Some of you may recall this picture from our blog post several weeks ago:
But the truth is, since unearthing this cinematic shot of Christopher Paolini, we've gone through a strange and disorienting series of emotions. What began as amused giggling over his pose progressed to admiration of his classical phisyque, then to imagining what it would be like to be the wind, running its weightless fingers through his silken hair. Pretty soon our wombs declared themselves the property of him and him forever.
Here are the 14 Times Christopher Paolini Could Have Had Our Babies Whenever He Wanted:
1.) This is another still from the aforementioned photoshoot. It's all there: piercing gaze, tight sleeves, strong arms to hold us tight and fight away our problems. And of course there are the mountains - silent, ancient witnesses to kisses given far from eyes of men.
3.) The time he stood in a Hawaiian shirt in the middle of the snow, baring his sculpted calves to the elements like a true child of the fearsome American West, bearing in his hands a strange wooden slab that says "Eragon" for some reason.
4.) When he sat on his porch in Grover's Corners, smelling Mrs. Gibbs' heliotrope in the morning light just as Howie Newsome came by with the milk. What was he doing, as the interviewer asked?
"I'm going to have a copy of this play put in the cornerstone and the people a thousand years from now'll know a few simple facts about us," he replied. "More than the Treaty of Versailles and the Lind-bergh flight. See what I mean? So people a thousand years from now will see this is the way we were in the provinces of New York at the beginning of the twentieth century. This is the way we were: in our growing up and in our marrying and in our living and our dying."
5.) The face he made when he realized that he was standing in a bush of poison ivy and not wearing any pants.
6.) The time when he presented us phallic images.
7.) When he told us to come closer and slowly raised his leg. "Closer," he said. We came closer. His fingers brushed against the ridges of the dragon statue supporting the table. "Closer," he said. We did. And then he leaned in our ear and whispered, "Se onr sverdar sitja hvass!"
8.) When he grew a beard and we wept and it dried our tears
9.) When he landed the lead role in Eragon and briefly became America's sweetheart.
10.) When he saw a car broken down on the side of the Montana highway, he got out to see if the driver needed any help. "Sure, but hey, I know you!" said the driver. "You're that teen author, right? Stefan Bachmann, author of The Peculiar, published when you were just nineteen years old!"
Christopher laughed a little and said, "Sure."
"I'm a big fan!" gushed the man.
"Certainly." Christopher got a pair of swords out of his car. "Hey, I called my mom and she should be here with the jumper cables in a bit. Want a photo op? I could show you how to use one too."
"Wow," said the man. Chris handed him the wooden one. They smiled for a picture seconds before Christopher swung, shattering the other's wooden sword. He felt the satisfying crunch of wood under the steel, and splinters flew, some up to ten feet away. He rose his sword for a half-parry, then decided on a feint first to the left, then to the right. The terrified man's eyes followed the sword, and his reflexes, slow even for a mortal, weren't fast enough to catch the punch that flew at him, catching him on the jaw and throwing him to the ground. Christopher drove the sword into the splenic plexus, and a well of blood greeted the blade, dying it a dark coquelicot. Christopher mused over the kill, and knelt to close the man's eyes. Somewhere, he had a family. By just a slight altering of fates, it could be Chris there on the ground, and that man standing over him. What a waste of life, he thought. And all for his mistake.
11.) When he escorted this beautiful, elusive Monacan countess to the film premier of Eragon.
12.) That time at the Eragon premier when he stopped for a photo with Jeremy Irons, but upon bumping into him found they had switched bodies. Suddenly he was six inches taller, had a grey beard, and the rough, alluring voice of a silver fox. Likewise, he saw his own youthful, glowing face staring back at him in shock. Before they could say anything, hands pulled him away. "Mr. Irons! John Malkovich just challenged you to jello shots!" Seven jello shots later, Chris was weeping and Malkovich was staring in his eyes and whispering in capital letters: "I SUFFER WHILE YOU DO NOT TAKE A SHOT. DO NOT....PROLONG...MY SUFFERING....JEREMY." Just then, he saw himself hurtling towards him, and they crashed to the floor. Back in his own body, he staggered to his feet and ran to the door, with Irons shouting after him, "You got me drunk, you little...!"
13.) When he gently grazed this kangaroo's boob.
14.) Recognizing that while the sight of adult Christopher is enough to prompt natural, healthy, and socially acceptable desires in women over 15, his mother noticed that Paolini's tween and child fans may not be ready for fantasizing about holding hands with a grown-up (even though to some extent Paolini will always exist in our minds as the fresh-faced, adorable teen that he was when he wrote Eragon). Thus, she made available many young portraits of Paolini, so that voyeurs of all ages can find the Paolini that's right for them.
