He-Man (heman) wrote,

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Ask He-Man

“Buddy, mon Dieu! Qu’avez-vous fait?”
“Charles, je ne sais pas. Les pamplemousses sont partout!”

There was a knock at the door, so I clicked off the TV.
“Are you awake?” It was Alabam-Ra.
“No.” She didn’t believe me and came in anyhow.
“How y’all feelin’?” she asked, popping up on the bed/couch.
“Like I’ve been stabbed in the back.”
“Did a girl do you wrong?”
“Nah, a glowing skeleton guy. What can I do for you, Alabam-Ra?”
“I’s just thinkin’ about how you’re from Eternia City, an’ I always wanted to go to Eternia City and I almost would have once if our cheerleadin’ team had made the finals, but it didn’t because Stacey Jorgensen is such a stuck-up bitch that even her own mama won’t let her in the house at might what with after she stole that money to buy the kangaroo baby she said she found.”
I clicked the TV back on.

“So...you want to go to Eternia City with me?”
“Why not?!” Alabam-Ra pouted and tried to look hurt. “Is it ‘cause I’m young? I may be in years but I’m a whole lot grown up!”
“I’m sure you are, if men’s rooms walls are to be believed.”
Alabam-Ra crept further up the covers towards me. I sighed. One of her fake eyelashes was half hanging down. She tried to push it back up while she pretended to cry.

“You’re just like all men. You use and take what you want and then you leave a girl on her own...” She peered up to gauge my reaction, and then continued. “I could be good for you. I have talent. I just need an opportunity to prove myself.”
“How about...no.”

She discarded the eyelash and tried another tact.
“I can be real, real good to you. It would be worth it. I can be both sassy and slutty. Ask my uncle Orville.”
For a moment, the once benevolent image of Orville Redenbacher, now in a rutting heat, appeared in my mind. I turned my face to the wall in disgust.
“No. You can stay here. This is where you belong.” Eternia’s for people, I almost added.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Scooter appeared. Alabam-Ra got up in a huff and sauntered out of the room hippily. Scooter watched his sister’s egress (almost said ass) with near-amorous devotion.

“That’s me. You can’t come to Eternia City.”
“Uh...I don’t want to...” Scooter stammered.
“Well, you can’t have a gun or touch my muscles either.”
“Repeat after me: ‘No gun, no muscle touching’.”
“No gun, no muscle touching.”
“Good enough, now what do you want?”

Scooter sat down on the bed and wiggled himself good and hard into the warm spot his sister had just vacated.
“He-Man, did you never love a woman? Not in a Bryan Adams way.”
“Did I ever love a woman? Yes, quite a few...this isn’t a question about those ‘Moan Zones’ you read about in Cosmo, is it?”
“Nossir, I just wanted your advice on romancin’ the lady of my dreams.”
“Buy her some false teeth,” I muttered quietly. “Who is this lucky lady?”

“Well, she’s beautiful and sweet and honest and I hear tell she’s still almost a virgin.” Scooter must have been about 8 years old. “I love her dearly, and one day when I become a riverboat gamblin’ man I will surely do right by her and make her my wife.”
“Glad to see you got it all figured out. When’s M*A*S*H come on?”
“Only thing is, I don’t know if she loves me.”
“I’m sure she does. Best way to find out is to slip her some tongue.”
“How do I do that?!”
“I’m not showing you! Ask your gym teacher.”

“So I should tell her how I feel?”
“Sure, can’t hurt unless she gouges you in the eye. Who is the lucky lady?”
Here he giggled and blushed. He whispered a name, but I couldn’t hear him at first, so I made him whisper it a bit louder.
“Your sister?!!!”

Scooter bobbed his head up and down innocently. I turned my face up to heaven and hoped there was still time.
“Listen to me now, Scooter, and listen good. Sister lovin’, much like father rapin’, is frowned upon by society. Only sick, sick, weird, sick people want to get wild with their siblings. It just isn’t done. No! Alabam-Ra is off limits for you completely.”
Tears welled up in the young pervert’s eyes.
“What you need, “I continued, “is another girl. Any girl to take your mind of Alabam-Ra. Myself, I love She-Ra. That’s cool. That’s hot. That’s okay, ya see? Loving your sister, though, is just wrong.”
“Could I love She-Ra?”
“Don’t be stupid, you wouldn’t have a shot. She’s all over me. No. You need a different girl who isn’t related to you.”
“But I’m related to everyone in town! Wait, do nuns count?”
“Depends on the nun. Are you sure there isn’t anyone?”
“Well...There’s Mad Mable. We call her Mad because she’s insane. She has one eye that works and the other is made of a bottle cap.”

“Well, there ya go. Mad Mable sounds real nice. Why don’t you try to love her?”
Scooter closed his eyes and squinted with concentration. Then he shook his head back and forth real fast with obvious mental effort.
“No!” he announced. “Can’t love her.”
“Come on! Give Mable a chance. Isn’t there anything you like about her?”
Scooter thought again for a good long while.
“Well, she wears the same pants.”
“Same pants as you?”
“No, she wears her own pants, the same pants, every day. I like that, I guess.”
“Well, there you go! Write Mable a poem that compliments her pants. She’ll love you in no time!”
Scooter eagerly grabbed a pen and ran out the door.

I hardly had time to watch Alan Alda walk into the tent when Mountain-Man slipped into my room.
“Do you want advice about love?” I asked wearily.
“No. I was just wondering if you had some LJ activation codes?”
Before I got to bed, Mrs. Man came in and talked to me about poisons that leave no trace when used correctly. Sometimes the people part of being a hero is harder than the punching part.
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