agh busy today

January 30, 2013 § Leave a comment

Hey guys. Your faithful editor is busy ‘n such, but enjoy this, the first (and, please God, only) Buddy Jackson fanfic, inspired by the recent Facebook trend of giving each other bands to talk about. Names have been removed to protect the not-innocent.

(I 100 percent did not write this and am not responsible. Enjoy.)

Band: Buddy Jackson (sorry, guys: that insufferable dirtmonger, [redacted] is responsible for this. Take all complaints up with unspeakable her)

Provided by: <unspeakable>

First Exposure: My wildest, most sensual dreams.

Fan?: I don’t know that that word goes far enough…”sexual devotee” springs to mind…

The person who gave me Buddy Jackson? Her band was “Less Than Jake” and she can only sing along to “Johnny Quest…” and….bwa…bwwaugh…”Rest of My Life.” So, ya know…make fun of her for that…

ANYWAY…My first exposure to Buddy Jackson came many years ago, now–though it still feels like just yesterday. It was springtime, on a Saturday. I was but an unspoilt flower, all bright, blue eyes, pigtails and unsoiled hope. The early May sunshine shone off my golden ringlets like the eyes of 30 angels…that’s when Nick arrived…he came striding through that field of breeze-blown dandelions, all Kate Moss confidence and Rob Schneider sex appeal. “Hey…I’m Nick…” he said. It was my 15th year…

I remember being shocked at how gentle his actions were, given his rough manner of speech. “KEEP QUIET, YOU!” he intoned huskily, I a nubile rose in his workman’s grasp…

This continued on for some time until Grant showed up. “Will you guys quit yer dad burned foolin’ and look alive!? Cripes, Big Daddy’s about to roll up!” He seemed distressed, frightened…and, yet, aroused in his own way. While Nick cursed at the sky, I merely beckoned Mr. Atticus to join in this Olympics of self-discovery. He declined with a demure giggle. I thought it cute…But his fear did not abate…

Just then, those green and gold swathed, sunbathed hills shook and the ground of the earth parted. In a great flash of smoke and fire, Timmy appeared. “…God…DAMN!” he exclaimed, voice booming with profane, abyssal might. Then, though, he laughed–a peal of heavenly mirth expressed in hellish tones. The incongruity and sensuality of it all nearly overwhelmed me. But, with the perseverance of a seasons veteran, I soldiered on through those verdant waves of swaying pleasure.

Arrowtop regarded the scene coolly for a time. After that, he placed his fists on his hips and threw his baleful head back, his locks of jet streaming in the springtime wind. “HA HA HAA!” he bellowed, his bassoon voice washing over the three of us, like a blessing from a hallowed ancestor. “Time’s up, shitstains! We gotta be gettin’ back to 5th circle before Abalam finds up missin’! Now come to papa!”

With that, both Nick and Grant scampered over to Timmy–on all fours, as adorably as you please. Each of them wrapped his arms about one of Timmy’s legs, pursing his supple, fallen-angel lips. With that, a pair snow white eagle wings, full 15 feet across seemed to sprout from Timmy’s buttocks. He placed one burly arm around each of his comrades’ shoulders, laughed a laugh of otherworldly joy and ascended into the firmament………

I have never seen Timmy, Grant, OR Nick since……but my mind, my heart and my body remember them…And THAT’S BUDDY JACKSON!




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