Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #14

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Tati as TATI

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Tony as TONY

ACT 103 SCENE 54
A SPOONFUL OF SARCASM & WOE

Two weeks ago…

Tony’s kneeling near the living room wall in sackcloth and ashes, wailing his sad little heart out. He’s smacking his brow against the wallpaper very hard.

TONY: No sleep, no rest for my tormented soul!

Tati walks in, licking a spoon smeared with cherry jam. She wonders what the hell Tony’s wailing and smacking about. She can see that the wallpaper’s taking quite a beating. She mutters under her breath.

TATI: And no money for new wallpaper.

TONY: Oh, I weep!

Tati sighs with great resignation. She senses a tedious conversation ahead. Time to make it interesting.

TATI: The only logical explanation for this is you’re rehearsing ‘Prince Igor’.

Tony stops smacking and wailing, and turns to face her.

TONY: Huh?

TATI: If so, I suggest you perform the ‘Polovtsian Dances’ in the second act. It’s my favorite part. I bet you have the voice of an angel.

Tony’s heart warms with gratitude.

TONY: Aw, what a lovely thing to say!

TATI: A castrated angel.

He looks at her like he’s been slapped with an electric eel.

TONY: Well, I never…

Tati gives her spoon another lick. It’s clean now, and she seems to be quite pleased with herself.

TATI: Never say never. Anyway, what’s gotten your panties in a bunch this time?

TONY: It’s our Patreon. Ah, me! Ah, woe!

TATI: Did you forget the password again?

TONY: No. I have it tattooed on my inner thigh.

Tati makes a mental note to change the password as soon as possible.

TONY: We’ve lost a patron. And now we’ve gone down a whole dollar! We’re going to starve! We’re going to die!

Tati looks at her spoon. That’s food for thought.

TATI: And you suppose your wailing will attract a new patron? I think not! More likely you’ll chase the remaining ones away. You could do something more useful than ruining our flat in an orgy of grief you know.

Tony puts on a petulant face.

TONY: Oh, and seducing new patrons with your saucy condiment licking skills is more useful?

Tati gives her spoon a musing lick.

TATI: There’s nothing saucy about jam.

Tony is quite exasperated now.

TONY: I don’t give a damn about your jam, Tati! We need more bloody money!

TATI: And you need to chill out. There’s always a solution to these things.

TONY: Then tell me what it is!

Tati looks at her spoon again. Unlike Tony, she seems calm and collected, almost contemplative even.

TONY: You and that fucking spoon…

Tati ignores him.

TATI: I’ll tell you what we can do to give our Patreon a new lick of life. We can make our own comic.

Tony’s voice takes on a sarcastic tone.

TONY: Comic? What an unexpected solution! Isn’t this something we do already? Oh, and by the way, the expression is ‘lease of life‘.

TATI: Yes, comic. But a better one. A super-puper wonder comic. One that’s exclusive to our Patreon. And maybe our Ko-fi too.

TONY: I don’t drink coffee!

TATI: Who cares? I do.

Tony rolls his eyes.

TONY: So, Super-Puper Wonder Woman, what is this comic going to be about?

TATI: Do you remember those two creatures you callously killed off in your ‘Crumble Cult’ webcomic?

TONY: Killed off? No. I’m afraid I’d remember something like that.

TATI: Think. They were tiny… and completely, utterly helpless.

TONY: This isn’t making me look very good…

Tati points her spoon at Tony in an accusing manner.

TATI: They even had names! How could you?!

TONY: What the hell?! No, I don’t remember this at all!

TATI: Exactly what a killer would say! Mork? Brandy Snap? Do these names ring a bell?

TONY: OH! Marth and Bramwell!

TATI: Yes, exactly what I said. Anyway, we can resurrect them. We can kill them on!

TONY: That makes no sense…

Tati ignores him.

TATI: They can be the main characters of the new comic we’ll write and draw. And I have an idea about the first strip…

Tati gives her spoon another lick before remembering that there’s not one dollop or iota of jam left on it.

TATI: Let’s discuss this over biscuits and jam.

Tony slowly gets to his feet, spreading ash everywhere.

TONY: I’ll go to the kitchen then.

TATI: No, you’ll go to the store. There’s no jam left in the house.

A sarcastic tone creeps into Tony’s voice.

TONY: Fine. What flavour does her royal highness want?

TATI: Hm. Peach. I’m feeling very peachy today.

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Present day…

TONY: Well, what shall we write for our introduction? We’ve got to let people know about our new comic strip.

TATI: Let’s discuss this over biscuits and jam.

TONY: I’ll go to the kitchen then.

TATI: No, you’ll go to the store. There’s no jam left in the house.

TONY: I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu. Let me guess… peach?
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Dear Readers,

While Tony tries to navigate his way through the supermarket revolving door, and Tati plays a hyperviolent video game where she kills waves and waves of mutant jam roly-polies, you have time to hop over to their Patreon page to read the first instalment of their new bilingual comic strip, ‘Marth & Bramwell’. And you can also read it on their Ko-fi page if you prefer.

This strip will be a free, ongoing feature that you’ll be able to read at any time. It will be updated monthly with a fresh episode. You can even bookmark their Patreon or Ko-fi page so that you won’t miss a single one. They have plenty of adventures in store, so stick around and please enjoy!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

SPAM® Sushi #9

I am regular visitor, how are you everybody? This paragraph posted at this web page is actually pleasant.
— free hot live video chat

We feel quite honoured that an employee of the porno industry would choose to spend their hard earned lunch breaks with us! Having rumpy pumpy with complete strangers must surely be sweaty and tiring work, so we’re glad our poetry can be a soothing balm for all those throbby raw bits of yours that are screaming for rest.
Here, have yourself a nice cup of tea too!
Oh, by the way… There is kinda one tiny weeny thing we’d like to ask. (We hope it won’t offend.) Next time you visit, may we ask you to please put some clothes on? Or, failing that, turn your cam off?
— Tati & Tony (Two Shy Poetic Exhibitionists)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

SPAM® Sushi #8

Hi there, I just wanted to say, you’re wrong. Your post doesn’t make any sense.
— zqmjbogx

Which one, dude? We have 657 posts now. And, actually, only a handful of them make a lick of sense—yeah, the ones where we awkwardly promote our books or pathetically cajole money out of our readers’ pockets. Otherwise, they’re all complete bullshit. So, you’ll have to be more specific if you’re going to insult us, bro.

— Tati & Tony (Two Idiots Who Are Going to be Rich and Famous Only After They Drop Dead)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE

© All rights reserved 2019

Open-Source Poetry Three #5 (Final)

Lordy lordy lordy!

It’s been quite a boat ride and a half, hasn’t it? It’s time to take down the Jolly Roger, ship oars, and uncork a bottle of good ol’ rum. And you, Dear Readers, have gone on this buccaneering journey with us. Just look at what we’ve achieved! A grand old sea shanty!

‘No prey, no pay’ as they say in the piratical code. So, no gold today! But we do have a bunch of words mashed together and lifted up in song. So, join with us as we belt out a tale of brave captain Ahab and his crusade to rid the world of evil dolphins! Oh, and let’s raise our tankards to obbverse who so ably put the lid on the whole matter.

Вензель

wet backs, sharp fangs, dangerous dolphin eyes
waves for crowns and blood in the water
they wade through utter slaughter
captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter

with a yo-ho-ho, break out the claret
war is hell, so we’ll grin and bear it
yo-ho-ho, slap up the ship’s parrot
and sing with us ’bout men of merit

their harpoons at the ready, of fearsome size
all prepared to greet the impending crimson tide
it seems that the gore storm will never subside
’til every flippin’ morsel’s been filleted, battered and fried

with a yo-ho-ho, break out the claret
war is hell, so we’ll grin and bear it
yo-ho-ho, slap up the ship’s parrot
and sing with us ’bout men of merit

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLERUNN1N90NEMPTY’S DAUGHTER, PETER’S PONDERINGCYNICALWORDSMITH & OBBVERSE
© All rights reserved 2019

BUT IS IT ART? // Moon Me

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TATI: Tony, if you were an art gallery guide, what would you tell the visitors about this picture?

TONY: You mean, other than it was drawn by a rank amateur? Damn. I don’t know. Do I have to comment at all? How’s about I say it’s a silly little scribble that has no real meaning? Would that be good enough?

Tati takes on a nerdy expression and a dull academic tone.

TATI: Nope, I mean something like: ‘This picture presents a crescent man with a pretty athletic pair of legs and a sexy butt. Its arms look weak, and despite it being an Olympic athlete from ancient Greece it has a lot of trouble because of its heavy head. It can’t run and it falls over every time. This fact frustrates the crescent man, and makes it yell from helplessness and despair because it didn’t win Dolichos in 720 BC.’ A professional description, dude.

Tony goggles at the picture with a slack jaw.

TONY: Are we seeing the same thing?

TATI: ‘The artist’s intention is to show the tragedy of the character, its physical and spiritual torments.’

TONY: Oh, okay. Sounds good. Let’s roll with all that stuff you said.

TATI: And it should be a discobolus, not a runner!

Tony is starting to warm to this now.

TONY: That sounds feasible. Someone give the moon man a discus!

Tati waggles her finger before Tony’s nose.

TATI: I suppose it has a discus already.

TONY: Or maybe it is the discus?

TATI: Exactly. It could try to grab itself by the nape and throw itself as far as it can. But, alas, its hands, as I mentioned before, are too weak.

TONY: Yeah, that seems a bit strenuous for the poor geezer.

TATI: It hasn’t got a chance in hell.

Tony sniffles. He looks at the crescent man with deep pity. He had no idea that the character had been leading such a dramatic life up until this point.

Tati smiles and pats his shoulder.

TATI: See, Tony? It isn’t so hard. You take a turn now. What would you tell the visitors about this picture?

TONY: Erm, let’s see: ‘Drawing of a middle aged moon man whose parents would have liked him to have made something of himself but he only ended up disappointing them with his poor life choices. He is screaming in frustration at having been outshone by the surrounding stars and planetary bodies. Now both of his parents are dead, and his hopes of redeeming himself in their eyes are dead too. The drawing has rough pencil linework that has not been cleaned up for the final version, and the background is of a nebulous, unspecified setting because the artist couldn’t be arsed to render it in any detail. The moon man himself hasn’t even been carefully posed, therefore it looks like he’s puking up one of his legs. God, the artist is a hack. Tear this drawing off the gallery wall and burn it immediately. It’s a silly little scribble that has no real meaning.’

TATI: WOW, Tony! That’s a horse of another colour!

TONY: No, a horse has four legs.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019