So I Cut This

Been working more.  Actually switched off of the Vicky book to work on the last school story (War to End All Wars) since I felt like I needed some King Henry in my life.  As usual when I do this I began with an edit of the material already written and these 5ish pages were hilarious but also one King Henry diversion too many I suppose, so I yanked it out and...well, thought you might enjoy it even if it's non-canon and unfinished and so forth!

Copyrighted by me, Richard Raley, all rights reserved, do not copy and paste but instead link back here please, etc.

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The teacher housing was only slightly less abandoned than the rest of the school.  Lot of them took this time to go on vacation too.  Plutarch’s house being to the north and east of it all, the oldest part that hung nearest to the Ultra classrooms, it was the most abandoned.  Down south with the newer development you might catch small flashes of activity, like a sight of kids playing or an adult working in the yard.

Ya know, typical Nice, Quiet One Would You Be My Neighbor shit.

The Gullick brood used to be the go-to source for that type of scene, only they’d all aged with the rest of us and the summer sports extravaganza had fallen by the wayside these last couple years.  Naomi—hallowed be her motorboated ta-tas—had two siblings already attending the school and three more soon to join the others.  You could still catch her mom, Natalie, out and about in the garden or their greenhouse out back, but…I wasn’t about to risk Mr. Gullick's ire by being anywhere near the place.

After all, had it on good authority that he’d just finally stopped planning my murder by anima-modified exploding daffodil assassination.

Not that King Henry Price is known for his perfect timing, but…seemed like a bad time to be asking after Naomi.

Although…

Glorious ta-tas…

Maybe she was back from Japan already?

Nah, not happening.  Not like Naomi’s as free with her charms as she used to be anyway…turned downright prudish, that girl!  Like half the school year didn’t know about that mole on her right nipple!  Or the way she squeaked like a chipmunk when you…hey, kiddies, none of you would ever betray me and give these tapes to Mr. Gullick, right?

Their house wouldn’t be on my way as it was…would need an excuse for heading down there.  Checking to see if Ceinwyn was home?  Yeah…no one would buy that.  Trading baking tips with Jethro Smith?  Hey, Mr. Gullick, just…heading to taste some white chocolate truffle balls!  You know me, I love my balls!  Just can’t get enough of them!

Snap out of it, King Henry.  Hardly worth the detour and even you ain’t that horny.  Only been a month, man!  Yeah, you and Eva went at it like rabbits for the better part of a year, but keep it fucking together!  Don’t you embarrass me by getting all moppy and pathetically pussy wiped, I won’t fucking stand for it this time.  And none of that emo shit like when you break up with Val, promise me!

Nah, Eva ain’t Val.  But…I liked what I had with her plenty fine.  Was just…

Other fish in the sea, hombre!

Suppose there were.

If you had a whole sea to fish at.

Problem was—and being I was a twenty-year-old man it was a problem I put a lot more thought about it than I did Plutarch’s fairy bleeping and blooping—I didn’t have any sea no more to fish at.  Didn’t even have a lake.  Maybe, just maybe, I barely had a pond.  Being I was no longer a teenager and 95% of the Asylum student body was…  Way it all worked out, there were now only about forty-five girls at the school I could date, romance, or just plain do the grunting and humping with.  I mean, some of the Quads would turn eighteen this year, but they weren’t yet…and even then…  Just saying, that’s the one conversation with the Lady I’d actually dodged so far!

Why’d I break up with Eva again?  She was…so there.  All year long, we looked at each other and suddenly we’d be spontaneously naked.  Then we’d do the stuff you did when you were naked and well…how did something that was so easy and simple for so long just go bust like that?

Stopped being simple.  She made you feel, remember?  You made her feel.  Got…complicated for the both of you.  Can’t have that.  Look what Val does, you want another one, really?  Don’t be stupid.

Yup, made me feel.  Felt her va-jay-jay like twice a day, sometimes on the weekends you couldn’t even count it on one hand…mostly cuz the hand would be really busy touching some body part needed attention, be it one of mine or one of hers…

Worse than just feelings.  Started thinking about that word.  Word you know saying would only ruin your life.  Word that’s too good for the likes of you, King Henry Price.  Other.  Fucking.  Fish.  Sea or no sea, you can fucking do it.

Forty-five contenders and most were already chosen by more worthy hunters.  The majority of those who leftover despised me.  Suppose with some of them I deserve it, but not all of them.  Got to be at least a couple women I haven’t pissed off at this school…

Last year my romantic life was perfect.  Last year was perfect, period.

Across the board.

Eva.

Plutarch.

Cold Cuffs.

Perfect!

Okay, except the Raj-Miranda thing.

Which wasn’t my fault!

They both wanted it.

They were also the only ones in the room when whatever went wrong went really fucking wrong.

Whatever happened.

Even peer pressure couldn’t get Raj to talk and Miranda started hissing like a teapot every time I asked.

Still…not my fault!

Okay, sometimes it’s my fault.  Okay…usually it’s my fault.  Just not taking the blame for that one.  Or for the Mound burning down.  Damn Val sure slipped all the blame, didn’t she?

Root had to have video proof of it somewhere, right?

If she hadn’t found it and destroyed it already.

I missed her most of all.  So removed from our last breakup and with me and Eva together, well…Val and me got to be friends again.  Like, all the time.  Day I called it quits with Eva the look on Val’s face was…what?  I didn’t know.  Fear that our barrier was ripped away?  Anticipation that maybe I’d…

That’s a bad idea, dude.  Like the worst idea you’ve ever had.  You need to stop, now.

Subconscious, why you sound like Pocket all of a sudden?

Bad idea, dude!

Suppose it was.

They’d all be back at the school soon enough and then I’d actually have someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?  Stop this ruminating trudge bullshit.  Two more days.  Two!  You survived summer break again!  Ultra Vires Victorious!  Val, Welf, Miranda, Raj, Pocket, Jesus….back!

Two days.  All back for the last time at this rodeo, bring your best bronco cuz it’s gonna be a wild ride!  Not just Ultra ’09 either.  Ultra ’09 were the top dogs now, but we had us six classes of Ultras strung out beneath us like a little of pups seeking guidance.  Plus all them Intras in their thousand plus multitude…

Everyone.

Be a damn busy day.

Especially if they were actually insane enough to name me a student-advisor.  Probably sacrifice the worst class of Intras at the school to me and call it tradition maintained.  Not fair really, since I’m surprisingly good with kids.  I mean…I teach them tons of new words.  Some of the kids in the Languages class I taught didn’t even know what ‘going airtight’ meant.  That’s important shit to know.  What if you’re in the middle of an orgy and some chick asks for it and then you hesitate?  You gonna ask her to explain it?  No!  She’s gonna point at some other guy got more game than you and you’ll be standing there with a limp dick and some blue balls waiting for the really ugly chicks to take pity on you.

Think of the possible embarrassment I saved those kids!

Yeah, maybe that one got me called into the Lady’s office…

I know!  Not like I even used chalk art that time around either.  Yes, there might have been some geo-anima controlled paperclip stickmen, but really…okay maybe the little paperclip penises were a bit too much…

Just saying:  if she never banned my chalk art then I never would have had to improvise, would I?

You show Thomas Jefferson fucking one slave…

I can’t help it if I’m a stickler for historical accuracy, can I?

Okay, maybe the Amazon Position was a little bit much…

Also not very historically accurate…one would assume.  Or…I mean, what do we really know?  Could’ve been one-hundred percent boring ‘ol missionary, or maybe TJ loved him some time dangling from the [Monticello] rafters, gagged, with a peg inserted, ribbed for his pleasure.  Maybe he even ended his hard day slaving away with a quality ball-milking session.

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Speaking of people alive when the Declaration of Independence got signed, in the middle of all that ruminating and trudging and my overactive imagination running amuck, I happened to catch sight of the Lady just then.

Nope, we’re moving on, kiddies.

Never go full ball-milking!

That’s how a thermos of your sperm ends up on Craig’s List!

The Lady.  Maudette Lynch.  The Dean of the Institution of Elements.  Princeps Scholae Elementa?  World’s Pot Brownie Champion Seventy-Two Years Running, not that any of judges were in any state to vote after they gave hers a taste test.  Ol’ Saggy Tits.  Maybe Isaac Newton did watch an apple fall from a tree or maybe he took one look at them knee knockers and thought:  yeah, got to be something to explain that shit other than just screaming ‘demon.’  I mean…she was probably alive back then too, so…seems why not? 

More accurate than TJ with his Amazon Position fetish.  Third president of the United States with his legs spread up into a ‘V’, his balls hanging in the void, his slave-lover with her hands wrapped around his ankles.  For the next few minutes that white devil dick is hers and she’s punishing the privilege right out of it until he screams for momma!

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