Desperate Househusbands - Renewed!
DESPERATE HOUSEHUSBANDS CHAPTER 7, PART 1 - The 1995 cherry-pink Nissan pickup, driven by a wild-eyed Bookie, slewed around the corner of Sandbar Avenue onto Volcano Lane. Young Phil, having forgotten to buckle up after getting dragged along, flys awkwardly into Bookie lap. "Excu...excu...excuse me!" Phil stammers after landing with a face full of Bookie's frontispiece. Bookie glances down at the handsome young man and murmurs, "Later big boy. Later." Then she punches the gas in hot pursuit of the distant motorcycle. In the back of the truck, DarStar has one hand on the side of the truckbed and another on the David. Unfortunately, the wild turn and DarStar's grip on a certain portion of David has caused damage to said work of art. Snap! "Hell's #*&##&!" DarStar exclaims. Then, "Well...with the statue ruined, I'll just have to take this part home. Can't have the whole thing be a waste now." And she tucks the memorial piece firmly in between "DarStar" and "Chaos" being as she doesn't have pockets in her current ensemble. Back on Sandbar Avenue, Stillbrad has finally succeeded in getting his wheelchair downstairs. "GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR, YOU LAYABOUT! I'M NOT HERE TO SEE YOU BECOME A BEDRIDDEN RUTABEGA. START WITH THE WHEELIE EXERCISES. AND NO TELEVISION UNTIL I SEE YOU WHEELIE ACROSS THE FLOOR AND BACK AGAIN. AND NO DINNER EITHER, YOU LACKWIT!" Truelysapphire punctuates her comments with small slaps to the back of Stillbrad's head. "Yes, dear," he whispers. Truelysapphire walks toward the kitchen muttering in what to almost anyone else would be a exclaimatory volume, "ALL THE TIME WITH THE BIRDWATCHING! NEVER THINKING ABOUT WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE! LAZY LOAFER! DRAGGING AROUND ALL THE TIME LIKE HE'S STUCK IN SOME TARPOOL! I'LL TAR AND FEATHER HIS GOLDBRICKING SELF!" Stillbrad begins popping wheelies, and picturing the two cuties rolling around on the lawn in his head, quickly falls over backward. "Oh boy," he sighs. TO BE CONTINUED

And the saga continues...Bravo!!!! :lol:

*claps hands retardedly and squeels with delight* Thank you, Nom de Plume for continuing the saga! Are you working on the battling Ice Queens as well? :wink: If you are, please send Ice Queen Tif to the laser tatoo removal clinic? Her namesake would like that an awful lot, maybe be so grateful as to plant a big sloppy wet kiss onya!!!!

:shock: :shock: :shock: :cool: :cool: :cool: :cool:

DUDE! I got left out of this chapter. That sucks. :sad:

Heh, "stuck in a tarpool" and popping wheelies in a wheelchair. :lol: :cool:

DESPERATE HOUSEHUSBANDS CHAPTER 7 - PART 2 But the cuties Stillbrad has rolling around in his head are no longer there. Lil Miss and Brinna aren't rolling around in the grass, or pulling each other's hair, but seriously wondering how to get out of their current position, which happens to be on Hakeedohn's overstuffed, plaid couch. "This is all your fault," whispers Lil Miss to Brinna. "Is not," Brinna replies. But Lil Miss fails to continue arguing as she really takes a good look at Hak's den. All around the room are examples of expensive techno-junk. From the iPod photo laying on the endtable next to his Sharper Image Stretching Human Touch Robotic Leather Massage Recliner to a Magellan RoadMate 700 Portable GPS sitting next to his D-Link MediaLounge Wireless Media Player with DVD and Flash Card Reader on top of his Sony Grand WEGA 60" Widescreen Digital-Cable-Ready Rear-Projection LCD HDTV. "Lord, it's the jackpot!" Lil Miss whispers. "Oh my yes, Mosiah is the jackpot of scripture as it contains some remarkable sermons on the need for a Christ-centered life and remarkable examples of faith in times of extreme persecution!" Hak clutches his Morrocan-leather bound Book of Mormon tighter as the gleam of righteousness, or whatever, sparkles in his eyes. But he refocuses on the two women. "Oh I am so sorry, I am forgetting my manners! Let me get you two some Kool Aid and chocolate-chip cookies! My wife baked them before heading out to check on her Mary Kay, Amway, and Tupperware customers." Hak disappears into the kitchen leaving a still worried Brinna and a dollar-sign envisioning Lil Miss perched awkwardly on the plaid couch. "Listen, let's get out of here while we can!" Brinna says as she rises. "Shut up, sit down, and look around Bonehead!" Lil Miss hisses. 'This is EXACTLY the kind of place we were looking for all morning. This room alone can make us thousands. I can't wait to see the rest of the house!" "Are you sure we won't get made staying here any longer?" "Stop worrying, Brinna. What could go wrong?" Hak emerges from the kitchen with a tray of iced lemonade and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Here Sisters! Help yourselves to the cookies! Here's a glass for you Sister....Miss. And one for you, Sister....Brinna." Hak gets the girls names off the tags they are wearing on their lapels. "You know, you should get those nametags replaced. They've got the name of the church wrong!" Hak suggests. "Oh crap! We're made! Let's run for it!" Brinna exlaims jumping up and quickly spills her lemonade down the front of Lil Miss's blouse. Lil Miss waves her hands and tries to salvage the situation. "Calm down, calm down, damnit!" she stage whispers. Hak stares intently at Lil Miss's chest, but the nametag is forgotten, as his attention is riveted by a certain physical reaction the icy lemonade has brought about which is more than evident through the soaked material of Lil Miss's blouse. Utterly forgotten is Brinna, who still in a panic, grabs a marble replica statuette of "The Thinker" and whacks Hak upside the head. Looking down at the unconscious Hak, Lil Miss mutters, "Well that's a @*#%$' fine mess! Now what are we gonna do?" Meanwhile next door, Matt is on the phone to Q-Bone... "But I don't wanna go to the whine country!" Matt whines. "Can't a man just drown his sorrows with a fine case of Quitin' Time and some pretzels while watchin' Spike TV and tumbin' old issues of She-Hulk and What If?" "Listen, Matt, it's 'wine country'," Qbone quietly replies. " And I'm not gonna let you turn into some self-pitying, withdrawn, geeky, comic-book guy! So, pack a bag because I have found someone to watch the children and WE ARE GOING to the wine-country. Hop to it boy! Don’t make me bring my sword over there!” And lovingly running a polishing-cloth over the blade held between his knees, Qbone hangs up the phone. “That boy needs to get out more. Get away from that Trekkie, comic-ie-stuff. He needs to get a maid,” intones Qbone. “He needs to get laid?!?!?” says a mildly confused Rufus. “That too,” Qbone intones with a final swipe of the polishing-cloth. Matt hangs up his phone, in the process knocking over a stack of Mad magazines and an authentic Mattel Spock model. He guzzles his beer and heaves the empty into a genuine Avengers trashcan. He stares blankly at the television screen for a couple of minutes, chuckles lamely at the MXC commercial and trudges back to his bedroom to pack a bag. On the way he avoids looking at the picture of he and his wife who left him months ago. But the image is always there. It was taken of him and Le Belle when they were on their honeymoon in Ohio visiting her family and going to the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame. Those were the good days. He remembered that he felt just like Spiderman the first time he kissed MaryJane. Ahhhhh.....hell. He opens his drawers and looks vainly for a clean pair of shorts to pack. Meanwhile back on VolcanoLane... Pika has pulled into Idolfan’s Quickstop to get a couple litres of gasoline in her Harley and maybe a Dr.Pepper into her. As she walks into the station a 1995 cherry-pink Nissan pickup roars by with a woman in the back screaming, “Faster Damnit!! We can still catch the minx!” Pika wonders for a minute what odd folk live in this area. “Crazy, man. But with money! I guess that makes them only, ‘eccentric’.” Pika carefully shifts her bustier to keep her honeys from bouncing out. One of those maddening things about having such an ample bosom: keeping the darn things in place. They certainly were good for business though...especially when things got chilly. Nothing helped the winter lawn care business more than a couple of perky winter nipples. Grabbing a bottle of Dr. Pepper, Pika leans on the counter. “What’s the damage, sweetie?” Idolfan clears his throat, pulls his eyes off Pika's "assets" and tries desperately to remember the cost of a bottle of Dr. Pepper. To be Continued...

That's what I get for letting Chaos navigate :roll: :wink: :lol: :lol: :lol:

So...are we getting any more installments?? Please don't pull a FOX and cancel it before completion! Or, even worse, substitute The Complicated Life. :shock:

I've enjoyed rereading this today. Like Brinna, I'm waiting for the next installment!!! Has the ink run out of Nom's De Plume?

I think someone skeert Nom de Plume's feather's right off his quill and he left the island runnin skeert! The big chicken!

Who was/is Nom De Plume? Pika knows...are they still here? Make them start this again....yes I said MAKE THEM!