. They both knew a lasting relationship was too good to be true and neither wanted to take any further chances with this one, especially over something as trivial as appearances. Love is like pointing a gun with one bullet in the chamber at your heart and pulling the trigger. They had survived, so now it was someone else's turn to take a chance with love and pull the trigger. This episode brought to you by Anatoly Head Bags™. Anatoly makes the finest quality head bags which are breathable, antimicrobial, and completely washing machine and dishwasher safe. Remember, "Better an Anatoly's over your head than dead."™
When he was fairly young, his granddad gifted him an authentic Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist dummy with top hat, tuxedo, and monocle, along with a vinyl record of ventriloquist lessons by Edgar Bergen. As he grew, he lost interest in ventriloquism and Charlie, but Charlie did not lose interest in him and stuck around. When he began to date, Charlie would sit in the corner and stare wide-eyed at the two of them kissing and groping and could be seen peeking over the bed watching other intimate activities. It wasn't until Charlie was caught watching his wife taking a shower that he was given back to Granddad. Charlie missed watching the young couple interact and was sorry it had come to this. Now Granddad made Charlie watch as he and Grammy would get their freak on and Charlie couldn't close his eyes because he had no real eyelids and he couldn't run away because his legs were too flimsy. It was during these awful times that Charlie would reminisce about the days of old, when he would sit on the young boy’s lap and make quips in response to banal dialog, when he would watch him transition into a young adult full of hormones and desires, and about a dog he once had named Farfel. However, Charlie never did have a dog named Farfel, but that's how he remembered it in his plastic head. Farfel was the animal counterpart of Danny O'Day – part of the ventriloquist dummy duo of Jimmy Nelson. How strange. Some might even say peculiar... and there are those who can say it without moving their lips.
Astrid and Geoff were daily trying to make each other's workday as annoying as possible. He would take breaks standing in her doorway and texting. She would empty her waste basket into his. He would forward unwanted calls to her. She would sign him up for junk e-mail distribution lists. He began bringing her white elephant gifts, wrapped and placed in different locations. She began hanging framed pictures of him in the halls and common areas. He became the safety officer and wrote her up for every infraction. She became the office supply manager, rationing his Post-it Notes and confiscating his ergonomic chair. Eventually, it escalated into a torrid sexual affair, a heated marriage, and a nasty divorce. But, in the end, they became amicable co-workers and productive team players.
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who got stuck in a lilac tree, even though his mother had warned him many times not to climb in it. As time passed, the boy's flesh sloughed off and nourished the roots, while the branches grew to envelope his bones. In a way, the lilac tree and the little boy became one. Then the day came when they were both chopped down, thrown into a wood chipper, and used as mulch in the vegetable garden. DNA from the boy-tree hybrid ended up in zucchini and tomatoes which the mother harvested and consumed. Classic Freudian psychology would classify this as an example of the Oedipus Complex. However, Sophocles would probably beg to differ. The End
They were beautiful people — physically stout and of hearty Nordic stock. Unfortunately for mankind, they could not reproduce. Instead, they were forced to spend their days in leisure — boating, dining, vacationing abroad — while everyone they knew was burdened with child-rearing and the financial stranglehold of raising a family. In turn, the Svendsens came to despise children and even to loathe small people, what the ignorant once referred to as midgets. They adopted a teacup Yorkshire Terrier which they named Miss Texas, but no one ever came to her birthday parties and parents of real children ignored them when they crowed about their precious "baby." However, they were complete and possessed what no biological progenitor of human children could ever have: contentment. Those with children might possibly have fulfillment; happiness, perhaps; maybe even joy. But contentment? Not until the uncivilized scions were fully grown and out of the house. Miss Texas, however, could never leave. Outside and unprotected, she'd soon be torn to pieces by a larger dog or carried away by a bird of prey. She would also be elderly by the time most children reached puberty. The day would come when she would have to be put down. By then, the Svendsens will have dozens of family portraits to remember her by, plus several copies of each which no one else wanted. Those people, of course, are not pet lovers and will never understand true contentment.
Gillian and Irene had met the year prior while fly fishing in Montana and fallen in love, so they decided to celebrate their one-year anniversary at the same location along the Clark Fork River. Irene tied a purple Caddis dry fly with a matching tungsten jig nymph, while Gillian chose a brown leach streamer which she had dressed herself. Each had their own methods and respected one another for it. After an hour of fishing on this sunny morning with not one bite, they set down their poles for a cool dip in the rushing water and were soon making beautiful love amidst silver trout, cutthroat trout, brown trout, and rainbow trout. Although their freshwater affair would result in a bladder infection for one of them, the memory for both would last a lifetime and the digital selfies made for a unique greeting card the coming holiday season, which they sent to friends and family in mid-November. Some were appalled while others, like Aunt Sophie, would keep it on her refrigerator door for decades until faded and discolored.
Even though their professions were of differing artistic genres, everyone knew it was inevitable that Bob and Lorene would hook up. Bob was a traditional clown and Lorene a classically-trained mime. He tended to concentrate on birthday parties, bar mitzvahs and bat mitzvahs, whereas she preferred street performances and open-mic nights at downtown cafes. In short time, they combined their passions and makeup, developing a hybridized form of performance art not necessarily appropriate for children or public display. However, their comically erotic shows were a spectacle that drew large crowds and were in big demand online. Eventually, they broke up over differing opinions about the use of noise props such as bike horns and slide whistles. On their own, they were mediocre and amateur at best. Together, they were a powerhouse of adult entertainment never to be rivaled. Their love child, Marcel, grew to become disassociated from both styles of harlequinity, instead focusing on a career in the dental arts. On occasion, though, he would liven a party or get one started by showing an exclusive home video of his parents re-enacting his conception in full makeup and costume.
Somehow, "I love you" seemed inadequate when her job was killing her slowly from the inside out and there wasn't anything he could do to change the circumstances. So, in the meantime, when she told him she loved him, he simply replied, "I wish I could say the same for you," or "Yup," or "Someday your knight in shining armor will arrive but until then I'm glad to hear it," or "Mm-hmm," or "Jesus has plans for you to prosper," or "Your love will have to carry us both through this valley of darkness." Every day he thought long and hard about how she could quit her job and every day she came home crying and distressed. She couldn't fall asleep and she couldn't wake up. He would watch her toss and turn each night as her anguish pulled him deeper into sorrow and grief. Someday, hopefully someday soon, he could again tell her that he loved her and have her know that he meant it because he had proven his love for her by freeing her from a miserable job and finally getting one of his own. Once again, she departed for work, tired and apprehensive, telling him that she loved him and, once again, he replied, "Uh, huh." She turned and asked if he loved her. Caught off guard, he could only muster, "Sure, I guess so." This was just enough to get her through another awful day. He returned to bed and quietly cried himself back to sleep.
It was a day like any other, until the Gortsteins dropped in unannounced to pay a surprise visit to their daughter and her boyfriend. Eunice and Barry had been living together on the upper east side in a one-bedroom apartment, much to the disapproval of her parents, Azriel and Mara, who were Orthodox Jews. Eunice was progressive and Barry was an uncircumcised Philistine who rarely flushed the toilet. Eunice's parents, or "Poppy" and "Dotty" as she called them, were particularly judgmental on this visit, criticizing the two of them for everything from living in a sinful relationship to the laundry detergent they used. After all, "Halakha-free" Gain® with bacon crystals was definitely not kosher and even a little offensive. (That was Barry's little novelty, in which he took great delight.) When they finally left, Barry said to Eunice, "The day your parents pull that yahd from their butts is the day I get circumcised." Eunice was pleased that Barry knew what a yahd was, except that he really thought it was for poking Gentile children, not for pointing at scripture. She was not particularly fond of her Jewish upbringing but she appreciated that he was still respectful of it and feigned interest. When they were finally wed by a Unitarian minister, Poppy and Dotty Gortstein sent them a silver menorah as a wedding gift, although they did not attend the ceremony. Barry took it upon himself to learn the history of the menorah, which was a candelabra that held seven candles, and even memorized Exodus 25:31-40, in which God described to Moses what the menorah was supposed to look like. When entertaining guests who inquired about the menorah, Barry would recite this passage, much to everyone's amusement. But little did Eunice know that Barry was learning the scriptural passage in Hebrew in order to bump it up a notch. When that day came, he also donned a yarmulke, or Jewish skull cap, when he recited the passage in broken Hebrew for a small party of dinner guests who applauded and expressed their admiration. This concerned Eunice, who pondered whether Barry was being too excessive with his ridicule or actually becoming Jewish, and was worried that someday he might undertake this performance in front of Poppy and Dotty Gortstein. But that day would never come, as Barry was stricken with terminal cancer. The Gortsteins resumed visiting their widowed daughter, but did not hold back from making their opinion known that God struck Barry dead for being an uncircumcised Philistine. Whenever Eunice looked at the menorah, she often wondered the same thing herself.
She was overly critical of his habitual manner of saying "um" and "uh" repeatedly while speaking. However, she often overlooked his other routine faults, including not washing after wiping, dumping his ashtray out the car window, eating other people's lunches from the breakroom refrigerator at work, MMORPG,* and masturbating in department store changing rooms. His one grievance against her was her propensity to thank a police officer whenever she received a ticket, which was more often than him. But if she could correct him of his speech disfluency, she felt his self-esteem would improve and the other disgusting habits would eventually cease as a result. How did these two ever fall in love? What in the world could bring two totally different human beings together? The answer, plain and simple, was furry conventions. Nothing else could unite a sexy lynx/fox hybrid and a parrot constructed of feather boas and carpet samples except for the magical allure of anthropomorphic fursonas. Normally, furries didn't get to know one another beyond the costumes. However, they dared tread where few furries ventured to go. But it was the continued dedication to their furry alter egos that kept the magic alive over the years. Eventually, his costume had to be upgraded — and the upgrades only made him more attractive to other female furries, which in turn made him even more attractive to his sexy lynx/fox hybrid classic. However, as with most tales of furry love, this one lost the interest of the audience. (*Massively multiplayer online role-playing game; if you still don't get it, then you are missing out on absolutely nothing.)
After a sollemne meeting and a day of humilliation to seeke ye Lord for his direction, and being now come to ye 25 of March in ye year 1621, the house which they had made for a generall randevoze by casulty fell afire. Then the sicknes begane to fall sore amongst them, and many fall downe sick dayly, now many of their ablest of men being dead. Afterwards they began to plant ther corne under the watchful eye of Squanto, who tould them excepte they gott fish for fertilisement it would come to nothing. Also some wheat and pease they sew, but it came not to good by some defecte. The rest of ther necessary provissions were got by triall and experience. May 12 was ye first mariage in this place, so ye 2 of July they sente the newly-weds on a honeymun with ye foresaid Squanto for ther guid, who gave him a suite of cloaths, and a horsemans coate, with some other small things, which were kindly accepted; and jornyed 40 miles from hence, to wher Indeans being dead and abundantly wasted in ye late great mortalitie which fell in all these parts aboute three years before ye coming of ye English, wherin thousands of them dyed with wasting plague, they not being able to burie one another; ther sculs and bones were found in many places lying still above ground, where their houses and dwellings had been; a very sad spectackle to behould. So they found but short comons, and came both weary and hungrie home. William Bradford, "Of Plimoth Plantation" |
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