Bill O. farmer Bill O. farmer
Recommendations: 14

head to foot. tip of the ears?

Bill O. farmer Bill O. farmer
Recommendations: 14

For some reason I read nonestop to the end like you were fast pacing me. I say you because it is your story and you affect a reader's pace. Figure out the paragraphs and breathers/pauses in the story so it has a better flow pattern. So far it is a good story and revamp it and it shines. Happy writing.

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Marysue Shaw Marysue Shaw
Recommendations: 1

Bar Gnome


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She had a friend.

This writing contains explicit content and is only for adults. You have been warned.

any critiques welcome (I use Canadian spelling, by the way...ergo, honour, double L's, etc.)


Bar Gnome
by M.S. Shaw (all north american copyright laws apply)


     I flitted into the Thicket Bar to douse my sorrows in whisky sour.  I was into my second jug when I noticed a gnome with a patch over one eye at the end of the bar.  Leaning at a 90 degree angle from his barstool, he checked me over with his one good eye.  He looked me up and down from the tip of my ears to the tip of my toes.  When his scrutiny was done, he said in a a giant's voice, "Would you care to dance?"  
     I shrugged.  "Sure."
     Why not dance with him?  At this point in my life, I'd dance with the devil himself.  After all, I'd lived with him (the devil, that is) for six years.  That devil -- the last man in my life -- had found a new woman behind my back.  She was enceinte with his child, and I was enceinte with sorrow, failure and a feeling of inadequacy.  Why not dance with the gnome?  Did I have anything better to do at the moment?
     So the gnome and I semi-chased each other in an old rock ‘n’ roll dance around the dark floor of the thicket.  I could not really see his face well, but I gleaned an impression of an egghead with a couple of strands of hair strung across it from one pointed ear to the other.  To my surprise, he was a good dancer.  We stayed for another dance.  And another.   Inexplicably, I felt myself relax in his arms.  I tried to stiffen up, and failed.  His arms felt alarmingly comfortable.
     "Do you mind if I call you sometime?" he said, as he escorted me back to my own bar perch when the music stopped playing and the band packed up.  "Maybe I could take you to dinner?"
     "Dinner?"  My stomach growled.  A meal?  Gawd!  When was the last time I ate?  When was the last time I wanted to eat?  But, me a fairy?  Go out with a gnome?  On a date?  What would other fairies say? 1 comment


Besides, what happened on dates these days?  Were you expected to have sex on the first date now?  When was the last time I had sex?  Even wanted sex?  When was the last time my devil lover and I...
    
I didn't want to think about that.  
     "Well, I'm not ready for a relationship,”  I said.  “I just got out of one."
    "Me, too," said the gnome.  "Fifteen years married.  And now it's over.  Don't get me wrong.  I still love my wife, and I'm not ready for a relationship, either.  Just dinner.  Is that OK?"
    I had a feeling somewhere inside that it was not OK, but the lonely part of me was bigger.  "Well..." I prevaricated.
    "How about you think about it and I'll call you to find out what you decided?"
    "Ah...I don't know.  I guess so.  OK."
    I went home and forgot all about the gnome until he phoned.
    "What about dinner Saturday? We’ll go to the Dungeness Diner."
    "All right," I found myself saying.
    Later, I called him back to change the place to Isolation Bay, far away from town.  I didn't want to be seen dining with a gnome here in Fairy’s Landing.  I worried about the date right up until the fated day.  I picked him up in my own wagon, for his horse was a tad lame and tended to fart frequently and loudly.
    He fed me dinner and took me to a nightclub where a couple of gnomes and a half-dozen hobbits gyrated on a square floor to a country and western band.  There were few elves and even fewer fairies.  I felt out of place and the gnome fretted about running into his ex-wife.  Apparently he and his ex used to go there often.  Was this mere gnome ashamed to be seen with me, a fairy?  Incredibly , it would seem so!
   We stayed an hour and left.  When I dropped him off at his toadstool on the big log in the village, he turned around and gave me a hug and a kiss goodnight.  None of it was bad.  He asked me to a Woods People's Winter Solstice  dance at a place halfway between Outpost Inlet and Desolation Cove.  I startled myself by consenting.  
     Until the big day came, my palms sweated and my guts cringed.  He must have felt the same way, too, for the first thing he said when I saw him was, “I'm scared of you.  I've never gone out with a fairy before."
     Scared of me?  I was considered "no threat" -- even inconsequential in Queensville, where my devil lived.  
     The Christmas party was pleasant: tasty prawns and halibut, except for the scalloped mushrooms which were soft and bland as a perogy, my devil's favourite dish.  The decorations were unpretentious and artistically placed; the music: danceable and varied.
     We danced to the Righteous Brothers.  He folded my hand inside his and held it against the exposed triangle chest hair under his prognathic chin.  I felt the thick, soft fur there and wondered how it would feel to run my hands through it.  Then I wondered if it would tickle my nipples...
     I pushed the unholy thought away.  This was a gnome, after all!  Not my tall, dark and handsome devil in Queensville.  I wouldn't want him to see me with a gnome.  I wanted him to see me with someone handsomer than he was.  Better dressed.  And more attentive.
     I drove the long, twisted way home, while my gnome chatted merrily.  He was happy.  I gave him a hug and kiss, and he seemed to shrink away.  Did he know they weren't real?  That they sprang from an artesian well of loneliness almost as deep as his own?
     But we continued to see one another, exploring new parts of the forest and each other, becoming more comfortable and content with each other as time went on.
     Then one day, under his toadstool, we touched each other.  It must have been a magic touch, for after that moment, he ceased being a gnome and I ceased being a fairy.  We became like human beings, with human urges and desires.  When we kissed again, things were very much different and much more exciting.  
   Now, I believe there’s no place like gnome.  ? 1 comment


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