It’s time for another exercise in Wacky Wednesday as we fire up the randomator and await this week’s visual cue for Random Image Inspiration! Let’s see which one of the fifteen gazillion pictures on the internet will serve as The Nest’s guiding light this time. First, those totally random numbers…
9, 67, 86, 10
The 9th post in my Reader was this one by Phenny, Yep, that’s two weeks in a row as the RII originator…
After wrapping around the 33 word post twice, the 67th word turned out to be “bon”
The 86th word in that post is “of”
Putting “bon of” into Google Images turned this up as the 10th result…
It’s a lady made out of sweets! I think it said her name was Baroness BonBon, or something like that. Oh well, let’s steal the same prompt from this year’s Contest of Whatever and have Miss BonBon walk into a bar……. full of horny males, of course.
With the Renaissance Fair canceled due to rain and rusty armor, Lady BonBon decided to spend the afternoon in one of the local watering holes…
“What’ll it be, Miss?” the bartender asked the candy coated customer.
“Kool Aid on the rocks. LOTS of sugar, you hear me?”
Suddenly she felt the finger of a stranger running up her leg.
“What’s the meaning of this!?!” Lady BonBon shouted as she turned towards the man who was violating her personal space. The pervert next to her merely brought his finger to his mouth and licked off all the icing he’d just scooped up.
“Mmmmmmm, nice dress, baby! And I really mean that! I’m not afraid to admit I love pink icing! Name’s Sleazeball!” the man said as he reached back and grabbed another huge chunk of icing off of Lady BonBon’s bunbuns…
The horrified woman quickly moved towards another part of the bar where she ran into a lowlife named Douchebag.
“Oh boy!” Douchebag gleefully said all wide eyed. “I love peppermint! And it isn’t even Christmas!”
Lady BonBon shrieked as Douchebag began licking her chest…
“The behavior of the filth in this bar is appalling!” the candy princess proclaimed as she escaped her tormentor who had a candy cane fetish.
Things were no better in the far corner of the bar, where a patron named Dickhead began eating her hair!
“I scream, you scream, we all scream for ICE CREAM!” Dickhead sang as he began licking up the poor lady’s luscious locks.
“This is an OUTRAGE! I spent five hours down at the confectioner’s getting my hair done… and NOT for some fresh scumbag to lick up!” Lady BonBon snapped her peppermint cane in half and announced she was leaving!
But she didn’t make it to the door before she got manhandled by a fellow named Asshat who began sloppily kissing her tart covered mouth.
There was nowhere for Lady BonBon to go as the others in the bar converged on where Asshat had her in a bear hug….
“I’m going to lick every inch of that sweet body!” Sleazeball bragged.
“I might just bite into her, myself!” Douchebag replied
Dickhead shouted, “I got dibs on eating her….”
Lady BonBon was never heard from again.
It’s ten years later now. I’m a freelance private eye who works on cold cases in my spare time. I was looking into the BonBon case… weird chick covered in candy who disappeared a decade ago. She was already well past her expiration date and presumed to be dead. I’d gotten a tip that she was last spotted walking into a seedy looking downtown tavern.
“You seen this girl before?” I flashed an old photo in front of the bartender.
The look in his eyes told me he knew who she was. “uhmmm…. maybe.”
“Come on, mac. You can’t forget a treat like that. What happened to her? I want her killers brought to justice!”
The bartender didn’t appear to be very forthcoming and just continued spit shining shot glasses. I gazed around at the patrons… four outright losers who were probably regulars in this shithole. I slammed my glass of tap water on the counter to get some attention.
“I WANT TO KNOW WHO MURDERED LADY BONBON TEN YEARS AGO! COME ON, NOW… GIVE YOURSELVES UP!!!”
“Not me!” Sleazeball said as he went back to gumming his glass of booze…
“Me neither!” Douchebag shook his head as he injected himself with insulin…
“”Nope, not me! Not me!!!” Dickhead said as he ran circles around the pool table and leaped over chairs like a hyperactive little child…
“You’re all under arrest!” I announced to the sweet toothed criminals. Then I looked over at the fourth suspect. “Well?”
“No use in lying,” Asshat said. “Apparently the Red Dye #6 in used in pink icing is a carcinogen and now I have a month to live. It doesn’t matter if I spend it rotting in jail.”
“There’s justice for you, flatfoot,” the bartender sneered at me as he spit a loogy in another pint glass. “They got their just desserts….”