Fifty Pages of Emails (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 251-300)

Halfway there gentle reader. Halfway there. Would it be problematic to say Fifty Shades Darker: Honey I Blew Up the Kids (thanks Angie) ends at page 300?

I think at this point we can guess that Christian Grey will fill up Anastasia Steele’s tank with high octane semen. They will send email that will make you wish humans were never given the gift of communication. And Ana will think thoughts that show she has the emotional maturity of a stinky fart.

For more stinky farts, check out these past recraps here.

Okayokayokayokay pages 251-300 here we go….Ana’s at work recuperating from a weekend of sailing and screwing. And now we get the emails that contribute nothing to the story but everything to the downfall of civilization.

So this goes on until archaeologists uncover my desiccated corpse in the year 3,012.

Ana’s sleaze ball boss Jack Hyde sends her out for lunch, and Ana feels like she’s being watched–which she is, by Christian’s hench men. Love? Yeah, this ain’t it.

Christian gets all shouty in the phone because she’s not allowed to be in the open because of the “danger” posed by Leila.  And she’s like “poop” and hangs up. Jack says she has to work late and looks at her lecherously because every man wants Ana. Is that not clear? Try to keep up.

They work late. Jack tries to “accidentally” smoosh his body into hers.

So they continue to engage in realistic dialogue for adult human beings, and he says “You like your boyfriend?” And Ana’s vagina engorges just at the thought of Christian’s Twizzler®-like fingers poking into her. “I love him,” she breathes.  “What’s his surname?” Jack asks using terminology that normal adult human beings employ in normal conversations. Of course Ana flushes because she has a fire in her pants and says “Grey, Christian Grey.” And Jack puts his erection away and dissolves into a puddle. “I’m melting,” he shrieks. “I’m melting.”

Ana leaves work and gets into a car with Christian. They breathe and mutter and anger at each other. They then hump in the elevator:

If you would like to experience the elevator grind in greater detail, click on this audio:

Now they’re in Christian’s apartment. They say boring things and suddenly Christian’s man servant announces Elena is on her way. Elena is surprised to see Ana there and I like unsweetened tea, which is just as relevant to the story as anything else.

She’s there because she’s being ransomed.

Sure, why not?

And that is what happens. Ana eavesdrops. Christian goes on and on about how she’s his future, but he’s unworthy. And I once had a cat named Raffles and when he died I got a second cat and named him Raffles the Second.

Ana goes to sleep and wakes up and finds Christian playing a melancholy song on the piano. I feel like this has happened before, maybe 400 other times, but it’s still really powerful. Or not. Not at all, actually.

Hey guess what? They pound the piano keys whilst pounding into each other. Christian says something really creepy about not letting her come because she argued with him or some such grossness.

Ana feels like she doesn’t know much about Christian. Like, she doesn’t know if he would, like, drink tea at night or stuff. And then, like, I realize I don’t know, if, like, my husband would do that either. And I’m like whoa.

She tries to get more info out of him with some stealthy questions. “Do you have any happy memories of your childhood?”

“I recall the crack whore baking.”

Betty Crocker–I think you found your next marketing slogan.

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23 comments

  1. After I rake through the irrelevant conversations, unnecessary emails and hot penvaging, I’m left with a desire to bake more cupcakes? I just baked three dozen yesterday. I hate you, Christian/EL James.

      1. I don’t know. Did he get shrunk or something?
        Your reaction to EL James is interesting. My urge is to beat myself in the face with a wrecking ball.

    1. “We’re going to have tea time, Alice,” the Mad Hatter breathes. Holy cow, I think, as he pours himself into a cup. Crap! That’s hot. I blush furiously.
      “One lump or two,” he pants, a wolfish grin splitting his face in two, his black eyes blaze and hood and burst and sparkle. Dark desire pools in my belly, the cucumber sandwich in my hand quickly forgotten. He wants me and stuff, and, like, I want him and stuff. My inner goddess strips naked and does the limbo.

    1. I think it’s because EL James’ description is just so weird. Like why would she think super long fingers make him desirable? I might use “His spaghetti-strand fingers caressed my down there. I moan. “Are those two meatballs in your pants, Mr. Grey?” I ask, blushing the color of tomato sauce, which matches the tomato sauce he spread on my face.”

  2. Love the disgust dripping from your voice as you said “hooded.” Ugh.

    And your confusion about Ana’s magic disintegrating panties. It’s like the author started throwing random words from the dictionary in to see if anyone would notice.

  3. Wait, you forgot to recrap an important plot point:

    Elena sings a heart wrenching, eloquent song with her mouth about Ana, to Ana’s face before she leaves out the door (Elena has her hands on the door knob while she sings).

    Ana, Ana, Ho-Ana
    Banana-mofo, Slow Ana
    Please die now, Ana
    Ana!

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