Charon and the PusSybil
In the day's last rays you could just make out the hull of the boat slicing through the wet mist and the captain's profile, just a dark shadow really, steering the craft toward the shore. The PusSybil stepped out to the end of the dock so as to indicate another passenger awaited. It had been a long day of ferry rides - back and forth, back and forth - and Charon was in no mood for another whining, sadsack soul. "Oh please, don't make me go Mr. Ferryman! Pul-eeeease! I promise to repent. Never again shall I..." And here Charon had heard it all. To steal. To kill. To watch TV. To buy Nike. To fornicate. The list was endless. But one thing was certain, regardless of their sin, their passage to hell was all but paid for - and as soon as the PusSybil handed Charon the coin their journey began.
Charon lifted his oar to stable the boat against the pier and, seeing the PusSybil alone, he sliced the oar through the air and demanded "Where is you fare? I see no one!"
"It is I, Charon. I would like to take a ride with you."
"Don't tempt me woman! It has been a long day and I am in no mood for your shenanigans. You know as well as I that only the sinfully dead shall pass over to hell."
"Ah, my friend, why just today you ferried over a nurse who had the compassion to assist a man in interminable pain, a homeless lad who stole a pair of Nike's to pay his mother's rent, and young woman who stabbed the man raping her. If the very image of so much goodness moves you not at all, well, here is your damn bough." She tossed an olive branch, shimmering and golden in the light of the setting sun, at his feet.
"Alright. Have it your way. Climb in," Charon grumbled as the PusSybil lowered herself into his craft. He arched his oar high up into the air and swung it back around, pushing them off of the pier and into the churning currents of the river.
They sailed along for a bit without speaking. The PusSybil sat herself down on the seat in the bow and leaned over the edge studying her reflection in the murky depths. Her grey hair and wrinkled hands betrayed her years, but she thought she looked pretty good considering everything (and here the last ray of light vanished below the horizon as if Apollo himself was reminding her of the price she paid for her purity).
The PusSybil let her fingers trail along in the black waters. In the darkness the sound of Charon's oar slicing through the waves sounded menacing. With each stroke the water warmed degree by degree until soon the waters were boiling and the PusSybil pulled her hand out. She lifted the back of her palm to her face and inspected the red blush on her otherwise pale skin and smiled serenely.
Charon arched an eyebrow and announced, "We are very near the shore now. You must take care not to fall into the river as you climb out or your ass will be toast."
He then pushed his oar into the sand and hoisted the boat as far as it would go onto the shore. With surprising agility for such an old man he jumped from ship to shore with one leap. He reached for the PusSybil and gripped his hand around the fleshy part of her arm. Her skin felt cool and silky. As she leapt toward the shore she stumbled and landed thigh high in the river. "Ouch" she squealed, and then giggled.
Charon raised another eyebrow and roughly yanked her toward him.
"You stay in that water a minute longer and you'll be a puddle of..."
"Oh, hush, a little boiling water never hurt anyone," retorted the PusSybil.
"Well, here we are. What's your pleasure?" Charon asked.
"I was thinking it might be interesting to check things out a bit. I hear level two is the place to be on a Friday night."
This time he raised both eyebrows. She was one curious PusSybil indeed.
---------- to be continued ----------
Anybody wanna tell me how the stroy ends? It seems the next page was torn out of my version and I can't find my Cliff Notes.
Charon lifted his oar to stable the boat against the pier and, seeing the PusSybil alone, he sliced the oar through the air and demanded "Where is you fare? I see no one!"
"It is I, Charon. I would like to take a ride with you."
"Don't tempt me woman! It has been a long day and I am in no mood for your shenanigans. You know as well as I that only the sinfully dead shall pass over to hell."
"Ah, my friend, why just today you ferried over a nurse who had the compassion to assist a man in interminable pain, a homeless lad who stole a pair of Nike's to pay his mother's rent, and young woman who stabbed the man raping her. If the very image of so much goodness moves you not at all, well, here is your damn bough." She tossed an olive branch, shimmering and golden in the light of the setting sun, at his feet.
"Alright. Have it your way. Climb in," Charon grumbled as the PusSybil lowered herself into his craft. He arched his oar high up into the air and swung it back around, pushing them off of the pier and into the churning currents of the river.
They sailed along for a bit without speaking. The PusSybil sat herself down on the seat in the bow and leaned over the edge studying her reflection in the murky depths. Her grey hair and wrinkled hands betrayed her years, but she thought she looked pretty good considering everything (and here the last ray of light vanished below the horizon as if Apollo himself was reminding her of the price she paid for her purity).
The PusSybil let her fingers trail along in the black waters. In the darkness the sound of Charon's oar slicing through the waves sounded menacing. With each stroke the water warmed degree by degree until soon the waters were boiling and the PusSybil pulled her hand out. She lifted the back of her palm to her face and inspected the red blush on her otherwise pale skin and smiled serenely.
Charon arched an eyebrow and announced, "We are very near the shore now. You must take care not to fall into the river as you climb out or your ass will be toast."
He then pushed his oar into the sand and hoisted the boat as far as it would go onto the shore. With surprising agility for such an old man he jumped from ship to shore with one leap. He reached for the PusSybil and gripped his hand around the fleshy part of her arm. Her skin felt cool and silky. As she leapt toward the shore she stumbled and landed thigh high in the river. "Ouch" she squealed, and then giggled.
Charon raised another eyebrow and roughly yanked her toward him.
"You stay in that water a minute longer and you'll be a puddle of..."
"Oh, hush, a little boiling water never hurt anyone," retorted the PusSybil.
"Well, here we are. What's your pleasure?" Charon asked.
"I was thinking it might be interesting to check things out a bit. I hear level two is the place to be on a Friday night."
This time he raised both eyebrows. She was one curious PusSybil indeed.
---------- to be continued ----------
Anybody wanna tell me how the stroy ends? It seems the next page was torn out of my version and I can't find my Cliff Notes.
posted by Curious Pussy at Thursday, January 12, 2006
8 Comments:
Lovely writing, I can't wait to read what comes next!
I'm not that cranky, really.. but if I hear one more whining, sadsack soul..
ANYway, my Virgil is a little rusty.. I am wondering, though, what fate is the curious PusSybil singing? ;)
Ah shucks Charon, I thought maybe you knew how it would end. Hmmm, guess I'll just have to sleep on it (again) and dig out my old copy of the Aeneid.
c.p.
Not sure... have another look for the notes!
Thanks for dropping by my blog this week... feel free to drop by again for a major write about sexual UNassertiveness! Interested to hear your opinions. Bye!
If I knew how it would end, cp, then I'd be the prophetess.. As it is I'm just a working stiff... paddling back and forth..
Ah Charon, don'tcha know I've always been a sucker for blue collar brutes. But I did get a glimpse as to the ending last night... maybe I'll jot it down on some leaves and scatter them in the wind for ya.
Hoping for a favourable wind, cp.
she stays in the hell forever.. Since Charon always turns back alone. And please young lady never muck with a lonely old soul..
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