A Non-Negotiable Demand, Humor in the Eternal Tug of War

By James Babcock

“To see ourselves as others see us is to break out laughing.”—Socrates. “True love is sublime. But the act of making love, when you think about it, is utterly ridiculous.”—Aristotle. “In battle between sexes, surrender only way to win.”—Confucius.
Such is what the wisest of men might well have said. Their words reflect the human condition. You will nod your head in agreement as you grin and groan while you read the short stories that follow. Their scenes are set in various countries, because men and women everywhere are alike. They span the centuries, as some things never change. They deal with women and men of all ages, for age certainly doesn’t change that.
As the philosophers of all ages and times shared their thoughts, they explained all the great categories of our shared human experience: the good, the true, the beautiful—and the funny. So, here then are thirty bawdy stories—mere samples of the face-off in the never-ending tug of war. Good fun!

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Babcock
• Release date: Feb 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005175511

James Babcock

Following three years in the Navy and forty years in international and domestic banking, Babcock took up a second career as a writer and composer. His plots draw on his travels abroad and experiences in foreign exchange trading, bank operations, lending, trust services, auditing, and bank management. Active in community work, he served as a university rector, symphony president, and chairman of economic development organizations. He holds degrees from Princeton and the Wharton School. In addition to his novels and short stories, his creative work includes books of humor and games and a number of pieces for violin and piano. He resides with his family in Blacksburg, Virginia.

Book preview

A Non-Negotiable

Demand

Humor In The Eternal Tug Of War

Thirty Risqué Short Stories

James Babcock

Copyright 2022 by Carolyn B. Torres

Second edition -All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Preface

PART I - DOMESTIC AFFAIRS

A Non-negotiable Demand

An Overthrown Pass

Motivation

Beyond the Call of Duty

Playing Doctor

A Surprise Explained

The Homebody

Snowed In

Sparring Partner

Airborne Adventurers

Birthday Suit

Just Teasing

Forfeited Foreplay

Helen and Troy

The Babe

PART II - FOREIGN AFFAIRS

Flour Power

Harem Horticulture

Carnal Diplomacy

Envisioned Quest

Miss Winderbrooke’s Purse

The Duchess and Lady Jane

Come Into My Parlor

Going Ape

A Tall Tale

Dutch Treat

Hors d'oeuvres Honey

A Call to Arms

Export Goodies

Foreign Affairs

The Joy of Music

About the Author

Books by James Babcock

Preface

To see ourselves as others see us is to break out laughing.—Socrates

"True love is sublime. But the act of making love, when you think about it, is utterly ridiculous."—Aristotle

In battle between sexes, surrender only way to win.

—Confucius

Such is what the wisest of men have said—or would have said if I hadn’t made it up. Hey! This is fiction. It’s allowed.

However, it does reflect the human condition. I’m absolutely convinced you will nod your head in agreement as you grin and groan while you read the thirty short stories that follow. Their scenes are set in various countries, because men and women everywhere are alike. They span the centuries, as some things never change. They deal with women and men of all ages, for age certainly doesn’t change that.

As the philosophers of all ages and times shared their thoughts, they explained all the great categories of our shared human experience—the good, the true, the beautiful, and the funny.

Here we offer a sample of all four, I hope.

—James F. Babcock

Back to Contents

PART I DOMESTIC AFFAIRS

A Non-Negotiable Demand

Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders, and some strands were drawn up behind her head and held there by a floppy bow. She wore large horn rim glasses with plain glass, for the look. She wore no makeup and no bra. Her dress hung shapelessly around her body and fell all the way to her hiking boots. Long strands of stone beads were draped around her neck and hung to her waist, where she had tucked some flowers into her sash. She carried a neatly hand-lettered placard that read No Nukes! on one side and Make Love Not War! on the other. Annie Murphy was ready to do battle for Chairman Mao.

The leader of the march briefed them from the steps of the college library. The capitalist roaders’ fuzz will be out in force. Chairman Mao teaches that we have to strike the war mongers hard, but in a way that frustrates them from using their counterforce. So we’ll march down to the intersection and all lie down in the street.

Jimmy O’Connor got the call-up at work. He gunned his pickup, tore home, put on his uniform, and headed for the Armory.

The local National Guard unit had been ordered out to protect State property, namely the ROTC and National Guard Armory that stood on one edge of the campus on the demonstrators’ line of march. Like Jimmy O’Connor, the other Guardsmen were urgently summoned by telephone calls, and they too donned their uniforms, and sped by foot, car, and bus to the assembly point at the Armory.

They were issued rifles and ammunition. They were lined up on the Armory floor to receive their orders. The drivers of the Guard’s trucks were sent out to get the engines warmed up in case it should become necessary to move the unit elsewhere in a hurry.

Now men, the Major said firmly and slowly, you are each being issued one rifle clip, and you will load, because those are the orders I’ve got straight from the President by way of the Pentagon and the Governor’s office. But boys, for God’s sake don’t shoot anybody! You hear that? Don’t shoot! We don’t want another Kent State. All we’re here to do is to show that the Government intends to defend its real estate. The Police will deal with anything else. Now these kids will probably try to get a rise out of you. Just ignore ‘em. They may even try to push you, but don’t push back. Don’t even use your rifle butts. Just stand your ground, that’s all you got to do today. Cool. Very cool. Y’all got that?

Yes sir, the Sergeant Major answered for all of them and saluted.

Leffff-t face! the Sergeant cried, column of twos, on the double!

The Guardsmen trotted out of the Armory and established a perimeter around the building, standing shoulder to shoulder with their rifles crossed over their chests.

The marchers appeared around the corner of the library and started down the street past the armory. To Jimmy, it looked as if there were more than two hundred of them. As expected, some of the young people broke ranks from the rest of the group and drifted over toward the soldiers. Those that carried placards shook them at the soldiers and taunted them. Capitalist lackeys! they shouted. When the soldiers remained stone-faced and immobile, the demonstrators came closer.

Good grief, Annie, is that you? Jimmy said to the strangely dressed and coifed apparition jumping up and down in front of him.

The girl lowered her placard and stared. Jimmy O’Connor? What are you doing here?

I’m in the Guard, saphead, can’t you see? It was what he had always called her, the girl next door, as they were growing up. She didn’t mind. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

I’m going to college, she answered with a logic that escaped him. He thought perhaps there was hidden there some vague allusion to growing up, challenging authority, pushing the envelope. He was familiar with the feeling.

Annie Murphy, you are out of your dumb mind! You could get hurt here! Don’t you see all those cops down there? You ought to go home before something bad happens.

Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just making a peaceful demonstration. That’s our right as American citizens. We’re just going to go down there to the intersection and lie down on the pavement so the cars can’t go through. She pointed toward the intersection.

And the police are going to crack your heads!

No they won’t, Jimmy. Everywhere else this has been done, we just lie there until the police pick us up and haul us off to jail. It’s a lark. And we make our point.

Which is?

Stop the war, stop nuclear proliferation, stop picking on the Russians and Chinese.

Chee-rist! Annie, have you lost your marbles?

Of course not, Jimmy, she flounced, I’m a college girl now, not just some little girl next door. So saying, she plucked a flower from the bunch at her waist and tucked the stem into the barrel of his rifle. She laughed mischievously and ran back to the line of march.

The police were now barring access to the intersection. Jimmy heard their bull horns. Stop. You kids stop now. Do not come any farther. You are subject to arrest. Stop now.

Before the marchers could get to their goal and lie down, the police began to advance toward them. They wore helmets and carried plastic shields and batons. As they reached the first ranks of the marchers they began to swing the batons.

The Sergeant’s radio crackled. It was the Major. What’s happening? he asked.

They’ve already passed our position, sir, the Sergeant said. The police… well, sir. to put it plainly.…the police are fomenting a riot.

A riot? Now listen, Sergeant! You get your men out of there pronto. And for Christ’s sake, no shooting!

"Yes sir! It was all the Sergeant had been waiting for. He bellowed, Unload your weapons. Unload! Into the trucks!"

Jimmy nervously scanned the mob as he quickly shucked the clip out of his rifle. Finally he saw Annie. She had fallen on her knees near the front of the crowd.

Jimmy tossed his rifle, helmet, and backpack into a truck and lit out running toward Annie. Policemen were now beating the marchers on their heads, and the blood was flowing. Canisters of tear gas arched up into the air, smashed onto the pavement, and exploded into blue clouds. Jimmy heard the voice of Bull Dawson, the police chief, on the horns urging his troops on. Go get ‘em, boys! Get the Commie bastards!

Annie! Jimmy cried. She was on her knees with one arm raised protectively over her head. A policeman seized her wrist and raised his baton.

Jimmy grabbed the baton and pushed the man from behind. He fell on his face. Jimmy snapped the baton in two and held the splintered end toward the policeman’s face. Jimmy recognized him…he had played guard on the high school team two years ahead of Jimmy. Go ahead, Stevenson, Jimmy growled, just try it!

Dammit, Jimmy, you’re interfering with the law!

I’m preventing an unwarranted use of force. You touch me, and when this mess gets before the judge, your ass will be in a crack!

Deprived of his weapon, the policeman scrambled away. Fuck you, O’Connor! he shouted from a safe distance.

Hurry up, Annie, on your feet. Let’s get out of here! Jimmy pulled her off the ground. Holding her arm, he hustled her away from the fracas in the street.

Her face white with shock, Annie still clutched her placard in one hand and Jimmy in the other.

He drove her home in his pickup. The rush of cool air from the car window steadied her.

She invited him in. Sit in the parlor, Jimmy. I’ll make some lemonade. Mom and Dad are at work.

She tossed her placard on the coffee table. He sat on the sofa. She was gone for five minutes and then returned with a small tray and two tall glasses of the pale yellow beverage. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down next to Jimmy.

Jimmy wiped the perspiration from his forehead and took a long swig.

Annie sipped her drink, then put the glass down. Jimmy, today you saved my life, she said, …and you know what that means.

No. What?

Why, it’s an ancient custom.

What’s that?

The corners of her mouth turned up. It means…I belong to you! She turned toward Jimmy, placed her hands on his shoulders, and puckered her lips.

Good grief! he cried. All the old aversion to the little pest in braids next door surged in his breast. You almost get yourself killed playing Communist…maybe me, too… and now you want to make up? Dammit, Annie, you have really got this coming!

He seized her by the waist, upended her over his knee, pulled up her long dress, and spanked her.

"Ow! she cried, but then laughed gaily. Go ahead, Jimmy, let me have it good!"

My God, you Commie, have you gone kinky, too?

"Ow!...Of course not, Jimmy. I don’t really care about any of that political talk...

"Oww!...Chairman Mao and all that... Oooh! ...There’s only one thing I really believe is important...Ouch!"

Oh great! What’s that…give all our money to the Russians and Chinese?

"No, of course not, silly...Owww!...It’s this!" Still lying over his knees with her bottom up, she reached for her placard and held it up so he could see the side that read Make Love Not War. She looked into his eyes. That’s non-negotiable.

Well, I can buy that. He yanked down her skirt and freed her.

I thought you would. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth.

The sweet pressure of her lips melted him. He embraced her tightly and returned her kiss.

We’re not kids anymore, she observed. I’m not showing it to you in your tree house, she murmured as she brushed her lips against his. I’m a big girl, Jimmy. Now you can do the wild thing with me, if you want.

He laughed out loud.

And then they did the wild thing, right there on her mother’s sofa.

Finis

Back to Contents

An Overthrown Pass

Barbara McKenzie and Gloria Frye lay on their backs side by side at the beach. Each girl had a large towel under her, and each had rolled down the straps of her bikini bra and turned the edges of her briefs under as far as possible, the better to let the Florida sun’s rays reach as much as possible of their very smooth skins. They had taken turns applying cocoa butter to each other’s back and flanks, and the little breeze blowing up from the surf carried the heavy stench away from them to other nostrils.

The girls lay with their legs straight but opened carefully, and with the insides of their arms turned palms up, so that King Sol could brown them evenly. It was essential not to show any white skin above the line of one’s strapless prom dress. Around them lay their tote bags, coolers, pocketbook romances, cotton pullovers, and extra towels. Each girl wore reflecting sunglasses and a porkpie cap pulled down over her eyebrows, but they had propped their heads up with rolled towels so they could surreptitiously watch the boys who strolled by at the water’s edge or dived in the surf. As they watched, they chatted.

I tell you, Barbara, I am definitely, but definitely, not going to any more frat parties with Bernie Smolsky.

"I told you he was gross."

"I cannot believe he threw up on my dress. I mean, have you ever?"

Unfortunately, I have. Barbara McKenzie carefully waved a fly away from her face. But I still believe my mother is right about blind dating. You’ve got to do it. You never know when you’ll meet somebody you really like.

Well I am not going out with Bernie anymore, that is for sure.

You’ll survive. Into every life, as Plato says, a little shit must fall.

Fuck Plato.

Gloria Frye pushed up on her elbows and swept her eyes over the wet band of sand twenty yards away from their towels. Two well-muscled young men vigorously swatted a rubber ball back and forth with wooden paddles. Beyond, in the waves, several brown young gods sat astride surf boards.

Gloria frowned. Here we are surrounded by all these hunks, spring break is almost over, it’s six weeks to prom night—and you and I, Barbara dear, have not even had one decent invitation. Like, we are really up shit’s creek without a paddle.

Don’t be silly, Gloria. Six weeks is a long time. Besides, it’s not as if you have to just sit around and wait for some guy to ask you.

"Oh, sure, these days we can ask the boy. How humiliating!"

Yes, you can do the asking. But if you can’t stand that idea, there are certainly other ways to go about it.

Such as?

My god, Gloria, don’t be so stupid. You’ve got an ass. Just waggle it!

What’s that supposed to mean? I’m no slut!

I didn’t say you were. Me either. I’m just talking about doing a little flirting.

Oh, sure, Barbara, as if I were a great looker.

Looks aren’t everything. Besides, I think you’re very pretty.

Thanks a lot, Barbara, but I don’t want to go to the prom with you.

Barbara laughed and waved the fly away. Look, let’s make a bet, Gloria. I bet you I can show you how to get a date for the prom with anybody you want.

Fat chance!

No, I’m serious. Just think of somebody you’d like to go with…and then go after him.

Oh, sure. Clark Gable.

No, seriously. Bert Stallings, or Jerry Smithson.

Barbara had named the head of the student government and the lead in the class play.

Gloria turned, sat up on her knees facing her friend, and put her hands on her hips. "Look, Barbara, if you’re so hip on this big idea of yours, why don’t you be the one to do it first. Like, just tell me, Miss Tiger Hunter, just who are you going to go after?"

Don’t be silly. I’ll get a date. Jimmy Sutton will probably ask me.

Oh, so that’s how it is. Can’t take your own advice!

I didn’t say that.

Well, good, Barbara. So, I’ll bet you right back. While we’re sitting around waiting to see if Jimmy Sutton will ask you, why don’t you just show me how you yourself can get a date for the prom with anybody you want.

"It