Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Whiteboy and the bewitching spell

The noise I heard came clearly from upstairs, where Bob had his study and draw his blueprints. I got up from bed, wrapped him up in the blanket and gathered up my courage to check what was happening there.

That night, and after such a day –big blow, huge meal, scary movie, war game and absof*ck*ing heavenly shag-, I had the feeling I was being watched, so I expected the worse from whatever was happening upstairs.

That thing I heard was raising a terrible hullabaloo. It sounded like an engine coughing and a funny familiar voice swearing in a weird language that I was unable to identify. I was so scared that I decided to take Bob’s rifle with me.

I slowly went up the stairs. The door to Bob’s study was at the end. That voice scared the hell out of me. I pulled hesitatingly the door handle; it was dark inside the room; I opened the door slowly, very slowly; I snuck through the gap and got the shock of my life.

- Aaaaaargh!!! –shouted in fear a white little creature, raising his hands-
- Whiteboy! Long time no see! What are you doing here? –I asked-
- Dammit Leni, put that rifle down!!! I come in peace!!! –he yelled in panic-

I couldn’t believe who was there: my dear old friend from outer space. His spacecraft was floating in the air outside, right in front of the study window. The room was turned upside down.

- I’m very sorry. I didn’t want to frighten you –I said-
- I didn’t want to yell at you, either. It’s been a long time! -said Whiteboy-
- Would you like a kiss, like in the good ol’ times?
- Gimmi.
–he chuckled, nodding his head vigorously-

Have you ever kissed an alien guy? At first it gives you the shivers. But I got used to that. I can even say I got to love these kisses to the point that I asked for one every time we met.

Whiteboy was all skin and bone. He had big oval black eyes, white face and no hair. He spoke with a charming lisp and a guttural accent, like Sylvester, the tuxedo cat. He used to go naked until he got arrested for indecency in Uranus and decided to get himself a pair of boxers. I noticed he was wearing the Orsinian type I was so familiar with. Surprisingly, he was also overdoing a strong Orsinian accent.

- You wear boxers with the Orsinian flag now? How come? –I asked-
- Oh, found them in da trashcan. They seem to have a terrific effect on me: hear me talking; I sound like a genuine Orsinian! –he said, all proud-

So Bob had thrown the boxers away! It seemed that those damned boxers would put anyone who wore them under their wicked spell: That was the secret of the Orsinian bitch!

- They’re from my… boyfriend –I said smiling a big smile-
- Yay! So ya finally found yourself a Doodoo! That’s new! Tell me! –he said, eager to know-
- Well, there’s not much to tell. After some ups and downs now it’s official. I think… Is it official? –I asked myself, scratching my chin- Hm… I guess it is…
- Is it official only fer you? How crappy then!

I sighed and sat on a chair, a little bit annoyed to see him cracking up with laughter.

- Ain’t your beancake the tall dude that builds weird stuff and does strange things?
- Heey! Look who’s talking. He’s not that strange when you know him.
- Aww… See that small heart shape materialising on top of yer head! Yer lovesick!
–he said laughing-

He suddenly bent over to examine carefully Bob’s mountain bike. It had just come back from the shop, where he took it for a full repair after he started practicing his trial skills.

- My spaceship doesn’t work. I hope yer friend won’t mind me parking in his backyard.
- He’s asleep now. I don’t think he’ll wake up. He’s a heavy sleeper.
- Good. This thingy is exactly what I need to fix the engine
–he said pointing at the bike chain-. Do you think he would mind me if I disassemble and borrow it to make the engine work? Wasn’t he a bit of a commie, by the way? He shouldn’t object sharing his things with me, then.

Did I forget to say he’s got one hell of a nerve?

- Hey. He just picked it up yesterday from the repair shop. And you already took the boxers.
- And what does he care? He had thrown them away!
said Whiteboy-
- That is really a lame answer. I’ll tell you what we’ll do: you give me the Orsinian magic boxers and I give you the bike chain. Deal?

He scratched his chin. I needed to get these boxers at any cost. I had already decided their final destination.

- Oki doki. But where do I hide my zeppelin then? -he asked, a bit worried-
- Ooh you have one?
- Wanna see it?
- That would be cool, but better keep it for your Doodoo.
- I need a grub. And a booze too. Moonshine would be fine, thanks.
- We have no moonshine here. We only have curry chicken sandwiches and apples.
- Ok, gimmi da hoagie. I’m allergic to apples. They make me blow chunks!
- Don’t be offended, but you sound like a real Orsinian hick!
- It’s da boxers. Lemme show ya.

I looked to the other side and he removed them.

- I bet I sound a lot more Burdish now. Listen to this: “Would I sail alone till Doomsday longing for death, with death denied me? Above the main mast I saw a white gull circling; its wings were stained with blood. Seven years and seven times seven years I have sailed, my ship without anchor my heart without hope” –he recited, definitely overdoing- Who’s that?
- Give me the boxers on and stop quoting The Flying Zeeewlanderman, please. I got your number.
- Oh yea, Captain of the ghost ship, The Flying Zeewlanderman! Renowned for the uncanny speed of his trips from Zeewland to Java and suspected of being in league with the devil to achieve this speed! Not like your sleepyhead big man.
–he grinned, overdoing again-
- Listen, Whity: I need these Orsinian boxers. I have to break the spell they put on the person who wears them. I’ll give you a pair of white ones. Bob must have some in his room. They’ll go very well with the colour of your skin.
- Gimmi da bike chain. Grrrrrr…
–he said, folding his arms and turning back-
I could tell from his answer that he had put them on again. I had no choice but to resort to the use of force: I pulled the boxers down, leaving him butt-naked. He yelled; pulled them up; waved his arms about; freaked out.

- Give me the damned boxers! -I shouted-
- Gimmi da bike chain! -he shouted back-
- I can’t do that!
- Then... no tickee no shirtee! One day he will put’em on and that'll be the end! Hm… Leni, I didn’t think you were so fond of this lame fetish stuff! Do ya really think they have a spell?

I gave up.

-Yes –I said sadly-
- So you think if someone puts’em on, they’ll become fucking imperialists, speak with Orsinian language and… what else?
- Fancy Orsinian girls.
- I see what this is all about: your supposed boyfriend was bewitched by his ex when he wore them, right?
- Right. Under my responsibility: take the bike chain and give me the boxers.

As Whiteboy started working, I went downstairs to look for a pair of white boxers in Bob’s room. Whiteboy was in a hurry to fly back to Asimovian hyperspace. You know, the region where you can teleport on a pre-calculated route, ending in normal space.

- Woot! I’m done here. Let’s kiss goodbye.

He was indeed in a hurry. His spacecraft took off and disappeared in the sky.
And there I was, in the middle of the study, grabbing the broken bike with one hand; holding the Orsinian boxers with the other one.

What was I supposed to tell Bob when he would find out? That an alien guy had taken the bike chain to fix his spacecraft?

(To be continued)

"Whiteboy" (James)


tom909 said...

Hmmmmmmm, this is all getting very complicated - aliens, haunted underwear and all, but fear not leni, I am hanging in there.
I have this feeling that there are many twists and turns yet to come. Whatever sweet girl, you will get your man - it may well not be Bob though!

s said...

hahaha that guy sounds cool, drinking moonshine while speeding his spacecraft! Thank goodness he was friendly, ive heard some bad stories about the white dudes from space...

So yes, the boxers definitely seems hexed. Are they even save to touch? (for the record, i never touch other mens undies :P) What do you have in mind for them, maybe incinerate them, or bury them 200 meters below the surface of our planet. Whatever you do, do not wear them! Unless you want to like orsinian girls haha.

Leni Qinan said...

Hi Tom!

See what happens when you watch a scary movie after a huge meal? What a cheeky alien guy! you saw what he did?

That's right, the story goes on and ooooh! I'm glad to know you're still hanging in there, just in case Bob would fail to be my best half, lol. :)

Hm. I got your number Mr. Burdish Man. Hahaha.

Wow.You're almost as cheeky as my alien friend! How do you know Bob may not be my man? ;)


max said...

Hey, Leni,

What's that 'boxers' final destination' thing you said?
I'm really intrigued!
Could I have them? Could I??? Are they really magic?
Could I pay a visit to the Orsinian girl? She's available now, isn't she?

I need these boxers, gimmi da boxers!!! hahaha

Big kiss.

PS.- Very nice post Leni, this Whiteboy guy is a cheeky funny alien. I really enjoyed and laughed reading the story!

max said...

Oooh by the way, congrats for the award!
I'm so proud of you! :))

Big big kiss+hug (can I?)

Leni Qinan said...

Hi Mocky! I knew you would definitely like the alien dude!

He is very friendly, that’s right, but he can also be a pain in the ass if he drinks too much moonshine and drives his spacecraft, so I always keep the bottle far from him!

Yes, the boxers are badly hexed and the Orsinian girl is the witch (or the beetch) who put the spell on them –and Bob is a bit of a dummie to have worn them for so long-.

No, it’s not safe to even touch the boxers if you’re a guy –glad to know you don’t touch other guys’ undies, lol I wouldn’t like to hear that you’re bewitched in Orsinia and imprisoned in the claws of some witch-beetch!

Ok, I promise not to wear them –for the record: I never use men’s boxers but girls’ strings-. And no, I don’t want to like Orsinian girls! I hate them, especially that Tigerlilly chick, grrrrrrr.

Are you curious about the final destination of the boxers? Good. That will be the subject of my new post! But just a clue: They’re not gonna be incinerated or buried yet, so we’re going to hear from them again. ;)

Keep smiling. :)

Leni Qinan said...

Hey Max,

First and formost, THANK YOU –I feel very honoured, that’s my second award-. But as I said, I am delighted to share it with you, readerships, who always inspire me amd have contributed to a great extent to this prize. (*smiles a big smile to all of you*).

Now you seem to be very concerned about the magic boxers. As I have just explained to Mocky, they are are hexed and dangerous if not handled carefully (have a look at Bob, they took his will away! You sound a bit like Gollum of Lord of the Rings, holding his ring and crying “My own, my own, my precious!”).
But it’s okay… you want them? You’ll have them! But I warned you: they're extremely dangerous!

Grass said...

I agree with Mocky sis.. The first thought that came to me was that if you touch the boxers, you'll end up with an Orsinian accent and liking Orsinian girls.LOL

In order to break the spell, you're gonna have to climb a volcano all the way to the crater, bury it and let my wonderful magma from hell melt it to oblivion, NADA, ZILCH, never to be seen again by human eyes, nah, not even Max's. LOL But maybe, you have something else in mind, you naughty sis?LOL

As for Whiteboy, I'm amazed at what a "celestial" shag can do to your mind. He's funny, your alien friend. I specially liked the picture of his driver's license. LOL Where did you get this image? LOL

xxx Grass

Leni Qinan said...

Hi sis!

That’s right, the boxers bewitch those who touch them, but it only works with guys. It worked very powerfully on Bob but also on the alien guy! I touched them but I don’t sound Orsinian and I’m not interested in Orsinian girls.

I definitely think they must be destroyed, but as Hellgirl you prolly can do that much better than me. Anyway, before you do that, these boxers have another work to do. More about this in the next post. :)

LOL, you would be amazed at the effects of a celestial shag with Bob. OMG, my legs are still shaking, hahaha. And dreaming (*sighs*).

Whiteboy is a very funny little alien who pays me a visit some nights. He is a real nice guy, but sometimes he can get a bit cheeky, as you saw. He has been arrested many times by the outer space cops for driving his spacecraft drunk (he is addicted to moonshine) and his driving license is in the net (search in google images “alien driver’s license” or “U.F.O. driver’s license” and you will get it and his friend’s too, lol).

XXX. Leni.

Leni Qinan said...

Hi Max,

You really want da boxers? Ok, you asked for it. You know how the spell works, so don’t complain then if things don’t work our as expected. If you need some help, SHOUT!

XXX. Leni.

PS1.- For more information, read my next post. You might be very interested. Coming up on Monday –if my tummy allows, coz it’s a bit upset lately and I couldn’t write yesterday :(

PS2.-I’m very glad you loved the story. And thanks for your lovely comment about the award. We can hug. And kiss, of course. But hey! No butt-slapping, ok? LOL.

s said...

i wondered what kind of prize the man was talking about, now i see its because of your enlightened mind! How cool is that!!

You are enlightened Leni!

s said...

and well-deserved i might add :)

Leni Qinan said...

Aww Mocky, you're so cute!

Thank you very very much.
I wouldn't have got this prize if not for my readers, among them you. You're the best readership I could dream of and the source from which I draw inspiration and energy, guys+gals.

You keep me alive as a blogger!

XXX. Len.

PS.- Now we can virtually hug and kiss, Mocky. LOL.

Fernando said...

Hija mía... Lo que no te pase a tí....

¿Pero no puedes tener una existencia tranquila como todo el mundo?

Un beso.

La semana próxima voy a las Sandwich (del Sur).

Leni Qinan said...


"Tranquilidad" es una palabra que no existe en mi vocabulario. Bien por las vidas ajetreadas que llevo, o bien por las malas vidas (real y virtual) que me dan algunos...

¿¿¿Que vas a las Sandwich??? ¿La semana que viene??? OOOOh, cuenta cuenta...

Leni Qinan said...


Fernan said:

My child... Can't you have a quiet existence, just like everybody?


Next week I'm traveling to the South Sandwich Islands.

Leni said:

"Quiet" is a word that doesn't exist in my vocabulary. Maybe because of my hectic lives, or maybe because of the lives of a dog (real and virtual) that some guys are giving me...

¿¿¿Are you travelling to South Sandwich??? ¿Next week??? OOOOh, tell me...