It is Valentine's Day, and do we have a special treat for you. Not one but two posts (and Monkey Barn is full to the Gills.)

First off we have a poem for you guys to read to you ladies. And then, we have a "special" Valentine's Day story, if you know what I mean. You ladies can read that to your fellas. I had been planning on writing one for weeks, but low and behold two days ago one of you wonderful Readers submitted a story for Hyperion After Dark. I read it over, was verily impressed, and decided I couldn't top that: so we're running with it! (If you just can't wait to read that, go ahead and have your dessert first!)

Okay, let's get going!


All right, men. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re trying to please your woman, but you don’t know what they want. Don’t feel bad: THEY don’t know what they want, either. However, despair not. I know what women want.

And I’m here to help.

Last night my sister and I went to dinner, and—emboldened by the fine steak, endless opportunities to throw peanut shells at her and to-die-for rolls with apple butter—I agreed to pen a Valentine’s Day poem. I have done so below.

I am offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. All you have to do is print it out, take it home, AND READ IT TO THAT CERTAIN SPECIAL SWEET CHEEKS IN YOUR LIFE.

Yes, you read me right. I am giving you permission to use my work as your own. I promise not to tell. In fact, to make matters easier, I even wrote in the Stage Directions into the poem. You will find them in brackets, like this: [Attention idiots: you DO NOT read the portion in the brackets. Those words are telling you what to do.]

Read over the poem a couple of times out loud at work, and then you’ll be ready to surprise her.

One other thing: After you skim through it, some of you might ask how this poem is supposed to please your woman and get you some. Trust me. First, she’ll just be pleased that you made an effort. Secondly, you’ll have her laughing her head off, and ultimately there is no better way to put a woman in the mood. Okay, let’s do it.


V is for the Venereal Disease you never brought my way.

A is for the Action-Fantasy where you pretend you're gay

L is for your Legs that go on for miles and miles

E is for your Easy laugh that always makes me smile.

[Pause for "Awwwwwwwws!"]

N is for Noxema, that keeps your skin so clear

T is for your Titties that I could watch all year

I is for the Me that wrote you this love letter

N is for the Nobody that ever could be better [pause]........than you

E is for the End--not of us--but of this poem

[Dramatic Pause]

S is for the Sex, so roll over and give me some!


{As I wrote above, this story was sent in by a reader. To whet your appetite I have copied the first few paragraphs: the rest you have to get over on Hyperion After Dark. (The usual disclaimers apply: only married couples and no one related to me.) The story is steamy and so authentic that it makes me want to ask the author a thousand questions. Hopefully I can convincer to her one day come forward. Enjoy!}

His eyes of ice burn into me from across the room. Sitting at the bar, I feel heat rise on my cheeks; I blame it on my third glass of wine. A piano plays softly amid the murmur of a dozen conversations. I come here when I want to play. I come here when I want to forget who I am and become something I dare not admit. I look down at the ring on my left hand and smile. I should have left this at home. Not that rings matter here.

I glance over in his direction. He seems to be enjoying his brandy and cigar. The puffs of smoke dance around his face. His eyes are still on me. I smile. His face remains the same.

The bartender comes by and asks if I want another glass of wine. "No, Joe; I'm fine." The wine is already having the desired effect. Liquid courage, or say they say. "Oh, and Joe, can you pour him another brandy? On me." I motion to the man with the cigar.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Joe asks, looking out for me. I nod. I know exactly what it means to send someone a drink in this bar.

For more see Hyperion After Dark for Eyes of Ice

1 comment:

the Book of Keira said...

Did you eat at Logan's?