Saturday, December 02, 2006

Scruffy Love 2; Scruffier Love

Before I begin, I’d like to apologize for the graphic nature of my graphic. It appears, however hilariously rendered they may be, that these painted lovers are at least engaging in a very safe form of intercourse.

Well, I think it’s hilarious, anyway. Imagine, if you will, the kind of damage this image would do to a child who has yet to ask the question “where do babies come from?” and get a straight answer. “What do one’s scapulae have to do with procreation?” the child gifted with quite the vocabulary would ask.

Actually, let the kids believe what they will. It’s no more harmful than telling them that babies come from storks or Santa Claus or Delphi.

Scruffy Love, Chapter 2

In the late afternoon that day, Buck Studson and Cassidy Swoony made love.

“It’s done!” beamed Buck, holding out his half of the pink heart of Popsicle sticks and shiny rocks. “Whaddya think?”

“Oh, Buck! It’s as beautiful as the stars are numerous!” swooned Cassidy. She fluttered a dainty, manicured hand under her elegantly sculpted chin and fell off her stool.

They had some sex to celebrate their love, which lay forgotten upon the workbench, portending odious things to come. Unbeknownst to the two lovers who still bore the bruises where love struck them, trouble was in their road and approaching fast.

Thurgood Bastardson approached town fast, his pointy goateed chin pressed into his beat-up, crappy old horse’s neck. He urged the beast on to greater efforts by swearing at it, because he was a jerk.

“I mean to have that Cassidy all to my own odious self!” he roared into the mane of his horse. “Because I’m a jerk!”

The thunder of hooves rolled out over the land like evil pancake batter.

Buck and Cassidy lay in the afterglow, playing pillowgames.

“King me!” hooted Buck triumphantly.

“My bosom doth heave in consternation,” sighed Cassidy, and did as her studmuffin commandethed. The tranquil silence of the sunny afternoon was suddenly shattered by the clatter of hooves on Buck’s cobblestone driveway.

“Remain here, squishylips,” Buck said tenderly. “I think somebody is occurring without, and I mean to divine the nature of their visit.” He strode manfully and naked over to the window and tumbled gracelessly out into the bushes.

“Buck Studson! We meet at last, o’ foul ladyhog! You may be young and virile, but I am unscrupulous and crafty and this gives me an edge over your do-gooding ways! I come demanding the Swoony woman for no evident reason, other than because it would abrade you something fierce!”

“Bastardson! You’re a bad man, you antagonist!” growled Buck, stepping from the shrubbery.

Thurgood chuckled, and the sound of that chuckle was like evil crabs fighting in a dark mixing bowl. “That is correct, good sir. Should I take this insight on your part as acquiescence to my—why are you naked?”

Buck looked down, and smiled.

“Gross!” said Little Rodney, and ran back into the tool shed.

…To be continued!


foodaddy's foodaddy said...

"Ha ha ha HAHAHAHA ha ha Ha Ha, HA!", I laughed.

foofan said...

Suggestion: straightaway commence work on the next series, Love Among the Scruffies, about a whole gaggle of giggly womens.

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

Love Among the Scuffies makes me think of March of the Penguins for some reason. It would be narrated by Morgan Freeman.

"This is a story of survival. But it is also a story of love. Scruffy love."

Jacob "Pickle Weasel" Nordby said...


Firstly, I think YOU made up FooFan, here. But that's all the mean-ness I can muster at the moment.

Other than that I am joining your Pappy in rolling around on the floor with mirth. Seriously.

This concerns me, too, because I am worried that your Pappy may misinterpret my intentions while we are rolling around companionably.

As to the scapula(e)lovin' may be underestimating the shoulder blades as erogenous zones. I should be qualified to speak on this subject since I am the father of several children (several is something more than 2, yes? Well, I have three!). I am fairly certain that they are my own offspring since they sort of look approximately like me--although, mercifully, the resemblance is diluted by my wife's more photogenic gene pool.

Anyways, I am chuckling a lot over your newest edition of Scruffy Love. My chuckle is not unlike Thurgood Bastardson's, only the mixing bowl is alabaster.

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

Thanks, PW! Glad ya enjoyed the scruff. I mean stuff.

"Foofan" is actually my dad too. Why he changed his name for the second post is beyond me, but I was sitting not 10 feet from him while he wrote it. Note the first three comments' temporal proximity to eachother. Stems from they spatial proximity.

Man. I'll bet I could convince some stupid kids that I was a teacher if I grumbled some more and grew a beard.

Jacob "Pickle Weasel" Nordby said...

yeah, your comments are pretty abstract and would be basically opaque to a person of lesser learning than myself (recent spelling errors notwithstanding).

So, I gotta' say...I think that you are hiding your light under a bushel, so to speak, by not taking your thoughts/humor to the masses. It's weird but definitely good enough. One problem with taking it to the masses is that you usually get nasty little things called: "discipline" and "deadlines" imposed upon your creativity.

I recently submitted my Timely, Relevant Cell Phone instruction thing to the local, shockingly liberal weekly rag. They are just about off-beat and politically incorrect enough to go for something insane. The editor was kind but firm in her rejection of my fine work.

The Stupid Blogger said...

Wow, Foop, you've really captured the essence of the now-thoroughly skewered "literary" genre. And that's kind of creepy. No, seriously, this is good stuff and I agree with PW's assessment that you should impress your genius upon the masses. Weirdness definitely has an audience, although it can be challenging to get an editor to see that point of view.

And PW, ignore the rejection from the shockingly liberal editor. Perhaps if you had ranted a little about the 2000 election at the end of your article, it would have received more attention from them. Besides, there's nothing like rejection slips to add flavor to a fledging writing career. I know. I have a whole folder full of them and my writing life is so spicy it's giving me indigestion.

Anonymous said...

This was a cool site till you started putting Sexual related post on. I'm kind of disappointed!

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

Sorry 'bout that, Anonymous. Your promotion of "Sexual" to proper-noun status would indicate that this is a touchy subject for you. Fear not! I'll keep It to a minimum.

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

Oh, and having never actually read a romance novel (except the occasional dust jacket) I take my direction here from a Stephen King book. Specifically, the fourth book in his Dark Tower series.

And if that book's not indicative of the "crappy romance novel" genre, I don't want to learn any more.

The Stupid Blogger said...

Sorry we disappointed, Anonymous. Our intention is to entertain, not offend. But I must point out that FooDaddy's post was not "Sexual" related. It was "Humor" related. The graphic and the text were designed to illustrate the absurdity of, as Foo himself said, the "crappy romance novel genre." Personally, I thought he accomplished this purpose. But, if something on this site does offend you, I hope you at least understand the original intention.

Jacob "Pickle Weasel" Nordby said...

See, SB, I was in the middle of writing something along the lines of your fine post.

Turned out I was spared the are correct.

I am personally very offended by people blowing through here anonymously and taking cracks at us. Should they wish to take issue with something we say, I think it's a fine idea to bring it up and then sign their name(s).

No offense, Anonymous, but it's all too easy for you to make trouble from the shadows.

Also, there's nothing wrong with sexual stuff. I know that even reading that word probably feels like you're hearing fingers scratching a chalkboard right now.



It's how we all got here. FooDaddy was being funny and WASN'T going for the breakdown of your personal moral fiber.

I'm a bit surprised at how uptight folks get over this subject.

The Stupid Blogger said...

I have to say that I thought much the same, PW. I have no problem with someone having an opposing opinion, wrong though they may be. It's just the whole "I shall instruct you from the shadows" thing that gets me. Call us on whatever you want, but be willing to engage in an open discussion about it, if you do.

Jacob "Pickle Weasel" Nordby said...


Serious Alert, Serious Alert!

I'm not sure that everyone got the memo--or maybe they just used the memo to roll a fine doobie.

Anyway, all this serious stuff is, like, seriously harshin' my buzz, dudes!

The Stupid Blogger said...

WOOWEE! That was a close one, all right. I even started considering gainful employment. Thanks for snapping me out of my fantasy world, PW!

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

The only seriousness going on here is the whuppin' that Thurgood Bastardson's gonna receive courtesy of Buck and his righteous fury.

Or will he?

"Yay!" said Little Rodney.

CP said...



Jill Monroe said...

Just how many romance novels have you read? I wrote something almost EXACTLY like that last week!!!

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

None, I'm sorry to say, Ms. Monroe. I have, however, spent my share of time laughing at their covers, as you probably guessed by the graffiti on the one at the head of this post.

If I'm correct in assuming that you're an honest-to-God serious romance novelist, I'm flattered to know that my satire is accurate. Thanks for stopping by!

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

Er, that is, unless you're being sarcastic. That's always a possibility given the atmosphere here at The Blog.

Jill Monroe said...

Please call me Jill, which is my real name btw.

Sadly authors have little say in their actual cover. Not to get too heavy on a blog devoted to stupid, there was (is) a time when women didn't feel comfortable owning their own sexuality. So if flowing man-locks and heaving man-titty gives a woman a laugh and says sex doesn't have to be serious, you CAN enjoy it - I say go for it!

I'm sure the author who wrote "like evil crabs fighting in a dark mixing bowl" knew exactly the point I was making in the accuracy of the satire. That line made me laugh out loud. I shared it with several of my friends. Very funny - perfect imagery.

The cover you chose is a favorite with romance reader cover snark - you might find this interesting.

Paul "FooDaddy" Brand said...

I suppose it would have been a little conceited of me to believe that I was the only one who found this cover rediculous. It was, however, nice to find out that this stuff's got its own place on the ol' InterWeb. Thanks Jill!

Be on the lookout, all of you, for the next installment.