This is one of a couple Choose-Your-Own Adventure stories, sans legitimate choices, I’ve read at Esoterotica. Good thing I don’t write out all the options, because there were an awful lot of people in the audience who had a thing for the manservant in the beginning.
Another one, set in the Edwardian era, can be found in Eso’s second anthology.
Caesar? I Hardly Know ‘er! A Choose-Ye-Owne-Adventure
by Zach B
You are a former Roman centurion named Maximus Legspreadius, and you are not a subtle man.
You awake that morning in your. . . (hut? I don’t know what Romans lived in. . .) you awake in your dwelling at the crack of dawn. You rouse Dane, your boy servant, from his sleep and order him to get you whatever Romans ate for breakfast. (A gyro?)
Anyways, you’re well in to middle-age — thirty two — and it’s been quite a while since your last roll in the hay. Metaphorically, not the pile Dane sleeps in. In your younger days, tales of your military conquests easily led to conquests of a more personal sort, though now that you’ve settled in to a stable gig as a guard at the Colosseum, women aren’t as ready to lend you their ears, let alone other sensitive organs. You’re in a slump. How do you deal with it?
To take your sexual frustrations out on Dane, who for all you know may be of legal age, turn to page 65.
To strap on armour that looks like your chest used to and head to work hoping for the sort of miracle that can only happen in a work of short erotic fiction, turn to page 23.
Continue reading “Caesar? I Hardly Know ‘er!” A Choose-Ye-Owne Adventure
Zach Fact #11:
Contrary to what I might say, I’m actually great when it comes to remembering faces. What I’m not great at is always wanting to talk to people.
Zach Fact #23:
I’m probably looking down at you not out of condescension, but simply because I’m 6’4″. Condescension only starts when you inevitably ask whether or not I play basketball.
Zach Fact #37:
I’ve never eaten haggis because it would be really weird having a stomach full of stomach. Same reasoning behind why I don’t wear animal fur, or look people in the eye.
Zach Fact #43:
My Boston accent only comes out when I’m either very drunk or very angry, since both conditions are referred to as being “wicked pissed” up there.
Zach Fact #52:
No, I do not play basketball, asshole.
In the tradition of narcissistic autobiographies written by people who haven’t done anything important enough to warrant someone else writing their biography, like A.J. Jacobs, I’ve decided to start simultaneously writing a dozen or so books in an attempt to cash in on my own life’s trivial accomplishments and tell other people how significant they should think they were.
Here are the ones I’ve finished so far:
- Home Row: The Life and Times of a Recreational Typist
- Breakslow: 365 Contemplations and Meditations on the Most Important Meal of the Day
- Wait Accompli: Extensive Rumination on Every Line I’ve Ever Stood In
- Connected to the Head Bone: Reflections on Living with a Skeleton Inside of Me
- So It Went: Memoirs of Someone Who Happened to Live in the Same Town as Kurt Vonnegut for About a Year
- Kissmonger: Fourteen Years of Other Mouths Occasionally Touching my Own Until They Stop for Whatever Reason
- One Leg at a Time: Hijinx and Lowjinx in my Life as a Wearer of Pants
- Ghost, Written: Reflections on Fifteen Minutes of Imagining Fake Books
- Memoirs of an Unwitting Thief: 250 Pages of Meditation on That Time I Accidentally Walked Out of a Store Carrying a GamePro Magazine Without Paying for It, I Was Eleven Alright?