It’s Getting Dark in Here (Fifty Shades Darker, pgs. 1-50)

So you better be pulling up some shades…like maybe 50 of ’em.

What the hell do I mean? At this point, I don’t even know.

In my last post, I included a poll about whether or not I should continue recrapping the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. Here are the results:

For a second, I thought soup was going to take it. Soup is mmmmmm good. I really, really wanted soup to win and not because I have a Christian Grey food obsession, (Eat the soup!!! Eat it!! I say my eyes hooding in a darkening glower way of a darkened shade), but because these books are the opposite of soup. If I’m not being clear, I think these books are, to use a favorite phrase of Anastasia Steele’s, crap.

This is a democracy (is it?) and the public wants more interspecies mingling between Hugo and Goofy so I am continuing. Your kind, kind comments on the first series of recraps almost made me feel something in my dead, dead heart and even deader soul. For a second, my soul sparked like a lighter low on lighter fluid and then snuffed out. It was glorious yet odd feeling because it has been so long since I’ve felt anything.

This weekend I purchased the second book Fifty Shades Darker: Electric Boogaloo and took some over-the-counter anxiety medicine–the only one I could find was for dogs–and read the first 50 pages.

Oh reader…oh gentle reader…it was like I never left Seattle or Portland or Vancouver, wherever this book is supposed to be set. The setting is kind of a fluid thing like a blob of K-Y® Brand INTENSE®.

When we last left our heroine, Ana and her stinging bottom and clenching down there left the steely-eyed, impassive, lost, impossibly beautiful, long-fingered, flogging machine known as Christian Grey.

It is Ana’s first day of work as spanking machine test subject publishing assistant for a man named Jack Hyde, whose name is in no way suppose to make you think of a combination of Jack the Ripper and Jekyll and Hyde. Incidentally Jekyll “Ripper” Hyde wants to jack Ana:

Ana is, like, feeling quintuplet crap because it’s been, like, five days without seeing Christian curl and purse his lip. Everything reminds her of Christian. She breaks down when she tries to eat enormous bananas or passes by the dog collar display at the local pet store:

Christian tracks down her work email and sends her a message about attending Jose’s photography exhibit. “Do you still want to go? Clench your down there once for yes, twice for no,” it says.

This results in the most fascinating email exchange in all of email history. E.L. James could have written “We decided to still attend Jose’s show like we planned” but then you would miss out on this:

It’s show time. Ana hops into Christian’s car, and he is as amazingly pleasant as one could expect. He scowls and scolds and reprimands her for not eating and glowers and smolders and glares and any other synonyms for pissy.

Oh the eating! How I missed thee. Thank god you showed up in chapter 1 or else I wouldn’t remember Christian has a serious hang up about the contents of Ana’s stomach. She jumps into his lap as one would expect, and inhales his “Christian” smell, an intoxicating aroma of Boudreaux Butt Paste, Sex Panther, and the brand of cologne O.J. Simpson likes.

They get into an elevator where dark, deadly desire pools in Ana’s groin and electricity sparks from Christian’s “bright” hair. Lip biting ensues. They arrive at the helipad. Christian straps her into a harness and remarks how much he enjoys it, and I feel a strong sense of deja vu, like I read all of this before.

Because I did. Last week. When I read the first book.

Ana is in awe of the romantic things Christian says, and her inner goddess wakes up from her Ben & Jerry’s stupor:

At the gallery, Christian pees a circle around Ana to mark his territory. Christian glowers at Jose when Jose steps over the circle to embrace Ana. Throughout the evening, Christian refers to Jose as “boy”. The female gallery owner wants to hump Christian like all women do and tries to attach her groin to his leg. Ana notices that people are staring at her too. Wha? Crap? Triple holy cow craptasm! What the crap in crapville is crapping on? Ana thinks and then craps a bit in her pants. Jose, a self-professed landscape photographer, took portraits of Ana surreptitiously and now is seeking to make money off of them, which seems ethical:

Christian pees all over them and for added measure buys them so no one can ogle Ana’s stringy hair and too-huge eyes. Yes, digital photographs are very hard to reproduce so brilliant move on Christian’s part.

Christian throws a tantrum. “I wanna go now, Ana! Now! Waahhhhhhh.”

Because Ana is also mature, she tries to make Christian jealous by flinging herself at Jose. On their way out of the gallery, Christian pulls Ana into an alleyway and murders kisses her violently with tongue thrusts.

He then takes her to a restaurant because it’s been two paragraphs since food was mentioned. Relationship conversation time! “Why didn’t you shriek the safety word when I was shredding your ass with a belt?” Christian asks. “I told you I wanted it to be ‘turd nugget’ so I could remember it,” Ana says through her lashes that now work as a mouth. “Well then it’s your fault,” he cries. “Okay,” her down there says. Ana is all down with the “kinky fuckery” but not so much the total control of mind, body, and spirit, and the beatings with belts. “Fine,” Christian glowers. And presto! They’re back.

I predict no future problems.

Oh and Christian was beaten by his crack whore mom’s pimp. She killed herself, and it took four days to discover Dexter Christian and the body. They then order dessert.

What else? Ana received an iPad from Christian filled with songs about their relationship:

Kinky emailery. Ana is about to attend happy hour with work colleagues at a bar called Fifty Shades of Grey. I’m kidding.

It’s called Fifty’s. I’m not kidding.

And presto! We’re back.


  1. This is so wonderful and funny and you’re a genius at this. I’ve not read this and commend you for doing it and translating into crap-tastic literature. HI-larious. I don’t have the words like you do. Next chapter….

    1. Thank you for the crap-tastic comment. It’s comments like these that spur me on even though I’d rather be compacted in the hull of a garbage truck than read these books.

  2. YAY! A new book re-cap! This had me laughing out loud and rolling my eyes (at her repetitive-ness, not at your writing). Or maybe my eyes were hooded. Or steely. Either way, I love this post and cannot wait for more! I am so glad that Soup lost 🙂

    1. Lucky for you, I am not like Christian Grey so my spanking hand is not twitching at your eye-rolling nor will I tell you I’m going to take you over my knee as he so charmingly tells Ana every other page. Oh my god, the repetitiveness is unreal. If you got rid of it, the books would be 20 pages total.

  3. I saw a clip on the Discovery Health Channel (or else it was something I read or something someone told me about or else I am making this up) about a woman who had surgery to make herself a virgin again (or something) beause she and her husband are still Holy Crapola obsessed with each other after 40 years and they spend all their time oogling each other and having wild ass sex and sitting on the dock and staring into each other’s soon-to-be-cataracted eyes. So I thought about Christian and Ana. Then I finished all the butter pecan ice cream.

  4. I would love to see you do this with a series of books that although got mixed reviews and will never be literary classics, I enjoyed immensely….The Twilight series. 🙂

    1. SM,
      As my blogging mentor, why haven’t you introduce me to this blogger before? I will hold a grudge.
      Le Clown

  5. Speaker7,
    Holy fucking Christ! Where was I for the past [insert amount of time you’ve been on the blogosphere]. This post was absolutely hilarious (Sweet Mother, shame on you for not introducing us before…). I promise that on my next visit, I will leave the profanities behind. Le Clown is a French-native speaker, and compensates his lack of vocabulary with a fair amount of “fuck” and “shit”.
    Le Clown

  6. How can this GET any funnier?! These must take you a while to put together with all the pictures and captions, etc., not to mention having to read the book and then make it 8 billion times better. Don’t think I don’t appreciate that, my friend.

    When I got to the email portion, I really lost it at “If we left at 7:30 then we’d get there late” and apartments can be “cozy” or “impeccable.” Every word is hysterical! Crap nugget. I want to give them all a shout out, but then I feel I’d be no better than E.L. and all of her words and more words and words and things with letters and sometimes spaces.

    The best part? I see you have the next post up! Squee! I’m tempted to make an inappropriate joke about my down there and being excited. But I won’t. Because I respect you, speaker. Plus you’re just starting to feel things again and I don’t want to overwhelm you.

    1. The hardest part is the reading of the book because I have to constantly insert bamboo shoots under my nails to keep myself going.

      Cheezus Christmas, those emails will be the death of me. They are every other page. I’m suspecting the third book is one giant email. Have you finished it yet?

      Always make inappropriate jokes.

      1. I still haven’t finished it because there isn’t enough vodka in the world to make two hundred sentences look like the one sentence it should have been.

    1. I’ll admit I had to look up FTW because my lameness knows no limits. Thanks for stopping by my blog even though I could not effectively include a link. Your recaps are so holy cow hilarious. I’m glad I read them after I started doing these because I would likely pull an EL James and plagiarize the shit outta them.

  7. I didn’t realize I missed these segments so much until I took some time away from them.

    With Ana and Christian beginning anew, I sort of wish Dr. Phil would jump in here to prevent them from making the same mistakes they made before with the vaginal balls — but, alas, who could ever be found to play that (in your words) giant-headed turd.

  8. I started reading the second Shades book, had to stop on account of my gag reflex, and have since picked it up once again nearly two months later. Perchance with your insightful comments, I will be able to tolerate it this time around. Or maybe I’ll just continue to read your version. Yeah, probably the latter.

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