Mr. Dingle the Strong

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*

Friday was a half day at World on a String, so Jane Dingle was home from work early. When Edward Dingle got to the door, she was waiting for him, swaddled in Saran Wrap.

"You're never going to believe the day I had," he told her.

She smiled up at him. "Well, come in and tell me about it."

"Why are you dressed like this again?"

"Don't like the costume?" she simpered, handing him one end of the plastic. "Just hold this piece while I walk away," she laughed, her bottom swaying enticingly.

*

On the other side of town, Skilla and Thrilla were preparing to board their flying saucer when another one landed right beside them. "Martians," Skilla groaned.

A hatch opened on the base of the other ship and two men emerged, clad in red satin gladiator uniforms. "I am Lorax," said one. "I am Gygax," said the other.

The Venusians rolled their eyes. They were Martians; of course they were men. And of course they had names ending in x. "We are Skilla and Thrilla," Skilla said.

The Martians rolled their eyes. Women with a-names, in revealing green satin dresses. Of course they were Venusians. "Why are you here?" Lorax asked.

"We were testing a new ray," Thrilla replied. "A sonic andro-libido transducer."

"It is, I suppose, some sort of audio-vibratory-physio-muscular device for enhancing a male's attractiveness?" Lorax asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Well, it also has a digital clock," Skilla snapped. "Liquid crystal display."

Gygax smiled. "So, basically a Venusian stud ray."

"If you want to be crude," Thrilla replied. "What are you testing?"

"Something similar," Lorax admitted. "A sonic gyno-libido transducer."

Skilla sneered. "So a Martian slut ray."

"If you want to be crude," Gygax sniffed.

"I see yours doesn't have a clock," Thrilla pointed out with a smirk. All four aliens remembered why their planets had once gone to war.

"Perhaps we can help," Skilla said in a conciliatory tone. "What are you looking for?"

"A truly average woman," Lorax said. "Preferably married."

"Truly average people are hard to find these days," Skilla admitted. "But we have someone who might fit the bill. Have you heard of Mrs. Dingle?"

*

Submitted for your consideration: Mr. Edward Dingle. Father, banker, and—according to Mrs. Dingle—great lover of women. And, for a short time at least, test subject for a quartet of interplanetary Einsteins seeking to untangle the complex relations between men and women. At the moment, his life has calmed down, but we anticipate that things will soon become a lot more exciting in the Dingle household. After all, there are a lot of scientists trolling the universe in search of data...and, in the end, how many husbands and wives are truly average?

With deepest thanks to Rod Serling and Burgess Meredith. And, of course, to BlackRandI for putting this whole thing together!

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35 Comments
FlamethrowFlamethrow2 months ago

Lots of fun was had by all

A_BierceA_Bierce2 months ago

A well-above-average story from an equally well-above-average author. Banking will never be the same in Centreville. I laughed so hard I had to go back and read it again.

TrainerOfBimbosTrainerOfBimbos2 months ago

Reads more like horror.

AnonymousAnonymous7 months ago

Very nice, thank you!

And I'm still trying to decide, wether the last comment ("Wrong category") was meant as humorous as the story, or not. Anyway, I chuckled. Thank you for that, too, Anonymous.

AnonymousAnonymous10 months ago

Wrong category.

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