tagHumor & SatireThumb's Down

Thumb's Down

byABSTRUSE©

The following story is part of a challenge involving the demise of a digit. It is meant to be a spoof, which means it's supposed to be ridiculous so if you're not looking for humor then get the hell out of this category. There is no sex, none. Yet. Its just ridiculous writing meant to amuse the twisted of minds. Please feel free to be an idiot somewhere else if you are a troll. Thank you to all who gave me permission to abuse them in print. Abstruse.

Bitchy McNeedsalay, the mercenary bar owner of Abstrusions and tomb raider drove like a demon along the serpentine roads that led to the mansion. She had received a letter requesting her presence at once. It had to be something big if they were calling on Bitchy.

The vintage Caddy easily cut its way up the driveway to the enormous gates that were the entrance to the estate.

'So this is how the idle rich live,' thought Bitchy.

The mansion belonged to Vella Hag de Mer, the heiress of the Vagistick Empire. Vagistick was the top selling Chap Stick for women who wanted labialicious lips. It came in a variety of flavors like Pop My Cherry Pink, Ravish Me Raspberry, Little Oral Anise, Cum With Me Cranberry and Orgasmic Orange. The holidays brought in extra dollars with such specialty flavors as Peppermint Stick It Up There, Pump Me Pumpkin, Cinnamon Clit and Hot Chocolate with Whip Me Crème.

Bitchy announced herself at the gate and the guard opened the massive steel entranceway allowing Bitchy to drive through. The house was overwhelming, with massive and suggestive turrets, naked gargoyles and an ominous moat encircled the castle wannabe. Bitchy pulled the car to a stop next to the gayest lawn jockey in all of America. She opened the door and stretched her long legs before putting on her trademark black fedora.

Standing at the massive wooden door, she found herself disappointed in the small knockers Vella had, but nonetheless she grabbed one and knocked. The door opened, and pausing to wipe her feet on the welcome mat, Bitchy stepped inside.

The foyer was an interesting shade of Pepto Bismol pink. It made Bitchy queasy at first but the sight of Vella's secretary, Miss Honey, soon remedied that. She was bending over, adjusting her garters. Bitchy was able to glimpse the bottom of her ass cheeks. The sound of Bitchy's chin hitting the floor startled Miss Honey and she stood upright again.

"Oh hello. You must be Ms. McNeedsalay? I'm Miss Honey," said the thin young brunette as she offered her hand to Bitchy.

"Yes, but please call me Bitchy."

"Okay Bitchy. Please follow me. Ms. Vella is waiting to see you now." Bitchy followed Miss Honey into a larger drawing room. Again, pink was the color de jour and it made Bitchy feel like she was walking into a gigantic vagina.

"May I take your hat?" asked Miss Honey.

"No, I'm rather fond of it," replied Bitchy.

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Yes an L&S please. Neat,"

"L&S?" queried Miss Honey.

"Laverne and Shirley. It's milk and Pepsi."

While Miss Honey made the drink, Bitchy looked around the room. It was dotted with knick-knacks, bric-a-brac and a few Pink Flamingos. On the walls were prints of Vagistick products silk-screened by Warhol. It was Kitsch Gone Wild. The far wall was nothing but glass with a view of the town below and in the distance was the Chimichanga mountain range.

"I see you like my home," said a voice from behind Bitchy. It was Vella.

"It's very... feminine. Like a vagina," Bitchy rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I always wanted a womb with a view," Sniffed Vella.

Vella looked striking in her floral print muumuu. She walked over to Bitchy so effortlessly, gliding along as if she was wearing socks on a newly waxed floor.

"You're probably wondering why I've sent for you?" asked Vella.

"Yes, the thought did occur. I knew it wasn't for the Milk and Pepsi."

"Honey, could you hand me the file?" Vella skated over to the leather and faux fur sofa. "Please come and sit next to me." She beckoned to Bitchy.

Bitchy walked over to the sofa and sat down. Miss Honey brought over a large manila envelope and handed it to Vella. She pulled out an 8 X 10 photo and handed it to Bitchy. It was of a large thumb grinning from a location that she assumed to be the Grand Canyon.

"You really should be more careful taking pictures, your thumb are in the way," said Bitchy.

"You don't understand. I want you to find the thumb. He's my long lost son, Salvor Hardon," sniffed Vella.

"Interesting name."

"It was originally Homo erectus, but we decided to name him after my mother." Vella then pulled out a stack of papers and handed them over to Bitchy. "He was last seen here."

Bitchy studied the picture and let out a gasp.

"Do you know where this is?" asked Miss Honey.

"All too well. It's Mt. Spa-Gay-Tee." Bitchy had a faraway look in her eyes.

"The snow is yellowish and makes the mountain look like it's covered with cheese," said Miss Honey.

"Yes. I lost my poor partner there when somebody sneezed. It triggered an avalanche and she was swept away by the snow. They never found her body."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," gasped Miss Honey.

"It was terrible, she had the backpack with the instant cocoa," sighed Bitchy.

"No one gets over a loss like that," said Miss Honey.

Vella stood up and posed near the fireplace, leaning one arm on the mantle. She picked up a picture of a small thumb in a diaper, smiling its toothless grin. "The loss of a child is unbearable and I fear I may have lost mine. I know it seems like I have the life, living in this monopoly, but the truth is I feel like someone has sunk my battleship."

"Sorry," sighed Bitchy. "I know how it is myself; every adventure is a risk where I'm going up and down chutes and ladders. It becomes like a giant game of chess. I've found places where opening doors is like a mystery date."

"I wouldn't care if my empire toppled like dominos. I want my son back. This house is like a mousetrap. It boggles the mind," whined Vella.

Miss Honey sighed. "It's all like a game, isn't it?" She held up a snack tray. "Parcheesi anyone?"

"No, thank you. I don't touch the stuff since my operation," said Bitchy. "I'll help you find your digit Ms. Hag de Mer, but it will cost you plenty."

"Money means nothing to me; it's all rubles and yen. I'll set up an expense account for you. Do what you need, just find my Booboo Thumb," chirped Vella.

Bitchy stood and tipped her hat to the ladies. "I'm going to discuss the details with my partner and then I'll contact you."

"Thanks Bitch," winked Vella.

"I'll show you the door," offered Miss Honey.

"It's okay; I saw it when I came in, very impressive. I'll just let myself out. Good Day Ladies."

Bitchy sat inside her car for a moment, thinking about the quest she had decided to undertake. The thought of going back to the Mountain made her shudder, but the money was too good to pass up. The tomb raiding business was slow, and so was her partner.

An office building downtown.

Bitchy McNeedsalay walked into her office to find her partner Ride Me Cowgirl spinning in her chair.

"What are you doing?"

"Settin a new office record. I fell off a few times an hurt my butt," giggled the dizzy girl.

"Good to see you've accomplished something today. If you can stop for a moment I have a new assignment for us. We'll need to call a few people for this one." Bitchy handed Cowgirl a slip of paper. "Call the people on the list and tell them to come in on Friday for a meeting. Tell them there is big money in it for them. Sweeten the offer."

Cowgirl picked up the paper and started to pour sugar on it.

"What are you doing?" queried Bitchy.

"I'm makin it sweet like ya said," said Cowgirl.

"Right." Bitchy rolled her eyes. "I'll be in my office banging my head off the wall."

"Okie dokie."

Bitchy pulled out a bottle of whiskey she used to help her deal with Cowgirl. She poured two fingers and then a shot glass full of the amber delight. It burned going down and she remembered she should avoid flaming shots; it took weeks for her eyebrows to grow back the last time.

She opened the file folder and began to make a list of people and equipment she would need. Pausing to light a cigar, she made a quick note to take a Sherpa/English translator this time. There would be several stops she would have to make before going back to that awful mountain. She started to flashback to that moment so many years ago when the door swung open.

It was Cowgirl.

"Hey that ceegar is smoking up the place sumthin awful," she yammered.

"It's not the cigar you twit, I'm having a flashback."

"Well whatever you're smoking is foggin the place up. My hair is getting all flat an stuff," whined Cowgirl.

"I noticed your chest isn't getting flat," muttered Bitchy.

"What?"

"I said Chester is my new cat. Did you make those calls yet?"

"I started to but I spilled my soda on the paper an when I slurped it up the bubbles got in my nose an..."

Bitchy interrupted her. "Get out."

"I started to sneeze and I blew the paper off the desk and then it got stuck to my shoe cuz I accidentally stepped on it an..."

"Is that your phone ringing?" asked Bitchy as she secretly called Cowgirl's desk from her cell phone.

"I'll get it," shouted Cowgirl as she bolted from the office.

"You do just that," said Bitchy, sighing as heard Cowgirl saying 'Hello' over and over into the phone. She poured another drink and resumed her flashback.

Mt. Spa-gay-tee, 5 years prior.

The warrior woman created a symbol of protection in the snow. Zeb, the Sherpa wrangler came up behind her as she stood admiring her work. "Nice snow angel."

"It's not a snow angel," snorted Cloudy. "It's the crow flying up to the moon."

"Why does the moon have a smiley face?" queried Zeb.

"That's not a smiley face, you ignoramasite. It's the morning star and the evening star. They are the sisters that guide the moon in their canoe," wheezed Cloudy.

"Really?" asked Zeb.

"Yes, really," growled Cloudy.

"Then is that yellow splotch supposed to represent the rising sun?" chirped Zeb.

"No, that's from a llama with a weak bladder," sighed Cloudy. "And before you even ask, no, that's not a pile of raisins."

Ted-E-Bare, the rhyming Sherpa came up to see what the fuss was all about. "What is this thing at which you stare? It has a smile from here to there," rhymed Ted.

"It is a symbol of protection to keep the team from harm while we climb the slopes," Cloudy said proudly.

"It looks like an angel pressed into the snow, but honestly that smile must go."

"Told ya," smugged Zeb.

In a flash and a whoosh, Cloudy had her trusty tomahawk pressed against Zeb's neck. "Did you meet my little friend Scalpy?" she sneered.

As another splotch of yellow spread on the ground beneath Zeb's feet, Bitchy came running toward the trio. "Keep it down you scamps! The last thing we need is an avalanche," whispered Bitchy. "Now let's get something to eat. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Danielle Kitten (Dkat) and Beachgurl2 (BG2), two former girl scouts, part time erotic dancers at Abstrusions and Mercenary Yoga teachers came upon the group. They had finished erecting the Sherpas' tents.

"We've made something to eat," perked Dkat. "Spaghetti and snowballs."

"The only problem is that we can't find the utensils, but not to worry," said BG2. "We collected lots of icicles to use like chopsticks."

"Let's eat," drooled Bitchy.

The group went into the dining tent as Dkat and BG2 went to the fire to get dinner.

"Oh No, Oh No!" cried Dkat as she ran back into the tent; her face was white as the snow that surrounded them. "There must be a monster, you know, like the Abdominal Snowman!"

"Don't you mean Abominable Snowman?" asked Cloudy.

"No because the spaghetti is still there but..."

"Let me guess," said Cloudy. "There's only water left."

Bitchy leaned over to the rest of the group and whispered, "I didn't hire them for their culinary skills. They're professional gold diggers."

The group ate quickly, not because of hunger, but because their chopsticks were melting fast. Cloudy then read them an indigenous bedtime story and soon all were sound asleep. Bitchy was the only one who was restless. She could not get the warning of impending doom out of her head that was foretold to her by the Oracle Matriarch.

She squatted down and began to pace the floor, as the ceiling of the tent was low. She needed to have a cigar, but rummaging through her knapsack, all she could find were Cloudy's smudge sticks. She shrugged her shoulders and lit one up. Soon the pseudo-cigar relaxed her and cleared her sinuses as well.

The next morning Cloudy rose before the others to perform a happy travel ritual. She walked a few yards away from the camp before settling on a spot. Going through her knapsack, all she found were Bitchy's cigars. 'Oh well,' she thought, 'I'll make an offering of tobacco.'

Forgetting she was allergic to cigar smoke, she lit the tip of the stogie and began to chant. The wind then changed direction and sent the smoke right up her nostrils causing her to sneeze very loudly. The sneeze triggered an avalanche and soon a wave of snow swept over her and carried her down the mountain, never to be seen again.

End of Flashback with three-minute intermission.

Bitchy shook her head to clear her mind of that awful moment. All that snow, so white and sparkly, fine as powdered sugar. Powdered sugar. That made Bitchy want a donut.

"Oh, come on! Not the donut thing again?" came a voice from behind. It was the spirit form of Cloudy hovering cross-legged in the air.

"Jesus Chrysler!" gasped Bitchy. "I wish you would stop popping in like that, I'm going to have to start wearing diapers."

Cloudy leaned over to one side and peered at Bitchy's backside. "From this angle it looks like you already have," snickered the wraith.

"Is there a reason that you are here other than to be the earth-bound stone around my neck?" asked Bitchy as she slid further under her desk.

"Yes. I have been in touch with the Oracle Matriarch. She sends you this message." Cloudy started to rummage through her skunk skin bag.

"Ah yes, the Oracle, how is the old girl these days?" asked Bitchy.

"She's feeling down lately." The Squaw Spirit grinned.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, she's been getting goosed daily, twice on weekends."

Bitchy raised an eyebrow. "Is that really wise? I mean, after all, she is British."

"This is the goose that laid the golden egg as well as the Queen Mother herself." Cloudy winked.

"I don't get it."

"That's why you have that last name. Now where did I put that paper?"

Cloudy continued to rummage through her bag, pulling out objects and throwing them on the floor. "Let's see... peace pipe, medicine bag, Marlboro lights, one paddle and one canoe... I was looking for those when I was up Sheet's creek. Maize, arrowheads, flashlight, candy bars... oh, here it is." She unfolded a piece of paper and began to read. "One gallon of milk, a dozen eggs, coffee... no wait, that's my old grocery list."

"Forget it," sighed Bitchy. "I'll go see her myself. Is she still in the Temple of Marmite?"

"No, she moved to the suburbs of Arizona. I'll write down the address as soon as I find a pen," said Cloudy as she dug through her bag once more, pulling out an Eskimo totem pole. "I was visiting up North."

Bitchy gave Cloudy a pen and some paper. "Here. I don't have all year."

Cloudy scribbled the address down and gave it to Bitchy.

"Ya know Cloudy, this trip won't be the same without you," sighed Bitchy.

"Golly gee, I'm only a thought away. Besides I'm sure Cowgirl is a more than an adequate partner," sniffed Cloudy.

Bitchy's phone rang, interrupting them. "McNeedsalay, can I help you?" Bitchy paused for a moment. "I see... yes... okay, I'll be right there."

Bitchy looked at the levitating Indian and rolled her eyes. "The more than adequate one just glued her head to the desk again."

The next day Bitchy arrived at the house of Matriarch the Oracle. The house was designed to look like an English Cottage straight out of a fairytale. Bitchy checked the walls for gingerbread. Her hand was poised in the air ready to knock when the door opened and the Oracle was standing before her with a cup of tea and a plate of freshly baked scones.

"That's some welcome Mat." Grinned Bitchy. "Thank you. I wove it from cactus needles and tumbleweeds." Preened Matriarch. "Come inside and we will talk, it's been too long. The gosling would join us but she's out in the pond doing her laps."

Bitchy and the Oracle sat in the cozy kitchen sipping Lady Grey tea and catching up on each other's lives. Bitchy was surprised to find the Matriarch had acclimated to her non-temple atmosphere and had become a NASCAR fan. Matriarch was equally surprised to find that Bitchy had become quite adept at flower arrangements as part of her anger management course requirements. The relaxed milieu made it easier for the Oracle to reveal her visions to Bitchy.

"Bitch, the time has come for me to tell you of my visions. I have had glimpses of the Thumb in various places, but nothing as to the why and how of his travels. I feel a great unhappiness emanating from him. He is searching for something or someone."

The Oracle then pulled a large parchment from the depths of her cleavage and rolled it out on the table. "I have marked the places where I have seen the Thumb. She pointed to the places marked on the map with smiley face stickers. "I warn you. I feel a darkness following you and I advise extreme caution. Take this with you."

Once again she reached into her cleavage and extracted what appeared to be a large jar wrapped in a red velvet bag and secured with a gold cord.

"What is it?" asked Bitchy as she shook the bag.

"Be careful with that!" shouted the Oracle. "Use what is in there only as a last resort."

"Thank you my friend. I knew I could not begin to take this journey without the benefit of your wisdom," sniffled Bitchy.

"To be quite frank, I was surprised to see you accept the offer considering what happened before."

"It was meeting Ms. Hag de Mer. She seemed so...so..."

"Sad? Desperate?" ventured Matriarch.

"So rich," stated Bitchy. "It sickens me to think that someone with her criminal sense of fashion and décor should be that rich."

"I hear tell that she only has half a brain that she shares with someone else." Matriarch winked.

"It shows," sighed Bitchy. "I must be off now; I don't like to leave Cowgirl alone in the office too long."

"I'm sure she's more than adequate," said Matriarch.

"Ms. More Than Adequate lost her calendar and determines what day it is by pulling down her pants and checking which day is written on her panties. Luckily she's being wearing them in the right order but it can prove embarrassing when she's scheduling a client for their next appointment," groaned Bitchy.

"I think you need this more than I do," said the Oracle as she took a small amulet from around her neck and placed it in Bitchy's hand. "It will give you peace."

"Oh my! It's beautiful and the back opens up... but what is this?" inquired Bitchy, holding up a small white tablet.

"Cyanide. If I had to deal with Cowgirl I would have swallowed it long ago. It will be a painful but quick death." Matriarch kissed both of Bitchy's cheeks and wished her good luck.

"Thank you for everything Mat. If there is anything I can do for you just ask."

"Yes there is." Matriarch handed her a large box and some envelopes. "Could you drop these off at the post office for me?" The Oracle grinned widely.

"No problem. Give the gosling my love and I'll see you when I return," chimed Bitchy.

"I won't hold my breath," muttered Mat as she pushed Bitchy out the door.

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byABSTRUSE© 14 comments/ 7280 views/ 1 favorites

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