The Maiden and the Minstrel Knight
“Urgh, umph… WHAT THE FUCK??”
“Huh? Wha– what? Where am… Wait a minute – Aria?”
“What the actual fuck.”
“I, uh… Oof, my head hurts.”
“Aww, your poor little head hurts? There is an actual fucking crisis here, suck it up and deal with your hangover later.”
“How much did I… ok, crisis, right, yeah. What’s going on?”
“...? ‘Going on’? What do you mean ‘what’s going on?’ Use your fucking eyes.”
“I’m trying, but they’re kind of all bleary. I just woke up.”
“Yeah. That’s the issue. You just woke up. In a bed. That I also just woke up in.”
“...Right. Yeah.”
“What are you not getting here…?! Both of us are butt-fucking-naked, and I feel chafed in places that don’t get chafed unaided.”
“I… ah. Huh. That is, uh…”
“Ok, I guess words are things for other people and just passed you by.”
“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just quite a lot to take in.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. Chafing probably just means you did a shit job warming things up.”
“I meant the situation…”
“Whatever. I think you’re missing the point here.”
“Sorry. Shock, I guess.”
“Well, snap out of it. Answers are needed.”
“Yeah. Ok. Um… what’s the question?”
“How many times do I need to… I don’t like repeating myself, so listen up good this time: what the fuck?”
“Oh. Right, yeah. Ok, uh… do you remember anything from last night?”
“Do I rem– …fuck me, I wish I’d thought of that. Here is me, trying to figure out how I got here and what the fuck is going on, and you suggest trying to remember. It’s so simple now, I don’t know why I didn’t try that earlier.”
“Ok, ok, I’m sorry! Yes, that was a… dumb question. I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything either.”
“Fine. Fat lot of use that is then.”
“Could you just, maybe, you know, chill out for a minute or something?”
“The fuck do you think, Sunshine?”
“Ok, I guess not. Uh, well… Wait, why is this on me to work out?”
“ ‘Cause I don’t fucking know.”
“I don’t know either!”
“Well, figure it out then!”
“Ok, ok, uh… Look, if I’m hungover like this, then there was a party last night, right?”
“...How do you figure that?”
“Well, do you just wake up hungover every morning?”
“Obviously. I’m an adult.”
“Right. Uh, I’m just gonna ignore that for a bit, um, and stipulate that I only drink enough to get hangovers and lose memories if there’s a party.”
“Huh. What do you do the rest of the… never mind. Whatever. Ok, so, there was a party. How does that lead to me being in your bedroom?”
“I mean, I assume that– wait, you think this is my bedroom?”
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”
“This isn’t my bedroom.”
“Really? Not even with all the pink shit?”
“No!”
“Then… pink curtains, bright colours, house party–”
“–Pinkie Pie.”
“Right. At least that explains the unimportant bits.”
“Great.”
“Ok, so…?”
“Uh… well… um… Alright, I think we may have had sex.”
“You thi– …Ok. Deep fucking breath. Are you telling me that you think the part of this conundrum I’m fucking stumped by is what motions we performed together with our nether regions? After I was the one who filled you in on that bit a whole two minutes ago?”
“No, I– I get that. But I don’t know any more than you, and it’s really hard trying to figure this out when you’re coming at me with this constant hostility.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, it’s not helping. I don’t know why you’ve gotta be so angry about this.”
“An attractive and suggestively-dressed young-looking woman wakes up in a stranger’s bed, naked, aching, and with no memory of how she got there, and you’ve got no idea why she might be a little on edge? You don’t hear even the faintest alarm bell ringing in that situation?”
“I, uh– Wait, what are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing. Not a fucking thing. But I sure as shit don’t trust you either.”
“Uh. Right. I guess I can’t really blame you for not trusting someone you don’t remember.”
“Thanks.”
“It kind of makes it all the more pressuring to find some answers, though.”
“Yep. Time’s a-wasting.”
“Ok, um. Party. There was a party, we were both at the party, so, uh…”
“Sometimes showing your working sounds awfully like static.”
“Got it! Call your sister.”
“My sister? Call her anything in particular? She’s a dick. How’s that?”
“No, I mean, like, call her on the phone. Look, if there was a party, then you wouldn’t have come alone, would you? You always hit up these things together.”
“Hm. Yeah, ok, that’s a good point.”
“Thank you! Phew.”
“But I’m not calling Adagio. Whatever happened last night, it’s better not knowing than having to bring it up with her.”
“Ok, so call the other one.”
“...Sonata? You’re saying you might be a problem that Sonata could solve?
“Sure.”
“You have no idea what that says about you.”
“I don’t, uh, and perhaps ignorance is bliss.”
“Wow, you’re practically made for her. Anyway, pass me my phone.”
“Hm? Your phone?”
“Yeah. So I can call her.”
“Right, but, wh–”
“–Because my phone is in the pocket of my jeans, and my jeans are over there, beside your pillow.”
“Oh. Ok, yeah. …How did they get there?”
“I can make some guesses. Would you like me to draw you a diagram?”
“Uh… Hang on, right, where is–”
“Try focusing on the jeans for a minute, and not on the skimpy underwear nestled inside them.”
“...Yeah. I mean they are fairly, uh…”
“–Effective, looking at where we ended up.”
“...Yeah, no, can’t fault that. Um, anyway, here you go.”
“Thanks. Ok, it’s ringing.”
“Yawn… Hello?”
“Hi Sonata.”
“...”
“It’s Aria.”
“Oh, hey Aria! How are you this morning?”
“Awake.”
“I’m so sorry, that must be horrible for you. Is there anything I can do?”
“You know what, I’m glad you asked. We were at a party last night, yeah?”
“Yep! I licked tequila off this shy grey girl and then won a wet T-shirt contest!”
“Nice.”
“It was awesome! My T-shirt got all wet though.”
“Damn. The great detective is constipated again.”
“Huh?”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“...¿Que?”
“Whatever. Anyway, do you remember me hooking up with anyone last night?”
“Oh yeah, you totally took the party upstairs with some guy you met.”
“Blue hair, orangey skin?”
“Definitely! I remember because you had him half-naked already before you even got to the bedroom.”
“Damn. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“You said you’d break my nose.”
“Yeah… that does sound like something I’d say.”
“And like something you’d do. Anyway, yeah, you really liked him, you were all over him.”
“Urgh. And I was, you know, in full control of my faculties?”
“Uh, no? You were totally wasted.”
“It was after six. What am I, a farmer?”
“Uh…? I mean, you don’t eat any greens, so I can’t see you growing them. And cattle would be way too much work, and too many early mornings. Maybe you’d farm, like, eyeballs or something.”
“Forget I said anything.”
“Ok! Are you gonna be home in time for dinner?”
“Dunno.”
“Can you bring ramen? I’ve been craving it all day.”
“It’s, like, ten in the morning.”
“All day!”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Ciao!”
“...Ok, lover boy, looks like my bad judgement was entirely my own.”
“Thanks. By the way, just in case you’re calling me that to cover, my name’s Flash.”
“That is appropriate, for someone failing to cover himself with the bedsheet.”
“Wha– No I’m–”
“Haha, gave you a panic there, didn’t I? Anyway, it’s sweet you think I’d care enough to hide that I forgot your name.”
“...You think I’m sweet?”
“Here’s a life lesson for you, one I’ve learned courtesy of spending too much time around Sonata. When people say ‘sweet’ to an adult, they mean ‘naive.’ ”
“Uh, I’m not certa– Wait.”
“Hm?”
“Hang on, are you on birth control”?
“This took you that long? The future doesn’t look good for you.”
“Ok, but, are you?”
“Don’t sweat it. I can’t do… that.”
“You can’t?”
“Nope.”
“...How come?”
“Divine fucking providence, I guess.”
“Uh, right. Sure. Well that’s a relief then.”
“Just a thought, but remember that relief for next time. Remember it beforehand.”
“Right. Yeah. That’s some pretty good advice.”
“It is. But I’m not gonna be putting any money on you following it.”
“Um… Ok, well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Anytime.”
“Ok, what about–“
“Go on. Ask that question. I dare you.”
“Uh… Ok, do I need to… get myself checked for STDs?”
“Almost certainly. But you won’t have got any of them from me.”
“Right. Ok, well… good.”
“Uh huh.”
“Um...why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m, I dunno, a puzzle you’re trying to figure out or something.”
“Because you’re a puzzle I’m trying to figure out. Or something.”
“Uh…”
“How long would you say we’ve been awake?”
“Ten minutes, maybe?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. And in ten minutes, you haven’t said a single thing that’s made me think I want to see more of you. Not even once.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Once again, anytime.”
“I mean, to be honest, it’s in keeping with just about everything else you’ve said this morning.”
“Yeah. So you see my confusion.”
“I… don’t think I do?”
“Well I sure do see yours. The thing is, Flush, dear, that there’s still been no decent answer to the question I woke you up with.”
“...I’m just gonna assume you mean that nickname in a nice, positive way, like a royal flush in poker.”
“I’m sure that’s a delightfully safe bet. And you’ve forgotten the question, haven’t you?”
“No no, I’m all too aware of it. ‘What the fuck,’ right?”
“Very good, Flesh, there’s hope for you to participate in basic conversations yet.”
“Are you like this with everyone?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Although I suppose I was channelling my inner Adagio a bit there. But you see my point, don’t you? If I find you about as interesting and as sexually appealing as out-of-date mayonnaise, then how did we end up here?”
“I’m… baffled, stumped and mystified.”
“Back on familiar ground, then. Whatever, I’m done playing. Can you fuck off now so I can sleep?”
“...I was sound asleep, not disturbing you at all, until you woke me up.”
“Urgh. Fine. Pass me my jeans.”
“Or, we could stay here, and both go back to sleep.”
“Is that how it goes in the fairytales? Nah, I’m much too sober to be able to pretend you don’t exist enough to sleep.”
“Well, if I’m impossible to ignore, how about I, um…?”
“I wondered how long that would take. And I don’t blame you for making a move, seems dumb to waste the chance. I might even have said yes, if you’d answered some of those questions differently.”
“Damn.”
“Damn right. Jeans, now.”
“Here.”
“Thanks. Hold up, what’s that on your finger?”
“Huh?”
“Left hand, ring finger, inside fingertip. The fuck is that?”
“Oh, uh, let me see… It’s just a callus, nothing to worry about. Just something I got from–”
“I know exactly where you got it from.”
“Oh, did I mention that I play guitar? Is that a detail coming back from last night?”
“No, but of course you do.”
“What’s wrong with playing guitar?”
“I was at Woodstock and the Isle of Wight. But sure, go on calling what you do ‘guitar.’ ”
“Wait, how old–”
“But that’s not the issue. It’s not whether or not you can play guitar. It’s that you did play guitar.”
“...I don’t get what you mean.”
“Did you, or did you not, bring a guitar to a party?”
“Well yeah. I just got this new acoustic made by this great local luthier named Cinder Glow, and I wanted to show everyone her handiwork.”
“And I’m sure it’s very nice work indeed, but you can show them that without playing it. And maybe on a more suitable occasion.”
“But everyone was gonna be here, so–”
“So you thought you’d have a spotlight.”
“...I’m not sure I follow?”
“Hard to think you could do anything but.”
“Do you– Do you just not like guitars?”
“Not like guitars? I met Robert Johnson at the crossroads in Mississippi. I gave Dylan the Strat at Newport in ‘65. My legs inspired the Flying V!”
“Some of that rings some vague bells, I think, but–”
“–But few things in life make you a dickhead faster than bringing a guitar to a party.”
“Oh come on, it’s the iconic image of people having a great time together: playing guitar and singing songs, like when camping.”
“No, a guitar is ok around a campfire because there’s fuck-all else to do on a campsite. A house party is a completely different setting.”
“Ok, but, some people do like it.”
“Be honest about what you mean by that. You mean you get laid, right?”
“Well, I–”
“You start playing guitar at a party, and soon there’s a crowd of women around you, and you inevitably get your dick wet by the end of the night.”
“Look, if you’re gonna be like that about it, then I’m sorry, but I have to point out that you don’t really have a leg to stand on, given this morning.”
“Ok. I was gonna let you go on in your ignorance, but, fine. Right. You may think that playing guitar at a party gets you laid. Technically you’re right, since you may find that doing so makes women throw themselves at you. If you can live with it, artistically, then fine, I can’t stop you.”
“Ok…?”
“But, as a musician, it’s really important that you understand this one thing, and never forget it: They’re not sleeping with you because they like your guitar playing. They’re sleeping with you to stop it.”
“You don’t know that…”
“You do. Deep down. Now that that truth’s been aired, it’s a doubt you’ll never shake.”
“I, uh, well, that does sound like something specifically calculated to haunt me.”
“I guess I’m more selfless than I thought, when it came to my turn to take one for the team. I did not hesitate as I threw myself in front of that sexual bullet. Huh.”
“...I think that’s the first positive and optimistic thing you’ve said all morning.”
“There we are, see. Don’t ever go thinking you don’t know how to make a girl happy. Hmmm, can’t find my hairclips… Whatever. If you find them, you can keep them as a wank trophy or something, I don’t really care. Anyway, laters!”
“I haven’t seen them and wasn’t planning to do that with them if I did!”
“You can thank me for the idea then. Damn, this door lock is really stiff.”
“Try talking to it, I’m sure it’ll go flaccid once it gets to know you.”
“Good one. But please don’t go thinking that, in any meaningful sense, you know me. Anyway, this just needs a bit of force. See? That’s got it. Dasvidaniya!”
“Yeah… Bye…”
“What– Oh, uh, hi? Didn’t mean to walk into you like that. …Were you listening at the keyhole?”
“...”
“Yes, there is a boy in there. No, he’s… well, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“...”
“Damn, you’re really shy. And grey, come to think of it. That rings a bell.”
“...Mmhmm?”
“I remember now. My sister likes you, and I guess I do owe her a favour. Blue hair, tits the size of your head, will devour a taco in three mouthfuls and I only half mean that as an innuendo.”
“...?”
“There’s no point playing coy about it, you already let her lick tequila off you.”
“!!!”
“Yeah, her. Give me your number and I’ll pass it on.”
“Mmhmm!”
Author's Note
I really like Flash Sentry. There’s no character better at being given a hard time.
