Rice and Poopy – Friday WMN
Have you ever seen a dragon in a tuxedo. Don’t laugh.
Whatever you do, don’t laugh. I just finished putting
out some unfortunate soul with a fire extinguisher and
do not look forward to doing it again.
A regal looking female muse stood on the dias, wings
fluttering in annoyance as the crowd took its own
sweet time settling down. I put the fire extinguisher
away and headed for the bar, knowing that the ceremony
would start later rather than sooner. Friday was still
licking some residual chocolate off a well built
Adonis of a muse in the back corner as I opened my
beer.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready. You’re already late
for your own coronation as Web-Mistress,” I said to
her as she sucked a drop of syrup off his nipple.
“Party pooper,” she replied, returning to the god-
like muse.
He reached around Friday, sticking his large tanned
hand out. “Mark, Mk I. But you can call me Mark,” he
said introducing himself.
“Ah yes. Mark’s muse. I should have known by the
surfer look,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“I just call him Mr. Yummy,” Friday giggled.
I was just about to make some smart-alec reply when
Kira and Dana showed up and took Friday by the arms.
Kira winked at me as they led her away.
I found my seat and was sipping my beer, waiting for
the start when a cat jumped into my lap.
“Meow,” Cat said, snuggling on my lap.
“Meow, yourself Cat. Can’t you go sit on Tony’s lap
instead. You’re going to get me in trouble sitting on
mine,” I replied.
“Trouble’s my middle name,” she said, rubbing against
me and making it hard to concentrate on my beer.
Yes that’s it. Focus on the beer, not the lovely
creature rubbing her body against me. Don’t listen to
the purring sound she’s making. Don’t let the softness
distract you. No, no, no. Damn! Just as I was reaching
to pet the pussy, she slipped off my lap and stalked
away. Her body moving lithely through the crowd as she
snuck up on her next prey. Poor unsuspecting Arty.
<Ahem>
“Good Afternoon everyone,” the regal muse announced.
“As you know Friday has studied hard and has
progressed to the point of becoming a Web-Mistress
Muse in her own right. It is with great pleasure that
we make this honorable title official. Sorry but there
will be no chocolate covered Friday for you to molest
this time.”
An audible groan is heard with that announcement. It
quickly quiets as Friday is brought out onto the
stage. She is wearing a white gown and appropriately
enough a slightly bent and tarnished halo sits upon
her short dark hair. A large white box is carried out
by Mark and another male muse I don’t recognize. Kira
and Dana, pull the gown from her body, then kneel at
her feet.
“As President of the English Speaking Muse Society,
it is my honor to welcome you into our world as a full
fledged muse.” The muse paused for affect. Then
continued, “Friday, do you willingly accept the rules
and agree to abide by the doctrine of our society?”
she asked.
“Do I get wings this time?” Friday asked.
“Answer the question and you will find out.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be a good Web-Mistress Muse,” she
replied. “It should be amusing.”
“Close your eyes.”
When Friday’s eyes close, the muse nods to Mark and
the other male muse. Lifting from the box a set of
white feather and silver glitter wings, they approach
Friday. The young woman/muse giggles and shivers as
they settle the wings on her shoulders. Mark reaches
around to fasten the buckle in front. As his hands
leave her body the harness fades to match her skin.
“Open your eyes Friday,” the muse instructs her.
“So when do I get my wings?” Friday asks with a pout.
“Look.”
Friday turns her head to look at the wings sitting on
her shoulders. A broad smile fills her face as she
reaches to touch the soft material. Kira and Dana
stand up, wings sprouting from their shoulders. They
take Friday by the hand and begin to float up, wings
beating slowly in the warm air.
“Oh my God,” Friday squeals as her feet leave the
earth.
Friday whooping and hollering as she performs swoops
and rolls. The three muses make two full circuits of
the room before settling back on the stage.
Tears stream down her flushed cheeks, she sits on the
edge of the stage. She smiles at those of us in the
V.I.P. section.
“Thank you so very much,” she says quietly. “I’ve
always wanted wings.”