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From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl)
Subject: CODY: REVISE CANTERBURY TALES PROLOGUE
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This story -- the first chapter of the second book in The Stand-In
Trilogy -- is dedicated to the members of the Chaucer listserver who were
so helpful in providing me with relevant information. I highly recommend
the list both for its entertainment value and as a resource for the study
of aberrant behavior. -- C.A.M.
PILGRIM
By Cody Ann Michaels
c. All rights reserved
General Prologue: Murder in the Cathedral
"Can't yer bury'r tails?" -- Arno Schmidt
>From jsxxxxxn@xxxu.edu Thu Oct 16 15:42:12 1997
Date: Wed, 15 Oct 1997 08:23:54 -0600 (MDT)
etc. etc.
we wrote once or twice.. where can I find some of your writings m'lady
MAX
*
>From mithryl@walrus.com Thu Oct 16 15:46:11 1997
Date: Wed, 15 Oct 1997 15:49:37 -0400 (EDT)
http://www.gts.net/cody.html
*
From... Oct. 17
thank you.. I have started one of the stories.. I do so enjoy your style
tho I am a bit confused.. I do think however that is the point.. I like
your style in many ways.. I would love to participate in your various
needs.. I am an illustrator.. and perh aps you might enjoy an illustration
or two in colaboration with your stories.. It woould be almost as much fun
to drwa you begging, tied and used as it be to use you...
I look forward to reading more about you..
MAX
*
Oct. 17
Hi, Scog or Max, whatever. Glad you like my stuff. I just came
back to the city, and if you're confused, I'm even worse. Think that last
guy did serious brain damage. My face feels like it's been moved three
inches to the left. Anyway, I'd love to be your model. Feel free to draw
me any way you please. It may be tricky getting the jpegs on this text
only account. But I'm thinking seriously of opening one on aol. Need to
think about it when I can think. Have a nice day.
You'rs truly
Cody Ann Michaels
*
Oct.
oh poor baby,, she got herself in a jam.. I wonder if she begged forit...
face all tigely and burning??? now would be a good time to start.. just
when you think it's all over...hmmm
I go by MAX especaily when I'm in the S/m area. I am curious about your
statmets about D/s vs. S/m and B/D (my arnt we into initials) I gather
bondage and disipline is NOT your thing??? Seems to me all part of the S/m
sceen tho I can see how one could do B/D without S/m but whats the point..
expecialy with a lady such as your self.. (here I use the term 'lady' as a
bit of a taunt)
I'd love to hear about last night, and todo the dtawings it wouldhelp to
have detailed description of your self.. I know you get asked for photos
all the time and that would help but not required if you shy.
things like specific length and style of hair.. culy , bangs etc.. yu
tits.. you brag about hteri size but the nipples.. the areole size texture
coloration?/ is your cunt shaved or trimed.. and 'toos or scars or
peircings??/ fingernails.. jewlerry etc??/
If Im going to invest the time I want o not waste it..
get some rest... write quick
MAX
*
What do I look like?> It seems I've been through this so often.
I'm sure as hell not the same innocent waif as when I started out. I can
tell you that. Somewhere along the line, something went terribly wrong.
Well, what do you want to know? Measurements? 5 foot seven. 126
pounds. I'm putting on weight. Hair. Long, red. Usually it's curly,
but right now, it's pretty slack. When it's washed and combed, it comes
about to my waist. Right now, it's dirty and full of tangles. Do you
want to know about the black eye? Both black eyes? Yes, I have bangs.
To go with my bangs. No my cunt's not shaved. I think I said once my
crotch is full of hair. A side effect from the hormones. It grows right
up my be lly in a diamond shaped plume that goes above my belly button
maybe an inch.
Do you want to know what I look like naked or with clothes on?
I'm wearing a sheer black body suit right now. But it's ripped to shreds
from being dragged. It's not covering anything. My stockings are
shredded, too. My tits are big. 44 EEEE. 44-18 -36. When I'm cinched
in. Lots of scars. That guy whipped me. Most men want to. I know its
because I have big tits that they want to hurt me. Yo got no idea. Once
they get started. I don't feel so good. It's been a bad day. I woke up
with a spli tting headache. Can't really think. I feel like a sewer.
You didn't ask about tattoos, but "FUCK" "PIG" is tattoed on my tits, and
SLAVE SLUT is stenciled on my ass over the butterfly, where the butterfly
used to be before some guys in a roadhouse peel ed it off with a knife.
They used an electrci shaver to make the tattoos. It hurt like hell.
There's also rope marks at the base of my tits where they've been tied up.
I have rings in the nipples. They're about two inches across. And in my
naval. M y labia have six rings, three on each side, which can be used to
pull my cunt wide open or wire it shut. I have five rings in my clit with
weights hanging on them to pull it out, so that it looks like a little
dick.
Funny you should ask about jewelry because when I woke up this
morning, I was wearing a wedding ring. I don't know what that means. I
mean, I don't remember getting married. Or who it would be too. I think
the last guy who dated me was already marrie d. I don't remember too much
about anything. Except hitting a wall once. My brain is really fried.
It's hard to follow all that stuff you wrote about b&d. What's d and s?
Of course, Kelly and I have been married for almost a year now. But it's
a ve ry open marriage. She has boy friends. I do, too. She also owns
me. So if I married someone, I would have to have her permission. I
wonder if I got it.
Well, I hope this is helpful. I can't think of anything more. I
really feel awful. Maybe I'll think of something else tomorrow.
*
Martin said I was so traumatized by my childhood experiences I had
repressed everything. Maybe he was right. I did feel dead. The phone
rang. I did not answer it. After four times, it stopped. I had a good
idea who it was. But why had he hung up s o soon? Maybe I was getting
paranoid. Martin paddled me for being a bad girl. It was part of the
therapy.
How was your trip, Martin asked.
Okay.
Get any work done?
No. It was too hard to concentrate with Gran around. We bought
her a new tv. To go with her new cable. Now she gets 62 channels. It's
okay. As long as one of them has Peter Jennings. And Jeopardy. And the
Crystal Cathedral. What about your fathe r? It's true. I had lied about
my father. I had said he was dead. But he wasn't dead. He was in
Congress. Martin asked if I felt I had to protect him. I didn't know
what I felt. I was afraid if people started asking questions, you know,
like I'm 1 4 and telling people what my father did to me, they might
report it to the cops. So I made up the story that he died of cancer.
That way, no one could get to him. Martin thought my willingness to
acknowledge that my father was a Congressman was a signi ficant
breakthrough.
Of course, we don't have the same name. Michaels is a name I made
up. So if there's a Congressman Michaels, that's not my father.
"Your father is Crawford Michaels?"
"Yes. I thought I told you."
"No."
"I thought you knew."
"I didn't." I hope this doesn't change anything?
no. no. of course not.
I mean, it's not like he's such a saint.
All that talk about family values. Well, who would know better.
He has a lot of experience.
But what happened to you?
I ran away from home when I was thirteen. My mother was his
second wife. She put herself through law school turning tricks. Cody,
come back to home base. You've got to turn your father in. He'd kill me.
It's your duty. Why can't Erica do it? She was my sister from his first
marriage. Maybe she didn't have your experiences. I was afraid of her.
My father was a famous medieval scholar before he was elected to
Congress. He was an expert on Chaucer. In fact, he was the author of
several books. An authority in his field.
Why don't you write a book, Martin said. "About what your family
did to you."
I have to hold onto the furniture when I walk. My back's
completely out. From my fifteen pound knockers and being picked up and
body slammed on the garage floor.
No. I love my father. I couldn't do that.
Cody, he hurt you badly. It's because of what he did to you that
you have this deep seated need to repeat your childhood traumas. Why else
would you let men burn your breasts that way? Or walk around in a
shredded body stocking and your hair full of s hit. I made a wrong turn.
I was asking for directions. How'd I know they would do that?
It's not the first time.
"I'm sorry."
Don't apologize to me.
It was true. I owed him nothing. It was an even trade. He
fucked me. I told him my problems. Well, it was more than that. He
could do anything he wanted. Just don't break bones or tear anything off.
I knew it was almost time.
When they were going to do it.
They let me write just so long. And then I had to do it.
It was interesting to see what she said. Knowing she was going to
die. Or get very hurt in a few moments.
She tried to tell a good story. To keep them off. The
CuntWhoreburry tales, she called them. Want to hear the Parson's tail?
she asked.
Or how about the tale of the Plowman?
Chaucer never told that. So what was the Plowman's tale? The
plowman was Waldo's brother. Waldo was the preacher at our church. His
brother was a farmer. They used me for a tractor pull. Cept there was
only one tracker. And a muddy field. It was the night of the junior
prom. I was wearing a white dress, with my heair up. And seven inch
stilletto shoes with padlocked ankle straps.
You can imagine what I looked like when they took me back to the
gym. And I had to crawl across the floor and give Harry Brown a blowjob.
I was the queen.
Harry was Plowman's son. He'd asked me to the dance, and I said
I'd rather kiss a toad. Now I had his big rod in my mouth in front of the
whole school. I kept trying to think how this had happened. I'd been
writing a story. And knew something was go ing to happen. So I ran. And
this is what happened. Now it was time to happen. I was dragged up out
of my seat. Like a dog on a chain, and pulled into the other room. I
would be. That is what happened. And then I was birched. And whipped.
And .. . Go on. Take her.
And then they let me go. And I walked back. I had the drugs in
my crotch. They called her story The Whore's Tale. You didn't see that
in Chaucer.
No way.
It had to be him.
He taught at a boy's school in Rahleigh.
Several of his kids were wwaiting.
Several of his fingers were nussubg,. He gagged her., Before she could
speak. To get the words out. Everything had to be protected. It was war
without telling us. Be prepared. A soldier is always right. The left is
left of center. He told me ever ything. Which do you want to hear first.
His name was Chaucer. Arnold Chaucer. Senator Chaucer. Come right in.
I'm glad to see you. Sit down there. How much? He named a figure. You
got it. Yessssssssss!
Why did he keep saying that? Anything can be bought. Chelsea
Chaucer. My roommate. At college. Her father was a basketball player.
He made Keds. Sit up and notice. An authority in his field. Everyone
laughed. That's a romp. Norman really outdi d himself that time. No
more than any man can./ To the degree that it is missing is the degree to
which it wasn't heard. The Chaucer's tale is missing. In it's place we
have a long essay on prudence. Why is this man missing?> He didn't report
sir. AWOL from his command. That would be two demerits . What am I bid?
Two spades. And a toenail. Beckett's relics. And an old tin can. He
used for something I suppose. To keep his toe nails in. That's clipper.
Something that I said and didn't do. Kill all the Jews.
That prioress tale. A woposi. Woosi. A flop. Ten demirits.
The batgirl payed for her officer's command.
In spades,
In Camelot.
Don't bring that thing in here. I'm telling you. Mother would have a
stroke. We're playing a game. That makes it simple. He didn't know what
he was doing. It wasn't his fault. I made him do it. He had you tied up
like this? Sort of.
She wanted acknowledgement. Was it something she said? She
leaned back and looked at the scream coming out of kelly's lips. Could
you make her like that? Really hurting. In pain. Dying of agony.
Having her guts ripped out. Really mutilate her. I think they cut off an
ear. Ripped it away from her head. I liked the look on Kel's face just
then. Shrieking as her hair pulls loose. And the skin is peeled down her
face. It makes a kind of v that follows her chin. Now she's crying
because she can see her face in the mirror and it's making her sick.
She's writhing around clutching her guts. Her belly's been ripped open
and her intestines pulled out. And handed to her. She's holding them
with a velvet glove. tre eligante. Her stockings have b een ripped down
to her boot tops. Kelly's twisting her self up in a knot trying to
squeeze out the pain. I feel nothing. I want to feel her bleed. I want
to feel her twisted body. Her emaciated ribs. Her beach ball hooters. I
want to feel her pain as they're sliced and diced. Swelling up from the
ropes round my chest. How about it, Kel. What's it like?
She hates me. I know she hates me. For making the switch. So
she'd get it all. The major difference between us is Kelly's cunt is
shaved. And now there's the missing ear. It makes you think, what else
be could cut off.
*
I wonder if any of those who have been thrown off Chaucernet would like to
start a club. I was. For asking a bad question. Anyway, I'd like to
hear your experiences.
That's how I met Dorian. He said he had had a bad experience. Would I
like to talk about it?
Okay. Well, it started like this. I was going to Florida for a
holiday. To see my parents and visit Gran. She's nuttier than ever. My
brother is in prep school. My Dad's in Congress. Get that? They let me
stay. Did you know the sirens of Ireland could write a whistle so keen it
could whip your head off and you wouldn't know it until you bent down to
tie your shoes?
They terminated me when I asked if Chaucer had hated the Jews.
Write to me Cody Ann Philips at this address. I always write
back. How much am I bid for a pair of pink underpanties slightly soiled.
The bidding started at a hundred. Thou. What about the Miller's tale.
The millar was drunk. Slightly soiled with Cody Ann's shit. You can dna
it. The next generation came from shit. You can tell. They lack that
luster that sets them apart. A brown skinned race. No one could
understand him. He shit in her face. No Robin. It was the other way
around. Surely. The prioress blushed. And fed her dog. The English are
a lusty race. Race you to katerinbergy. He rode her jeeves. I'm telling
you. He had the look of a chucer about him. She fed him out of a
chaucer. Now we'll hear a story. Step up sir. Old H airy riding them
along like a duchess for a mare. You don't hear the Horse's story. It
was the mare, I tell you. He rode her hotspur in the Belmont. By jove,
he did, didn't he. Feed her into the magpie there . A bird told you, did
it? What kind of fool am I? Getting hooked up with a gang like that. We
found them at Brie forest. Spring came late to that section of the woods
that year and the party must have got separated from the larger bunch.
These were outcasts to their fate. They would go do wn slowly into the
marsh. Even though several coul;dn't swim. Knee deep in the old muddy.
It's a castle for that. Been in France have you? Which one had it worse>
Arcita or Pelamon. Consider the merits of each case. Arcite was the
queen's body guard on the night of the car crash. Solomon had his balls
in a... well, I won't say. You get the picture. What about Emily?> Emily
is in the dungeon. They had it the other way around. But what really
happened was this. Project Arcita. I like it. Wh at does it mean?
Arcita is Pelmon. What? Pelman. On the oars. Stroke. Oh God, you have
no idea. I think we made a rong turn back there. Is this Rochester? No.
This is Jack Benny. Who is this? Norman! Oh yes. The conqueor. We
know all about it. There weree some stories they did not want to hear.
Chaucer had to abandon them. Also, he himself was cut off . For not
living up to standards. He had to stand in front of his bed and do
pushups. Discipline. Discipline. Discipline. Our natura l rival was
the Citadel. Each had to be especially careful. They stopped for the
night and put up at the inn. Harry got them a deal. And made a
commission. He had a franchise. Tabard, Inc. Each inn looked the same
as the one in Southwark. They wer e scattered all over England and parts
of Ireland. You bought a package. Two nights out, two back. All meals
and tips. Licensed beverages were extra. The nun got sick. The water
was bad./ Fresh spring water was available at a price. They dredged i t
out of the Mercy. You just knew that.
I thought why wriote a book when there was so much stuff available
in public domain. Just use that. You know how they write movies from
books. How come no one ever wrote a book from a book. So I thought of
using Dickens, but their group is even crazi er than the Chaucer one. So
I decided on Chaucer. For my dissertection. And now I'm stuck.
For Richard or for poorer. Of course, Shakespear was down on the
Lancasters. But Richard was something else. I don't like to mention.
Sedition. I will not put up with tradition. For England and St. George.
Chaucer's shadow was eleven feet at count down. Chaucer was two inches
high. They argued over Chaucer's height. One said he was six feet.
Another said all men were six feet tall in his time. So it didn't count.
If a six foot man casts an eleven foot shadow, what time is it?
April 18. But what year? Another argument. 87. 94. A seven
year distance. Could mean something. In the old calendar. Which was
slightly off. By about five feet. I'd say six. Careers were riding on
the outcome. Immense grants to study Chaucer Welfare. How much more
could be learned? Come sir. Tell a taile. Feed it into the organ
grinder of your music box. Grind it up. Like she was chewing onit. My
word sir. You ahve a bimbo of a tail. Let me give her a whip.
She's shy sir. Be gentle. The nun had a baby. The Reeve was a
woman in disguise. In fact, several of the travelers are women. Which
probably explains why we don't have their stories. He caused immense
damage to this list. Our membership was descim ated. I took him out. It
was a club. You were allowed to have arms. But it had to be kept at the
clubhouse. You checked it in and out each time you wanted to do a job.
There you are Derek. Good as used./ Have a bang up crtack up. Are you
mad? Yo u can't go in there. The road's cloised. We have toi go back.
Is this Canterbury? Have we arrived yet? No. This is Squeal. On the
Buxton road. I think we're lsot. I thought you said you knew the way.
Oh, that Canterbury! I thought you meant the one in Sussex. Most folks
prefer it. They have some fine gardens. And a ruined castle. But what
about Beckett?> Becket ius deakd' oh that beket I thought you meant the
other one. Did I ever tell you about my holes in time theory. Timne is
laced u p with holes, sort of like a badly fitted corset. Which are
called names. So there's the Beckett whole and the Canterbury hole and
the mole hole. I think we got her charlie. She's running from the past.
Zero Mostel. Take her out.
It was the Cuban missle crisis that did it. And the man on the
plane. The stewardess offered hot dogs and magzines. Was this a
stewardess that I see before me her dagger in my hand. She had to do a
deal. The stewardess's tail was a long franchise. Her hero to my hips.
Protect the cjhiold at all costs. England will survive. As long as I
know how to love I know I'll be alive. I will
--
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