Romance Novel - A collective effort

quite likely tha ultimate spendi non-sequitor.

Sheesh!! I think solecism might be the word you are seeking dys. A non-sequitur is a logic category and there's no logic in sight here.

Perhaps you might get on with the tale. I left it pregnant with possibilities.

"Ronaldo escaped in the Buick Six!" exclaimed Christina.

The car had a tracking device because it was the legendary 1952 six-cylinder car that Bob Dylan drove during his teenage years in Minnesota. Christina was not concerned about Ronaldo eacaping justice. She was concerned that Ronaldo would damage the priceless Dylan relic.

Christina didn't worry, her Porsche had capabilities du jour, and could easily track Ronaldinho's Buick. She filed her nails once more, languidly sipping some Cointreau. Her arms aren't flabby.

As Ronaldo raced down neighbourhood streets, two-wheeling at corners, narrowly missing pedestrians, he reflected on his life. Lost his virginity at 12 to the babysitter, what was her name?, was sent to reform school for a couple of years by his disgusted father, returned briefly and left home at 15, spent time with a cult (Scientology) in Colorado where he lost all his money and parts of his mind, hooked up with some hobos who were riding the rails, made it out to CA where he lucked out busking on the streets with Joan Baez. God, his life sounded like a soap opera. Where was he going? he wondered, and why was he going so fast? as he sideswiped three cars, mirrors going flying.

Ronaldo pulled over and ran away from the car, since there were probably people in uniforms after him.

Just in time, as it happened, as the car exploded very colorfully and quite high in the sky. He narrowly missed being pierced by a grill shard.

Getting out of the city limits he glanced in the rearview and saw he wasn't being pursued and slowed down to a smooth rolling 60 avoiding the potholes. He knocked a Marlboro pack against his Rolex and closed his normally tight lips on the one sticking up the most. Flicking his gold plated Dunhill a few times he lit the stogie and sucked the relaxing smoak deep into his being. "Phew" he thought to himself, "that Christina packs some cellulite on her arms".

After a few miles he saw a sign "Eggs for sale" so he pulled over. A fresh faced young girl poked a shotgun into his driver's side window which he had wound down to throw the plate which Mrs Clapsaddle Cox's cherry crumble and custard had been on into the scenery and she asked, in a simpering tone, "whadya want Meestah?" " A place to hole up" he replied raising one eyebrow inquisatorially.

Back at the Lake McMansion, the ambulance arrived and transported the barely-conscious gnome to the hospital. Unfortunately, the emergency room techs were unfamiliar with gnome physiology and administered the incorrect dosage of epinephrine, causing their unlucky patient to sink into a deep coma.

All this commotion had put a premature end to Miriam Gloria's plans for the day. She sighed languidly as she sunk into the chaise longue next to the French doors in her bedroom. Christina and DJ had left to chase Ronaldo, Raina had ridden to the emergency room with the gnome in the back of the ambulance, and Rafe was in his study, feverishly reviewing his homeowners' insurance policy to make sure he couldn't be sued for anything that had happened that afternoon.

Miriam Gloria sighed again. Someone in the hallway cleared his throat, startling M-Glo, who had assumed she was alone. A moment later, Michael appeared in her doorway. His white linen shirt was open to the waist, revealing a perfectly smooth, tanned chest. He sauntered into the room, discreetly and quietly closing the door behind him. Miriam Gloria let her Chinese silk robe fall open, exposing her thunderous right breast. Michael, naturally, could not resist.

Miriam Gloria's right breast was, of course, pumped up with implantation.
So when Michael approached, it was as to a breast altar. He edged along, giving Miriam Gloria his most seductive face. Sort of like Bacchus.

He even brought grapes.

When he peeled one, as he had read was the right thing to do on occasions of this ilk and him being a stickler for formalities, M-Glo languished even more langorously revealing a damp and closely shaven armpit and her knees drifted imperceptibly and shamelessly apart about 0.15 metres + or- 5%. "Hello", she sighed faintly before swooning away in the manner she had seen Vanessa Redgrave do in Isadora. Mick whipped out a rubber hammer from his back pocket and tapped her just below her shiny kneecaps with it. When there was no reaction he adjusted her position on the chaise, dropped his tailored white trousers, gave her one and bolted.

Still the langour prevailed.

Feeling better than he had in months, Mick called Keith on his mobile and asked him if he had any blow. Keith denied having any, which Mick didn't believe. That guy was such a cheapsake. So then he called Elton, whose answering service advised him that he was attending the Williams Sisters Wimbledon Championship, but would send his private jet if Mick wanted to join him. Thinking that was spot on, Mick agreed and hastened to the airport.

Meanwhile, back in the boudoir, M-Glo finally raised herself out of her languid stupor and realized she'd been had. Literally. But by whom? Good God, she could get pregnant! She hadn't taken her pill that morning, thinking condoms would suffice, but he obviously hadn't used one, whoever he was. How in the world was she going to get child support and get rid of the kids on weekends???

Feeling better than he had in months, Mick called Keith on his mobile and asked him if he had any blow. Keith denied having any, which Mick didn't believe. That guy was such a cheapsake. So then he called Elton, whose answering service advised him that he was attending the Williams Sisters Wimbledon Championship, but would send his private jet if Mick wanted to join him. Thinking that was spot on, Mick agreed and hastened to the airport.

Meanwhile, back in the boudoir, M-Glo finally raised herself out of her languid stupor and realized she'd been had. Literally. But by whom? Good God, she could get pregnant! She hadn't taken her pill that morning, thinking condoms would suffice, but he obviously hadn't used one, whoever he was. How in the world was she going to get child support and get rid of the kid every other weekend???

It was an age before the answer finally dawned on her.

There's always boarding school, thought Miriam Gloria. Maybe I can have the as-yet nonexistent kids stay there, even while in utero.

Having children is just so inconvenient.

As she felt herself going into labor, there was a knock at the door.

She popped a Midol to stop the labour and ease the cramps and languidly swanned over to the door. But before she could open it, the door was flung open from the hallway. Gazing limpidly at the open doorway, she wondered idly if she should see what was going on. But then she felt this oozing down her inner thighs and remembered she had likely been impregnated and here were her child's unlucky siblings. She decided she'd best clean up before anything else, so she glided over to the bathroom and went inside.

After what could only be described later as a severe bout of lassitude she came out.

She came out and she was happy about it. Even though it was a bathroom and not a closet when it happened, she was happy. Her languidity was gone. She strode, instead of swanned. She no long lifted limp arms. She was power! So... she was a lesbian who might be pregnant with an unknown man's sperm. How absolutely, riotously funny. She began to laugh, laughoutloud, in fact, when a noise at the door brought her back to reality.

Reality was something she remained deeply interested in.