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“Like Playing a Volkswagen” by TJ Minde

Chad and his bandmates discuss sex, settling on an unusual metaphor.

Today’s story is “Like Playing a Volkswagen” by TJ Minde, a Leo Literary Award Winner who’s been published in FANG, Heat, and a number of other anthologies in the fandom. His story first appeared in Red Ferret Press’ “Furnicate” magazine.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

Transcript
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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

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I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

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and Today’s story is

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“Like Playing a Volkswagen”

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by TJ Minde, a Leo Literary Award Winner who’s been published in FANG,

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Heat, and a number of other anthologies in the fandom. His story

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first appeared in Red Ferret Press’ “Furnicate”

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magazine.

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“Like Playing a Volkswagen”

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by TJ Minde “It’s like

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playing a Volkswagen,”

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Chad said, stretching back in the passenger’s seat

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as he cupped his hands behind his head with a smile.

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Silence filled the cab of their bus before the other three men started

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laughing. The pine martin sat up

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and looked at the others.

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“What’s so funny?” The buck reached over and clapped his shoulder.

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“That is one of the oddest comparisons I’ve ever heard -- let alone about sex.”

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“Whatever, Saul,” the marten replied.

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“You’ve never talked about a car like a woman?”

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“I have,” the red panda answered from behind the wheel.

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“But except for gender,

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I don’t see how a guy could be like any vehicle,

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let alone a van. Unless you trying to call Zack fat.”

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“Who’s Zack?” a lanky coyote asked.

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The pine martin smiled.

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“My boyfriend. You’ll meet him tonight, Mike.”

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The coyote sighed. “Do you really have to call me that ‘cause I’m your sound guy?”

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“Yup,” the other three said in unison.

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Mike rolled his eyes as they chuckled.

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When the patter of rain against the windshield started,

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Saul flipped on the wipers.

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Chad flicked an ear as the familiar rhythm-and-squeak began.

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“But, as I was saying, I thought you -- of all people --would agree with me, Marty.”

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“A’ight, I’ll bite,”

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Mike said. “How’s sex like playing a Volkswagen?”

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The coyote shook his head.

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“Sounds like the start of a joke,”

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he mumbled. Chad smiled, and turned around, facing the roadie behind him.

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“It does, but it ain’t.

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Remember when we first started to jam?”

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The marten looked from Saul to Marty.

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“Well before Mike joined us, we were clumsy and tripping over each other.”

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“Some people, literally,”

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Saul said with a slid long glance to Chad.

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As a snort of laughter escaped the coyote,

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the marten swatted the buck, smiling.

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“Thanks for letting him know.”

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Chad shook his head. “But still,

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it was still fun.

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And we eventually got more confident.

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We got better.” “Hell yeah, we did,”

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Marty said, as he struck the dashboard with emphasis.

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The marten continued,

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facing forward, without missing a beat.

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“Eventually we started to get gigs -- and not just at Cool’s.

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Then we got the bus.”

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He rubbed a chocolate paw

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against the raised lettering on the dash.

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“She’s been there for us.

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And when I said that, I wasn’t speaking of any VW,

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but our VW.” The pine marten sighed,

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tapping his fingers against the faux wood

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and turned back to Mike.

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“If either me or Saul were driving from our jam sessions to the bar, or from the bar to a gig,

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we’d hear him tap all along the bus.”

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Chad pointed a thumb to Marty.

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Saul chuckled, pressing a hand to his forehead.

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“God, I remember that.

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It was almost like tuning a tom as he checked the tone and pitch;

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the dash, the windows, the arm rest, the sun visor.

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If it had a surface that could be hit,

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he did.” “Shit, I remember that.

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It may have not sounded musical, but it was fun,”

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Marty said. The pine marten nodded.

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“Then last year -- on a rainy night like this -- the three of us were all feeling great and ready to play.

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I started humming out some notes while driving along. Just improv --

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off the cuff.” Chad nodded to the buck.

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“Then Saul joined in with his

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low, bass-y voice.

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Just back and forth, kinda like another jam session.

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Then Marty, riding shotgun, upped the ante

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and pull out his sticks.”

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The pine marten mimed the drummer’s playing.

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“Oh yeah, I remember that night!”

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The red panda bounced with more excitement in his seat.

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“I didn’t have the bounce a snare or tom gets,

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but I picked up the beat you two were droppin’. And we just

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jammed.” “Shit, that’s right,”

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the buck added with a snap of remembrance

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and pointed at the red panda.

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“You bounced all around, knocking on anything and everything you can get your sticks on.

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You knew what sound it made,

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knew what would fit when. You knew how to

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play her.” “Oh,” Chad jumped in,

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“remember at that red light,

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he moved back and started playing your antlers, Saul?”

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The others laughed with him.

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“You’d’ve gotten music outta anything and everything that night, Marty.”

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The pine martin sighed

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and slumped into his seat in happy thought.

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“Dude, that was one of the best nights of my life.

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The energy was high and loose and we were just

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feeling it. Our voices were full of life.”

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Chad looked to the red panda.

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“And seeing you bounce around like on a sugar rush was awesome.”

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Marty smiled. “I got the bus bouncin’ like crazy.”

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“And that feeling,”

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Chad said pointing to the red panda,

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“is what I was talkin’ about.

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That warmth of knowing everything is fitting so well.

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The purity of

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the moment. And the… the us-ness of it all.” He sighed

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again, still smiling.

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“That’s what sex is like. Gender be damned.

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With a new partner, you’re trying out new things,

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seeing what works for them and what works for you.

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It’s weird or awkward at first,

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but you grow into it --

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grow into one. As you know what they like, you groove together more.

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You bump and grind, and when hips meet, it’s just so…

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pure and,” he waved his paws around,

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reaching for a word.

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“Special.” Saul nodded.

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“I get what you’re saying, now,”

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he crossed his arms with a grin.

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“I guess you have a point.”

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They sighed as one,

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thinking of the happy memory in silence.

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As Marty pulled them up to a red light the wipers sounded off again.

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With a chuckle, the red panda started tapping out a beat.

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Mike smiled and nodded his head.

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“Like playing a Volkswagen.”

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This was “Like Playing a Volkswagen”

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by TJ Minde, read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

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You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog

About the Podcast

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The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

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