Welcome to this addition of “Thursday Threat” where we pit author versus author in a challenging game of mesmerizing malarky and wit flavored mumbo jumbo. An author will select a prompt, write a 300 word or less response to that prompt, and then send this bundle to a challenger. The challenger will then be expected to reply or live in shame and sudden cultural abandonment. Winner is decided by the sudden fan fare we expect them to receive.
You are walking down the neon lit street of Hong Kong one summer evening. You gaze up to see an electronic message scrolling across the screen saying “We are sorry to inform you that the world has run out of electricity and a dark chaotic life will ensue. Good luck and Thank You.” You look around to lock eyes with other pedestrians who read the same thing. You hold eye contact for a few seconds, and then in a cold instant, the lights go out.
“Really? You would build yourself a bathroom that had a switch that fogged the windows up when you turned it on? Wow. You are a dummy.”
“Well what would you pick then?”
“Man, if I could have one hour with anything that had the spark… easy, it would be this little plastic case my dad brought back from some country without safety standards. It had two jelly pads and wires connecting these pads back to a softly rounded base station with two spinning dials. There were no instructions but the two distinct icons of a set of wavy lines and a man looking as though he is vibrating could only mean one thing, automatic electronic massage pads of course! I would spend hours researching the pain threshold at various points of the body. One day I decided to place one pad on my lower left rib, and the other pad on my lower right rib. I began the experiment and increased the power. Without warning I had lost all bodily control and was engulfed with the biggest and most powerful tickle of my life! I was floundering on the ground with my arms contorted into obtuse angles and my gasps for air just breaking through a piercing laugh that sounded like a cackle of young teenage girls all telling the same story at the same time. After eight minutes my mom entered my room to find me in this exorcist state and quickly unplugged me from the pads. I can remember that moment well. I just laid there. I laid there and smiled and I genuinely felt good. Give me the spark and I would have a laughing orgasm for one hour.”
Burners Response (8 hours after challenge)
Embarrassed by his nature’s reaction, he refutes “My dear, you realize that little massager you speak of has done nothing great for the male species?”
“Oh please, if anything it has made you work harder! Anyway, the spark would not be necessary for my hand held massager, as it is battery operated. I will simply steal my AAs from the remote, when need be, which will ultimately render me with these ‘laughing orgasms’ without interruption from my mother, of course, because I live soloâ€¦aloneâ€¦by myself”, she shudders at the thought of both the laughing orgasms and the desolate living situation as she whispers under her breath, “If only that thing would cuddleâ€¦”
“Excuse me?” he interrupts.
“Oh nothingâ€¦the spark. Yes, the spark. Considering the cold and dark world we live in now I would take my hour of spark time to charge my iPod touch. With that external speaker, the world can experience a music and picture show in the palm of my hands. I will be popular, for once. Also, during that hour I will download songs and video to prompt me during “hand held massager” time because clearly you can’t sanctify me.”
After that jab, her fantasies retreat while she ponders that, regardless of this man’s self-proclaimed inept skill, she will return home to her massager, giggle tirelessly until she falls asleep holding her pillow, once a again. To cuddle or not to cuddle, that is the compromiseâ€¦