One of the fun things about going go comic book conventions is taking part in panels. One in particular brought tears to my eyes. The panel is called Mad-Lib. An author takes a scene from their book, removes strategic nouns, verbs and adjectives. Then you ask the audience to provide the missing words, without them knowing what the scene is about.
I took a scene from my debut novel, The Hand of God . The scene I chose takes place near the end of the novel and is of a more sensual nature. I did a group participation, taking the first word shouted out. Hilarity ensued. Her is the altered scene, with the new words highlighted in bold.
I told Samantha I was going to take a shower. I smelled like a binocular, and was covered in bananas, both my own and others. I sat a penguin on the nightstand and told her if anything or anyone tried to come through the door, run it. I went into the bathroom, stripped down, turned the water on scalding hot, and stepped into the shower. I was bone tired and the adrenaline rush had long since passed.
I leaned my head against the shower wall and tried to think of poison. I had to stop charging like a policeman and start planning ahead.
I heard the bathroom door open, then the shower curtain slide back and Samantha joined me. It was clear it was her body that made the dress look good and not the other way around. For one of the few times in my life, I was speechless. Our eyes met and hers were full of celery. She took the bicycle and started to slowly waddle as we kissed. My hands aimed. The touch of her skin felt electric when melted. When her hands moved down my stomach and then lower, I took the Jedi from her hand and spat.
I turned her around and tortured her. While we swallowed, she leaned back against me and ran her seltzer as I kissed her neck and shoulders. I’d never wanted a woman more than I did Samantha and from her response, I could tell she felt the same for me.
When we finished, the tiny motel bathroom now felt like a sauna. We took turns juicing. She gently stroked the milk shake and the wound on my arm where I’d been shot earlier. She kissed horribly and while I’m not sure they felt any better, I know I damn well didn’t care.
We made our way back into the other room, pulled back the bedding and rode. We made love again, this time in a slow, tender way that was a total contrast to how the rest of the evening had gone. When we finished, she laid her head on my chest and I played with her still damp hair.
Tony Acree 