The esteemed mountain climber, Javier von Bigthrust, was working his way toward the summit of Mount Sapphia when he rounded a tree and encountered this scene.
His first instinct, as he gazed upon such a mystifying display of estrogen-based revelry, was that he should run back down the mountain and alert appropriate authorities. In his many experiences over the years as a naturist, he had never encountered this particular species of wildlife. After all, the first rule of the jungle is you don’t poke a stick at things you can’t identify.
His second instinct, based on the lack of panties being worn by the woman on the far left as she painfully strained to warble whatever ditty they were bellowing, was that maybe he should lay his hat here for the night and hope for the best. Perhaps there might be poking after all.
His final thought, however, was that people are people and we should all just nod politely to one another and remain true to our own journeys. It’s not our place to question the choices of others unless those choices directly affect us. Javier quietly slipped away and continued his climb, only pausing once to look back and listen to the faint refrains from below, then he sighed and carried on…
Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Modified and extended for this post.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Javier, such a gentleman.But, a question; Nymph, third from right, seated, looks like she’s hit a high C, not from singing Kumbaya with the Saphia sisters but having the Victrola crushing her toes. Or is the little minx calling out in frustration to the departing Javier? And, I know you’ve’ been asked before, but where do you get these odd vintage/ alternate universe photos from? They are a Box Brownie crapfest of craziness.
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This isn’t the first time that the true nature of the Victrola has been revealed. It was clearly a demonic machine intent on violence and mayhem, just as the Baptists predicted.
As for my photo sources, I’m sure it will not surprise you to learn that I spend countless hours trolling through dark and questionable pockets of inanity on the Internet. It takes forever, but I generally know instantly when I stumble across something that I can subvert…
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Obviously I go on the wrong camping trips.
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There’s still time. Keep trying! 😉
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I’m in love with this ❤️
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As you should be… 😉
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I think I would have quietly slipped away too. 😀
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Good choice, as shortly after this they began the fire-dance in honor of Vesuvia the Singing Huntress Goddess, complete with the tossing about of flaming batons…
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Ha. I actually did attend a “pagan festival” in college. It was sort of like this but without the nymph-wear. 🙂
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The woman in white, who overthrew convention and the dress code for the Sisters of Sapphia Camp-out and Songfest, should feel the teensiest bit uncomfortable. I mean everyone else eschewed panties (apparently), and took the toga to a new level. Maybe that woman in white is the guidance counselor from the off-shoot to the Sisters of Sapphia – the conservative right wingers, there to spy on the far more liberal (and having loads more fun besides apparently). Her idea of costumery is jarring though, throwing the whole picture off. The picture didn’t need any help in that arena. And that woman on the left sans drawers is a brave soul. Because who knows what lurks in questionable fields of grass and weeds? Who knows what might hitch a ride on a leg or nether region? I’d make HER sleep in her own tent alone. And maybe I’m just the wee-est bit jealous because my days of sans drawers are so far in the rear-view, I barely remember the time.
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I pondered the backstory of the Matronly Woman in White as well, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with her considering I wanted to keep this one relatively short. I do like your imaginative scenario, though, and it gives me fodder for the NEXT revision of this piece. (Because you know it’s coming, as I can’t leave well enough alone.)
And yes, I would pause before running about al fresco in this little camp, as you know there are tiny critters running amok, bent on taking advantage of exposed crevices and whatnot. Then again, in my wilder, younger days, I was known to run about sans underthings, regardless of invasion potential. Especially if singing was involved…
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Documentary Narrator: Javier showed remarkable restraint as he desperately controlled his stick-poking tendencies and succeeded in his escape. After all, nature nymphs, despite appearances, possess an incredibly dangerous siren song, and all manner of weak males, especially orange-hued ding dongs, might breach the crest as heeding the nymphs’ call, they run rabidly over any other contenders while lured forward by thoughts of complete possession. Alas, once sated and drained upon their own empty visions, they lie vacant and vacuous, collapsed bags of water that the nymphs delicately traverse as they glide back to their place in the misty forest.
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This is scrumptious and clever. And now that you have introduced such a vision into my cerebellum, it will be all I can think about in regards to Agent Orange. It would be a perfect denouement for He Who Should Never Have Been Elected. And on his tombstone it will read, simply, “Vacant and Vacuous”.
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Bravo, Javier! And bravo to you, Brian, for proclaiming his good deed by not doing the deed.
The world could use more Javiers. We know they’re out there. Problem is the bad ones get more press.
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That’s exactly it: The bad ones get more press. Remember, back in the day, when it was the opposite?
Where did we go wrong?
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I think Javier had a very nice encounter with “estrogens” as you say. Very nice story.
🙋🏼♀️🌹
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Thank you, Yvonne!
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🌹
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