Idiot Fondue

Dispatches from the Wasteland: The Paradoxical Prodding of Personal Pastries

Note: This quaint little multi-part story (there are three episodes) contains some decidedly-adult language here and there. I’m sure that most of you will be fine with that, but I feel compelled to mention this in case some of you do not care to have your sensibilities ruffled at this particular point in your life trajectory.

Our saga concerns an extended therapy session with the esteemed but uncertified Dr. Brian, wherein he has simultaneously received a startling email and a transferred phone call from the writer of said email. This explains the odd beginning to our tale. It does not explain what proceeds from there. Enjoy.

 

  Dear Dr. Brian: “I have so often been asked (by straight boys predominantly) why it is that lesbians indulge in sex toys (for the enjoyment of penetration) when they have so obviously chosen to not include the opposite sex. I have a pat answer I reply with, but I was wondering if you’d even counseled anyone in this regard.

Best to you,

The Bexx

 

Dearest The,

“I truly appreciate your frankness, and I am nearly vibrating with joy at the fact that you have chosen me for your consultation. I greatly relish the opportunity to discuss in detail the situation you describe. But do allow me one moment while I gather my notes on the matter. Please hold.”

Dr. Brian calmly punches a button on his phone, then viciously jabs a button on another device, one that should open a line of communication directly to his assistant in the front office, but this did not always prove to be the case. “Lanae!”

No immediate response, but there were subtle sounds of what might be a queen bee ingesting one of her slow-ass workers who had irritated her for the final time.

“Lanae, I know you’re there. I can hear what sounds like chewing. Are you eating again? You know I don’t care for you doing that when I need your assistance.”

Now the soundtrack changed to that of a loud, laborious gulp, followed by a belch that was far from delicate. “How was I supposed to know that you were going to call me right as I was biting into a pastry? It’s from Boudreaux’s Bakery. Chocolate cherry. I was overcome, okay?”

Dr. Brian sighed. “Of course you should have expected me to ring. You just sent me a very direct and graphic woman without any warning. We have discussed this. I was completely caught off guard, nearly spilling my carefully-prepared chicory coffee when she launched into some mess about vaginal penetration. I need to know if something like that is on the horizon.”

Lanae audibly sucked at her teeth, not willing to miss a single gram of sugared decadence. “I didn’t know that she was one of those. She didn’t seem like it to me. To be fair, I was already licking the wax paper I had unwrapped off my pastry and I may not have been focused, but I do believe I still would have caught a phrase like that. She must be one of those stealth lesbians that are all sweet until they get in the door.”

“So, you knew she was a lesbian? You could have at least mentioned that to me. One has to be very careful these days about word-slippage. You didn’t ask her what lesbian issues she might have?”

Now Lanae sighed. “Dr. Brian, I’m not a lesbian. How would I even know what questions to ask? Is there a brochure? You’re the doctor.”

“There’s absolutely no reason to be snippy.”

Lanae, empowered by the violent amounts of sugar now racing through her bloodstream, begged to differ. “I’m not the one getting all heated and bothering people just as they are contemplating a cherry, something this girl hasn’t known intimately for forty years. Besides, I’m fairly certain you can handle this. After all, I’m not the one who was arrested for nudity and possible bestiality in Paris. Shall we talk about that?”

Dr. Brian did not have an immediate response at hand.

“Thought so. I believe I have won this round. Now, I’m going to try eating another pastry without interruption, and you can go determine how you can assist Miss Penetration. We have bills that need to be paid.”

Click.

Dr. Brian sighed once more, then punched at the hold button on his phone. “Miss Bexx?”

Now a third person was sighing, indicating general dissatisfaction was apparently rampant in society at the moment. “Doctor, I don’t care for that ‘Miss’ title. It’s offensive on two levels, underscoring the fact that I remain unmarried and am therefore unworthy, which is crap, and further irritates me since lesbians cannot get married in most places. It’s belittling. I’m sure you understand.”

“What term or appellation would you prefer?”

“Well, I’m known as ‘Sheba’ in certain circles, for reasons that probably won’t interest you, and for a time I was known as ‘Ovaria’ when I stupidly joined that cult, and one of my exes came up with a few choice labels, post-breakup, that were supposed to be derogatory, but I actually found rather amusing and started using them as screen names. I go by many titles, Dr. Brian, but I suppose for today you can simply address me as ‘Goddess’. Unless you must refrain for spiritual or religious reasons.”

Dr. Brian responded immediately. “I shall be delighted to refer to you as a goddess.”

“Great. That pleases me. Perhaps I’ll pay the bill for your services after all. Now, let’s get back to my original question. This plane will be taking off shortly, and this political grand-standing can be tiresome at the wrong moments. This is one of them.”

Dr. Brian was mystified. “You’re at the airport? On a plane?”

“Lesbians are still allowed to fly, Dr. Brian. Except in certain backwoods countries, where folks fully expect God or Allah or Glenn Beck to smack the plane down if the muff divers get on board.”

Dr. Brian was now intrigued. “So, the people around you can hear everything you’re saying?”

“They could hear me, until they all asked to be relocated after I started talking to you. Even the flight attendant won’t come near me, but eventually she won’t have a choice. I’m using her abandoned beverage cart to chill my vodka, and these people are going to get thirsty at some point. Now, once again, let’s get back to my original question.”

“Why is it that straight people are so mystified with lesbians who use lusty equipment to plunge, prod and provoke?”

Bexx guffawed. “Very good, Doctor. We’re approaching the same level, but you have miles to go before you reap. Carry on.”

“Well, this does remind me of a story-”

“I’m not interested in fairy tales. Some bitch loses a shoe and gets to marry a prince? Not in my book.”

“I think you’ll like this one. It’s served me well in the past.”

“I don’t know.” (Sudden sounds of a garbled public announcement being broadcast through the plane.) “Well, damn,” uttered Bexx.

“Flight delay?” asked Dr. Brian.

“Well, not really. Sort of. Apparently, they have an issue with odd sounds coming from a set of luggage. Probably mine.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Who else on this plane would have a set of designer Martina Navratilova luggage, with the tennis racket zipper pulls? It’s not like this plane is going to Palm Springs, in which case there would be magenta Martina bags from stem to stern.” (More sighing.)  “I hope I’m not gonna get arrested again. I’ll have to call you back. Don’t go anywhere. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say!”

Click.

Dr. Brian stabbed at the intercom again. “Lanae, do we still have that Merlot that Madonna sent us after the incident in Malawi?”

Lanae, not consuming anything at the moment, responded instantly. “One bottle or two?”

“Everything we’ve got.”

 

Click here to read the next entry in this series…

 

Originally published in “Idiot Fondue” and “The Sound and the Fury” as Case Studies 35-37. Modified a bit for this resharing of the series.

Oh, and for those of you who were intrigued by the brief mention of Dr. Brian’s nudity arrest in Paris, THAT story has already been launched here at Bonnywood, but I might expose it again if you say something sweet about me in the comments…

Cheers.

P.S. The photo is of some sugary delicacies that my Momma got for my birthday last January. (Aww!) And I had to throw the ducks in because, well, the ducks are always with me…

 

24 replies »

  1. I got my pearls out and was ready to clutch them, but…
    It’s like that feeling, you know, when something is building and building… you just know its gonna be big, building and building… your head my actually explode, building… then, no sneeze. I wonder why that happens? Anyway, no pearl clutching.

    Dr Brian seems to have a dilly of a pickle with this new patient and all. I’ll be looking forward to the next part of the story.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m so sorry that you were not able to clutch, as that can be very annoying. Admittedly, my opening warning made things seem a bit more salacious than they really were/are, but I felt impelled to make the disclaimer, nonetheless. Perhaps I will be able to inspire clutching with future posts.

      But I do have to say that your mention of a pickle is rather pithy, as a pickle (well, actually pre-pickle in the form of a cucumber) is a significant element in the origin story of Dr. Brian’s incarceration in Paris. Perhaps I should share that story after all…

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I can’t with all the laughing! 😆

    So two major comedic moments for me:

    “Dearest The,”

    AHAHA! Genius.

    And obviously, the further genius of:

    “…where folks fully expect God or Allah or Glenn Beck to smack the plane down if the muff divers get on board.”

    What the actual….😆

    B.

    You need to be on telly. For reals, babe.

    💋

    Liked by 1 person

    • With uncanny precision, you have hit upon my two favorite lines in this piece. This pleases me immensely, especially since I almost took out the “Dearest The” bit because the flow was kind of awkward in that I screwed around with the original opening.

      I would love to be on the telly. But the telly isn’t returning my phone calls… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      • Lol! That “Dearest The” almost had me laughing so much I thought, well why read the rest??? 😆 But I did, obviously. So happy you kept it in.

        Well I shall write a sternly worded letter to the telly people (that’s what us Brits do lol) and give them a good telling off!
        Xxxx

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I can answer Bexx in a pithy and short statement. Why do lesbians enjoy a dildo (call a toy a toy) when they’ve pledged fidelity to the other team? Because (here comes the short and pithy bit): Sometimes there’s just nothing like a bone. Okay then. NOW. The more pressing, nosy question that springs to my mind is does the lesbian with bone enjoy the experience? I could elucidate further, but I hear the sound of mob yelling in the nearby woods and suspect there’s another torch and pitchfork incident in the offing. Possibly because that mob has discovered that I embrace both sides of the fence equally and with gusto. Or I DID, when I used to frolic. Another story for another day.

    Liked by 3 people

    • I hear you completely on this. Well, not completely, as there is also a mob outside the gates of Bonnywood Manor, and the noise is very intrusive. (They are not particularly riled by the subject of lesbian bone thoughts, but they ARE miffed that I cancelled this weekend’s Performance Art exhibit, due to a matter with copyright issues and whatnot. Some folks just don’t understand that a one-time usage of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” is very costly, so I can’t justify the Roman Orgy tribute. Things are very complicated at Bonnywood, as always.)

      Like

  4. Sometimes a touch of tribadism becomes a little wearing? Mayhap, on occasion, reception- without the fear of conception- can be deeply moving? Who knows? When it comes to that, whatever makes you smile.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for this life-expanding addition to my vocabulary. Despite my internment at a liberal arts college, I was never exposed to this “tribadism” term. (Okay, maybe I was, but there was drinking at the same time. Lots of drinking.) But now that I have been enlightened, I’m sure I will be throwing this word about freely. Brace yourself.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Bexx didn’t ask me, but my typical response to nosy question like that is: “Is this something you need to know?” with a special emphasis on “need” and a deliberate slowing down. Giving them time to consider how much they really want to know the answer.
    But I’m in full anticipation for hearing your response, Dr. Brian.

    P.S.: Were the delicacies from your loving Momma cake pops, and if so, were they chococate cake? They look delightful, but I’m imagining a frozen version – – think: chocolate chip ice cream and brownie inside, chocolate coating with M&Ms, sprinkles and a white chocolate glaze… oh my…

    Liked by 1 person

    • In the world of Dr. Brian, every question is yet another romp through the murkiness of “need”. And even after he has dispensed his questionable wisdom, the murkiness remains. Because he’s not a very good therapist.

      You essentially nailed the composition of Momma’s treats, albeit without the frozen angle. They were swooningly delicious (even the ducks said so) but then we all fell into a sugar coma and part of the weekend is missing…

      Liked by 2 people

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