"Sean revelled in his jetpack's capabilities."
I am publishing this book on Steemit one thousand words at a time, a few times per week. Scroll down for the latest chapter.
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What this book is about:
Everything you think you know about elves is wrong, wrong, wrong. You. Have. No. Idea! What you think you know: There are elves for Christmas. Elves for cobblers. Little winged Irish fairy elves. Short Shakespearean meddlers. Pretty, sanctimonious stuck up Tolkien types. Yes, even some dark Norse dwarves got pegged with the label. All incorrect. Flawed. Totally stupid.
This story is about how a handful of real elves and a few pathetic less-than-average humans deal with the fall of civilization. And yes, in the telling of this story, some secrets of the sex lives of elves are revealed. Hubba hubba.
WARNING: This book contains adult themes and content!
[You can more easily follow my book at Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/134804459-the-secret-sex-lives-of-elves ]
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Chapter 1.3: The Peculiar End of Life Experience of Sean Hasker
Sean revelled in his jetpack's capabilities. It was a long trip full of loops, whoop-de-doos and hazardous flybys. He even did corkscrew barrel rolls around an Airbus full of very nervous passengers. Then, after 1300 kms travelling at speeds up to MACH 7, Sean spotted the world-famous house nestled just outside of Bathurst, New Brunswick.
This was the homestead of The Hicks of Bathurst. World-famous distillers of Hicks Maple Rye Whiskey and stars of their own wildly popular streaming broadcast, featuring the incredible Fannie Mae Hicks. Incredible because her fanny is responsible for billions of nocturnal teenage fantasies, and an ongoing fortune spent on ass-sculpting surgery. There just was no denying it: Her rear was a firm bubbly wonder. Clad every episode in - at most - cut-off jeans, Fannie Mae's derriere had conquered the competition, even surpassing hit shows like 'Stuffing Stephen', '500 Shades of Pink', 'What Are Bobby's Boobies Doing Now?' and even the supernatural hit 'Seeking the Fourth Orifice'. The secret? She's never naked. Oh, there was that time her brother Elmer barged in on her while she was in the shower, and the world was treated to a fuzzy flesh view of her through a translucent shower curtain. That was the so-called Big Reveal episode Internet Inc. had spent three weeks teasing the world about. Billions were pissed off by that misleading advertising, but, boy, did the world ever replay that segment over and over anyway. So never, ever, had anyone seen that ripe peach bereft of clothing. As a marketing strategy, it was genius. Sexy was sexiest without sex. In the vulgar world of 2037, that was actually revolutionary.
The whole clan was in the backyard, sitting on various pieces of clutter: an old stump, some beaten lawn chairs, a washing machine blasted with buckshot, an old rotting couch, and a couple of very old bucket seats. Fannie Mae was there, polka-dot bikini-clad, lying off to the side on a recliner in the sun, buns up gently toasting.
Oh, just look at her! Sean certainly was as he plopped down right in the Hick's midst, his jetpack landing blast somehow disturbing no one.
Gramps - the family patriarch - rose and limped over to Sean, a fresh bottle of whiskey in hand. He was a bald, short stick figure wearing tattered jeans which hung off of him like drapes, and a white, dirty t-shirt. There was sagging flesh where his biceps should be. His dirty bare feet had nails each suffering from their own unique fungoid infection. His beard was almost as long as he was tall. At a crouched-over four-foot-nine that was still rather lengthy.
Despite the decrepit state of the old man, Sean had an unfamiliar impulse to hug him. He loved this family. Before today, he had never held his mother, and never understood loving, intimate touch. Daddy on top of me, pressing me into my mattress, perverted muthafucka!
"Well, how do y'all do lad! We done heard y'all was coming. Even baked y'all ayy maple cake!" Gramps said, his ecstatic words whistling through what few crooked black teeth he had left.
And - pop! - there was a table covered with a checkered red and white country tablecloth. Bottles of various Hicks whiskey encircled the cake. It was enormous and adorned with mounds of sugary icing topped with cherries. Mounds. Cherries. Sean impulsively glanced over at Fannie Mae's hills and valley. Is there a cherry in there? Mother of God!
Sean's jetpack morphed into a reclining chair. He took a seat and graciously accepted a plate of cake and a glass of Hicks Premium 21 Rye from Edna, daughter of Gramps and mother of 9 boys and Fannie Mae. Now, she didn't look anything like Fannie Mae. She was deep into middle age sporting the classic "I've had babies" pear-shaped body and drooping boobs. It would be hard to imagine her genes producing a woman as jaw-dropping as her one daughter. Even harder to believe that Fannie Mae could look much like her in 30 years. Surprisingly, Sean didn't heckle her. Not even to himself. Normally, he'd be all over that! Ageing is hard, he realized. Edna had had 10 children, plus several miscarriages and one stillbirth. Her husband had died five years earlier in a compressor explosion. He knew this as he was a loyal follower of the show. This woman had seen so much, and here she was serving him whiskey and cake. He was not going to put her down. Respect. Respect!
"Thank you, Edna. Bottoms up!" said Sean, tipping the glass to his thirsty lips. Fannie Mae must have heard because she shook her ass in response. Wiggle, jiggle. Oh. My.
The half circle of the Hicks clan sitting about hungrily followed Sean's example. Elmer, always the clown, tipped himself and his bottle back far too much and fell ass-first off his stump. The whole family cackled, slapping knees.
"Yee-haw, Elmer! You shat for brains!" laughed BB, the eldest son.
Edna scolded Elmer. "Get up! Ya never think!"
"Sorry, Ma." Elmer was giggling though. Ever the fool.
Sean felt good. Almost perfect. What was missing? Miranda, that's who. He wished she was here, enjoying the laughter, taking in the comfort of family. Yes, it felt good. Sean had never felt like this. He'd felt amazing from alcohol and drugs, laughing at the misfortunes of others, dominating others, and, of course, sex. But never had he felt the warmth of truly being part of something. Every other time sitting with folk he had always seen himself in some sort of contest to stay on top. He had always secretly felt insecure unless he felt he controlled the room. Not here. This was family.
Sean had never had a family. Just abuse and anxiety. He had never had any place he could call a sanctuary. He so much wanted Miranda here to experience this with him.
Miranda herself also had never had a family. He wanted to be holding her hand, laughing along with her. Later they could walk in the nearby woods, head to the Atlantic beachfront nearby and frolic in the ocean. He just wanted that to happen, and to go on forever.
But it wouldn't would it? They would grow old and die. And this clan, well, he was still an outsider, just a guest here. They couldn't stay here forever. Where could they go to find such love?
And then it clicked. "Why... I could have my own family!" he spoke out loud.
Gramps answered. "Why, yes, son. Y'all could. It's how we carry on even aftuurr we've done left this here world."
Elmer laughed. "Hey! I thinks Sean here has had an a-penis-fa-me!"
"Epiphany! There's no dang penis in it, Elmer!" shouted BB. More cackling went around.
Gramps wandered over to Sean, crouched beside him, and whispered in his ear, motioning in Fannie Mae's direction. "Ay know y'all want huurr. Who doesn't? Some av my grandsons probably have done had so many impure thoughts. Geez, ay don't wan-ta know. But y'all? you're ayy darn good man. And ayy senataw at that there Ottawwaa! Whel, go ta her, my man. She's a-willin', just faw y'all. She'd give y'all kinds o' kin."
What an offer!
-- End of chapter 1-3 --
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