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Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintended by the author. "The Pretender" is a protected trademark of MTM Television and NBC and the characters of that series are used herein with no mean intent or desire for remuneration. It is, instead, a tribute to innovative television, that rare and welcome phenomenon.
Author: Witch1
Copyright: 1997
The Kinky One
This is an extended pun, if you don't get it there is an explanation at the end.
Sydney awoke to the incessant ringing of the phone. He fumbled for it in the dark, and then for the bedside lamp. Four in the morning. He answered with a gruff, "Hello," but then immediately smiled at hearing Jarod's voice.
"Did I wake you, Sydney?" Jarod asked. "I forgot to check the time . . . but there's something I really need to talk to you about. It's about women--and men."
Sydney sighed and looked rather glumly at the phone. Jarod seemed to have a lot of questions about sexuality lately. It was starting to become tiresome. And boring--Jarod was so relentlessly 'normal'. "Perhaps if you just start at the beginning, Jarod . . . "
"Well, I met her in a club down in old Soho where they drink champagne--although for some reason it tastes just like cherry cola-- "
"What's that, Jarod, I didn't catch that last word--"
"Cola, Sydney: C--O--L--A, co-la."
"That's rather odd, Jarod," Sydney interrupted. "But fascinating: although there are many champagnes which have distinct fruity bouquets and overtones, I don't believe I've ever heard of a one with a cola overtone or even a cola finish. . . "
"That's not the important part, Sydney," Jarod continued. "You see, well, she walked up to me and she asked me to dance--"
"You don't recall the winery or the vintage, do you?" Sydney asked, "not that I want to obsess about this 'cherry cola' situation, but it is intriguing--"
"Sydney, the thing is, she picked me up and sat me on her knee--"
"She 'picked you up', did you say, Jarod? Meaning physically--that she literally lifted you up off your feet--"
"Yes, and then she said, 'Dear boy, won't you come home with me?'" Jarod explained.
"Was she, ah, an unusually, well, LARGE woman, Jarod? I mean, if she literally picked you up--"
"You never were a good listener, Sydney, do you know that? I mean, think about it: I'd left home just a week before, and I'd never ever kissed a woman before--"
"Jarod, ah, I'm not sure how to broach this subject, but there are, out in the world, certain individuals who are--well, confused . . . " Sydney said, becoming more interested by the moment.
"But Lola smiled and took me by the hand, Sydney. And she said, 'Dear boy, I'm going to make you a man.'"
"Yes, that's all very well and good, Jarod, but, this, ah--what was the name, again: Layla?"
"Lola, L--O--L--A: Lo-la."
"Yes, well, perhaps you should tell me what YOU did, Jarod."
"Well: I pushed her away! I walked to the door! And then, ah, I fell to the floor. I got down on my knees . . . "
"Jarod, slow down a moment! On your knees? There are those who might find that, well, a bit of a suggestive position. But, well, intriguing. In fact, I'm beginning to find this entire story increasingly, ah, interesting. Your being on your knees, for example, could be construed as a submissive gesture indicative of a passive sexual preference--"
"Right. And that's the way I want it to stay: I always want it to be that way."
"Really?" Sydney frowned. Why had this side of Jarod's personality never surfaced while he had still been at the Centre? It certainly would have made those endless hours they had spent alone together more stimulating. "Tell me, Jarod--with more details, please--exactly what happened then?"
"--then I looked at her and she looked at me--"
"Jarod! Just slow down: I need details, damn it! I can't help you if you won't explain a few salient points, here. Now, this, person, this Layla--"
"It's LOLA! L--O--L--A: Lo-la! Look, Sydney: I'm not the world's most physical guy, but when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine--"
"Jarod--are you alright? Have you had an x-ray, because you know a great deal of damage can exist without your necessarily being aware of it--these sorts of, ah--relationships CAN result in real physical harm. It's not always just a wonderful, exciting game: the big, shiny handcuffs, those cute little whips and leather--"
"Would you listen to me, Sydney! I'm not dumb, but I can't understand why she walked like a woman and talked like a man--"
Sydney sighed. "Are we still talking about this Layla?" he asked, increasingly intrigued but also annoyed by Jarod's disjointed account. He wished Jarod would just get to the fun part and skip the boring exposition.
"Lola, Sydney! Damn it, her name is Lola: L--O--L--A, Lo-la! Look, the thing is: I'm not the world's most passionate guy, but when I looked in her eyes, I nearly fell for---"
"Jarod, perhaps we should start over. I must admit I am quite intrigued and rather, well--fascinated. Not for prurient reasons, of course! But it would be helpful if you could describe the actual events in greater detail. For example, going back to your being on your knees there on the floor in front of this, ah--this person-- let's just suppose I had been watching the two of you at that moment, Jarod, precisely WHAT would I have seen?"
"You always did like to watch, Sydney."
"Jarod! Surely you don't mean to imply that my motives are less than scientific and completely altruistic! I'm a psychiatrist--everyone knows we don't ENJOY listening to our patient's innermost fantasies and most intimate experiences. Besides, you always rather liked BEING watched, didn't you, Jarod? Now, tell me--in graphic, clinical detail- -how far, exactly did things go between you and this Layla--"
"Sydney, this is the last time I'm going to say this, so you damned well better be listening: her name is Lola. L--O--L--A, Lo-la! "
"Jarod, does the name 'RuPaul' ring any bells? Although I never explained this to you in detail, an amazingly large percentage of the population has some type of gender ambiguity: which can be rather a splendid thing, actually--I mean, boys will be girls and girls will be boys; it's a mixed up, muddled up, messed up world . . ."
"Except for Lola!"
"Really," Sydney said. "And yet it does sound as if someone is a bit confused--"
"Well, I know what I am!" Jarod insisted.
"Excellent, Jarod, excellent! And what exactly IS that?" Sydney asked with a growing sense of exasperation.
"Well, I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man--"
"Excellent, Jarod! Excellent!"
"And so is Lola."
"Layla?"
"No! Lola, you idiot: L--O--L--A, Lo-la!" Jarod said, slamming the phone down. The problem with Sydney, he thought, was that he just doesn't get it.
The End
OK, for those who are either too young or were too, ah, 'happy' at the time to remember 1970, the song is the Kinks' "Lola". Thanks to Jim for the idea; to Ray Davies for the song; and to Adam Schneider for posting the lyrics (no longer posted)
Author: Witch1
Copyright: 1997
This is an extended pun, if you don't get it there is an explanation at the end.
Sydney awoke to the incessant ringing of the phone. He fumbled for it in the dark, and then for the bedside lamp. Four in the morning. He answered with a gruff, "Hello," but then immediately smiled at hearing Jarod's voice.
"Did I wake you, Sydney?" Jarod asked. "I forgot to check the time . . . but there's something I really need to talk to you about. It's about women--and men."
Sydney sighed and looked rather glumly at the phone. Jarod seemed to have a lot of questions about sexuality lately. It was starting to become tiresome. And boring--Jarod was so relentlessly 'normal'. "Perhaps if you just start at the beginning, Jarod . . . "
"Well, I met her in a club down in old Soho where they drink champagne--although for some reason it tastes just like cherry cola-- "
"What's that, Jarod, I didn't catch that last word--"
"Cola, Sydney: C--O--L--A, co-la."
"That's rather odd, Jarod," Sydney interrupted. "But fascinating: although there are many champagnes which have distinct fruity bouquets and overtones, I don't believe I've ever heard of a one with a cola overtone or even a cola finish. . . "
"That's not the important part, Sydney," Jarod continued. "You see, well, she walked up to me and she asked me to dance--"
"You don't recall the winery or the vintage, do you?" Sydney asked, "not that I want to obsess about this 'cherry cola' situation, but it is intriguing--"
"Sydney, the thing is, she picked me up and sat me on her knee--"
"She 'picked you up', did you say, Jarod? Meaning physically--that she literally lifted you up off your feet--"
"Yes, and then she said, 'Dear boy, won't you come home with me?'" Jarod explained.
"Was she, ah, an unusually, well, LARGE woman, Jarod? I mean, if she literally picked you up--"
"You never were a good listener, Sydney, do you know that? I mean, think about it: I'd left home just a week before, and I'd never ever kissed a woman before--"
"Jarod, ah, I'm not sure how to broach this subject, but there are, out in the world, certain individuals who are--well, confused . . . " Sydney said, becoming more interested by the moment.
"But Lola smiled and took me by the hand, Sydney. And she said, 'Dear boy, I'm going to make you a man.'"
"Yes, that's all very well and good, Jarod, but, this, ah--what was the name, again: Layla?"
"Lola, L--O--L--A: Lo-la."
"Yes, well, perhaps you should tell me what YOU did, Jarod."
"Well: I pushed her away! I walked to the door! And then, ah, I fell to the floor. I got down on my knees . . . "
"Jarod, slow down a moment! On your knees? There are those who might find that, well, a bit of a suggestive position. But, well, intriguing. In fact, I'm beginning to find this entire story increasingly, ah, interesting. Your being on your knees, for example, could be construed as a submissive gesture indicative of a passive sexual preference--"
"Right. And that's the way I want it to stay: I always want it to be that way."
"Really?" Sydney frowned. Why had this side of Jarod's personality never surfaced while he had still been at the Centre? It certainly would have made those endless hours they had spent alone together more stimulating. "Tell me, Jarod--with more details, please--exactly what happened then?"
"--then I looked at her and she looked at me--"
"Jarod! Just slow down: I need details, damn it! I can't help you if you won't explain a few salient points, here. Now, this, person, this Layla--"
"It's LOLA! L--O--L--A: Lo-la! Look, Sydney: I'm not the world's most physical guy, but when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine--"
"Jarod--are you alright? Have you had an x-ray, because you know a great deal of damage can exist without your necessarily being aware of it--these sorts of, ah--relationships CAN result in real physical harm. It's not always just a wonderful, exciting game: the big, shiny handcuffs, those cute little whips and leather--"
"Would you listen to me, Sydney! I'm not dumb, but I can't understand why she walked like a woman and talked like a man--"
Sydney sighed. "Are we still talking about this Layla?" he asked, increasingly intrigued but also annoyed by Jarod's disjointed account. He wished Jarod would just get to the fun part and skip the boring exposition.
"Lola, Sydney! Damn it, her name is Lola: L--O--L--A, Lo-la! Look, the thing is: I'm not the world's most passionate guy, but when I looked in her eyes, I nearly fell for---"
"Jarod, perhaps we should start over. I must admit I am quite intrigued and rather, well--fascinated. Not for prurient reasons, of course! But it would be helpful if you could describe the actual events in greater detail. For example, going back to your being on your knees there on the floor in front of this, ah--this person-- let's just suppose I had been watching the two of you at that moment, Jarod, precisely WHAT would I have seen?"
"You always did like to watch, Sydney."
"Jarod! Surely you don't mean to imply that my motives are less than scientific and completely altruistic! I'm a psychiatrist--everyone knows we don't ENJOY listening to our patient's innermost fantasies and most intimate experiences. Besides, you always rather liked BEING watched, didn't you, Jarod? Now, tell me--in graphic, clinical detail- -how far, exactly did things go between you and this Layla--"
"Sydney, this is the last time I'm going to say this, so you damned well better be listening: her name is Lola. L--O--L--A, Lo-la! "
"Jarod, does the name 'RuPaul' ring any bells? Although I never explained this to you in detail, an amazingly large percentage of the population has some type of gender ambiguity: which can be rather a splendid thing, actually--I mean, boys will be girls and girls will be boys; it's a mixed up, muddled up, messed up world . . ."
"Except for Lola!"
"Really," Sydney said. "And yet it does sound as if someone is a bit confused--"
"Well, I know what I am!" Jarod insisted.
"Excellent, Jarod, excellent! And what exactly IS that?" Sydney asked with a growing sense of exasperation.
"Well, I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man--"
"Excellent, Jarod! Excellent!"
"And so is Lola."
"Layla?"
"No! Lola, you idiot: L--O--L--A, Lo-la!" Jarod said, slamming the phone down. The problem with Sydney, he thought, was that he just doesn't get it.
The End
OK, for those who are either too young or were too, ah, 'happy' at the time to remember 1970, the song is the Kinks' "Lola". Thanks to Jim for the idea; to Ray Davies for the song; and to Adam Schneider for posting the lyrics (no longer posted)
