Thursday, July 8, 2010

Bad sex lingo

“Mommy, I found this book in the attic. Didn’t quite understand it. Can you explain it to me?” 8-year-old Eric Darcy asked his mother. She was tucking him in for the night.

Elizabeth looked at the book. It was a dark green pocket notebook with a quality leather cover. She opened the first page: Fitzwilliam 1987.

“It must be your father’s diary…when he was 8 years old. We shouldn’t read it without his permission.”

“It’s not. It’s just word lists or strange poems.” He shook his head and urged his mother on.

With a slight hesitation and then a flip of the page, she saw a list of phrases.

“Ah you’re right.” She murmured and read out loud the first one.

Dip the chip and
visit the nether lands…

Her mouth gaped open and she closed the book immediately. “Hmm…”

“What does it mean?” Eric asked.

“Hmm…Your daddy was probably just practising his writing. You know like Uncle Bingley. He still writes with blots because he didn’t practise his writing. So they’re just nonsense. How about I read ‘The Christmas Carol’ to you?” She distracted her son’s attention and put the notebook in her jacket’s pocket.

After Eric had fallen asleep, Elizabeth went back to her room.

“I can’t imagine he was like that at 8…” Mumbling to herself, she opened the notebook again:

Shoot the girl and
Sweep out the chimney

Play on the hair court and
the pocket billiard

“What are you murmuring about?” Darcy’s baritone voice startled Elizabeth and she dropped the notebook.

When she bent to retrieve it, he snatched it from her and settled on the bed to read it.

“Where did you learn such bad language when you were 8?” She looked at her husband accusingly. “Eric read it.”

He broke out in laughter and then proceeding to read out loud.

Put your snake in the grass
Ride the skin bus into tuna town

“I’ve had enough of it!” She protested.

Darcy pulled her down in his lap and explained. “It’s not mine. It’s Richard’s.”

“Oh…” She said and finally saw the benefit of continuing to read. So she joined in to learn about their cousin’s youthful follies. “He wrote that at what…15?”

“1987? He was 13.” Darcy grinned. “We’ll have live ammunition to tease him forever. Oh, I like this one”

Suckle the dummy and
erect the Christmas tree

Darcy turned to look at Elizabeth archly. She burst out laughing and tried to get away from him. But he tackled her onto the bed and nuzzled her chest. By the time he tore open her shirt and suckled her ‘flash lights’, Darcy’s Christmas tree was proudly erected and lit up in red and purple.

Throughout the night, husband and wife laughed, read and made love in a boisterous manner.

As for Uncle Richard, he was seen bribing and charming servants and children to help him retrieve his lost handbook from the merciless Darcys.

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