Your Princess is in Another Castle

by Richard Fore

  “And don’t be Scorpion this time,” says Chris. “Everybody’s always Scorpion.”

  “You can’t complain about someone being Scorpion when you’re Sub-Zero,” I say. “Besides, it’s Seth’s turn.” Seth makes no move for the controller, studying intently the poster on Chris’ wall instead.

  “Fine,” says Chris. “We’ll both be lesser characters.”

  “Such as?” I ask.

  “I’ll be Stryker and you be Rain.”

  “I wouldn’t say Rain is a lesser character,” I say. “He’s got that lighting move and the double roundhouse kick.”

  “Shut up,” says Chris. “Rain sucks. He’s the lowest on the totem-pole of palette swapped ninjas.”

  “What do you think about Rain, Seth?” I ask.

  “Sorry, but Rain does suck,” says Seth, speaking not out of any interest in our conversation but rather via a reflexive dismissal of Rain.

  “Why are you so hypnotized by that poster?” I ask. “You’ve seen it a dozen times before.”

  The poster in question is of an overhead shot of five nude women lying on their stomachs by a pool. All athletic, all tan, all blonde, the focus of the poster is on their butts.

  “Why not be hypnotized?” asks Chris. He abandons the game to join Seth in viewing the poster. “Show me a better collective of hot asses out there.”

  Seeing that our Stryker vs. Rain match will have to wait, I reluctantly join the guys as well. “Those are nice asses,” I admit.

  “I think you’re right, Chris,” says Seth. “There may be no better hot ass collective out there. Although there’s more to this poster than meets the eye, isn’t there? You didn’t really buy it for five hot asses, did you?”

  “Alright, you got me,” says Chris. “I bought this poster not for five hot assess but for ten hot pairs of feet.”

  I see what Chris means. All of the girls are on their stomachs with their feet dangling off the ends of their lounge chairs, giving the viewer a nice look at their soles and toes.

  “The poster is a perfect example of security through obscurity,” says Chris. “Back when no one knew about my foot fetish, I bought this poster to be able to enjoy it discreetly. Any non-foot fetishist will naturally focus on the girls’ bare asses. And why not? They are nice asses. The women are also completely nude, so no one is really going to think twice about the fact that they’re barefoot. And them being at poolside where you’re also traditionally barefoot makes it all the more innocent. The five asses are even in the center of the image while the soles and toes are at the bottom. Unless you’re a foot fetishist yourself you won’t even notice the girls’ feet. So it’s a foot fetish poster masquerading as an ass poster.

  “Such deceptive brilliance is known in the obscuration community as security through obscurity. If I had a poster that was of five barefoot women and their soles were at the dead center of it, it’d immediately set off the foot fetish alarm. I’d be getting no protection from a poster like that. But with this poster I can enjoy my tastes discreetly with no one the wiser. You only picked up on it Seth because you know me.

  “In fact, I’ve come to believe that the architect of the poster has a foot fetish himself, because it’s just too perfect an image to have occurred by happenstance. All the girls have exceptionally nice soles and toes, all five of them. So I know that it was really made for guys like me. After I bought it, I even went to the Wikifeet message board and posted about it, encouraging others to buy it as well.”

  “Wikifeet? There’s actually a wiki devoted solely for feet, pun intended?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” says Chris. “It functions as the aggregate collection of foot pictures and foot knowledge. It’s a valuable resource for us. Most of my own personal collection of pics comes from Wikifeet. It’s quite handy, there’s even a search function that lets you search for specific people. The singer Michelle Branch is my most recent acquisition for my omega position collection. She’s got a nice pair.”

  “Actually,” I say, “I wouldn’t mind taking a look at that. I like Michelle Branch.”

  “What?” asks Seth.

  “Look, Michelle’s cute and she has a nice voice, okay,” I say.

  “I suppose a man who’s a fan of Caroline in the City would also rock out to Michelle Branch,” says Seth.

  “What?” asks Chris.

  “I used to watch that show,” I say. “But so what if I did? And so what if I like Michelle Branch? I mean, you like Michelle Branch too, right Chris?”

  “I think Michelle has cute toes, man,” says Chris. “I don’t actually listen to her music. So what’s your favorite song of hers?”

  “All You Wanted,” I say. “But look, have I ever hassled you for your foot fetish?”

  “You’re right, man, you’re right,” says Chris.

  “I don’t know which of the two of you I find more disgusting,” says Seth.

  “All joking aside, I appreciate your not making an issue of it,” says Chris. “That’s helped me to be more open about it. I bought that poster back when I was in the closet. I keep it around now because I like it, but nowadays I don’t hide my fetish anymore. If things go well with Samantha Anderson when we have our date tonight, I’m not going to hide it from her, either. Before or when we get to the intimacy stage I’m going to level with her. I’m not gonna hide who I am. Except in dire circumstances, like when my foot fetish caused my car accident last year.”

  “What?” Seth and I both ask.

  “I had a car accident last year. I was driving on the highway back home during Thanksgiving break. I was on my way to Jimmy’s, when all of a sudden this car coming down the opposite lane passes me. College students in the car it looked like. A girl in the front passenger seat was barefoot and had her feet propped up on the dashboard the way women sometimes do when they’re relaxing in a car. She had nice feet, too. Real nice. For me it was basically the equivalent of seeing a woman sitting in the passenger seat topless. So the car passed me and I followed it with my eyes because I didn’t want those bare soles gone and out of my life so quickly. And since I wasn’t looking at the road I wound up rear-ending the car in front of me.

  “Luckily, the woman in the car wasn’t hurt and there wasn’t much damage to either vehicle. I was relieved because it could have been so much worse. The woman called the police and asked me why I hit her. I froze. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her it was because I was admiring a girl’s feet.

  “If I told her, she’d tell the cops. Then, they’d write it in their report. Next, the local press would get word and it’d be in my town paper. Then, the Associated Press would pick it up and it’d go national. Man Blames Foot Fetish for Auto Accident the headlines would all say! Suddenly I’d be the laughing stock of the entire nation and become fodder for every late night talk show host and stand-up comic.

  “Well, no way. I couldn’t be outed like that. Not like that, guys. I just couldn’t be outed like that. Not to mention I’d permanently lose the ability to enjoy my fetish discreetly. Any woman recognizing my face would know me from then on as the foot guy. Upon my approach every pair of female feet would suddenly seek solace in socks like so many snails into their shells. And all because of the truth behind what caused my accident.

  “So I apologized and told the woman I’d been drinking. I hadn’t, but that’s what I told her. I did have some booze in the trunk though because Jimmy and I were going to get wasted playing The Lord of the Rings movie drinking game, where you take a shot every time there’s a horrid and pointless change from the books. But you have to know your own limits when you play that game so you don’t die of alcohol poisoning.

  “But anyway, while the woman I hit was on the phone talking to her husband about the accident I popped open my trunk and started chugging vodka so I’d get arrested for DUI, all to escape being outed. And that’s what happened. I got arrested and had to have Jimmy bail me out. I told him the truth when he came of course, because I knew he’d understand. And
he did. He didn’t blame me. So that’s why I have a criminal record. I’m trying to be more open about my foot fetish now, but sometimes you just gotta hide it, ya know?”

  “I’ve seen women do that sometimes, prop up their bare feet on the dash,” I say. “Or drape a foot out an open window. I can imagine it’d be distracting for you on the road.”

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever witnessed such a phenomenon,” says Seth. “But maybe I just haven’t been paying attention.”

  “I can show you an example of it,” says Chris. “While I can’t recommend the film as a whole, Jeepers Creepers begins with brother and sister protagonists driving in a car and the sister is doing the feet on the dashboard thing. And the actress has attractive feet. I’ve always felt that it was Gina Phillips’ personal choice to display her bare feet during scene, that it wasn’t specifically called for in the script because she knew had nice ones and she’s all about the fan service. Would you guys care to watch the scene?”

  “You have that on DVD for just that one scene?” I ask.

  “Let’s watch,” says Seth. “I’m curious now.”

  Chris plays the scene for us, a four or five second affair where we can enjoy seeing Gina Phillips resting her feet on the dash. He then hits rewind on his remote followed by pause, presumably getting the best still image of Gina’s feet as possible.

  “That’s it?” asks Seth. “I was expecting an excessively grandiose scene like in Kill Bill where Tarantino felt we needed a thirty-second close up of Uma Thurman wiggling her big toe back into circulation.”

  “It’s brief,” says Chris. “But it’s just like what caused my accident. And you said you hadn’t seen it happen before. Now you have. And you can see how witnessing such an event would cause me to become so distracted from my driving.”

  “I understand,” I say. “It’s such a fleeting glimpse you just have to have more. For me it’d be like if Fuko was at Mardi gras and had just flashed her breasts, but all I saw was her pulling her top back down.”

  “Yeah,” says Chris. “Except I doubt Fuko would ever be in New Orleans for Mardi gras. But maybe she’d be at the Tokyo equivalent.”

  “She’s more likely to be at Mardi gras than he is,” says Seth.

  I’m trying to formulate a defensive quip and coming up short when my phone vibrates.

  “It’s a text from Jessica,” I say. “She says she broke up with Scott and wants to know what I’m doing tonight.”

  “This is it, then. Time to make your move,” says Chris.

  “Yeah,” says Seth. “You’re still planning on going through with this, aren’t you? Just a friendly reminder, you told Christine Dayspring that you would. And you could have done her and you didn’t, so the least you can do is keep your promise to her.”

  “I will,” I say. I send a text to Jessica asking her to meet me at my dorm when she gets off work tonight.

  “Good,” says Seth. “But you know, if this weren’t real life I’d say this situation is rather contrived, what with Jessica suddenly breaking up with her boyfriend so soon after Christine Dayspring gave you the gift of courage.”

  “Not at all,” I say. “You can set your watch to their breakups. They were due.”

  “Contrived or not,” says Chris, “it’s final showdown time.”

  “Just be prepared to move on afterwards no matter what happens,” says Seth. “You don’t want to become like those Japanese holdouts who kept on fighting World War II until the nineteen-seventies.”

  “Yeah, that’s right man,” says Chris. “Remember that there’s still Sabrina if it doesn’t work out with Jessica. Whatever you do, don’t get Faulked-up and become trapped in an A Rose for Emily type situation. Or that Tanzra guy, for a real life example.”

  “Tanzra was the villain from Actraiser,” I say. My phone vibrates with a text from Jessica saying that she’ll meet me at six.

  “Oh yeah,” says Chris. “Tanzler was the guy. Still, I don’t think either one of them could really be considered a positive role model.”

  “I don’t know about you two,” says Seth, “but I could have gone without the life imitates art anecdote about Carl Tanzler during our Rose for Emily class discussion. That loony professor we had for that course was like having Dr. Jonathan Crane as an English teacher.”

  “Hey,” says Chris, “I’m not entirely convinced you’re not a necrophile like Carl and Emily, and I’m not ever going to be until you confess your secret sexual fetish.”

  “Dude, how many times must I tell you?” asks Seth. “I don’t have any fetishes.”

  I audibly clear my throat. “Before we got onto the subject of necrophilia, you guys were talking to me like you already know it isn’t going to work out with Jessica.”

  “It might and it might not,” says Seth. “I’m just saying the other possibility is that Jessica will want to remain friends only and you need to be prepared to hear that from her should she feel that way.”

  “Yeah,” says Chris. “And if it does go south, remember that you’re not going to be alone down there in the South Pole because Sabrina is waiting for you. Remember that.”

  “I will,” I say. “I’m prepared for both outcomes.”

  “On a more positive note,” says Seth, “as I lied with my arms around the Lee twins I enjoyed a feeling of overwhelming euphoria the likes of which I’d never felt before. In fact, euphoria is too weak a word. It was more like Nirvana. I imagine that’s how you’d be feeling after getting with Jessica.”

  “There’s only one way to do justice to the sense of bliss I’d be feeling after making love to Jessica for the first time,” I say. “I’d have to perform a Langella Monologue.”

  “A what?” asks Chris.

  “A Langella Monologue,” I say. “You know, Frank Langella, the actor? Deep voiced, imposing stature. Revered on the stage for his portrayal of Dracula and also known for his villains of the silver screen. He’s quite simply the best in the business when it comes to giving villainous monologues. Whereas a Bond villain might use a monologue to gloat over the impending death of 007 or gleefully explain his master plan, a Langella Monologue is something more. A Langella Monologue speaks of finally achieving lifelong goals, of reaching ends to the most obsessive and far-reaching quests, of the completion of aims beyond the means of ordinary men. A Langella Monologue is a triumphant verbalization establishing the speaker’s newly acquired invincibility.

  “Take Frank Langella as Boris Balkan in The Ninth Gate. In the film, Balkan is a rare book collector who’s recently acquired one of only three remaining copies of The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows, a book containing a puzzle that when solved will reveal how to summon the Devil himself and acquire power that puts one on the path of equality with God. At the end of the film with the clues deciphered Balkan travels to the ruins of an ancient castle and stands within a circle of fire and performs the ritual. It is during the ritual that Balkan delivers the Langella Monologue. He begins it as all Langella Monologues must begin: with a whispered yes.

  “Balkan then proceeds to describe what it’s like to have such great power surging through him. He speaks of being capable of performing any feat, mind or body. How he could walk on water. He throws his hands into the flames and speaks of feeling nothing at all. Truly, a brilliantly delivered Langella Monologue accompanied by an excellent musical score.

  “Another example is Frank Langella as Skeletor in the Masters of the Universe live-action film. Now all around it’s far from the best movie ever made, but Langella’s Skeletor is truly one of film’s greatest villains, and definitely the most underappreciated. Skeletor of course has the lifelong obsession with obtaining the cosmic powers of Castle Grayskull and using them to conquer the world of Eternia, not to mention using them to defeat his greatest enemy, He-Man. At the beginning of the film Skeletor storms Grayskull, seizes the throne room and then must wait until moonrise, the time at which he’ll be able to absorb all the powers of Grayskull.

  “At the cl
imax of the film, Skeletor stands in the throne room of Grayskull mocking a captured and chained He-Man. Moonrise comes and Skeletor begins absorbing all the energies of Grayskull into his body, at which point he delivers his Langella Monologue. And of course, Skeletor begins it with a whispered yes. He then speaks of being one with the cosmos itself, of how the people and planet of Eternia are nothing to him. He exclaims that he is now more than man, more than life. How he is now a god.

  “Skeletor’s monologue is especially analogous to my situation because making Jessica mine would give me victory over my rival Scott, just as Skeletor gained victory over He-Man. And performing my own Langella Monologue would be the only way worthy of celebrating so great a victory as that.”

  “Excellent moments from excellent villains,” says Chris. “So I guess for you to deliver a Langella Monologue properly with the whispered yes and all, you’d need the proper setup. Maybe Jessica could cuddle up to you after having sex and ask if it was good for you, too. And she just might ask that, she’d want to know how you’d enjoyed it seeing as how it’ll have been your first time and everything. And you could answer Jessica with a whispered yes, then start the Langella Monologue proper.

  “Now I think that to do it properly though you’d have to ejaculate directly inside her. You can’t wear a condom and rely on the reservoir tip to contain your seed and then deliver a Langella Monologue. No. And no pulling out, either. You’d have to ejaculate inside Jessica and without protection, as God intended. Better hope she’s on the pill, man.”

  “Yeah,” I say, not appreciative of the sudden explicit reminder of such sexual mechanics.”

  “I’ll agree, great villain moments,” says Seth. “But yet a seriously flawed analogy. Skeletor was ultimately killed by He-Man a few minutes after becoming a god and Boris Balkan didn’t survive for much longer after his Langella Monologue, either.”

  “Well, yeah, that’s true,” I admit.

  “Skeletor’s not killed,” says Chris. “There’s a post-credits scene where he rises out of the pit he fell into and vows to return, although a sequel was never made.”