SloteFic

Slotefic: Fanfic dedicated to the sylph-like beauty of Sam Slote, America's most talked-about Joyce scholar!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Slotefic From A.J. "Bugs" Mitchell

O boy…our first bit of Slotefic by the famous Irish-Iranian Heideggerian A.J. “Bugs” Mitchell. Known to many as “Mommy,” Bugs is well regarded for his Slotefic and his academic writings, include the recent introduction to and translation of “Four Seminars,” available from Indiana University Press. Bugs is also the man who coined the popular catch-phrase “some of the chips are defective.” Here’s his Slotefic…enjoy!:

Sam finished flossing his teeth and turned to face himself in the mirror, raising his lips in a snarl. “Jar-Jar like,” he snarled. “Not my best Jar-Jar voice,” he thought. He shook his head, left the bathroom, and traipsed over to the kitchen. “Me eat chips, Doctor Slote?” “That’s right Jar-Jar, me eat chips.” He grabbed a handful of corn chips from the open bag on the counter and took a seat on the couch. “Now where were we?” Sam clicked on the television with the remote and cued a videotape he had been watching. The image quality was quite poor, it looked like it had been filmed in a tunnel. The outer edges of the screen were rounded off, black, and fluctuating. There was no sound. >>Crunch<< The back of a man in a grey flannel blazer was surging and retreating from the screen. >>Carunch-crack<< The shaky camera pulled back enough where one could make out a hat atop the man’s head. There was no discernible background. The man’s head turned briefly and the grinding of chips came to an abrupt halt. The man’s face was clear for a moment. Sam paused, reviewed, and advanced frame by frame. The face was obscured and grainy. All that could be made out was the mouth open in a tiny “o,” the eye was covered by a splotch of black. Was there a moustache or not? Pushing play, the movements of the man increased their frequency and then after two brief punctuating thrusts came to a complete halt. End of tape. “He fuck her good, Master Luke” “Yes he did.” Wiping his hands on his black jeans, Sam rose from the couch, grabbed his satchel, and made his way out the door. He was due to give a talk in 25 minutes and could not be late.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home