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Well, will you look at that
I seem to have picked up a couple of new muses. You may have seen them lurking in my icon.
Maybe they'll kick some inspiration into the moribund muses currently gathering dust in my closet.
Here's a snippet series I wrote a couple of weeks ago:
Kisses
i.
"Hey, Hutch."
"Hey, Starsk."
"What if Dobey ever asked us to go undercover in the Green Parrot?"
"What if he did?"
"Well, would you know how to… you know."
"Starsky, don't make me guess on this one. Would I know how to what?"
"You know-kiss a guy."
"Come on, Starsk. How different do you think it is?"
"Well, what if I had to kiss you, and that caterpillar under your nose made me sneeze? And what do you mean, how different do I think it is? Why don't you think it'd be different?
"-Hutch! Wait up!"
ii.
"Hutch."
"Yeah?"
"What's the difference?"
"What's the difference in wha-oh, for Chrissakes, not that again. You're like a dog with a bone."
"Hey! I didn't say anything about a bone, I just said I'd been thinking about it, is all."
"Oh, funny, Starsky. What do you want on my hot dog? Since we both know you're going to eat half of it."
"Your hot dog? Is that another sex-u-al innew-en-do, Detective Hutchinson?"
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"You know, if you'd just tell me now, this could all be over with. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Sit on it, pal. And rotate."
"On your hot dog?"
"Starsk, I'm warning you..."
"You can't drop something like this in a man's lap and expect him to just forget about it. You got no sense of fair play, and you're a meanie."
"So relish and onions?"
"And brown mustard. Meanie."
iii.
"Why did you do that, Hutch? I don't understand why you would do that. How could you do something like that?"
"Starsky, I'm just so damned-I don't know why I did it. She made it all sound so reasonable, like if we all laid our cards on the table nobody could have hurt feelings, you know? Like if you did you were just being possessive and you didn't have the right. And I guess I bought into it."
"You wanted to buy into it. But why? Sure, we've been with the same girls before-at the same time, even. But never once we got serious. How could you just act like that didn't matter?"
"Starsk-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But… I guess in my heart I just didn't really believe you. She wasn't the kind of girl you usually fall for. She wasn't-"
"Wasn't what? C'mon, Hutch, I gotta know what was in your mind."
"Wasn't good enough for you, okay? She wasn't good enough for you!"
iv.
Starsky, wake up.
What's the matter with you, anyway, letting your heart attack you like that the minute my back was turned? Weren't all those bullet holes giving you enough of a fight?
Yeah, I know you like a good fight. But it's been days. You must've done your nine rounds by now, wherever you are. Your heart's behaving itself now, Starsk. I can feel it beating. It's got a good beat; I can dance to it.
Yeah, not funny. Wake up and complain about my crappy jokes, will you?
Come on, buddy. Just wake up, and I-I swear I'll kiss you black and blue. I'll kiss you on the Santa Monica Pier at high noon. I'll kiss you until we both need this damn respirator. I'll even shave my moustache off if it makes you sneeze.
Don't do this to me. I need you here, you selfish son of a bitch. I've got things to say. Don't you think about leaving me.
Aw, Starsk, please wake up. Please.
v.
"Hutchinson, you bastard."
"God-Starsky, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong? We could have been doing this for ten years! What's wrong. Get me my gun so I can shoot you. Bastard. Stop smiling."
"Sorry."
"Yeah, sure you are. Well, if you're not going to bring me my gun, you might as well kiss me some more. Maybe it'll take my mind off your perfidy."
"My-"
"Don't start with me, Hutchinson. And quit grinning. Perfidy. Perfectly good word. So's Santa Monica Pier. That's technically three words, though. High noon. Two words. Kiss, now that's only one word. Why aren't we doing more of it?"
"Because you won't stop flapping your lips long enough for me to get a lock on them."
"Well, I'll stop flapping and you can start locking. I'll need a lot of practise if I'm not going to look like an amateur on Santa Monica Pier at high noon."
"I hate you."
"I know. Now kiss me, you big blond bastard."
Fini
Maybe they'll kick some inspiration into the moribund muses currently gathering dust in my closet.
Here's a snippet series I wrote a couple of weeks ago:
Kisses
i.
"Hey, Hutch."
"Hey, Starsk."
"What if Dobey ever asked us to go undercover in the Green Parrot?"
"What if he did?"
"Well, would you know how to… you know."
"Starsky, don't make me guess on this one. Would I know how to what?"
"You know-kiss a guy."
"Come on, Starsk. How different do you think it is?"
"Well, what if I had to kiss you, and that caterpillar under your nose made me sneeze? And what do you mean, how different do I think it is? Why don't you think it'd be different?
"-Hutch! Wait up!"
ii.
"Hutch."
"Yeah?"
"What's the difference?"
"What's the difference in wha-oh, for Chrissakes, not that again. You're like a dog with a bone."
"Hey! I didn't say anything about a bone, I just said I'd been thinking about it, is all."
"Oh, funny, Starsky. What do you want on my hot dog? Since we both know you're going to eat half of it."
"Your hot dog? Is that another sex-u-al innew-en-do, Detective Hutchinson?"
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"You know, if you'd just tell me now, this could all be over with. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Sit on it, pal. And rotate."
"On your hot dog?"
"Starsk, I'm warning you..."
"You can't drop something like this in a man's lap and expect him to just forget about it. You got no sense of fair play, and you're a meanie."
"So relish and onions?"
"And brown mustard. Meanie."
iii.
"Why did you do that, Hutch? I don't understand why you would do that. How could you do something like that?"
"Starsky, I'm just so damned-I don't know why I did it. She made it all sound so reasonable, like if we all laid our cards on the table nobody could have hurt feelings, you know? Like if you did you were just being possessive and you didn't have the right. And I guess I bought into it."
"You wanted to buy into it. But why? Sure, we've been with the same girls before-at the same time, even. But never once we got serious. How could you just act like that didn't matter?"
"Starsk-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But… I guess in my heart I just didn't really believe you. She wasn't the kind of girl you usually fall for. She wasn't-"
"Wasn't what? C'mon, Hutch, I gotta know what was in your mind."
"Wasn't good enough for you, okay? She wasn't good enough for you!"
iv.
Starsky, wake up.
What's the matter with you, anyway, letting your heart attack you like that the minute my back was turned? Weren't all those bullet holes giving you enough of a fight?
Yeah, I know you like a good fight. But it's been days. You must've done your nine rounds by now, wherever you are. Your heart's behaving itself now, Starsk. I can feel it beating. It's got a good beat; I can dance to it.
Yeah, not funny. Wake up and complain about my crappy jokes, will you?
Come on, buddy. Just wake up, and I-I swear I'll kiss you black and blue. I'll kiss you on the Santa Monica Pier at high noon. I'll kiss you until we both need this damn respirator. I'll even shave my moustache off if it makes you sneeze.
Don't do this to me. I need you here, you selfish son of a bitch. I've got things to say. Don't you think about leaving me.
Aw, Starsk, please wake up. Please.
v.
"Hutchinson, you bastard."
"God-Starsky, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong? We could have been doing this for ten years! What's wrong. Get me my gun so I can shoot you. Bastard. Stop smiling."
"Sorry."
"Yeah, sure you are. Well, if you're not going to bring me my gun, you might as well kiss me some more. Maybe it'll take my mind off your perfidy."
"My-"
"Don't start with me, Hutchinson. And quit grinning. Perfidy. Perfectly good word. So's Santa Monica Pier. That's technically three words, though. High noon. Two words. Kiss, now that's only one word. Why aren't we doing more of it?"
"Because you won't stop flapping your lips long enough for me to get a lock on them."
"Well, I'll stop flapping and you can start locking. I'll need a lot of practise if I'm not going to look like an amateur on Santa Monica Pier at high noon."
"I hate you."
"I know. Now kiss me, you big blond bastard."
Fini