Undead Darlings #1
Beloved discards from Janet Burroway, MariNaomi, and Molia Dumbleton

Janet Burroway
"Fat: an Aire" – from the musical Morality Play

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She’s a little bit too slender
On the right…and on the left.
I’ve no doubt her bones are tender,
But she wants a bit of heft.
                          Oh swaddle me,
                          And coddle me
                                       in flesh!

A bean is fine to fill a dish,
You’ll pick a pole to catch a fish.
A spindle’s splendid when you spin,
But the handles help to get you in.
                          Oh honey ride me,
                          Honey hide me—
                                        in flesh!

Flesh is something different than skin,
Flesh can take away your breath,
Flesh is what you’re craving when you sin,
It’s the opposite of death!
                          Don’t mother me,
                          Just smother me
                                        in flesh!

                                        And if you’re gonna wanna mama that can stay the course
                                        Then you’re gonna wann’er built like a Belgian horse.

A body that’s padded is added pleasure;
My long strong arms are made to measure
Belly and thigh and bosom and bottom.
Gimme the shimmying she who’s got ‘em!
                          The more her torso
                          I love it moreso—
                                        that flesh!

I favor a female with avoirdupois,
A sample of ample, uh…je ne said quoi,
But a lofting of saftige burgeoning plenty!
               I have eighteen stone here!
Have you got twenty?
                          There’s more to hold
                          In every fold—
                                        of flesh!

Statuesque or stubby
I like my honey tubby; 
I want my poppet pudgy
And a tiny smidgeon smudgy.
A little stout, a bit obese,
corpulent or plump, 
voluminous, and generous
her roly-poly rump.
                           So if she’s fat,
                           I’ll go for that—
                                         The flesh!

                           Callipygian.
                                         What ho?
                           Means: having beautiful buttocks.
                                         Oh.
                                         Calli—pygian!
                                         Callipygian!  
                                         Calli, calli, calli, calli---pygian!

I want my woman spacious,
her appetite voracious, 
efficaciously rapacious,
and her attitude salacious,
and her strategy audacious,
and her loyalty tenacious,
her heart and soul capacious,
vivacious and flirtatious—
I am spiritually awed
By a girl who’s truly broad.
                           Oh marry me
                           And bury me
                                         in flesh!

                                         And if you’re gonna wanna mama that can stay the course,
                                         Then you’re gonna wann’er built like a Belgian horse.

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MariNaomi
page from the memior Kiss & Tell

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Molia Dumbleton
scene

 

He’s sitting at the edge of the motel pool, holding a beer in one hand and opening a package of cheese with his teeth.

She’s sliding her waitress uniform down to the concrete and inching down the steps, sucking air through her teeth.

He stands and launches himself over her head and into the deep end, then hangs against the far wall and looks at her. The bottom half of him dangles below the surface.

She says “I’m scared” and he says “You’re too young to worry so much.”

molia dumbleton - undead darlings

up smiling behind her back. He sets his hands on her hips. “Gotcha,” he says.

They’d been making out in the ice room for weeks, and he’d been sneaking her shots from the back-bar. Tonight, he pulled up alongside her in the parking lot when they got off their shifts.

“Missy’s at her sister’s. Let’s get a room, some wine and cheese, pretend we’re in Paris, ok? Real life is shit but it’ll wait til tomorrow, right?”

In the room, he peels off their wet clothes while she shivers, and rubs his hands on her arms. He hugs her, kisses her neck, and hums “I Love Paris” in her ear, coaxing her hips into swaying. She rests her cheek against his chest and draws her hands to her center for warmth.

This is realer than tomorrow, she thinks. This is realer than anything else.

 

about above

"Fat: an Aire" – My favorite song from Morality Play, a musical that has had a concert reading but as yet no production. ... it had to be cut; not only didn’t in advance the plot, but it was in fact hilarious in performance, it derailed it. Tant pis.

This is the tiny handful of scraps I still cling to from the very first short story I ever wrote. It was fifteen pages long and honestly pretty bad, but there's something about this scene I've never been able to let go of.