Over the Edge °- November 2ist 2012

YOUR IMAGINARY THREE-WAY WITH JAMES BOND AND SILVA

JORDAN TUCKER

ARTS AND ENTERTAINMENT

Your Imaginary Three-Way with
Bond, James Bond and Silva,
featuring guest appearances by
Ralph Fiennes.

I went to see Skyfall this past
weekend. However, if you
check any review site or social
networking site, you will
undoubtedly see about 400,000
reasons to see it or not see it, along
with pithy commentary about
a hunting rifle. You’ll witness a
whole barrel of monkeys about
Bond history, Bond styling, who
was the best Bond, martinis... I
don’t care about any of that. (also,
Skyfall made me sad and mopey,
and I don’t like thinking about
that. SPOILER: waaaaaaah Dame
Judi waaaaaaaaaaaah.)

So, in the tradition of the best Over
the Edge columns, we’ll just talk
about nasty, nasty things instead.
Specifically, my imaginings of
how a three-way between myself,

Bond and Silva would go.
There was a huge uproar when
Skyfall came out over the

homosexual flirting Silva uses to
attempt to intimidate Bond. Some
say that it was simply a tactic
of the mind, and that their flirty,
sexual conversation was more of
a power tactic than anything else.
My question is, when isn’t sex a
power tactic? I, and perhaps every
male-attracted person out there,
would like to think that Bond
would do whatever it takes to get
any mission done. Also, he’s a
man of the world, and has likely
seen stuff a little bit more weird
than Silva’s rat tail, if you know
what I mean.

As for those who say that Silva
wasn’t actually wanting to
potentially seduce Bond, I have
two pieces to counter that: one,
Silva has been spying on 007 for
years when Skyfall comes out,

which means that he has likely
seen the same clip we all did of
Bond pouting and brooding in
his itty bitty blue swim trunks.
Appreciating Daniel Craig in
those swimtrunks has _ nothing
to do with your sexuality: at that
point, whatever your gender, it is
high art, and the appreciation there
of Daniel Craig in his itty bitty
swim trunks is the closest I have
ever been to being convinced that
there is a god, and that he loves
me very much. Point two for
Silva’s bisexuality: that hair. That
goddawful blond hair. That is the
hair of someone fancy. Point three
for Silva and Bond: it is hot, and
it makes me happy. Suck it haters.
For the greatest joy of your life,
read on:

All right, so picture this: you’re
in a hotel. Not any hotel. This
is the very hotel where Bond,
James Bond goes to reimburse
his four million dollar poker chip.
At this point, he totally ditches
Moneypenny for that tragic babe
with the ugly tattoo. Like whaaat.
Moneypenny is the Betty in that
situation! Tragic Babe (I can't
be bothered to google her name,
because she is so obviously a
dead babe walking) is clearly
the Veronica of the situation, but
luckily Silva’s Reggie shoots her
in the head. Hmm, starting to think
Moneypenny might be working
with the villains. Anyways. You’re
in the hotel, and Bond is like, “hey
TB, want to shag on your boat after
I feed these hench dudes to giant
CG lizards?” and she’s all, “waaah
my life is tragic yeah sure why
not”. So you creep on their boat
too. When the morning arrives, TB
is shot dead, and a bit of scotch gets
wasted, and James Bond goes all
bezerko. Helicopters appear. But
what they don’t show in that cut
scene where Bond, James Bond
and M (sob) are staring down Javie

Bardem in his Loki cage is where
you , Bond, James Bond and Silva
totally bone! It goes like this:
the helicopters appear and Bond
is like, “Okay Silva. You gotta
get in the helicopter now. Cause
we’re going to bone in it, with
this random UNBC student we
picked up.” and Silva is like, “Fine
by me, Bond, James Bond. Also,
wow, what an attractive student,
I am totally okay with that”. This
response is good, because consent
is always important for hot sexy
love-making with a secret agent
and his fiiine nemesis. You get into
the helicopter, and Bond gives you
a martini. Martini is a euphemism,
but suffice to say you’re really
happy, and martini is his dong.
Silva puts on his favourite Mariah
Carey album, and dances around
all sexy like. Damn, that Cyanide
may have melted half of his
face off, but his body still looks
great. You are not complaining
as they get into the onboard hot
tub and start making out. Silva’s
all, “Oh Bond, James Bond, you
are super hot, stick me with your
goldmember.” and Bond is like,
“Silva, THIS is what the two rats
do. They make more sexy baby
rats. Except we don’t, because
we are two dudes. But this is still
totally awesome.” and then Silva
is all, we may not eat coconuts
but I am totally going to rub you
with coconut oil.” the three of you
then absolutely dissolve into a pile
of lips and tongues and rock hard
secret agents, and this is awesome.
(Side Note: Bond is still wearing
cufflinks and his shirt, except it
is open and the shirt is wet and
clinging to his abtasticness. Silva is
still wearing his prosthetic face and
jaw, because, you know, gross.)
Your life is perfect. Everything is
perfect. Mallory (Ralph Fiennes)
appears, and strips, revealing
himself to be infinitely more than

an office jockey. He has tattoos
of hearts and crosses peppering
his back, a cross for every life
he’s taken, and a heart for every
heart he has broken. Your loins
are on fire, mainly because Bond,
James Bond accidentally spilled
acid on your crotch. He smiles
like the dirty thing he is and licks
it up. Ecstasy!!! After the three
sex bombs pleasure you with all
sorts of MI6 gadgetry that Q has
unearthed (oh my god, he is totally
there too! He’s flipping his hair
around and smiling over the rim of
his Scrabble mug) the four of you
lay back in satisfaction. Mallory
traces a latticework of kisses on
Q’s arm. Silva is drooling from
exhaustion, his hair fluffed up like

some strange bird of paradise. It is
aweird, glorious world, and you’re
overjoyed to be a part of it. Bond,
James Bond is sobbing slightly. He
always does this. You stroke his
hair and shush him quietly. Silva
announces that due to the sexual
healing he has experienced today,
he no longer has any plans to kill
Dame Judi’s M. He will instead
rejoin MI6 as a double agent, and
help reveal terrorists. Nobody dies
today! Except for Tragic Babe,
but whatever. Everyone applauds,
and falls back into the hot tub for
round two. Clouds part. The sun
shines through, and a chorus of
angels sing Handel’s Hallelujah
chorus. THE END

WINTER SEXY TIMES WITH DOMINO KYLE

DOMINO KYLE

Dear Domino:

Just some questions about food.
Specifically, food being put in
places that are not my mouth.
Cosmo says that to spice up my
long-term relationship, I should
bring whipped cream and choco-
late sauce into the bedroom. This
seems somewhat messy. Discuss.
-Sara

Hey Sarah!

It’s about fun, when it gets down
to it. It’s also so ridiculous that
you’re bound to wind up laughing
together, which will lead to some
playfulness. It winds up spontan-
eous and silly, and can be a great
new element to add to sexy times
if you’re getting tired of the same
ol’, same ol’.

Ihave one question for you: do you
like kissing? Sucking? Licking?

That’s three questions, but what-
ever. Some people like kissing, and
some people don’t, but I find that
the people who do tend to like food
in the bedroom a lot more than
those who don’t. Essentially, the
more into doing things with your
mouth you are, the more you will
generally like mixing pleasure...
and eating? I dunno, man. I hon-
estly find it kinda hard to mix those
two things: like, mmm delicious
chocolate... and a dick/vag in my
mouth! Kind of a weird taste com-
bination, but to each their own. If
you can figure out a way to enjoy
the taste sensation of cum and
sprinkles, more power to you. But
seriously, do it! It'll be fun. Make
sure it’s premeditated, however: no
one wants to roll over late at night
to see their lover leaning over them
manically brandishing a whipped
cream can. Happy boning!

-Domino

Dear Domino:

It’s my first year, and I’m a pretty
chunky dude. I’m self conscious
about my weight to the point of not
wanting to take my shirt off when
I go swimming. I’ve been hang-
ing out with a really cool girl who
I like a lot for about a month now.
We both want to have sex, but I’m
worried that when it happens all
she’ll see is rolls of fat and will be
tumed right off. I want this to go
well. Help?

-Steven

Hey Steven!

Well, if she’s with you at this
point, she probably has noticed
that you’re not the sveltest gazelle
in the herd. I read somewhere that
Halle Berry had huge body image
issues growing up. Halle freaking

Berry. The woman who single-
handedly stole all of the hot body
tickets from everyone else. The
point is, we get a bit too hung up
on how we look, and forget that we
all are impacted by the shiftiness of
those hot little Abercrombie mod-
els strutting around (no offence to
models, they’re cool). We see ‘em,
we feel that’s how we should look,
and we judge ourselves hardcore.
You’re sitting there in your t-shirt
at the pool feeling flabby and your
girlfriend probably just wants to
touch your skin. Dude, she likes
you. I doubt she even cares. If she
did, she would be with a skinny
guy, harsh but true. You’re prob-
ably hung up over your belly flab
when she’s noticing how kind you
are to your friends, or your eyes
and smile. Don’t question it too
much, go with the flow and give
her some credit: you’re a nice guy

and obviously care. That’s all you
need, really. You both sound awe-
some, just have fun. ‘To be good
at sex you don’t need six pack abs
and the stamina of a racehorse.
You need to be able to figure out
what your lady needs to have a
good time (hint: find the little man
in the canoe) and be willing to do
it. A bit of advice, from Monty Py-
thon, before you go on your merry
way: “What’s wrong with a kiss,
boy? Hmm? Why not start her off
with a nice kiss? You don’t have
to go leaping straight for the clit-
oris like a bull at a gate. Give her a
kiss, boy...Good. Nibbling the ear-
lobe, kneading the buttocks, and
so on and so forth. So, we have all
these possibilities before we stam-
pede towards the clitoris, Watson.”
Happy humping!

-Domino