If in your wanderings you have come upon a satyr or two, you will probably be in agreement that they are a most arrogant lot. They have a very high opinion of themselves when it comes to wooing and winning the fairer sex. They don’t feel like they particularly have to try very hard to get the attentions of fair maidens. Quite bluntly they are the “bad boys” of the fae kingdom. Of course in their defense many girls and women (who should know better) have quite literally thrown themselves at the feet of a satyr hoping for a kiss or two…or more.
Keep in mind that Satyrs are not the marrying kind. They will love you for a night, maybe even a day or two, but they will leave. And please don’t fall into the trap of thinking that if you love them enough, and do all the right things that they will stick around because you are so wonderful that they couldn’t possibly be satisfied with another female’s attentions. You see it’s not about quality for them, it’s quantity. It’s conquest. The moment you give in, you’re fate is sealed.
Knowing that, you might mistakenly believe that it’s worth a little pain of parting to spend time with him. But let me make this perfectly clear. It is you who will never be satisfied with the attentions of another man, a human man, a good man. No. You are spoiled forever. Think about that, before you go sniffing around a satyr. You have been warned!
Tor Oatenleif was Fio Nogbottom’s best friend in the whole world. They had become friends as wee little sprouts and had mostly remained so, except for a few odd times when they had come to blows, competing for the attentions of a a beautiful lass. Luckily, for the friendship, they had finally fallen in love with two different women and now had children that played together as they had.
On this fine summer morning Tor , carrying water from the creek, has run into Fio, who is excited to announce that he and his lovely wife are expecting their third child. Tor laughs heartily and says that after he delivered the water he was coming to tell Fio the same thing. Both elvse are excited that their new arrivals will already have a friend to play with. Also to be honest it kept a tiny bit of resentment at bay because in all things, the friends were still rather competitive with each other, though in a good natured way.
I have often heard the pinnacle of modern men’s fashion, the tuxedo, called a monkey suit. It must truly be very uncomfortable judging by the speed with which the men in my life have retreated from them as soon as they possibly could. Not to mention the whining sound as soon as they are ensconced in one. Who hasn’t witnessed the fingers tugging at the collar hoping for a little breathing room? So I decided to draw a “true” monkey suit to show the guys that it could be worse, much, much worse. Not that I don’t have sympathy for what men have to go through. Because women have their torturous clothing equivalents as well. Girdles and spiked 5″ high heels for example. Which begs the question …why? Does fashion really have to hurt to be fashionable? Hmmm?
Termonius L. Woodburrow is an elf that had lived with his mother his whole life. There’s nothing extraordinary about that except for the fact that he was 795 years old. Elves live a long time by human standards, and stay with their parents longer than humans, but even for elves this was quite a bit over the usual time. To use a human coined phrase, there was definitely “a failure to launch”.
Every time Termonius would even think about or hint to his mom that it might be time for him to move out, she would bake his favorite pie, fairy berry, bring him his slippers, fluff his pillows and just generally spoil him rotten. Even if he had gotten the gumption to leave his cozy home and find a wife there were not many elf maidens who could meet the standards that his mother so capably set. So Termonius stayed put year after year. And it would perhaps have gone on that way for perhaps another 500 years or so, except that mom met her untimely end at the hand of a very angry dragonfly who burned her to a crisp with it fiery breath and a haughty twitch of its tale.
Termonius had no idea how to take care of himself. So he realized rather quickly that he needed a mo… no make that a wife to replace his mom.
Though he didn’t expect that anyone could live up to his mom, he still held great expectations and standards in his mind for his future bride. When he courteously explained these standards to the maidens he was very quickly and unceremoniously shown the door. After this had happened with the first fifty or so maidens, Termonius began to assess and understand the situation he was really in. Not only would he not find someone like mom, but he would be lucky to find anyone at all. What had once been an arrogant judgmental smirk on his face when courting now turned to the “snail caught in the headlights”. He was extremely nervous now when coming to call. It did not help his prospects to have sweat rolling down his face. He made no further demands and was practically begging someone to please marry him
It is quite possible that what Termonius should be doing with his time is enrolling in classes on how to take care of one’s self.
Maybe you never thought about it, but even ogres and trolls have mothers.
One thing we all have in common- parents. And today we honor the yin, softer side of parenting. I know that an unlucky few would say their moms are ogres. But I’m fortunate to have a different kind of mom. What I love about her is that she is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She has always tried her best to do the right thing, to be loving, kind and supportive of not only her family but others as well. She’s a brilliant artist and she is the glue of my family. I love you Mom!
Con ayuda de Alejandra Moglia estoy armando este blog por intermedio de WORDPRESS. Es en reemplazo del que tuve en Blogger desde noviembre del 2011 y que en enero del 2014 el mismo Blogger eliminó sin aviso previo y sin darme ninguna explicación. En este nuevo blog iré incluyendo mis textos de LIJATE que había publicado en aquel otro. Son textos de los que pienso no volverán a editarse en libro, pero lo hago para que lleguen a la mayor cantidad posible de lectores sin discriminar a nadie ni por la edad, ni por el sexo, ni por asexuado y ni siquiera por analfabeto; al contrario. _ (HACIENDO CLIC CON EL MOUSE EN CUALQUIERA DE LOS NÚMEROS O TÍTULOS QUE ESTÁN A CONTINUACIÓN DE "INICIO", PUEDE ACCEDERSE A LOS DISTINTOS TEXTOS QUE FUI PUBLICANDO HASTA AHORA.)