Fifty More Pages of Pfftttt (pgs. 51-100)

Clearly I’m a masochist.

This explains why I was able to slog through nearly 50 more pages of Fifty Pffttt. The experience has been…what’s the word I’m looking for…twaddle waddle? Sure, that seems about right.

If you missed my first installment, click here. I don’t have the strength to rehash the beginning. The only thing I can tell you is that “crap” is a noun, verb and adjective. You are now caught up. Holy crap on a biscuit!

So let’s continue…

Christian Grey had just told Ana Banana that he is not the man for her, and her subconscious thinks Crap show. She receives a package in the mail. It’s a bunch of old Teen Beat magazines. It comes with this note:

She deduces it’s from Christian. She sends her subconscious a note asking if Christian likes her. Check the yes or no box. Her subconscious writes back Fuck you.

She tries to get him out of her mind by drinking herself unconscious at a bar. That sounds so good right now.

She ends up drunk dialing him.

Christian’s all pissed and demands she divulge her location. “Crap stick,” she mutters and hangs up. Christian arrives just when her male friend Jose tries to eat her chin. Ana spews everywhere. “Dios mio,” Jose stereotypically yelps.

She passes out to the sound of Christian sneering “Fuck” and wakes up in a hotel bed.

They sneer and mutter and blush and gasp at one another. Now it’s breakfast time. Christian is all up in arms about not wasting food and I get hit in the head with a very big foreshadowing hammer.

At various times, Ana’s subconscious wears half-moon specs and a red hula skirt.

Okay.

So she’s scarfing down food and then blushes and then stops to bite her lip. This sends Christian reeling.

Christian wants to stay away, but he can’t because he likes the smell of her blood the way she chomps down on her lower lip. They make plans to have dinner later in Seattle as he escorts her to the elevator. Once they board, the ions react with his Axe body spray and cause loins to start lubricating and Christian to speak inexplicably in weird staccato sentences.

Off the elevator, Christian is impassive and calm and cold and clinical and Ana is confused and confounded and confuddled and concrapped.

He takes her in his own private helicopter and flies her to his home in Seattle. They talk about control and soaring and concentration and I get another blast by the foreshadowing hammer and I say “Thank you sir, may I have another?”

His house is big, like really big, like, big like a big house that has big rooms in it. Before he can, in his words “fuck hard,” he wants Ana to sign a document.

And that’s where I leave you today. I’m going to go locate that hammer.

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68 comments

  1. OMG. I can’t remember when I laughed this hard. I seriously hope you keep this going, if you can manage. I’m off to Tweet this out to my 7 followers (you’re welcome)! 🙂

    1. It’s going to be painful, I ain’t gonna lie. I feel like I kill a bit of my soul with each post, and I can’t help but wonder what my neighbors must think when they see me outside taking pictures of Hugo and Goofy.

    1. I can’t promise anything. *bites lip* *curls lip* *arches eyebrow* then states breathily, huskily “But crap on a stick, I will try! Holy cow shit!”

    1. Jesus Christ, I wish it was by Jackie Collins. I feel like it was written as a collaboration between Elmo, my 2-year-old son and a brain-damaged spider monkey.

  2. For crap’s sake. I love this crap. I’m looking forward to more of this craptastic carnal crapfest. More please. My head feels so crappily right, right now.

  3. This is a much better version. Why isn’t this selling a crap load? It’s an injustice, I tell you!

  4. HAHHAHHAAAAA!!!!! Holy crap that’s good. My right palm is twitching as I read this. Can’t wait for the next installment, hope my inner goddess can wait a bit longer :-))

    1. Give her a cat toy or something. That’s what I do to distract my inner goddess because she’s always screaming “more cookies!” and it’s hard to get anything done.

  5. FORESHADOWING underline underline! I hope you’re taking notes in the margins and highlighting. METAPHOR for DEATH! BIBLICAL ref. NATURE THEMES! Or at least a tally on each page of how many times “crap” was used 😀

  6. “Holy crap, I’s drunkies” still has me laughing. I hate the LOLcat stuff, but honestly – that got me laughing hard. Not THAT hard.
    Glad someone else asked about the vomit – nicely done, Speaker7. Who knew you had a talent for vomit. Oh wait. Perhaps the book was the inspiration?
    As someone said days ago, though I had no plans of reading the book, I will NEVER read it now, because seriously – nothing could top this.

  7. I love when foreshadowing feels like someone hit you in the head with a hammer and you pass out and wake up in bed with Hugo. That’s the best kind of foreshadowing.

    Holy crap do I say crap a lot. All the crapping time in fact. Crappola! But, wait, does this mean I can be a best-selling author of crap one day? I hope so!

  8. There is none funnier sight then that comatose-blue rabbit puking its red guts out. Actually, it would have been funnier if she had yaked on his bald dome.

  9. My inner goddess blue bunny wants to beat you senseless for stooping so low as to continue writing about this swill. But the rest of me wants a man who will force me to eat copious amounts of food and not care that I am puffy and way larger than him and have really big ears. Another brilliant piece, 7.

      1. You have gone so far beyond me (and, hot damn, have included the demented visuals) that I may never write about 50 Shades again. But I have encouraged Now Husband to place me in a high hair and force feed me. He is taking it under consideration.

  10. Those staccato sentences . . . stupidest, strangest, most inane thing . . . out of all the terrible things in the book, that was the most random. I . . . who talks like that?! Yes, I know none of it is that realistic, but. This. Who. Goes. On. Like. This. And. Who. Would. Ever. Think. It. Sounds. Sexy.

  11. Your life-like re-enactments are astounding. I was particularly taken with the fact that Hugo– er, Christian– is tied to the steering wheel with his tie. I am assuming that was done so Hugo– Christian– didn’t lose his balance due to his boner? Classic.

    1. I would not need to savage your novel because anything you would write would be amazing. If you had some chihuahua or a sack of crap write something and slapped your name on it, then I would be happy to savage it.

  12. I have literally just spent an hour reading your recaps and laughing uncontrollably. It’s a miracle I was able to type this because. I. Can’t. Breathe.

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