A Hand of Love and Hand of Faith
"Hold my hand, son." The Mother reached out to her young child and guided him across the road.
In awe he watched the traffic halt and it made him feel like some sort of a God - unstoppable.
"Be sure to wave to the driver for letting you pass." The Mother politely reminded and he followed through. The driver of the car smiled at the pair and patiently allowed them to cross.
"Pedestrians and traffic are a good demonstration of the World, son. Different people go their own ways and at their own pace but it is down to us to let each-other do so and for that we must remain grateful."
The son nodded looking at the ground on the new side of the road.
"Just remember that whatever path or road you take in life; you will always have my unconditional love."
"Hold my hand, son." The Mother reached out to her growing child but received not the same courtesy. Instead, the son backed away and frowned.
"I can cross a stupid road by myself." He roared.
Understandingly, she backed off and walked behind her offspring as he strolled on effortlessly.
'Like a God...' he whispered to himself.
Short on patience and obviously on a fast fuse, the driver looked up to the now green light and pushed his foot down on the gas.
"Mother?"
"Hold my hand, son." The Mother reached out to her young child and guided him across the road. Holding tightly to his small palm, she spoke softly. "My mother always told me that we must remain grateful," she paused to wave her hand at the waiting driver before continuing. "I guess from those words and other events, I've forged that patience is just as important." She felt no need to suggest her son wave his hand up also. "Just hold my hand, son."
She looked left and right at the speeding traffic feeling old, frail and afraid without a mother of her own left standing to hold her hand. She sighed and continued to wait patiently for an opening.
"Mother?" Came a voice, so new but so familiar. "Hold my hand."
Charlie just wanted to get into a music festival.
But when his best friend manages to persuade him into sneaking in, he gets a whole lot more than he expected....
Charlie just wanted to get into a music festival.
But when his best friend manages to persuade him into sneaking in, he gets a whole lot more than he expected....
“Dude there's gotta be a way we can get in.”
“Look, we didn't get tickets, and there's too much security for us to just sneak in. Let's just face it, we're never gonna get to see a music festival.”
It was the biggest annual music festival in the country; 'T In The Park', and every year Graeme and Charlie missed out.
Graeme and Charlie were both 15 and it's safe to say that they were never the 'coolest' kids in school. They had been friends for little over a year, they didn't have the whole — 'oh yeah we've been best friends ever since we were babies' thing going on, as Charlie had only moved to Scotland last spring, but they did everything together.
And there was nothing they loved more than music. They had always dreamt of becoming famous musicians and what not, but just didn't have the courage to perform all the songs they had written to anyone, not even their own families.
Graeme played the piano, whilst Charlie sang.
“Oh dude! I've got a plan!” exclaimed Graeme.
Every year Graeme came up with a new plan that always failed dramatically, and frequently got them in trouble.
“What is it this time?” Charlie rolled his eyes.
“We sneak into one of the tour buses, ya know, with the band and that.”
“Dude, we can't just walk on to a tour bus!”
“Oh yeah, right....” Graeme sighed “I guess we better go home then.”
Charlie put his arm around Graeme's shoulder, “It's alright mate, maybe next year aye?”
“Yeah I guess.... Oh my god! Dude! That tour bus has got no one in it, we can sneak on and see if it'll get us in?”
“What? No! We'll get caught.”
Graeme shook his head at his friend, never had Charlie been a risk taker and it was always up to Graeme to provide the adventure. “Look, Charlie, i'm going on that bus with or without you.”
Charlie faked a laugh, “Pfft, sure ya will.”
And with that, Graeme dashed on to the bus.
“Woah! Graeme? What are you...”
But Graeme was already deep in the bus.
Charlie looked both ways before following his friend onto the vehicle, he was praying in his head; “Please don't let us get caught, please, please, pleeeease!”
“Psssst Graeme, where are you hiding?”
“Under the bath, only room for one, go find yourself another place!”
“This place has a bath?”
“Yeah man, it's proper fancy in here.”
“Woah nice, i'm gonna hide in one of these cupboards in the kitchen area, good luck G!
“You too man! See you inside, hopefully.”
They both laughed. But deep down, they were nothing but apprehensive.
It was nearly an hour before Charlie could hear people getting on to the bus, one female and one male, he listened in to their conversation....
“What time am I on?”
“You are.... on at 6.”
“Good, what about my band?”
“Your band?”
“Jenkins you idiot!” Charlie could hear something being thrown, presumably at, who he could only assume to be this woman's assistant, “The girl band that I manage, what time are they on!?”
“Oh right ummmm sorry, Melissa, they're on at 10.”
“No way”, Charlie thought to himself, “It can't be.... popular singer/songwriter Melissa Tate? Am I on the same bus as Melissa freakin' Tate?” He discouraged himself from screaming in excitement and carried on listening in.
“Very good, now run along Jenkins, i'm going to take a bath before I get ready for my performance.”
“Very good ma'am.”
Charlie was fantasising about Melissa, naked in the bath tub until reality caught up with him.
“Oh s**t! Graeme's in there!” he whispered to himself, begging that it wasn't loud enough for Melissa to hear, luckily it wasn't.
He quickly pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and speed texted Graeme a warning, praying that it would get to him in time. But just when he pressed 'SEND', reality caught up with him again, Graeme's phone didn't have a silent setting.
“Oh s**t, oh s**t, oh s**t, oh s**t! Please let his phone be switched off, please let his...”
And then he heard the all too familiar sound of Graeme's phone ringing.
Charlie cringed, his best friend was doomed and it was all his fault. All he could do was attempt to listen into what was going on.
“What's that sound? …..... Is it.... is it coming from underneath my bath tub? …...... Jenkins! Call security!”
Next, Charlie could hear a scream, then the cries of “Perve! Perve under my bathtub! Security!”
Charlie heard nothing more as he passed out, which he frequently did in such situations.
He awoke what turned out to be an hour later, still hidden in the cupboard, he was thanking the heavens that he hadn't fallen out when he overheard some more shouting.
“Great! First I find some pervert in my bathroom, and now this!”
“I'm sorry Mrs. Tate....”
“Well there's no use in being sorry Jenkins, if my band can't perform today then they're screwed, they'll be the laughing stock of the whole festival, no the WHOLE COUNTRY!”
“Well if Miss Rachel doesn't want to be part of the group any more, you can't force her to be.”
“Yes, I guess not Jenkins. Right, I have to go perform now, in the mean time find me a girl to replace Rachel!”
“What just any odd girl?”
“NO!” Charlie could hear something being thrown again “Not just any girl Jenkins, one who can sing well and knows ALL the words to ALL the songs!”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Good. Now don't let me down Jenkins, or else your job will be on the line too!”
“Yes ma'am.”
Charlie waited until he was sure Jenkins had scurried off, before leaving the cupboard.
“Graeme?” he said softly.
No response.
After searching the entire bus, Charlie eventually gave up and decided to leave, little did he know Jenkins was just outside....
“Considering this is a music festival, there are basically no girls who can sing, and if they can they don't know the freakin' words!” Jenkins was mumbling to himself. “Gotta find a girl though, I can't lose this job, I have 4 mouths to feed at home and HEY! Who are you?”
Jenkins had just boarded the bus to find Charlie peeking into a closet.
“I....I....I....” Charlie couldn't put a sentence together.
“SECUTIRY!” yelled Jenkins, “Oh you're gonna be in deep trouble for this, just like that boy we found earlier, you're gonna get banned from every festival in the country, heck you might even get a bit of Juvey, Mrs. Tate knows how to pull a few strings with the law as well as her guitar you know!”
“No, please no!” Charlie was in tears “I.... I can help you find a girl to replace Rachel! I know all the words to All Girl's songs, and i'm a very good teacher. I.....I can teach them to any good singers you find!”
“What did you just say?” Jenkins raised an eyebrow.
“I can teach them, the lyrics, to any good singers you find?”
“No before that....”
“I.....I know all the words to their songs?”
“Oh really?” Jenkins grinned “This gives me a much better idea.”
“Right Jenkins, All Girl are up in 15 minutes, have you found me a girl?”
“Yes ma'am”
“Can she sing? Does she know the lyrics? Where is she?”
“I'll just go get her for you” Jenkins stepped into one of the dressing rooms and back out again, pulling the arm of a young blonde girl wearing a yellow one-piece.
“Mrs. Tate, this is Charlotte, the newest edition to All Girl.”
Melissa scanned the girl from her long legs, her modest breasts, up to her pretty face.
“She's perfect. Good job Jenkins. Now you better just pray she can sing well enough.” And with that, Melissa trotted off into her dressing room.
Jenkins turned to the girl, “Alright, you better not mess this up or else you're going straight to Juvey.”
Charlotte nodded, trying to keep tears from falling, she didn't want to have to redo her eye makeup again.
Jenkins was giving her a final inspection, “Ok your fake breasts look like they're going to stay in place, your little friend looks well hidden, and you just look stunning in that one-piece Charlie, I mean Charlotte.” Jenkins winked.
Charlotte simply nodded again.
“OI! You're going to have to say something ya know, I want to hear whether those experimental pills changed your voice or not!”
Charlotte spoke in a shy, yet obviously feminine voice; “Sorry Mr Jenkins.”
“Atta girl! Now get out there and save you and your buddy from being put behind bars!”
Charlotte walked to backstage, where she met up with the other 2 members of the group, they started rehearsing lines together before they were ushered on stage by a man with a clipboard, who struggled to keep his eyes off of their legs and breats.
Wearing matching one-pieces, in pink, green and yellow, All Girl strutted onto the stage to a roar from the crowd.
The group's most senior member; Mary, introduced the audience to the bands newest member; Charlotte before the girl in green told them that this was the first time she had performed with them and that she was to become a permanent edition to the group.
The news was welcomed with applause, and wolf whistles from the men.
The music started, and the girls raised their microphones to their mouths, ready to sing their hearts out.
Charlie never had the courage to sing in front of anyone before, but that was all about to change for her, whether she liked it or not.
Charlie just hadn't been the same since that fateful afternoon at T In The Park.
And Graeme could do nothing to help, despite trying to squeeze the story out of his friend all summer.
"Dude, are you ever going to tell me how you got us out of having to go to Juvey?"
"No."
"Why not!?"
"Look, I saved you from having your life fucked up, surely that should've been enough!"
Charlie just hadn't been the same since that fateful afternoon at T In The Park.
And Graeme could do nothing to help, despite trying to squeeze the story out of his friend all summer.
"Look, buddy.." Graeme leaned over to his friend, who was sat on the edge of his bed, "if you ever wanna talk about... well, anything, just say the word, ok?"
"I think you should go." Charlie was blunt, as he had been all summer.
"Ok, seeya tomorrow... maybe?"
Later that evening....
NEXT UP ON MTV, HIGHLIGHTS OF THIS YEARS T IN THE PARK!
Graeme turned towards his television with a mouth full of noodles, "Arr sweet I've been meaning to watch this!" he blurted to himself, and so cranked up the volume.
YES IT WAS A BIG ONE THIS YEAR! WITH MELISSA TATE TAKING CENTER STAGE, AND SHINING LIKE SHE ALWAYS DOES!
MMMMHMM! BUT THE ACT THAT REALLY STOLE THE SHOW WAS TATE'S VERY OWN PRODIGIES - ALL GIRL!
"Awesome! Those girls are damn hot!" Graeme grinned, with his eyes fixed to the monitor.
ALTHOUGH THE GROUP HAD TO MAKE A DRASTIC LAST MINUTE CHANGE, AFTER RACHEL LEFT THE 3-PIECE, THEY STILL MANAGED TO PULL THROUGH WITH THE WELCOMING OF NEW GIRL - CHARLOTTE!
A VERY BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY INDEED, BUT WITHOUT ANY FURTHER ADIEU HERE ARE ALL GIRL - LIVE FROM T IN THE PARK 2011!
"Oh mama! Those girls are-" Graeme froze.
"No way...." he moved right up close to the screen.
"No fucking way!"
Graeme watched as All Girl performed hit after hit with utter perfection, he stayed mesmerized by Charlotte's every move or action.
When the girls left the stage, he stood in silence for a moment, listening to the roaring crowd.
"My best friend... is.... in a Girl Band!?"
The next day....
Graeme strolled into Charlie's room, "Hey, what's up man?"
Charlie sighed, "How did you get in my house?"
"Your mum let me in man, no biggy!"
"For god's sake! MUUUUM!"
"She's gone out for groceries."
"How do you know that?"
"She told me, DUDE stop being so on edge!"
"Hmmmm"
"Plus, with her out the picture, this gives me the perfect opportunity to cheer you up!"
Charlie sighed again, for perhaps the millionth time that week, "Go on then...."
Graeme proceeded to put a DVD into Charlie's player. "Dude you're gonna love this, these girls are.... well, I'll let you see for yourself.." Graeme leaped onto his friend's bed, and put an arm around his shoulder.
"Ok, what is this?"
"The highlights from T In The Park." Grame managed to contain his laughter.
"Oh...." Charlie was sweating buckets, had his friend found what he-
And there it was, on the screen before him....
Charlie laid back on his bed with his hands covering his face with a laughing Graeme looking over him.
"Hahaha! They're well fit aren't they? Ooooh I'd like to stick my cock in that Charlotte bird." Graeme winked.
"JUST FUCK OFF YOU DICK!" Charlie was in tears.
"Dude, what were you doing on stage, in a fucking girl band?" Graeme too was now in tears, through laughing too much at his friend's expense.
"It was the only way to stop us both going to Juvey, ok!?"
Graeme's face turned serious. "You mean...?"
"Yes. That was how I got us out of going to Juvey."
"Woah dude I.... had no idea.. I, I'm sorry..."
"Just go." Charlie turned over, weeping into his pillow.
Graeme backed out of the room without any further comments.
If only he knew, that wasn't all Charlotte got up to that summer....
Charlie/Charlotte's story continues as Graeme finds himself being dragged deeper into his friend's mess.
If you haven't been following AGoN, feel free to jump on board, it shouldn't take you long to read the first two parts and catch up!
"Hey."
"Hey." Charlie repeated back to his friend stood in the doorway.
"Thanks for calling me over man, I've been missing you."
Charlie forced a smile, "Missed you too buddy."
Graeme patted his friend on the back, "Let's just move on from all this shit yeah?"
"No."
"Wait.." Graeme removed his hand and scratched his head, "I thought that's what you wanted, why are you saying no now?"
"Because I'm on stage in 72 hours."
Graeme laughed awkwardly, "You... ha you what?"
Charlie breathed heavily as he looked down to his ankles, hairless but hidden by his baggy jeans, "I've been touring with All Girl for the last 6 months."
"SIX MONTHS? Wait, you've been going on stage in drag since July?!!"
"Yes.."
"Well why the hell am I just hearing about this now? And what the hell dude are you like a fucking tranny now or something?"
"It's what has been keeping us out of Juvey REMEMBER!?" Charlie snarled at the confused Graeme.
"But... oh. Oh I see. Well..." Graeme shrugged, "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because tonight is my final performance, Melissa said she'd allow me to leave after this big award ceremony thingy we're performing at on Sunday."
"Wait... you're not talking about the Grammys are you?" Graeme scoffed.
Charlie blushed, "Yeah. We're nominated for best newcomer."
Graeme stared blankly at what anyone could easily call an average looking teenage boy; "Ho-ly-shit."
"And I need you to come with me."
"You mean?"
Charlie nodded.
"I'm going to the freaking Grammys!?"
Charlie giggled and continued to nod frantically, "Yes. Yes we are! But under one condition..."
"Anything! Whatever it takes!"
"Oh, hello Charlotte." Melissa looked up from her various magazines and papers and smiled at the young girl.
"Hello Mrs. Tate." Charlotte spoke softly as she smiled politely back at her manager.
"And who's this?" Melissa leaned sideways on her chair and glanced around the corner at a cowering Graeme.
Charlotte grabbed his hand and pulled him next to her. "This is Graeme, my ummm... boyfriend."
Graeme winced.
"Oh perfect! Yes this will provide the excellent media coverage and redcarpet photo opps you require..."
"To leave the band." Charlotte added.
Melissa sighed, "Yes, yes, yes, if that's what you wish... If all goes well you may leave the band..."
"Thankyou." Charlotte said as she slowly backed out of the office, still holding the hand of her supposed 'boyfriend'.
Melissa waited until the couple had turned the corner before mumbling to herself, "...and pursue your solo career."
As the pair walked down a long corridor, Graeme looked down at their connected hands in disbelief, "I really can't believe that's yours Charlie."
Charlotte immediately pulled hers away and used it to wipe the blonde hair away from her eyes.
"Their just so... feminine." Graeme continued.
"Yeah well, that's what happens when you use nail poli- OH, HI MR JENKINS!"
Jenkins turned on his heel to face the two teens, "Hello Miss Charlotte, Master Graeme. You best get a move on, it would be a tragedy if you were to miss your flight."
"Yes you're right!" Charlotte nodded as she took back hold of Graeme's hand.
"You have a limo waiting out front to take you to the airport."
"Wow!" Graeme interrupted.
"Yes..." Jenkins snarled at the boy before turning back to Charlotte, "Have a safe journey."
"Thankyou Jenkins, buh bye!" Charlotte waved giddily as she ran down the remaining length of the corridor, towing behind her a dopey Graeme.
Jenkins watched her leave in awe, "Yes, goodbye... my love."
“I still remember your face,
Before it changed,
Before we went our separate ways,
I still remember the taste,
Of your lips on mine,
So why the hell did I leave you behind?
YEAH!”
Pearce began strumming his guitar furiously as the low-key crowd went wild in approval.
“Thankyou, thankyou!” He spoke as his performance came to a close, “I'll be here all week.”
Pearce smiled as he clambered off the stage and headed towards his dressing room, when he was on stage it was like all his problems just disappeared.
His dressing room was different, however. It gave him time to think. Think about what he gave up, and what could have been.
“Mr. Pearce?” He was gladly interrupted by the owner of the bar, “Your agent's on the phone for you.”
“Thanks Bridget.” Pearce forced a smile as he grabbed the phone, “Let's see what she wants this time...”
“How is my favourite client doing?” A gritty, forcibly friendly voice boomed into his ear.
“Not too bad, Mrs. Patterson. The crowd seemed to like it.”
“Good, good... look, I have some exciting news!”
Pearce learned forward on to the edge of his seat, “Gosh, what is it?”
“A big opportunity is what it is! I've got you a meeting with Scorcher himself!”
“THE Scorcher?!” Pearce gasped. Scorcher was the modern day god of rock 'n' roll and one of Pearce's greatest influences and childhood heroes, he had always dreamed of meeting him.
“Yes. 'THE' Scorcher. He wants to meet you at that nasty bar you're always performing at to discuss the possiblity of supporting him when he goes on tour next month.”
“Wow! Mrs. Patterson, that's fantastic!” Pearce exclaimed.
“Yeah. But you better not mess it up kid, or else I'm dropping you in an instant!”
Pearce smirked, “Whatever happened to me being your 'favourite client'?”
“Oh please; you're 18, barely get any gigs and you've already got that whole depressed rockstar thing going on. This is your one shot Pearce, make a good impression and you might go far.”
Pearce gulped, this was the first time he had truly experienced the stress of the music industry.
Mrs. Patterson continued, “Okay dear, I've gotta go wax my elbows — the meeting is tomorrow night at 7:00, good luck!”
Pearce cautiously opened the door to the bar — 'The Cavern' it was known as. He was usually a little nervous when he came in here for a gig, but this time there was so much more on the line. His future.
He began scanning the tables in search of the spiky jet-black hair that helped make Scorcher such an icon. 'Maybe I should do something with my hair too?' Pearce thought before he was taken by surprise as his hero seemed to have spotted him first.
“You must be the guy!” Scorcher grinned confidently as he strutted in his direction.
“Y...y...y....”
“Haha, you must be a fan. I like you kid, and I especially like your music! Come with me, I've booked a private booth for us.”
Pearce followed with the look of shock still pasted across his face.
“So...” Scorcher sat awkwardly opposite the gobsmacked teen, “I wanna make this brief, I'm heading to a party down at 50 Cent's house later. I want you to support me at a few of my gigs next month, interested?”
Pearce nodded frantically, “Yes, yes, yes! It would be a dream!”
Scorcher grinned, “Fantastic!” His glossy hair shone against the lights as he turned towards the TV beside them. “Hey, hey, I like this girl — she used to be in All Girl, didn't she?”
Pearce turned around to see a young girl performing at some music awards show. He nodded as he downed his pint, “Yeah she was...”
“Daaaamn,” Scorcher scratched his crotch, “And a hot piece of ass she is too.”
“I heard she's a dude...”
“Seriously?!”
Pearce had now started on another pint, “Yeah...”
“Holy shit! Well, I guess that'd explain why she wouldn't hook up with me at Usher's party. I mean, look at me!” Scorcher gestured towards his body.
Pearce continued to nod, “Yep, must be it...”
“Yeah, all this, all this comes from serious working out. Maybe you should try it yourself some time, aye? You skinny runt.” Scorcher poked Pearce's flat belly and laughed. “Anyway, I guess I better be heading off now...”
Pearce shook the hand of his hero and bid him farewell.
Scorcher turned on his heels just as he was about to walk out the door, “Shit, sorry mate, I never even managed to get your name...?”
“Oh, it's Pearce. Graeme Pearce.”
Jenkins knocked on the star of the dressing room door. “Hey, can I come in?”
After getting no response the always fancily dressed man proceeded to walk inside. There he faced the star herself, surrounded by beauty products, costumes and empty bottles.
“It was a good performance tonight, dear. Perhaps your best so far this year.”
The young girl looked up with tears in her eyes.
Jenkins continued, “But you haven't been the same since the Grammys, have you?”
She shook her head despairingly.
“You just need to forget about him, and forget about your past in general.” He pointed towards the television screen replaying her performance from earlier, “This is all that matters now. You are Charlotte Tate, princess of pop and an idol to so many little girls out there.”
Charlotte looked up to her helper and managed a smile, “I guess you're right, Jenkins. You always are.”
Jenkins bettered her smile and dived in for a hug, “There, there, I've got you sweetheart.”
Charlotte breathed heavily whilst watching the television screen from over Jenkins' shoulder.
She had no reason to be sad, she had it all — the money, the fans, a queen of pop adoptive mother, and a talent she could share with the world.
'And what does Graeme have?' She thought to herself, 'He's probably just working at KFC or something now...'
All Girl or Nothing (Part 5) [The Finale]
Thank you for reading and supporting AGoN over the last two years. It has been a slow process in reaching this stage but none the less it has become my most popular entry here.
I decided it was time to at last put it to bed in order to give you all a little closure and to allow myself to concentrate on other work.
I would love to write something similar but in a new found style sometime in the near future, so please watch this space and thanks again!
Graeme sat with his head buried deeply in his hands. Beside him sat his elderly, not darling elderly — frightening elderly, agent Mrs. Patterson. During his short time under her guidance, Graeme had always wondered who on earth would marry such a revolting old hag but had to cut her some slack; after all here he was about to sign a deal to support his hero on tour!
There was one little problem, though...
Melissa Tate opened the door and poked around to the seating area outside of her office, “Graeme Pearce?” she gestured him and his agent in through her grand mahogany door with an unnerving smirk cornered on her mouth.
'Of all the agents in the world?' Graeme thought angrily, 'Scorcher's just had to be her.'
Scorcher, himself, was sat in the corner of the magnificent office which was infused with colour thanks to a large window spanning the length of the back wall. Yet, the darkness seemed to have followed him there due to his blackened apparel.
Graeme once again began to wonder whether he'd ever go for such a look but his thoughts were soon interrupted by the menacing laughter of Mrs. Tate.
“So little Graeme wants to help out one of my clients?” She continued to laugh moderately but in a patronising manner. “Give me one good reason why I should hook you up with Scorcher here and not send you straight to Juvie!”
Graeme stuttered.
“Excuse me!” Mrs. Patterson was enraged, “Is there some past between you and my client that I don't know about?”
Melissa smiled ironically, “Look, you wrinkly old biddy, if by some divine miracle I choose to accept this piece of shit, you will lose all his assets to me. And if I do choose to send him to where he belongs, you will also be losing him. So I advise you get the fuck out of my office!”
Mrs. Patterson looked utterly disgusted but knew she couldn't argue with the might of Melissa Tate. Graeme couldn't help but feel sorry for her as she trotted out of the room, but knew his priorities rested with himself and getting out of trouble.
Melissa raised one hand from her desk, “Okay, so, amaze me. Why should I sign you on?”
Graeme shuffled his legs from side to side as if he needed the toilet, how could he convince such an intimidating woman who loathed him so that he was a worthwhile investment?
“Look,” he started, “I know I wronged...”
“My daughter!” She interrupted.
“Your-?” Graeme shook his head, forgetting that she had adopted his old friend. “Yeah... I know I wronged Charlie...”
“Charlotte!” She butted in yet again.
“Yeah, sure. But I want to make it up to her, you see I've always liked him and when he became a her... and well, began to enjoy it... I guess I began to love him. I just managed to fuck it all up, it's like I was scared or something...”
“Scared of what?” A hint of sympathy could be detected in the middle-aged woman's voice.
“Scared of how big she's become. I mean, I don't deserve her... after all she's done for me...” Graeme looked down to his feet solemnly.
Melissa tapped her desk in deep consideration for a few second before finally offering him a shrug, “Hey, you were young and a little foolish I guess. But look at you now; a little ways down the line and you are finally a man — heck, I should be sending you to big boy jail huh?”
Graeme looked up and copied her weak smile.
“But she's a woman now, and believe it or not she'll be harder to convince than me.”
Graeme nodded, grateful that he might be getting a second chance. “So what can I do to win her over?”
Melissa leaned back on her chair and looked over at Scorcher, “I'll tell you what, I have an idea and if you can pull it off — you can support old king of darkness here on tour.”
Scorcher nodded at Graeme and he did likewise after being launched to the edge of his seat just at the thought of supporting him as well as winning back Charlotte.
Melissa continued, “Hopefully with you out of the picture that'll get to stop Jenkins with his creepy flirting with her. Actually, you know what, I'm gonna fire his sorry ass!” She threw herself up off her chair and began pacing back and forth across the room; from the golden framed picture of a boat to the head of a moose. “And if you can win her back, you can be her new assistant until you get big yourself!”
Graeme jumped up from his seat and almost felt like hugging the woman who was so recently an enemy. “I... I... thank you!”
Melissa grabbed the young man by both hands and stood parallel to him. “I'm sorry for everything that has happened between us and I want to say I'm a better person now. I came here asking for your apology but really it is me who should be apologising, I have torn you apart and for that I am so very sorry.” She proceeded to wrap herself around Graeme, who could only stand in awe with his hands dangling to his sides.
“Now,” she pulled herself off of him slightly but kept at eye-level and with her hands on his hips “let's go win back your girl!”
Charlotte was on stage, it was a low key gig in a small club. She enjoyed the change, as she was often intimidated by larger crowds. A long gown draped down her body and meeting the roar of the guests was ready to begin the show.
“Stop the music!” A familiar voice stepped out of the shadows and a spotlight followed them on to the stage. They wore a yellow leotard, the same as she had worn as her first appearance as Charlotte.
Charlotte was gob-smacked as she looked up from the intruder's dazzling legs, surprisingly curvy hips and prominent breasts to meet the luring gaze of their eyes. She felt a recognizable anger flow through her as she looked at the brunette's face.
Graeme pushed his extensions behind his ears and dropped to his knees. He took a deep breath and began his thoroughly prepared speech, “I kneel here in not only forgiveness but also out of love. Love that can make someone do stupid things, love that can be confused with fear. I kneel here accepting that this is what I want,” Graeme pointed between himself and the overwhelmed Charlotte. “As a woman to another woman, I ask you not to love me back, but to take me back and to give me another chance.”
He raised himself from the ground and took Charlotte's hand, “So... what do you say?”
The crowd which, like Charlotte, had fallen silent gradually started to chant, “Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Charlotte turned to them in shock and then back to Graeme, who was biting his newly glistening bottom lip in anticipation.
She stepped back slightly and began playing with her hands a little before lunging on her old friend, their lips met for what seemed like an eternity as the crowd applauded in delight. By this point, Charlotte was now laying on top of Graeme and after releasing herself from his mouth whispered into his ear, “Yes, I'll take you back, Graeme.”
“Actually,” He fluttered his eyelashes, “It's Emma now.”
This was originally posted in August 2012 (before I posted the official parts 4 and 5). It was around for about a day before I took it off due to criticism left, right and center. Comments were even blocked due to its controversy (because of the horrid style it had been written in).
The reason I am re-adding this is that through the midst of anger I got from it; I also received sort of praise and pleas to keep it and have it act as the official finale or to at least keep a copy and consider re-posting in the future.
There were also some who were quite saddened at the time as it had been removed before they could read it. So for those who are still curious as to how I ruined my most popular series, here it is. The 'Alternative Ending' I am now calling it and it is to be considered only as like a deleted scene or bonus feature on a DVD.
(Hopefully, this'll make certain people hate the official finale I posted a few months back a little less when held in comparison to this!)
6 Grammys.
Hundreds of sold out concerts.
Multi-million record sales.
All in 5 years.
5 years that I will never get back.
5 years that I traded for just a few months in Juvie.
They say stardom can turn people insane. I can see all the truth in that now, although like my ascent into pandemonium, my decent is probably a lot different to that of other fallen pop stars.
The year is now 2016 and here I sit, on a plane home from Tokyo, mourning death and on my way to the courts to deny charges.
The punishment this time however will be big boy prison.
I wish I had just taken Juvie, at least there nothing happens when you drop the kiddy soap.
"I think I'm afraid that I'm fresh out of ideas, Charlotte." My lawyer put his hand on my shoulder as a weak mark of respect.
The most expensive Lawyer the record label had to offer and even he couldn't save me now.
The judge silenced the courtroom, "Alright then Miss Gibson, now that the mounting evidence that you killed one Hubert Jenkins has all been supplied, how do you plea?"
I looked down to my hairless ankles as I had found myself doing so often over these past few years.
"I have already told you, it was self-defence, he tried to rape me!"
Various chuckles could be heard from the less composed individuals that filled the aisles.
"And I have already told you young lady, that there is no evidence whatsoever to support your claim that this incident ever occured!"
"It's Mrs. Tate your honour, she bends the law to suit her needs!"
The Judge shook her head in a somewhat sympathetic manor. "Once again, no proof."
"She uses her money to tamper with the system! It's how I got into this business in the first place!"
"Oh not this again... I will not tell you again of the lies this court has found you to have conjured up, you were born Charlotte Gibson, both your records and the drug test proved this.
"It's Mrs Tate! She did stuff to me, changed my birth certificate, and killed off whoever got in her way!"
"So you're telling me that it was Mrs. Tate who killed Mr. Jenkins?"
"No," I sighed, "I can't deny that I killed him, but it was an accident, he WAS raping me!"
"As much as that wouldn't surprise me, seeing how provocatively you have dressed throughout your career, there IS NO EVIDENCE!"
Mascara was now running down my teary face as my fate seemed ever clearer.
"I just can't believe you dragged Mrs. Tate into this," the Judge continued, "after she let you into her band and then supported you all through your solo career..."
"She forced me to do it! She blackmailed me! She killed my Mum! She killed my Dad! She killed my boyfriend!"
"No evidence. No evidence. Your parents died in a car accident. And Graeme Williams commited suicide. I am sorry for your losses but the jury has found you guilty of the murder of Hubert Jenkins. I hearby sentence you to 7 years behind bars."
Ooops, was there supposed to be a happy ending?
THE END.
Some of my favorite reviews from the time:
"Gee, who would have thought a writer could be so annoyed with her readers (and hate her character so much), that she'd come back to a story she didn't want to continue and hurt them all, just because people liked her work so much they asked for more?
You could have just said no, you know.
It's one thing to head down a dark path on purpose, making that choice as a writer. But it's quite another to go there to punish people just for enjoying your writing enough to want you to continue."
"Probably not the ending the readers here wanted LOL."
"Why even have an ending? That's such a cop out....or are you doing it on purpose just to make people cry?"
Just an afternote to any one I hurt at the time: I took all of your opinions into account and rewrote it when I felt ready to. And when I eventually got around to writing the official parts 4 and 5, I actually enjoyed doing so and I hope that showed.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed sharing a cringe with me at this disaster.
James finds himself balls deep as he gets forced into doing a creepy couple a 'little favour'.
“Mum! I'm going to the park, i'll be back for tea!”
“Ok honey, have fun!”
With it being the summer holidays, James had started going to the park almost everyday to play football with his friends. There were only 4 of them, but they were extremely close, and had been since they were toddlers, their parents were also friends so they saw a lot of eachother.
“Hey James, wait up!”
James looked over his shoulder to find Ben, perhaps his closest of his 3 friends.
“Hey buddy, have you got your ball?”
“Sure have” Ben looked chuffed, he was rich so had the fanciest ball on the market.
“Cool! We're meeting Mark and Anthony by the swings.”
“Then let's go, race ya there!”
The four of them swang on the swings for a while (as you generally do) drinking lemonade, which Anthony and Mark's mum made fresh from home. They were twins, both with hair so blonde it almost seemed white, imagine like Draco Malfoy — except they weren't assholes!
Ben was your typical ginger kid complete with freckles and glasses and was modestly overweight — although he liked to think of himself as 'strawberry blonde and big boned'!
James, however, had brown hair and was notably thin and reasonably small, which meant he often got teased by the group — but it was all good, Ben saw the fun in it.
Mark gathered them all together; “Okay, two-against-two, the winners get to kick Ben's ball at the losers as hard as they like.”
“Sounds good!” exclaimed James.
“Okay, what are the teams?” questioned Ben.
“I'm not going with Mark again!” joked Anthony, “Just because we're brothers!”
“Ok, i'll go with Ben then, remember it's first to ten goals, LET'S GO!” proposed Mark, and so the match began....
Yeah. I'm not gonna bore you with the details, so let's just skip to the end of the game....
James was through on goal, he had got past Ben and now only had Mark to beat with the score level at 9 — 9.
Boom.
He had just booted it into row Z, Mark was on the ground laughing; “Hahaha arr James you really screwed that up now hurry up and get the ball so I can hit you with it in the ass already!”
James laughed sarcastically, “Not gonna happen buddy, next time i'm through on goal you're going down.” he was pointing at him both sternly and jokingly as he plodded off to where the ball had landed.
“Wow,” thought James, “I really did kick that high.” he was stood gazing at the roof of a reasonably large detached house, where Ben's ball laid tantalizing him. When he looked back he couldn't even see the park anymore, infact, he wasn't entirely sure where he was.
He soon shrugged it off and edged towards the door, which was open....
“Hello? Is anyone in? I accidentally kicked my ball on top of your roof.” James was slightly on edge, but the house had such a clean family feel to it, he couldn't help but feel welcome.
“Hello dear” a tall middle aged, greying woman grasped James' shoulder, making him jump, “What seems to be the problem?”
“I....I.....I ummm kicked my ball on to your roof.”
“Oh, how silly, I can get my husband to get it down for you if you like?” she grinned down at him, making him feel safe.
“That would be brilliant thankyou!" James smiled, 'what a nice family this must be' he thought.
“Here's a cup of tea while you're waiting” the woman slid over a flowery mug.
“Oh, thankyou very much.” James thanked her trying to be polite, but in truth he wasn't too fond of tea but thought it best to take a sip so as not to seem rude.
He looked around the room a bit, and paused at a photo of a young girl with long brown hair, “Is that your daughter?” he asked the woman.
“Mmmm yes, that's Jasmine she's 15.”
James smiled, “She seems nice....” he cut off mid-sentence as he began to feel dizzy, he dropped the mug before falling to the ground himself.
James awoke in the same room, with the woman watching over him.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
“Huh?” James grunted.
“I'm sorry but we had to drug you so we could make the changes without any.... hassle.” the woman smiled, “I'm Mrs. Bell, but of course, you can call me Mum.”
James was confused, 'Mum? What's she talking about?' he thought to himself before he gasped; “Wait.... what changes?”
James stood gazing into the mirror, he couldn't believe it, he looked just like Jasmine from the photo, he was even wearing the same pink shirt and denim skirt.
“W....w.....why have you done this to me?” he was confused and fairly emotional.
“Oh it's nothing, just a little makeover to make you into my daughter.”
“But, why?”
“Well, you see, the real Jasmine died last week.”
“Oh....” James didn't know how to respond as he was both angry and sympathetic to her.
“And.... well, we got in a bit of trouble with social services for suspected mistreatment of our child, she called the feds and so....” Mrs. Bell took a deep breath “We ended up killing the little bitch.” she said smuggly, folding her arms.
James was gobsmacked. “You....you monsters!” he cried.
“We just need a girl who'll obey our commands, and that's were you fit in Jasmine.” she grinned. James simply turned away but soon found himself pulled towards her again.
“You are going to fill in for Jasmine when Social Services come by tomorrow.”
“The hell I am!” James was angry.
“Oh you will,” Mrs. Bell pulled a gun from her dressing gown.
“Oh my god, you have a gun!?”
“Yes, I guess it's the only way to control pesky little girls.” she pointed the gun at James' forehead, “From now on, you are Jasmine — you will act and behave like a good 15 year old girl for when Social Services come, do you understand?” she spoke through gritted teeth.
“And if I choose not to?”
Mrs. Bell nodded towards the gun, “I think you know what will happen.”
James gulped.
“Now, you will sleep in the basement for tonight and then tomorrow I will let you out and so help me you better be acting like a girl!”
James nodded with tears in his eyes.
“Okay, good girl.” she held James' chin up and kissed his forehead, “Now tell mummy goodnight.”
“Goodnight....” James mumbled.
“Uh, uh, uh.” Mrs. Bell frowned and waved her gun at him, “With enthusiasm, and call me Mummy.”
“Goodnight Mummy!” James forced a smile.
“Oh that's my girl!” she said as she grabbed James by the collar of his pink shirt and opened the basement door, “Now in you go.”
It was a restless night for James, he knew he'd have to comply with Mrs. Bell's strange plans if he wanted to avoid any serious consequences, plus he'd only have to act like a girl for one day then he could go home and have her arrested, he might as well go all-out to avoid any trouble.
Yes, tomorrow, he was going to be Jasmine Bell.
“Morning sweetie.”
Jasmine yawned, “Mmmm morning Mummy!” The pair hugged before Jasmine's mum took her hand and led her to the bathroom.
“Now let's redo your makeup and sort your hair out so you look nice and pretty before the lady from social services comes down from inspecting the house with your father.”
“Okay mummy.” Jasmine grinned and allowed her mum to put all sorts of foundation, lipgloss, and eye makeup onto her face.
Jasmine's mum looked at her daughter from head to toe and smiled, “Ooooh that skirt makes your legs look so good, sweetheart.”
Jasmine blushed.
“That sounds like the inspector, follow me.” yet again Mrs. Bell took the hand of her daughter and lead her along.
“Well, Mr. Bell, the house looks much better than before, very fit for a family.”
“Oh thankyou very much, inspector” Mr. Bell said bashfully.
“Oh please, call me Jane. OH! And this must be young Jasmine, how are you darling?”
“Very well, thankyou.” Jasmine spoke politely.
“And is everything alright?”
Jasmine turned to her Mum, who nodded back at her, “Yes. Yes, everything's fine.”
“Well, good. It seems everything's in order, i'll get out of your hair, which by the way looks very nice today Jasmine.”
Jasmine blushed yet again.
James gave a huge sigh of relief as Jane left the house with Mr. Bell catching a lift with her to work.
“Alright, can I go home now?” he said, fed up.
“But Jasmine, honey, you're already home?”
“I'M NOT JASMINE DAMN IT”, James reached for the door.
“Uh, uh, uh”, Mrs Bell interrupted by withdrawing the pistol, “You're not going anywhere young lady.”
James didn't want to play her games anymore and made a dash for the door.
Back down near the park, and James looked behind him to see if he had been chased.
“Phew,” he panted “I'm going home!”
So James, still dressed as Jasmine, strutted through the park towards home until he stopped dead in his tracks, petrified.
“Why hello there.” A boy approached speaking rather seductively.
'Crap. It's Ben!' James screamed in his head. He couldn't bring any words together, did they know it was him? Or did they think he was just some bird?
Anthony pulled Ben away laughing, “Dude, that girls like 15 you fucking paedo!”
Ben joined in the laughter, “Haha! You're right! Run along little girl, it must be past your bed time!”
“Dont worry,” said a mysterious voice, “she's coming home now, aren't you sweetie?”
It was Mrs. Bell.
James screamed, “Guys! Guys! Help me!”
James' 3 friends just stood laughing whilst the young 'girl' got dragged home.
THE.... END?
A story about two boys on a drug fueled adventure, pretty much.
You may also feel like you're high while reading this....
(DON'T do drugs, and DON'T read this if you're under 18)
Friday Night:
“Dude.... I am.... so high right now, it's.... wow.... look at my pubes.... they're so fluffy.”
“Ummmm.... dude. We haven't even smoked nothing yet....”
“I.... oh....”
“Dude. If you're gay you can just tell me, it's cool!”
“Just, shut up! And stop hogging the spliffy!”
“All yours man.”
1 hour later....
“Dude.... I am.... so high right now, it's....”
“Dude! If you say one thing about your pubes I.... hey, wow! Those are fluffy....”
Yep. That's Chuck and Vic. Every university has them, the two potheads who are obviously gay for eachother and nearly always high.
They're pretty much the laughing stock of the whole uni, but not in a bad way as such, they just always got into crazy adventures after puffing the smoke.
So for them, tonight was just like any other friday night. And before to long, they came across the stoner's natural nemesis....
The Munchies.
“Dude, I am soooo hungry.”
“Chuck you're always hungry.” Vic sighed. Chuck was severely overweight, and he was trying to get his buddy to stop eating so much.
“Yes but, looking at my pubes has made me want spaghetti soooooo bad.”
“That's disturbing.... Ok, fine, we'll go get some snacks, but you have to promise me you'll start dieting tomorrow.”
“Promise!” Chuck lied.
“And you've got to promise me you won't bring any puff, we can't be caught in possession again remember?”
“Promise!” Chuck lied.
“And you have to promise me there'll be no wacky adventures!?”
Chuck hesitated, “I.... promise.”
Chuck lied.
“Ok, so, McDonalds?” asked Vic, who was driving the pair's run-down camper van.
“Nah...” Chuck pondered “I feel like hospital food.”
Vic turned to his friend, “Ummmm.... hospital food?”
“Yessum.”
“Hmmmm I don't know Chuck, this sounds like a possible wacky adventure to me....”
“Argh come on man! Hospital's have the best food!”
“What!? No! No they don't!” Vic was laughing to himself.
“Dude.... they have pudding.”
Vic's eyes widened.
Chuck nodded, his sweaty chins wobbling and jiggling.
“TO THE HOSPITAL!” yelled Vic, and they where off.
“Dude...” Chuck pulled at Vic's shirt, “Before we go in, how about a shroom?” he grinned.
“Chuck! I told you not to bring any!” exclaimed Vic.
“Yeah.... you tell me a lot of things....” Chuck then started to ram dozens of them into his fat gob.
“Ah, screw it! Gimme those!”
3 hours later....
After an extended fit of giggles, the pair entered the hospital.
“Ok, where would they have pudding?” Chuck was darting all around the reception area.
“Oh! I know, I know!” cried Vic.
“Where!? Tell me!”
“We just have to go to some patients room, and blag their pudding!”
“You my good sir....” Chuck began to get oddly tearful, “.... are a genius.” He hugged his friend before galloping off down the hallway.
“Ok, this guy looks like he's in a coma, and see that — on his lap.... PUDDING!” Chuck was starting to drule.
“I wonder why he has pudding?” pondered Vic.
“Well.... if you ever entered a coma, wouldn't you like a pudding on your lap?”
“Touché....”
“Ok, you go get the pudding, and i'll stay here and keep watch.” proposed Chuck.
“Sounds good to me!” and with that, Vic stumbled into the room.
“Hey little fella....” Vic waved at the comatosed boy, “are you gonna eat that?”
No response.
“That's.... that's just rude, you don't deserve pudding! YOINK!” Vic grabbed the frozen treat and frolicked out of the room.
“Hey Chuck! I got it!” Vic waved the pudding around to no-one in particular, “Hey, where'd he go?”
4 hours later....
Vic felt a hand against his shoulder. He looked up to find a bearded doctor looking down upon him.
“You are Vic, right?”
“Yessum....”
“Well, your friend's operation was a complete success!”
“Oper....ation?”
“DUUUUDE!” Vic could hear Chuck's cry from the other side of the hallway.
But when he turned around, he didn't see the wobbling chunk of lard he expected.
“DUDE! I GOT LYPOSUCTION!” Chuck was screaming waving his arms around.
“Woah! Dude, you're so thin! That's amazing!”
“I know right?” grinned Chuck.
“Doctor, doctor! Can I have a cool operation too!?”
“I don't think I can do that buddy....” said the edgy doctor.
“Oh. I see how it is.... Chuck, pay the man!”
Chuck slipped a 10p coin into the Doctor's pocket.
“How about now?” Vic crossed his arms looking chuffed.
The doctor raised an eyebrow, “Very well, come with me.”
“YES!” Vic clapped his hands wildly and pranced after the doctor.
“Ok, here's the deal, I get to choose the operation you get.”
“Well I don't know....” Vic said as he was undressing on the operating table.
“JUST DO IT!” Chuck yelled, whilst banging on the glass outside the room.
“Ah screw it, let's do this ting!” yelled Vic.
7 hours later....
The doctor put a hand on Chuck's shoulder, “The operation was a complete success.”
“Awesome! What was the operation?”
The doctor moved over to one side of the hallway, “Chuck, let me introduce you to.... Vicky!”
Chuck couldn't believe his red, pot-fueled eyes, strutting down the hallway in red stilettos and a matching boob tube came a hot blonde, the sort of woman every teenage boy fantasises about; big breasts, pendulum hips, long legs....
She grabbed the doctor by his tie and put her tongue deep into his throat before flaunting over to Chuck.
“Wow....” Chuck was gob-smacked “You got hot Vic!”
The new Chuck and Vicky found themselves walking around the red light district.
“I'm not sure I should be here, Chuck.” said an anxious Vicky.
“Why not gorgeous? A woman of your nature belongs somewhere like here.” Chuck winked.
“Please Chuck, take me anywhere else but here, i'm getting some funny looks....”
“Hmmmm.... only if you ask me in a sexy voice.”
Vicky sighed, “Pwease Chucky, take me some place where we can.... be alone.” she whispered into his ear.
Chuck whimpered, “I....I....I.... BONER ALERT!”
12 hours later....
“Ok, it's been half a day, can I open my eyes yet?”
“Not yet.... ok, now!”
Vicky opened her eyes, “Oh my god! Where are we? Are we in Vegas? What am I.... Am I wearing a wedding dress!?”
Chuck dragged her into a glowing pink chapel before she could ask any more questions.
“Do you, Chuck Dillon take Victoria Cummings to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Hell yeah I do!”
“And do you, Victoria Cummings take Chuck Dillion to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She looked over at Chuck and shrugged, “Sure.... why not?”
“You may now kiss the bride, and shit.....”
Monday Morning:
Chuck let out a massive yawn; “Urrrrgh, morning Vic!”
“Morning Chuck, don't go having to much cereal, you'll get fatter! If that's even possible....”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“What a weekend we had....” Vic said holding a wet flannel to his head.
“Sure was, thank fuck that Doctor could reverse everything we did!”
“Yes, but at what price!?”
“Bout 20p” Chuck said with a mouth full of Frosty Flakes.
Vic was now in a rush to get to uni, “Cool! So, i'll seeya next Friday then?”
“You know it buddy!”
NOW BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS STORY BEING TOTALLY UNBELIEVEABLE, THAT'S KIND OF THE IDEA, DEAL WITH IT!
AND IF IT SUCKS, THAT'S SIMPLY BECAUSE THERE'S A 50/50 CHANCE I MAY OR MAY NOT BE HIGH RIGHT NOW.
(BY THE WAY, ISN'T IT A MASSIVE COINCIDENCE THAT I WAS WRITING A STORY LIKE THIS WHEN AMY WINEHOUSE PASSED AWAY?)
R.I.P. Amy.
Such a talented woman, you will be missed.
And please, please, PLEASE don't do drugs. I wrote this story so you can experience being high without actually getting high!
The reclusive Wayne must dig deep to discover the change he has been hiding from himself in the most unorthodox of fashions.
The tiger pounced forth and dug its mighty claws in to the edge of the top bunk. There it clambered and drooled on to the Star Wars sheets whilst deep in the corner of the bed-space cowered Wayne.
Defenseless, he gazed into the eyes of the striped villain and counted.
“10...9...8...”
Its jaws widened, revealing columns of sharp teeth ready to feast upon its prey.
Ears covered by hands; like a child 'la la la-ing' into a safe space, young Wayne prepared himself for the proceeding roar as its fully unhinged state dawned.
“4...3...2...”
Shot open the eyes of a 14 year old boy curled in a sweaty mess of Star Wars sheets; an alarm clock nestled beside him buzzing like there was no a tomorrow but to alert 'TODAY, TODAY, TODAY!'
Wayne pinched himself, knowing all to well the worlds were not so different for it to even matter. He turned to his left to face the usual suspect. Legs crossed, the morning newspaper spread out on his lap, a pipe carelessly dangling out of the corner of his mouth — multiplying careless fumes into his environment.
“Morning,” Wayne spoke formally.
The tiger somewhat blanked his makeshift room-mate and adjusted the angle of his novel smoke. “You're alive then,” he hissed, taking away any empathy from his statement.
“Yes, yes... another day...” Wayne scratched his hair and rose to stand 6 feet above the ground on his top bunk.
The tiger laughed, “I wouldn't bother getting up, lest you forget why I'm here.”
Wayne raised a finger before submitting. He instantaneously sunk bank down to the mattress.
“Care for a spot of water?” The tiger gestured to the corner where the large tank of water hung from the wall like it would in the cage of a rat.
The boy glared at it in hatred, who would have thought a tiger with the ability to buy in bulk and use a drill could bring him so much indignity?
“I really should go back to school...” Wayne mumbled.
“That's crazy talk, boy. Only sadness lies out there for you, the fear will keep you safe.”
“This isn't living.”
“THIS IS SURVIVING!” The tiger roared. “Has my apparel become too familiar to you? Must I simulate the horror furthermore?!” The feisty feline raised a paw and the water tank immediately collapsed and flooded the carpet, piranhas began leaping from its new form. “The fear keeps you safe, boy, as long as the fear can be seen but not faced.”
“I just don't understand,” Wayne wiped a few tears aside. “What is this all keeping me safe from?”
The tiger drew his eyes way from the paper as they grew ever wider, “From the change and the reaction... from the Change Reaction.”
The tiger pounced forth and dug its mighty claws in to the edge of the top bunk. There it clambered and drooled on to the Star Wars sheets whilst deep in the corner of the bed-space cowered Wayne.
Defenseless, he gazed into the eyes of the striped villain and counted.
“10...9...8...”
Its jaws widened, revealing columns of sharp teeth ready to feast upon its prey.
Ears covered by hands; like a child 'la la la-ing' into a safe space, young Wayne prepared himself for the proceeding roar as its fully unhinged state dawned.
“4...3...2...
WAIT STOP!” Wayne exclaimed. “Why do you do this, every night, you attack me? And yet in the day...”
“Oh thank god,” the tiger pulled himself up on to the bed and crossed its hide legs. “I thought you'd never ask.”
Wayne breathed heavy, he pinched himself and felt nothing.
“This is a dream, Wayne. In your wake I am a tool of your mind, a literal representation created to deter you away from what you fear - the outside.”
Wayne nodded, too gripped in the reveal of the phenomenon that was his mind to speak.
“In your dream you access your unconscious and you can face me, so congratulations you just faced a fear. And I assume you now realize that I'm a lot more manageable than the ones you only see?”
Wayne continued his sequence of nodding.
“Good, good....” the tiger continued. “Now I want you to remember what that change was that made you fear the reaction. Dig deep, friend, admittedly I was a little crafty in making you lose touch of it.”
“I... I... I'm sorry, I just can't remember.” Wayne submitted.
“I see,” the tiger frowned. “Well maybe this will light the spark.” He gestured with his paw and leaned over the edge to peer down on the bottom bunk.
Wayne looked below and noticed a shape beneath the sheets, a human shape, the shape of a human opposite to he.
“Now do you see?”
With his mouth wide open, Wayne found himself simply nodding yet again.
“That is the change you sought, but the obvious reaction that comes with such a change created me.”
“It's a scary thought, living as either something you believe you're not or something the world seems to believe you shouldn't be...”
“Indeed. Sometimes there is just no easy way, but the rat race is far better than the rat cage.”
Wayne looked around the nightmare room and found approval.
“Now it's up to you, friend, you decide which bunk you wake up in. I will not be here in the morning and you will be free to walk out of that door as whomever you wish. Just know that you will walk a road of ruin...”
Wayne looked up and down at the two beds rapidly.
“...but the castle has been rebuilt just a few blocks down.” The tiger put a paw on Wayne's shoulder and smiled as the teen timidly turned to face him.
“10...9...8...”
“Good luck friend.” The tiger retracted his paw and took backwards steps towards the window.
“4...3...2...”
'TODAY, TODAY, TODAY!'
My seasonal offering for this year. Suitably a little corny.
Merry Christmas, one and all!
I don't know why it can be so difficult to accept change. Neither do I understand why such a perfect relationship had to end over such a trivial thing as someone's appearance. But it did.
And so I found myself wondering the streets on a cold Christmas Eve night, alone and hopeless.
I don't know why I followed the lights, it just seemed like it was all I could do. It was as if they were lighting my way to pastures new.
I followed them all the way to where the city met the sea; a beautiful array of colors and characters illuminated and repeated across happy homes all over. And all I could do was look at them from the outside.
And then... call it a scientific anomaly, an exaggeration, a lie... but... there at the end of the lighten path, burning in the sky was a star. Corny? Perhaps. But beautiful none-the-less. A Christmas star some may have called it. To me though, it was a destination.
I followed that star to the ends of the city and back, never without sight, thanks to the continuing shine of the Christmas lights.
However, I soon became close to no longer being a believer and instead was on the verge of becoming a fool. Following a star on Christmas Eve... what good ever came from that?
But my wallowing was stopped when I diverted my attention away from the light and towards a darkened flat. The only part of the neighborhood under covers.
I looked up to the window and there she stood. Undeniably beautiful. In-fact, I was blinded so much by her beauty that she made the rest of the street seem like nothingness. She was all that mattered, she was... she is...
“So this is you.” I gasped.
“Yes... the real me.” She replied timidly.
I pulled her closer, so close that we almost became one. “And this is us.” I stated. “I could offer you a million words of apology, but that would never make up for what I have done. All that would even come close to doing so would be to give you my all — forever.”
A weak smile emerged upon her weary face, and soon it became a grin — the most dazzling grin you could possibly imagine.
“I was just about to put my Christmas lights up,” she whispered upon our embrace. “Would you like to help?”
“I would love to, but only under one condition...”
She sighed, “What?”
“That they become OUR Christmas Lights.”
16 years ago, 2-year-old Louise McSweeney was taken from her home, during the night.
She hasn't been seen by her family since.
The police retrieved no leads, and the case was closed after 3 years without any luck.
NOTE: THIS STORY IS 100% FICTIONAL.
AND YES, I KNOW IT'S A STRANGE STORY, I WROTE IT IN LIKE TEN MINUTES.. FOR SOME REASON, BUT HERE IT IS!
"And where can I take you to, Ma'am?"
"Oakwood Drive, please."
"Sure, hop in." the taxi-driver opened the backdoor to allow the young woman to enter.
"So...." the taxi-driver was trying to make conversation whilst keeping his eyes on the road, "What brings you to London?"
"I'm coming home." she replied, quietly.
"I see.... my name's Bruce by the way, Bruce Dagnall."
"Nice to meet you, Bruce." the woman forced a weak smile.
"And, what would your name be?"
"Ahem," she cleared her throat, "My name is Louise, Louise McSweeney."
"Thankyou very much for the ride, Bruce. How much will it be?"
"No, no, no, don't you worry about it Miss McSweeney, you run home, this one's on the house." Bruce wiped a few tears of joy from his rosey cheeks, he was glad to see the young girl returning home after all these years.
"Oh thankyou so, so much Bruce." Louise hugged the emotional man, and kissed him on the cheek and ran off down the street.
"Say hi to your mother for me!" Bruce shouted down to her.
Louise checked the grand oak door, yep it was #26, the right house. She rang the doorbell, and took in many deep breaths.
"Oh, hello" said the elderly lady behind the doorway, "how can I help you?"
"Mum.."
Mrs. McSweeney stood motionless with bulging eyes, could this be her daughter? The daughter she hadn't seen in 16 years, since she was nothing more than an infant?
She had the same colour hair as she had when she was two, a dark ginger. And her eyes, oh her eyes where just like they were all those years ago, only bigger and perhaps even more beautiful.
"Louise, honey, you're home!"
The pair found themselves locked in eachother's embrace; crying, laughing and sharing kisses and hugs.
This wide eyed, ginger haired girl wasn't really Mrs. McSweeney's daughter, but none the less she was going to spend the rest of her days acting like it.
Really, she was Liam Daniels, a young boy from Scotland who found himself on the edge of a cliff-face ready to jump after his life fell apart through a series of unspeakable events.
But, after discovering the body of a young girl who he found to be 'Louise McSweeney' on that very cliff-face he had a change of heart.
This was the young girl who went missing a long time ago, and unfortunately she was now deceased.
But what was the point in losing two lives and ruining many others?
He could fill her place, giving him a second chance at life as well as ending her parents' personal hell.
He reburied the young girl's body, deeper this time, so deep she should never be discovered. And with her body, he buried the soul of Liam Daniels, so that the soul of Louise McSweeney could live on through him.
I'm not saying what he did was right. But was it, though?
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
So when Rupert finds himself urgently in need of some money, he has no choice but to get involved with roommate, Marshall's, law breaking scheme.
Are the pair going to get a little more than they bargained for, though?
"Oh god." I held on to the edges of my deckchair tightly as Marshall stepped into our grotty room.
"A standard 'hello' would suffice you know, Rupert."
"Yeah... goodbye." I tried to make a dash for the door but was blocked by the muscular right-arm of my roommate.
"What seems to be the problem, buddy?"
"I know you've got some crazy plan and I don't want in on it."
"Oh come on Rupert, what makes you think that?"
"I can literally see dollar signs in your eyes."
Marshall paused momentarily, wagging his finger in thought, "Ok yeah maybe I have a little idea."
I groaned. Marshall was always coming up with get-rich-quick schemes to try and help us pay off our university fees and they always ended in me getting in trouble.
"I'm sorry Marsh, but last time I got caught up in one of your 'plans' those ninjas really beat the living shit out of me. I can't even watch Rush Hour 3 without crying myself into a short-lived coma any more."
"Wow..."
"Yeah, so... just leave me out of it, ok?" I made another move for the door, "I'm gonna go get something to eat, do you want in?"
"No I...." Marshall scratched his back, frowning - and I knew what that meant....
The little bastard was going to try and guilt me into helping him with his scheme, but I wasn't going to succumb to his pressure....
"I guess I'll just be finding someone else who wants to earn themselves £500,000 then."
"500 grand!?"
"Yeah I mean, I'm sure there's loads of other lads on campus who'd want in on it so-"
"I'm in."
Marshall slammed a large roll of paper down on my desk.
I looked up, "What's this?"
"Blueprints man."
Yeah, Marshall really did take these schemes awfully serious and after a couple days had gone by since I hastily agreed to help him out I was hoping he'd just forgotten about the whole thing...
"This is Dawson Manor" Marshall spoke whilst pointing at his neatly drawn handywork, "home of the bazillionaire Dawson family."
...Obviously not, then.
"Hey I know these guys, they co-own Dawson & Brooke Bank. They're fucking loaded!"
"Exactly, hence why I said bazillionaires!"
"Wow I- hey wait a minute.." I slammed my hands down on the table, "You're not proposing we rob these people, are you?"
"Well..."
"Marsh, you know my rule! No stealing! I'm open to all your other crazy schemes, but I have to draw a line somewhere."
"Oh come on man, a million smackaroos is nothing to these people."
"No. Everytime I help you out, I get in trouble, and I don't want it to be with the law this time!"
"Yeah ok dude, I understand.... You still up for that pizza?"
I smiled, nodded, and grabbed my jacket without any further word.
Several weeks had passed and I was glad Marshall had quit bugging me about the whole robbing the Dawsons thing. I was back concentrating on my studies and chilling with my roommate again.
Until one Sunday afternoon we were playing video games when Marshall suddenly broke down into tears.
"Woah, what's the matter man?" I put my arm round his shoulder and tapped lightly, "You're not that bad, I'm just pretty good at this game that's all."
"It's not about the game you dick."
I took my arm away from the distraught teen and slid away a few inches. "W...well...w....what's wrong then?"
"I'm sorry to shout at you man it's just... my quarterly fees are due next Sunday and I haven't got anywhere near enough money to pay it off, let alone the other two I'm still yet to pay."
"Oh.... will they allow you another extension?"
"Not this time Rupert, I'm gonna get kicked out if I don't pay up."
"Damn..." I looked around the room awkwardly, "How much do you owe?"
Marshall put his head in his arms, ".... ten thousand."
"Shit."
After hours of comforting my helpless friend, and re-assuring him all will be ok, we decided to call it a day. After all, we did have lectures tomorrow.
"Mr. Weir..."
I looked up frightened from my desk, "Yes Sir?"
I never liked to be pointed out in class, I preferred to keep to myself and avoid getting any attention.
"Come to my office at 1 this afternoon, we need to discuss something."
"Oh ummm of course, yes sir." I slid down on my chair slightly, this could never be good.
"Mr. Weir, are you aware you are yet to pay your fees for the accademic year so far?"
"No sir, I have, I payed them all off on time obeying the deadlines accordingly, Sir."
"Don't Bullshit me Mr. Weir, you haven't paid a single penny."
"No Sir, I have, I REALLY have!"
"THE UNIVERSITY DOES NOT MAKE MISTAKES MR WEIR! NOW IF I WERE YOU, I'D MAKE SURE I'D PAY ALL THREE OF THE FEES BY SUNDAY OR ELSE YOU CAN CONSIDER YOUR ASS KICKED OUT OF THIS UNIVERSITY FOR GOOD!"
"But Sir I-"
"NO BUTS! YOU HAVE 6 DAYS TO BRING ME MY 25 GRAND."
"25 grand!? It should only be 10 sir."
"You're forgetting interest Mr. Weir, now.." He opened the door and pointed through to the hallway, "Run along."
I couldn't believe it. No doubt Mr. Hartson had something against me. He'd been picking on me since day one and now I had to come up with an extra 25,000 inside a week. University sucks, and I knew there was only one way I could get that money in time....
"Tell me about your plan then."
"What plan?" Marshall attempted to keep a straight face.
"You know what I mean now come on, spill the beans."
Marshall grinned and nodded his head, "Now that's what I'm talking about!"
"Ok so.... go over the plan again."
"Rupert it's simple mate, it's room #105, we ask for 'Mr. Foster' and he'll give us the fake IDs and then we'll take it from there!"
"Ok...."
Marshall looked up, "Here we are.... now, before I knock, are you sure you wanna go through with this?"
I nodded unsurely.
"Because the moment this door opens, there's no turning back."
"Just do it man, before I change my mind."
We both took a deep breath, before Marshall reached his arm out.
"Who goes there!?" Came an unusual, presumably foreign, accent.
"We're here to see...." Marshall leaned up close to the eye-hole, "Mr. Foster."
"Ohhhh Mr. Foster, come in come in!" He opened the door and ushered for us to follow him through the mess that was his living room.
Piled up newspapers, burger wrappers, old food, cats everywhere, a proper psychos house. I gulped as he lead us down to a basement.
"Mr. Foster, two young men here to see you." The unusal man shouted down into the darkness before stuttering back into the living area, closing the door behind him.
A series of lights began to flicker on in sequence, revealing a room resembling an office, although I knew better.
"Arrr gentlemen. Very nice to ah see you" A balding, yet bearded fellow approached us with his hands held tightly together before his chest.
He seemed nice enough. But once again I knew better, and was ready to leg it at the first sign of danger.
"H...h...hello." Marshall spoke whilst looking down at the ground. "We're here for our IDs."
"Oh, of course, and you must be ah Mr. Daley."
"Yes."
"And I... I'm sorry who's this?"
"This is my buddy Rupert I was telling you about. He's here for an ID too."
"Oh I, I see... could I.... have a word with you in ah private Mr. Daley, we could have a ah slight problem."
"Ummm sure..." Marshall looked unsettled, as did I.
I watched as the elderly man dragged Marshall into a back room. I feared the worse.
Marshall and Mr. Foster returned from the room a few minutes later, both walking with an awkward stance.
"Ummmm... we've got a slight problem with the IDs Rupert." Marshall said, whilst scratching his head and frowning.
"Errrr let me explain Mr. Daley, you see Mr. ah Weir is it?"
I nodded.
"I errrr how do I put this ummmm...."
"He thought I was bringing a chick, dude." Marshall interrupted.
"Oh...." I said, unsure of what to make of the scenario.
"Errrr yes.." Mr. Foster took over again, "I thought your name was Ru Paul."
"Ru Paul...?"
"Ah... yes."
"Isn't that that tranny model?" I asked, still as confused as ever.
"Errrr I whatever, I just thought I was making one man ID and one female ID."
His gibberish, and appalling English were starting to frustrate me.
"Basically mate.." Marshall interrupted again, "You're gonna have to pose as..." he looked at the ID; "Linda Brooke."
I stood with my mouth gawping, "Ummmm.... no."
Mr. Foster turned to Marshall panicky, "I ummmm why ever not Mr. Weir?"
"Just.... no. Just, make me another ID!"
"Ah no can do Mr. Weir, I only have two possible ID for this party and these ID are for long-lost relatives of Brooke family, Harold and Linda."
"Well.... I'm sorry Marshall, you're gonna have to do it on your own mate. I can't go there with a chick's ID, they'll catch me out in no time."
Marshall whimpered, "But it's a two-man operation Rupert, I need you. We can make you look like a chick so they wont catch you out no problem, right Fozzy?"
Mr. Foster came out of his daydream and nodded his head wearily.
I mumbled some abusive words under my breath.
"Plus... you said before I knocked on the door that you were in this 'till the end."
"But dude I..."
"Come on, just one evening in a wig and a dress, we'll get the money and dash out of there in no time."
"I jus.."
"Just think about that £500,000 Rupert, and you need it to stay in University."
I guess I had no choice.
"Ah see you make pretty lady, Miss Weir."
I stood facing a full-length mirror wearing uncomfortably high-heels, an uncomfortably revealing dress, and an uncomfortably long brown wig, tied up in a pony tail. Not to mention all the uncomfortable makeup and jewelry I had on.
"I look like a fucking.... well I look like a man in a wig and a dress." I snarled.
"No man, you look.... you look good."
I looked over to Marshall frowning, "Just.... don't man."
"No, I'm serious you look very ummm.... nice, hey Fozzy you got that camera ready yet?" Marshall quickly changed the subject when he saw that his compliments had angered me.
"Just a ah minute Sir, get yourselves ah ready I'll be few moments."
Marshall put a green woolly jumper on over his suit and handed me a black jacket.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"It's so we're not wearing our ummmm... 'formal' clothes, on our photo IDs. We don't want to arouse any suspicion."
"Okay, here are your IDs, all nice and shiny." Mr. Foster handed us the small cards with shaky hands.
We both thanked him, though be it rather begrudgingly before heading towards the door.
"And ah remember.." Mr. Foster called after us, "Bring me my money no matter what, I ah don't care if you don't get the ah million pounds I want it either way. I will send men after you if you don't!"
We all laughed awkwardly.
"Ahahaha, but no seriously make sure you ah bring me my fucking money. Show them to the ah exit Pablo!"
Pablo, the guy who let us into the appartment in the fist place ushered us back through the post-apocalyptic warzone.
I could feel his eyes watching my shaved legs and wiggling bottom as I strutted awkwardly in my heels. It was not nice to be looked at in such a way and by such a creepy individual. I had an idea it was going to be a long night.
It was Friday night. The night of the Dawson & Brooke and Friends get-together at the Dawson manor. And me as; 'Linda' and Marshall as 'Harrold' found ourselves in the back of a stretched-limo.
I whispered into Marshalls ear, "How are we affording this?"
"I used my last few quid on it, I mean we need to arrive in style so as not to seem out of place at a party like this, you know?"
Yet again, I simply nodded in agreement.
Before long, we had pulled up to the gates of the Dawson manor.
Marshall grabbed me by my bare shoulders and asked if I remembered the plan.
"I..."
"Fuck. Okay let me go through it again quickly. We both mingle with the guests and hosts for a while, and yes we're long-lost relatives so there are going to be loads of hugs and shit but we'll TRY and get it out of the way as soon and as quick as possible okay?"
"Yeah, okay..."
"And you can just excuse yourself at one point, whilst I continue mingling yes?
"Yeah..."
"Then you find one of the Dawson daughters, flirt with them a- Oh.... best make it ummm one of the sons..."
I sighed.
"Yeah, I'm sorry man but this'll all be over with soon. Ok, flirt with him a little, get him to show you around the house, find where the money is. Rich people generally like to show it off a little if it's with people they trust like a member of the Brooke family which... for the night, you are!"
I continued nodding throughout to show my understanding.
"Ok, then when you know where it is... come find me, and I'll crack the code to it with my 'expertise' whilst you mingle with the guests some more yes?"
"Yes." I mirrored him.
"Alright then we'll meet here by the gates, and they won't even notice the money's gone. Because a million is just so little to them."
"Are you sure about this?"
"Positive." He smiled at me in a way I had never seen him do so before. I even managed to force a weak smile back before the chauffeur opened the door to let us out. I said a few prayers as we walked up to the manor. I just wanted this night to end, and soon.
We walked up to a reception that had been set up in front of the manor.
Marshall spoke for the both of us, "Hi it's Harold and Linda Brooke."
"Oh my!" The receptionist smiled, "We weren't expecting you two, but have been saving room for you incase you ever decided to come back!" he joked.
Marshall laughed along with him and I let out a faint giggle.
Rich people humour sucks.
"So... can I see some ID Mr & Miss Brooke, it's just regulations, you know how it is."
"Oh yes, certainly." We handed him our fake IDs and I once again started praying that all went well. It did.
"Okay yeah these are fine, have a wonderful evening." The handsome young man smiled and waved us through to the manor.
Wait. I didn't just call him handsome, did I....?
The plan had gone perfectly so far. We mingled with the guests and made up stories of what we had both been up to for the past few years before I excused myself to go find one of Dawson sons. Which I did successfully.
I then flirted well with him, admittedly. Before getting him to give me a tour of the house. He complimented my hair and that several times and by the end of the tour we were holding hands and getting along surprisingly well.
Disturbingly well.
Anyway, sure enough the rich fucker showed off some big vault with the money in and I went to find Marshall before filling in for him on the mingling side of things.
And that's where everything went wrong.
Marshall was walking from the garden to the house, where the vault was located, before he was stopped by a familiar face.
"Hello Mr. Daley!"
Marshall turned to his right to find Mr. Hartson waving at him.
"I didn't know you mingled with this sort of crowd ummm Marshall is it?"
"I... I think you have me mistaken for someone else ummmm sir..."
Mr. Hartson put his arm around Marshall and started laughing, "Hahaha you young one's crack me up sometimes, say who's that fine Brunette you were talking to just now?"
"Oh that's... I've got to go I...."
"Oh right, seeya Marshall!"
"I'm not Marshall! I'm Harold, Harold Brooke."
"Yeah, sure you are, make sure I get that money by Sunday!"
Marshall looked back at Mr. Hartson, shrugged, and looked around to make sure no-one was near. Thankfully, it seemed no-one had overheard their little conversation.
"Excuse me....?"
"SHIT!" Marshall dropped his stethoscope and turned around, quivering.
"What are you doing?"
It was the Dawson son I had been with earlier, Stephen.
"I am just ummm.... listening to your..... vault..."
"Really?" Stephen folded his arms. "You're going to go with THAT?"
Marshall shuffled awkwardly on the spot.
"You are in DEEP trouble, my friend."
"Linda..."
"I turned around to find a middle aged woman smiling at me."
"Oh hi..." I tried to speak giddily.
"I'd like you to meet someone." That's when another middle aged lady, slightly chubbier this time, rolled up with an elderly lady in a wheelchair.
"This is your mother, Linda."
I hesitated.
"Oh we best leave them to get re-acquainted!" The two women grinned and frolicked off elsewhere.
"I...I...." I couldn't string a sentence together.
"You're not my daughter."
"I....I.... of course I am I.."
"I know my own daughter. Even if I have not seen her for so long. And you, missy, are not her!"
"I...I...."
"IMPOSTOR! IMPOSTOR!" She started screaming at the top of her voice.
I walked over to a silhouette by the gates of the manor shaking from the cold. 'Please let this be Marshall, please please PLEASE!'
"Linda!" The silhouette shouted over to me.
At first I was worried because they called me Linda, but I instantly recognised it as Marshall's voice so I ran over to him.
We collided in a massive hug. I spoke into his ear, "I came so close to being busted Marsh, I met Linda's Mum and she almost gave me away but for the fact that people disregarded her claims as being senile."
"Wow.." He talked in my ear also, as we were still wrapped in eachother's embrace, "That Dawson son you were with earlier caught me trying to break into the vault."
"Oh my god!" I exclaimed, "How did you get away with it?"
"He saw me with you earlier and well... he kind of made me give him your number..."
"You what!?"
"Look I'm sorry but I had no choice!"
"Did you at least give him a fake number?"
"No he made me show it to him on my phone to prove it was the right one. I only had time to change your name to Linda Brooke on it, so as not to give us away."
"Great.... now I've got some creepers number. Plus, he knows you stole the money, what if he blackmails us!?"
"Oh I'm sure he'll just forget about it.... and besides.." Marshall tapped his left pocket, "At least we've got our million pounds!"
I smiled, "Yeah I guess."
Mrs. Hartson tapped her husband on the shoulder and pointed at Harold and Linda. "Isn't it nice to have the Brooke twins back again, honey?"
"Yes it sure is..."
"And they're so close too," she smiled, "just look at them hug. I wish our kids were like that... ANYWAY I'll go get us some more drinks!"
"Ok darling..."
Mr. Hartson watched as his wife walked to the buffet before turning back to the young siblings to find them touching lips.
"Yes... they're very close indeed...."
Crime does pay, but not without its costs - As Rupert and Marshall are about to discover.
“Ah! Mr. Weir, how nice of you to show up. Have you got my money?”
“Yes Sir, I have the cheque right here.”
Mr. Hartson snatched the paper from Rupert's hand and began studying it as if it were a jewell.
“All good and proper Sir, 25 grand.” Rupert stuttered.
Mr. Hartson's miserable face turned into that of a smile, a big greedy fat-cat smile, “How did you ever get hold of so much money at such short notice boy?”
“I.... Look, you got your money can I just go now?” panic was evident in Rupert's tone, he had done some bad things to get that money, some bad — illegal things.
“Very well Mr. Weir, but in the future make sure you pay your student fees on time.” Mr. Hartson spoke as he ushered the student to the door.
“Yes Sir I...” but the door was slammed shut on young Rupert's face before he could utter another word.
“Hey buddy, how'd it go with Mr. Twatson?”
Rupert threw himself down onto the sofa and began to sigh deeply, “Yeah it went ok, I'm just glad this whole ordeal is over now.”
Marshall sniggered, “Yeah man, and look at all this money we've got now!”
Rupert turned to his room-mate and smiled, “Yeah, something tells me we're gonna be alright.”
“Wanna go get some Chinese? My treat!” Marshall winked.
“Yeah go on then, I'm fucking starving.”
“Mmmm you can really taste the Pao in this Kung Pao Chicken.”
Rupert accidently snorted some Coke (the drink!) while laughing at his friend's antics, “I can't go one meal with you without snorting my beverage can I?” Rupert giggled whilst coughing loudly.
Marshall turned to the other tables, as they had all started watching the odd spectacle of a young boy chocking frantically and started assuring them all was OK.
“No, no, no need for the Heimlich Maneuver”Ž Mr. Waitor person, my friend's just weird that's all.”
Which only lead to more fits of coughing/laughing from Rupert, “Yeah I'm fine Mr. *cough* Waitor *cough* man.”
Rupert then turned to Marshall, “Imma have to go toilet a sec yeah?”
“No worries, I'll just be Kung Paoing it while you're gone.”
Rupert still found himself giggling quietly whilst washing his hands, that lad really knew how to tickle his ribs.
But as he started drying his hands his thoughts changed to that of the pair's new found fortune, what was he going to spend his share on? Could he drop out of uni and just live off his dirty money? But... would they get caught? I mean, they did steal a million pounds, and Marshall was even caught and blackmailed in the process.
His thoughts were soon cut off though by a vibrating in his pocket, he digged in to find he was receiving a call on his mobile from an unknown number.
Now, most people wouldn't answer their phone in these cases but Rupert just couldn't bare to leave it ringing and so answered cautiously....
“Hello....?”
“Hi, is Linda there?”
“Ummm, who is this?”
“Who's this? This is Linda's phone you know.”
It was then that it occurred to him who it was on the other end, it was Stephen Dawson — the rich kid who blackmailed Marshall into giving him 'Linda's' number.
“Oh I.... I'll get her to call you back, ok? She's ummm in the shower at the moment.”
“Very well.”
Rupert sat down in his seat opposite Marshall sweating buckets.
“Hahaha recovered from your little accident yet buddy?”
“I ummm.... Stephen just called me.”
“Stephen from Tae Kwan Do?”
“No, no Stephen....” Rupert gave his friend an alarming look, “.... Dawson.”
“Oh.... OH! Crap.”
Rupert nodded, looking down at the table.
“Right ummm....” Marshall started dabbing his mouth with a napkin, “I thought he'd just forget about the whole thing but ummm..... what did you say to him?”
“I just told him 'Linda' will call him back, what else could I do?”
“Right. Well, are you gonna call him back?”
“HELL NO! That freaky Linda shit is behind me now.”
Marshall's face saddened, “But.... what if he reports us if you don't play along?”
“Well.... I don't know Marshall, we're way in over our heads here and...”
“And....?”
Rupert pointed at the muted TV positioned adjacent to their table whilst gawping.
Marshall followed the direction of his finger and his too jaw dropped. There, on the telly, was the small appartment the pair got their fake IDs from, it was being ransacked by officers and had a young female reporter stood before it.
“What do you think happened?” Marshall questioned awkwardly.
“The police must have found out about what he was doing.”
“Shit.”
“Are we gonna get found out? He probably has all our information there!”
“No, we're good, he said he shredded all documents to prevent that from happening.”
“Well thank fuck for that.”
“But...” Marshall paused, “We're just gonna have to hope he doesn't give us away in court.”
“Let's hope so.”
2 weeks later...
“So Mr. Daley, have you heard the Dawsons are having another party this weekend?”
Marshall looked around puzzled, as he had just been pulled by the scruff of his neck into Mr. Hartson's office. “Ummm no I haven't Sir, why are you telling me this?”
“Well, since I saw you at the last one I thought maybe you were going once again?”
“No Sir, I...”
“I see. Will Harold Brooke be attending though?”
“I'm sorry?”
“I said...” Mr. Hartson bent down to eye-contact with the young man, “Will Harold Brooke be attending?”
“H... h.... how would I know Sir?”
Mr. Hartson laughed menacingly whilst walking in a circle with his hands behind his back, “Don't play dumb with me boy, I know you and some bird disguised as the long-lost Brooke twins to get into that shindig.”
“Sir, I....”
“No, stop right there. I don't want to know how you got in, I don't want anything to do with that.”
Marshall was now panicking, and nearing tears, where was the old fart going with this?
“O...o....o....ok.” Was all Marshall could force out.
“But...” Mr. Hartson returned to eye-contact with him, “Are you aware of how well those disguises worked? Heck, you could've digged into the Dawson fortune with ease, that's if.... you didn't already.” The old man winked at him.
“N...n....no Sir, no stealing.”
“Oh really? And I imagine you and your room-mate just happened to find thousands of pounds lying on the ground that you gave to me for student fees?”
“Sir, I....”
“No, I do not want to hear any excuses! You quite obviously stole money from them to give to me via your room-mate. Now, I suggest if you want to avoid being reported to the police, you do the following...”
Marshall couldn't believe it, was he going to get blackmailed again?
“... I want to see you and 'Linda Brooke'” he spoke using two fingers on each hand to illustrate quotations, “at the Dawson Manor this weekend.”
Mr. Hartson started ruffling Marshall's hair, “You're gonna help Papa buy himself a new car!”
This time it was Marshall's turn to throw himself down on the sofa and sigh.
“What's up Marsh?” Rupert questioned, whilst nibbling on a tuna sandwich.
“Well....” Marshall leaned forward, “You're not gonna like this, mate.”
Rupert couldn't believe he was back again, back in the gardens of the Dawson manor in a wig and a dress. Mingling with rich people, gossiping with the ladies, and flirting with the gentlemen.
He groaned as he walked gracefully over to Marshall, “Harold, when did you say we were meeting Mr. Hartson and his wife?”
“In five minutes by the gates, infact we best make our way there now.” Marshall took his 'sister's' hand, covered with rings and bracelets and guided her behind him.
“You know....” Marshall turned to his mortified friend and offered him a quirky smile, “This is the place where we first kissed.”
“Stop!” Rupert screamed, keeping his voice feminine, “It was in the spur of the moment, I told you never to mention it again!”
“Ok, ok!” Marshall backed away holding his hands up.
“Ah, the Brooke twins.” Mr. Hartson grinned as he approached with his wife to his left.
“Hello Mr. Hartson.” Marshall spoke timidly, looking down at his shoes.
“Hello Linda!” said Mrs. Hartson giddily.
Rupert had spoken to her earlier as Linda, and had no idea she was married to the evil little man.
“Hi Janet!” He made sure to also speak giddily, as apparently that's what all rich chicks do.
“Say Janet...” Mr. Hartson took his wife by her arm, “could you go get me a Scotch?”
“Sure honey!” And with that she quickly turned around and headed back towards the party.
“Now...” He put his arms around the 'twins', “Time for you two to make me rich!”
Mr. Hartson guided the pair to the Brooke family garage, consisting of a blinding array of sports cars and 4x4s.
“What do you want?” Rupert spoke whilst itching his butt-crack in a very un-ladylike manor.
Marshall had his nose pressed up against one of the car windows, ogling the interior.
“Oooooh,” Mr. Hartson turned on his heel and browsed the various auto-mobiles intensively. “I'll take that Aston Martin, for keeps. And ooooh let me see...”
Rupert sighed.
“That Monster Truck. Yes, that should sell very well indeed.”
“With all due respect Mr. Hartson, we can't just drive two cars out of here for you!” said Marshall, whilst still eyeing up the yellow Lamborghini.
Mr. Hartson threw his hands up, “You're the Brooke twins! These cars belong to your family, of course you can drive them out!” His face then turned ultra serious, “and besides, it's not like you have a choice. Now, pronto! I want to see these parked in my driveway by tomorrow morning. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Rupert put his hands on his hips.
“Or else... I'll report you both to the authorities. And a pretty girl like you...” Mr. Hartson caressed the imposter-in-drag's chin, “wouldn't last a fucking day in prison.”
Rupert gulped and nodded shyly.
“Good girl.” He rubbed 'Linda's' hair/wig in a patronising demeanour, “Now, get to it! I have a scotch waiting for me...”
“Okay do you want to take the Aston Martin or the stupid truck?” Rupert allowed himself to talk his usual boyish voice for the first time that evening.
“Aston Martin.” Marshall replied bluntly, still captivated by the macho male's paradise.
Rupert had never been a big fan of cars, for him it was just a simple mode of transport — nothing to get excited about.
So he came surprisingly suited to the role of 'nagging sister'.
“Let's just go!” Rupert slapped his accomplice in the back as he was bent over the engine of one of the BMWs.
“Alright, fine!” Marshall pouted, “Can you even drive a Monster Truck around town?”
“I sure hope so.” Rupert groaned, “You leave first, I'll follow after you in about 10 minutes so that we don't raise any suspicion.”
“Sure..” Marshall responded, reverting back to his zombie tone as he stroke the steering wheel of the gleaming Aston Martin.
“125, Oakwood Drive.” Marshall mumbled to himself as he approached the reasonably large house placed in the most surburbial of suburbs imaginable, with the standard white picket fences literally littering the neighbourhood.
“Looks like Hartson's got it pretty good already to me...” he continued to talk to himself.
“Hello?” Rupert pushed back his long brunette hair and slotted in his bluetooth headset.
“Hey, where are you?”
“Just heading into the neighbourhood now, I'll be about 5 minutes.”
“Sweet. I'm just sat on the bonnet waiting for you okay?”
“Sure.” Rupert smiled.
“Okay love you bye.” Marshall quickly hung up, only half realising what he'd just said.
Rupert was in shock, eventually managing to weave some words together, “Marsh, did you just-?” but he'd already ended the call.
He proceeded to tap the large steering wheel, his long painted nails dancing around before his eyes. “I love you too.” he whispered softly.
At this point, Marshall was pacing around Mr. Hartson's front lawn with his hands behind his head, “Maybe she didn't hear me... maybe HE didn't hear me... maybe... ah for fucks sa-” His ramblings were interrupted by the roars of multiple sirens.
“Put your hands behind your head!” Bellowed an authoritative voice.
Marshall looked around confused, only partially because his hands were already located behind him.
“Marshall Daley, you are under arrest for stolen identity, burglary and dealing with illegal fake documents...”
“Shit.”
"Cold. So...very....cold."
"Oh come on Jim, you could've used a less cliché dieing line."
"Dude!" John nudged his unorthodox friend, "Show a little respect, he's just been hit by a freaking lightning bolt!"
"Oh please," Kyle laughed, "Jim's the main protagonist, he won't die."
"Ummm dude." The fourth member of the group, Gary, interrupted. "The story's just started."
"What?" Kyle turned around in confusion.
"The story's just started meaning there's been no character development yet and thus there is no protagonist."
"Oh shit!" Kyle screamed as he span back round to the crippled teen on the floor.
"John..." Jim spoke faintly.
"Yes buddy?" John had started to well up.
"T...t....tell... K...K...Kyle... that he's a dick."
"NOOOOOOOOO! JIIIIIIIIIIMMY!" Kyle cried to the heavens before looking down to his now dead friend, who had his tongue sticking out of his mouth. "Oh come on man, could this BE any more of a cliché death?"
"Dude!" John once again nudged him.
"I mean ummm.... NOOOOOOOOO! WHY OH SMITEFUL ONE MUST YOU TAKE OUR FRIE-Ah screw it, I've got a funeral to plan."
"Dearly beloved we are gathered here today..."
"Oh come on!" Kyle pointed at the Reverend in disgust, "Even this guy is spilling out clichés!"
"Well what else is he supposed to say?" John whispered angrily, "'What's up guys lets get dis mother fucker buried so we can go get wasted?'"
"Yeah dude you arranged this funeral so show a little respect." Gary hissed.
"Oh shut the fuck up Gary, you only said one fucking thing in the opening paragraph - you're just an extra."
"I..." Gary raised a finger, ".... fair enough."
"I'M the protagonist now." Kyle banged his chest proudly.
"What does that make me then?" John asked.
"Ummmm... you can be my sidekick?"
"Man fuck that!"
"You get this cool sidekick costume I made you, it's not as awesome as mine but..."
"You made costumes?" Gary raised an eyebrow.
"Shut the fuck up Gary, of course I made costumes!" Kyle threw some of the dirt being used to cover up their already forgotten friend's casket at him, "Now, John, I made yours an extra small because you know... sidekicks are usually kids..."
"But I weigh 50 pounds more than you and I'm 6ft 7...?"
"You're right," Kyle pondered. "Here's the name of an excellent dietician downtown; come back in 6-8 weeks and we can begin basic training."
"Hell no am I doing all that for some stupid costume!" John roared.
"The costume includes a cape?"
".....fair enough."
"Oh boy!" Kyle fidgeted around giddily, "I can't wait to see what whats-his-face left us in his will!"
"Okay gentlemen," said the suited man as he stepped into the office shuffling around some papers, "I have here the will of the recently deceased James Worthington."
"Who?" Kyle asked.
"Jim..." John muttered.
"OHHHHHHHH! Sweet, what's he left us?"
The suited man rolled his eyes, "Okay, to John Fitzpatrick I leave my collection of bumblebee stingers-
"SWEET!" John fisted the air.
"- to Gary Aldrin I leave my life savings...
Gary slid to the edge of his seat in anticipation.
".... of two pounds and sixty-seven pence."
"YEEEEES!" Gary jumped up off his seat.
"And finally...."
Kyle started tapping his knees and grinning.
"Master Worthington has asked if Master Fitzpatrick and Master Aldrin could please leave the room for this final reading..."
"Sure." The pair said as they both exited graciously.
"Okay," the suited man cleared his throat, "He has left a video will for you, Master Berry. I'll just let you watch it while I go and file some paperwork."
Kyle nodded as he turned his attention to the giant plasma TV on the wall.
"Hello Kyle!" Boomed Jim's voice from the speakers, "I presume you're looking forward to recieveing my will so I'll just get straight to the point..."
Kyle's face lit up with greed and desire.
"As I'm sure you're aware," Jim continued, "You're a bit of a dick."
"Well that's just not true!" Kyle gasped.
"Yes it is!" Gary's voice could be heard from behind the door.
"... And so because of this I leave you.... with a curse."
"A curse?" Kyle gulped, "Sidekick get in here quick!"
"Hell no dude!" John replied from behind the door. "This curse sounds pretty scary, you're on your own!"
The sound of the two teens running off was all to be heard next.
"Oh come on Jim I..."
"SILENCE!" The pre-recorded Jim bellowed.
"How did you?-"
"LET THE CURSING BEGIN!"
Light blazed through the window and smoke appeared all around the room. "Jesus christ Jim, even this looks clich-AAAAAAAAAAH!" Kyle screamed in agony as his body reformed. The hair on his head grew as his body hair dissapeared, his hips grew wider and his lips fuller, breasts rose out of his chest and finally little Kyle Junior shrank and shrank until eventually it was no more.
All this had resulted in Kyle's screams becoming like that of a teenage girl, and as the smoke started to fade away the pre-recorded Jim resumed his message,
"Now I'm sure you look beautiful but if you could just pull yourself away from the mirror for one moment..."
Kyle was indeed looking into the mirror in the office at his new female self, amazed that under all that makeup and brown curly hair was him.
"B....b....b...." He mumbled.
"Now don't get me wrong, this is reversable," Jim spoke. "But you will have to complete a series of challenges in order to do so."
"WHY JIM? WHYYYYYYY!?" Kyle chirped.
"The challenge checklist is attached to your copy of the will. And Kyle.... you have 24 hours."
"God damn it Jim!" Kyle folded his arms over his newly formed breasts.
"If you fail to complete all of the challenges in 24 hours, you will remain like this for the rest of your life."
Kyle groaned.
"Oh, and FYI..."
At that moment the suited man bounced back into the room.
"...Your name is Kayla." Jim finished.
"Who the devil are you?" Asked the suited man as he fiddled around with his glasses.
"Ummmm...." Kyle looked back at the now black TV screen, "I'm... Kayla!"
"Okay... well, I'm going to have to ask you to leave Kayla."
"Sure!" She smiled as she hurridly exited the room.
"Soooo.... you're telling us that YOU'RE Kyle?"
"Yes John!" Kayla stamped her foot, incased in high-hells, on the ground, "It was that curse Jim put on me!"
Gary laughed, "Boy am I glad I'm not the protagonist now!"
"Oh shut up!" Kayla snarled as she placed her hands on her hips. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"Well I'm just an extra so..."
"Oh fine, I don't need you Gary! Not while I have my sidekick." Kayla patted an awkward looking John on the back.
"Yeeeeeah about that..." John shied away, "I'm not really up for being a sidekick of a girl."
"Oh come on, you're both just gonna leave me in my hour of need?!" She begged.
"Fine, I'll help you - but under one condition!" John conceded.
"Okay..."
"YOU wear the sidekick costume for the next 24 hours!"
"B...b...but..."
"What's wrong 'Kayla'?" Gary smirked. "If it's good enough for John, it's got to be good enough for you."
"Ummmm well, there's something you should know about the sidekick costume..." Kayla gulped.
John stood staring into what was Kyle's wardrobe in shock. "You were seriously going to make me wear this?"
Gary was sat on the bed laughing to himself, "Oh the irony in this is just brilliant."
"Well go on, try it on then!" John threw the costume into a groaning Kayla's arms before pushing her into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, the two boys were greeted by quite a spectacle as the new girl shyly creeped out from behind the door, wearing nothing more than a pink bikini with a matching pink cape. The room was filled with a mixture of laughter and wolf whistles for what seemed like an eternity until eventually John brought it to a close by putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Well at least you made it small enough for your dainty little figure, mate."
"Shall we take a look at this 'list of challenges' then?" John suggested.
The trio were all sat on the edge of the bed with Kayla, still dressed provocatively, in the middle.
Gary picked the list up off the floor and read it aloud, "'Challenge Number 1 - Wear that freaky costume I know you've been saving for John throughout the rest of the challenges.' Well that's one to check off already then aye?"
Kayla didn't respond so John decided to speed things up a little to save her from further embaressment, "Just get on with it dude; what's next on the list?"
Gary sniggered, "Fine. 'Challenge Number 2 - Steal some uranium from the powerplant...'"
"What? He doesn't want me to make a terroist attack does he? Because I told him once is enough!"
"It doesn't say, but look you can kill two birds with one stone here..."
"I said no more terroist attacks! Not even bird ones!"
"Not literally you idiot," Gary sighed. "Challenge 3 is to flirt with a man, you could use that to get past the security guard down at the power plant?"
"Oh please, that only works in movie clichés." Kayla huffed.
John put his hand on her knee "Look mate, I'm not gonna lie, no man will be able to resist you dressed like that."
"Yeah dude you're pretty hot." Gary added.
Kayla simply groaned and layed back on Kyle's bed, "God damn it Jim."
Brian looked up from his newspaper to find a dazzling young brunette standing before him.
"Hey." She said, looking down at her feet.
"Y'allright Missy, sure you should be dressed like that at this time of night? Someone could..." He winked, "...take advantage of you."
She blushed before putting her hand over his, "Sowwy I just need to go inside the plant for a a widdle second." Kyle cringed inside, hoping the baby voice wasn't overdone.
"Yeah I'm sorry love, I can't just let anyone in here you know..."
"Oh but I'm not just anyone," Kayla leaned forward so that her breats rested against the counter at eye level with Brian.
"Well, d...d...do you have any b...b..business here?" Brian asked whilst being somewhat hypnotized by the cleavage that lay before him.
"I need some uranium for a ummm.... experiment."
"You don't look much like a scientist?"
"Oh ummmm that's because ummmm I'm doing an experiment on ummmm how ummmmm uranium effects ummmmmm sluttyness?"
Brian stared at her blankly.
"Did you get the uranium?" Gary asked as Kayla walked in.
"Yep." She replied, breathing heavily.
"So the flirting worked then?" John asked.
"Well... not exactly, but in the end I used Gary's idea of throwing stones at people and-"
Gary interrupted, "That's not what I sai-"
"Oh who cares as long as she can cross them both off the list. Now, what's next?" John turned to Gary who sighed.
"Ummmm... 'Challenge 4 - Preheat your oven to 200 and put the uranium in for 35 minutes.' Well that just sounds dangerous?"
"It's okay," Kayla ensured. "I have oven-mitts."
"Alright it's been 35 minutes." Kayla put on the oven-mitts in preparation and reached for the door.
"Be careful!" John exclaimed.
She pulled open the door and winked at the pair, "Oh I was born caref-AAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
In an instant Kayla had been sucked into the eerie green oven which had begun twirling around in the air.
"What the fuck is happening!?" Gary cried.
"KAYLA?!" John shouted as he tried to reach up to reopen the oven door. But it was too late; the oven had vanished into thin air.
"KAYLA?!" He shouted again in desperation.
Gary stepped back and frowned, "Yeah I can't deal with any more of this, this has gotten way to weird for me!"
"So you're just gonna leave?"
"Pffft does it matter? I'm just an extra, and you're fast becoming the love interest. I'll just leave you two to it, I'm gonna go spend Jim's money on a toffee apple."
"But?" John pleaded.
"Kyle's a dick dude. Come find me when he's dead." And with that Gary backed out of the kitchen and out of the front door.
Having waited around for a couple of hours John was considering giving up and going home when he heard an echoey voice coming from nowhere in particular, "Hello? John? ...Gary?"
"Kayla!" John yelled.
"John, at last! What the hell happened?"
"Well, you got sucked into an oven mate."
"Oh..."
"Where are you?"
"I dunno, it just looks like a rough alley. That freaky oven must've taken me here, it's like a really lame version of Narnia."
The pair laughed despite of the wacky situation they had found themselves in.
"Where's the list?" Kayla asked after recovering from the giggles.
"Shit. Gary still has it and he fucked off home!"
"God damn it Gary!" Kayla winced. "Okay you go get him and I'll explore this bar I'm behind."
"Alright, but be careful!"
"Oh John, I was born careful." She replied smugly.
John smiled, "Yeah well, last time you said that you flew off in a magical oven so..."
John eventually found Gary sat on a park bench licking his toffee apple desirabley.
"Oh good he's dead already." Gary smirked.
"Shut up dude I need the list and well... damn it, I need you. I can't save her on my own!"
"And why should I help you?"
John sighed, "If you do, you can have the bee stinger collection."
Gary gasped.
"So are you in?"
"Well hell yeah! You must really like Kyle to sacrifice such a valuable collection, I swear just a few days back you called him a 'massive dick'..."
"Yeah well..." John blushed, "He's changed."
"Oh I get it." Gary nodded, "You like Kayla. Well then, let's go save our damsel in distress!"
"How can she be that as well as the protagonist? That makes no sense!"
"This story makes no sense Jonathan. This story makes no fucking sense at all..."
Kayla strode into the bar and was welcomed by a fluster of admiral looks and yet more wolf whistles from the assorted drunks.
"Damn it." She muttered, forgetting that she was still wearing the rather revealing costume.
"Hey baby wanna-"
"BUZZ OFF!" She shouted at the random drunk. "Wait a minute." She turned back to him.
"Look love am I gonna get laid tonight or what?" The drunk raged at her.
Kayla stuttered, struggling to find any words as standing right before her was.... himself. Kyle.
"I've got to ummmm..."
"Hey you look familiar, do I know you?" Kyle interrupted.
"No, no, no. I need to go now, bye." Kayla quickly walked away as she suddenly realised where she was.
It was the bar the gang went to last weekend on the night Jim died. The magical oven must have been a magical timemachine oven, and Jim had gotten her to set it to bring her back to this night for whatever reason.
She looked over at Jim, John and Gary who were all sat together celebrating Jim's promotion. It was Jim who was the protagonist that night, and oh how it had angered Kyle, hense why he was sat alone at the bar.
"Maybe I am a bit of a dick..." Kayla whispered to herself with tears welling up in her eyes.
"Kayla! Are you there?" John had been shouting in the kitchen for a solid half-hour now. "I don't know if you can hear me but you only have 10 minutes left, and Gary has your final challenge on the list."
Gary nodded back at John and read from the paper in his hand, "'Challenge 5 - Save My Life.' I don't know if you know what that means or if you can even hear us but you have 10 minutes to do it alright mate?"
Kayla could infact hear it all whilst sobbing on the toilet, but didn't have it in her to reply. Kyle had been an awful friend to them all these years, yet they had all still stood by him. Well, now it was time to repay his debts. It was time for him to become not only the protagonist, but also a hero.
"Good night huh lads?" Jim looked around at John and Gary, and Kyle who was lagging behind.
"Sure was!" John smiled.
"What the fuck's that though?" Gary pointed directly infront of them through the rain.
"Looks like a girl in a bikini?" John examined.
"Dibs!" Kyle yelled.
"It looks like she's running straight towards us." Jim added.
Kyle scratched his back, "What do you thi-ARRRRRGH"
The girl had ran straight up to them and punched Kyle in the nose.
"What the fuck was that for?" Kyle pleaded on the floor.
"You're a dick, Kyle." She responded, before moving over to Jim. "I'm so, so sorry for how I've treated you."
"Ummm ok, who are you though?" Jim asked.
"Just move three steps to the left." She gestured with her hands.
"Ummmm why?"
"JUST DO IT!"
"Woah geez oka-AAAAAAH SHIT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"
"Looked like a bolt of lightning?" John said.
Jim turned to the girl, "Woah you just saved my life, how did you know that was going to happen?"
She simply smiled back at him.
"Unless.... holy shit! That curse actually worked?!" Jim turned to Kyle, who was still on the floor too concerned by his own problem to even notice the lightning bolt. "Well did you complete all of the challenges?"
"Yes, she did." Came a voice from behind.
Kayla turned around to find the future John and Gary grinning at them. "How the hell did you guys get here?" She asked.
"Magic toaster." Gary quickly responded.
"...Fair enough."
The future John looked over at Jim, "It's good to see you again buddy! But can I ask, why do us 3 from the future still exist? There can't be two of us all - that's impossible!"
"Well," Jim shrugged, "I guess some things take more importance than the laws of time. Things like love."
Kayla and John both stared at eachother and smiled.
"Oh please!" Kyle interrupted, still on the floor, "That sounds like a terrible movie ending cliché!"
"Shut up Kyle!" Everyone shouted at him in unison before laughter erupted.
"Well why am I still here then? I mean, I really like this toffee apple but I wouldn't say I 'love it'." Gary pondered.
"Oh you're just an extra Gary, the laws of time don't even care about you." John replied jokingly.
"Well, it's only slightly true about the love thing if I'm honest," Jim added. "It's these guys who cease to exist."
The past John, Gary and Kyle all gave quizzical looks before dissapearing into nothingness.
The gang were all back at the bar when something suddenly ticked in Kayla's brain. "Wait, why haven't I changed back yet? I completed all 5 challenges?"
"Ummmm..." Jim choked on his lager, "There were 6 challenges?"
"Errrrrr no there wasn't, show him the list Gary."
Jim took the list off of Gary and proceeded to look down it, "Ummmmm... it looks like there's some toffee at the bottom, here let me wipe it off.."
John then looked over Jim's shoulder and read the last part of the list aloud, "'Challenge 6 - Breed a tortoise and a hare to see if their offspring go either slow or steady or fast and furious.'"
"So you mean..." Kayla turned to Jim who simply nodded at her. "GOD DAMN IT GARY!"
Curse the Protagonist 2: Rise of the Antagonist
Time has passed since the strange happenings from before and Kayla has become very adjusted to her new self. However, things are about to get a whole lot stranger.
With squinted eyes, Gary explored his surroundings. He had been laying rigid on the tough ground, surrounded by bottles and discarded clothing.
"Wow, we really painted the town vomit color last night, right guys?"
Only silence answered the despairingly hungover young man.
"Guys?" He followed up. "Jim? John? Kayla?" Working his way towards the kitchen, there was no sign of his four amigos - other than their wreckage from the night before.
"Well if someone doesn't answer soon, we're all fucked..." Gary grabbed a bag of nuts from the mini fridge and leaned back against the counter. "... I'm just not likable enough to be the protagonist."
"I'm here, I'm here!" A half-naked Kayla revealed herself from behind the couch.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the first bride-to-be to attend a Bachelor party?" Gary smiled and chewed smugly on his salty snack. "Crazy night, huh? Where's the other two?"
"Not with me." Kayla threw on John's baggy jumper and nosed through the bathroom and bedroom doors of their deluxe suite. "God knows..."
"The Hangover." Gary stated.
"Huh?"
"This is like the Hangover, look," he pointed to the corner, "there's a baby."
Kayla turned towards his line-of-sight, "That's a bin, Gary."
"No, inside it - the stick with the smiley face on it."
"Oh god!" Kayla pulled out the said object and gasped. "Who's pregnancy test is this?"
"I presume the only one of us with a working vagina?" Gary had now progressed to a packet of Skittles.
"Oh god, oh god! We need to find John!"
"Let's check the roof." Gary suggested with a pineapple in his mouth. "I ain't making the same mistake those guys did, I'll tell you that now."
"I see nothing still!" Kayla shouted over the traffic.
"Yep..." Gary strolled the perimeter casually. "Seems we've lost 'em."
"Well, where could they have gone?!"
A stroke of the chin sent Gary in to deep thought. "A-ha! The brothel!"
"The brothel?" Kayla raised an eyebrow.
"Yes! That one in the back alley with the guy with the hook for a hand running it."
"The one we said 'dear god, this looks like something off of Taken, let's leave here and never return' to?!"
Gary nodded.
"Well... your guess is as good as any!"
"Sweet!" Gary licked his fingers of excess pineapple juice and headed to the door. "Heck, maybe Captain Hook will be willing to give you an abortion while we're there!"
"You see, we're looking for our friends..." Kayla had awkwardly approached Captain Hook while Gary waited around the corner, armed with one of John's bee stingers in case things got ugly.
"Look, doll, I see a lot of guys come and a lot of guys go..."
"Yeah I bet you see a load of guys cum..." Came a voice from afar.
"How said that?!" The rugged old man drew his steel hand from his sleeve.
"Woah, woah, woah, be cool!" Gary stumbled around from his sanctuary, hands held high.
"What the-? He took a double take. "Gary Aldrin?"
"Les?!"
"Buddy! How you been?!"
"You two know each other?" Kayla interrupted.
"Hell yeah," Gary hugged the monster of a man. "We went to art school together!"
"Yeah! Hey, remember that time I spilled paint all over your canvas?!
"Oh yeah..." Gary reminisced. "And then I pinned you down and slowly chopped off your hand with my paintbrush."
"Haha totally! Ah, college..." Les guided Gary through the door to his brothel as they giggled like a pair of school girls on a field trip. This left a rather struck Kayla stood outside in apparent peril of her friend.
"Sorry- with a paintbrush...?"
"So Gary, why aren't you fucking this girl?"
"I'm right here." Groaned an exhausted Kayla, her objections completely ignored by the reunited pals.
"Ah, she's my friend's fiancee." Gary sighed, looking her up. "Plus, you know..."
"Oh..." Les downed his drink and with that ended his lusting and diverted the conversation elsewhere. "So these friends of yours?"
"Yes, they're a couple of guys our age, one of them is really tall, the other pretty average... any leads?" Kayla worriedly replied.
"'fraid not Girly, generally just the real dirt of the city we get here. Tourists seem to avoid us."
"I wonder why..." Kayla mumbled whilst examining her vile surroundings.
"Maybe I can help with your little... problem." A maleficent voice bellowed and echoed around the room.
"That voice..." Kayla's eyes darted around. "...it's so... familiar..."
Gary winced and fidgeted on his bar-stool.
"Ha ha ha! Tis I!"
The realization of their foe came to her and she began to share Gary's fear.
"Or should I say, tis YOU?"
"Come on man, you invented a time machine and enforced an ancient curse, surely you can get us the hell out of here!"
A tired Jim threw himself down next to John.
"I'm sorry, but even MacGyver himself would struggle with this one." He studied the room helplessly one last time before resting his eyes.
"So you're just gonna give up?"
"What else can I do dude, we're screw-" Jim was interrupted by a loud bang from the opposing corner of the room. Smoke seeped across the ground and a tall naked figure rose from it.
"Come with me if you want to live."
"I thought you were dead?" Kayla grimaced facing the silhouette at the end of the bar.
"You know nothing, Miss Berry. That'll do Gentlemen, I'd like to talk to her alone now."
"What?!" She looked over to Gary who was now in tears.
"I'm so, so sorry!" He sobbed as Les dragged him away.
"GOD DAMN IT, GARY!" She shouted as the silhouette moved closer, pulling over a chair.
"Now what's say we have a little chat, Kayla to Kyle." Her former grinned from the corner of his mouth, a harsh twinkle in his eye spoke of nothing but doom.
"Protagonist to... antagonist. Let's discuss how you turned your back on me and accepted... this." He gestured to her ridonkulous body.
"Because you're a dick, Kyle. Have I and every one else in this universe not made that clear enough to you?"
"Oh yes I'm a dick alright, and quite proud to still have one too. Now, if you want to see your little fiancee again I suggest you behave hm?"
Kayla clenched her fists together but reluctantly nodded.
"Good girl. I should hope by the end of this you will want nothing to do with your friends ever again, though. As you can see already, Gary was all too quick to turn his back on you."
Kyle's latter only snarled back at him, allowing him to continue with ease.
"It's time for you to find out all about that little curse you seem to have just... accepted. And it is time for me to claim what is rightfully mine." Kyle shuffled a series of papers in his hands. "I have some challenges for you..."
"John, is that you?"
"No I'm right here, bro."
"But I can quite clearly see you naked in the corner over there." Jim continued.
"Yes, that is the darnest thing..."
"We don't have much time." Naked John declared. "The present, the past and the future are all in danger. John, if you want to get married tomorrow, you'll have to do everything I say."
John inhaled deeply before standing up. "Okay, Naked John. I'm all yours."
Naked John shook his fellow's hand proudly and the pair looked down on Jim.
Feeling like a third wheel, he was profoundly dumbstruck. "What... the... fuck?" Was all he could force out.
Don't Go.
A Christmas Story, as promised.
Admittedly rushed, and perhaps poorly written. Just a little idea I had that I guess I didn't execute so well.
But I promised you a Christmas Story, so here it is....
I watched her trod out in the snow from the window in my bedroom, I didn't have it in me to stop her.
Her suitcase rolled along awkwardly behind her after it had been hurridly packed.
I cried gently, and dabbed my eyes with the curtains. There's nothing worse than watching someone you love walk away.
She got in the taxi and offered me a spiteful gaze as she drove off down the street and out of my life.
I knew there and then that I would be alone that Christmas. And for some reason not even Santa came that year.
Now, when a boy loses his mother, his future often goes to the dogs. But I promised myself that I'd make it.
On my own.
Luckily Social Services never came for me, it seemed I was just swept under the rug. I payed the rent myself, with a part-time job I acquired, and for now I was getting by.
Soon though, balancing school and a job became just too much for me to handle. So I just stopped going to School.
Nobody seemed to stop me from doing so, and my boss never questioned why a 14 year old was asking for more houses to deliver papers to during School hours.
A ghost was what I had became, drifting through each and every day as if it meant nothing.
Before I knew it it had become a year since my mother left me. Snow had started falling again and the loneliness kicked in.
Why didn't I just hand myself over to Social Services? Why was I making this so hard on myself?
Looking back, I think I just felt that I had let my mother down and deserved to suffer.
Santa didn't come again that year, and I spent Christmas in bed eating Baked Beans and reading one of the papers I delivered.
I was pathetic.
Some nights I just stared at the ceiling, it seemed to be turning into an abyss.
I was descending into madness, I needed a friend.
And eventually I got one, Rick. He started co-renting the appartment come the new year as I could no longer afford to pay for it myself.
He knew I was only 15, but he never questioned why I lived alone. Which was good, I think?
He just became a pal, he kept me going, kept me company, got me laughing again.
Soon I even started seeing him as a father figure.
Yes, things were at last looking up for me. Until I caught him clearing out his room. He said that was it, said he needed a change of environment, told me he wasn't my father and he couldn't put up with being treated like it any longer.
So he left. And I didn't put up a fight. I just watched him go like I had with my Mother.
I felt bad for acting too much like his son. I deserved to be alone.
And so the year went by, and I resumed my descent into madness.
Christmas after Christmas after Christmas went by, until eventually I was 22.
I now delivered papers in a van, I was a man.
A lonely man.
That was, until I met a girl.
At the pub, whilst drowning my sorrows, she offered me sympathy. And sympathy soon turned into romance.
Susan was her name.
We became so close. She was my everything, she was all I had.
I always made sure to tell her I loved her, but never heard those 3 magic words back from her.
But I just went with the flow, it's not like I'd ever heard them throughout my time on earth anyway.
We spent a couple of years together, and just the one Christmas.
But what a magical day it was. I had turkey, a tree, presents.... It was paradise.
But... soon my love alone became not enough and I found myself sitting by that window again.
She was gone. Two became one. And I was back with me myself and I.
It wasn't long before I found some of her clothes she had left behind. I hung them on my wall, often smelling them or rubbing myself against them.
They were all I had left of her. And I soon found myself wearing the wretched things.
I would put on some of her make-up, and dance around in front of the mirror. When I wore those dresses, I felt like I still had someone.
Sometimes I would even find myself kissing the mirror me. She looked so good.
Eventually though, I just let the dresses go. I had moved on. Not from Susan, but from my alter-ego.
I even watched the bin-men collect the dresses and take them away from my goodbye window. I shed a tear as always, but life went on.
Infact, my very existence was proof that life goes on. I had watched all 5 of the people I had ever cared for walk out of my life. But I was still alive.
And now I guess it's time to tell you about the 5th person I watched walk out of my life.
But this happened back when I was 13, the Christmas before my Mother left me.
My father was a dodgy bloke, your average boozer/drug addict. He didn't care much for me and yep, he just up and left that Christmas after I asked why Santa hadn't come.
My mother never feared to tell me it was my fault he had left, and as you know she walked out herself the very next year.
So there you have it.
That's my life, it's all flashed before my eyes. And that means it's now time to die.
Wind blowing through my hair, traffic going by, I'm on the edge of a bridge now. I have watched everyone I have ever loved walk out of my life and never once did I object, never once did I say those two little words....
"Don't Go."
What was that? I hear screaming.
"Don't Go!"
I feel a presence, hands on my shoulders, more screaming...
"Don't do it!"
I'm dizzy. I'm supposed to die now, is someone stopping me?
"Stay with me!"
I'm turning around now, who is this?
"Don't..."
Those eyes, I never thought I'd see those eyes ever again.
"I'm sorry for what I did to you son, but don't do it, please don't go!"
"Mother?"
Embraced in a hug, and in a daze. She speaks some more...
"I love you."
I hold her closer, "Don't ever let go."
"I won't. Merry Christmas, Gabriel."
Don't Go: Runaways
"How do you sleep at night?"
"On top of a pile of rags on a park bench, if you must know."
"Have you no shame?"
"Ha. Shame is for those who care about other's opinions. Look at me, do I look like the type of guy who gives two shits about what anyone thinks of me?"
"But surely you must feel some sort of guilt for what you have done?"
"No. And I'll tell you why... it's because I did NOTHING. I just ran from it. This ignorance of not knowing what I left behind keeps my conscience clean."
"Wow. You are..."
"Just like you; naive. We're both just runaways. I bet you became a journalist just so you could interview people like me so that you can feel better about your own flaws and mistakes."
"How dare you..."
"Don't fucking deny it lady. Just like me, you're a runaway."
"I am not the one being interviewed here..."
"Exactly."
"Do you ever think you'll be ready to learn the truth about what you left behind?"
"You're very objective lady, I'll give you that."
"Well...?"
"No, I'll never be ready. To be ready is to accept whatever fate. To be unprepared is to face whatever fate."
"You are a man of many riddles, Sir."
"Ha. I am not a villain, I am a passenger of life."
"Alright, I think I have all I need."
"This report... what is it for anyway?"
"School."
"I'm sorry?"
"Sex education class to be specific."
"Apologies love, you look older..."
"Yeah well..."
"But what does a bum on a bench have to do with sex?"
"A good advert for condoms, I suppose."
"You mean...?"
"Yes."
"I..."
"Goodbye Sir."
"Wait, hold on. Don't Go."
"I'm afraid I must, for I am quite literally just like you. I am a runaway."
"No, Don't..."
"And what do runaways do best?"
"Go."
Preantepenultimate
“They call him the Gunslinger. Heavily armed, fearless and in possession of a death wish. He is the only thing stopping this kingdom from growing.
For you see, he has the princess; your daughter and the only heir to the throne. Without her your kingdom is doomed.
Rumor has it, he is staying in a safe-house in the center of The Valley. He has traveled from the homeland, through nothingness and into beyond to get to here.
It is not known what he has planned for the princess, but what is is that he is heading this way, you must stand and fight at the gates, for the sake of your futures.”
“And why should I believe you, petty Messenger?”
The Messenger reached towards his hip and drew.
Silence and the roar of the suns did all the talking as The Messenger edged his finger towards the trigger.
Looking into the barrel and reading his name on the bullet, Lucifer finally broke the spell and uttered his final words, “Who do you work for... Sir?”
“Him.”
A bullet to the brain brought Lucifer to his knees, as The Messenger stood powerfully before him.
“And they told me you would never bow...”
By this point a crowd of worried citizens had formed around the scene, The Messenger looked into their soulless eyes and grinned.
“You best prepare yourselves,” he breathed deeply. “The Gunslinger is coming.”
Laughter was all he could manage as he himself faced a bullet of his own soaring towards his chest.
And when his heart could take no more, he spoke with blood rushing out of his mouth;
“Welcome to the end of days.”
To Be Continued 12.6.12
Antepenultimate
This is Part 2. Read 'Preantepenultimate' first.
Beyond is an unusual place.
It is the deepest, darkest valley you could possibly imagine - where not even the thousand suns of Lucifer's Kingdom could shine down on.
Here, you must learn to love the darkness, embrace it and absorb it - but never let it know that you are afraid.
Everyone is your enemy in the Beyond, and they make you out to be the bad guy - so why not become the bad guy?
Rifles strapped to his back, handguns to his side, shades on, a fat cigar corrupting his lungs. He is the definition of badass - 'The Gunslinger' they have even started calling him around these parts.
This neutral fear and hatred had managed to keep his journey relatively quiet and unnoticed, but he knew he had to warn Lucifer of himself - he owed him that much.
The Messenger was a simple man, yet The Gunslinger knew he was so much more than that. He was the most powerful man in the universe, disguised as a delivery boy.
He had told The Messenger his plan, and thus made it into prophecy. The co-ordinates of the safe-house were set in stone, and the princess was all his.
Until he reached those gates, nothing could stop him. After that, fate and chance would take charge and he could only hope for the best.
Weeks had passed since The Messenger's warning and the supposed 'Gunslinger' was nowhere in sight.
Lucifer's Kingdom had returned to normal; not even death could halt his reign.
His name was carved on to that throne long before it was the bullet, and nothing could stop him.
The Princess had long since come to the conclusion that her existence was pointless - she would never be Queen. Lucifer was unstoppable and he knew it, the Princess could die and it would mean nothing.
The Messenger was a fool to believe otherwise. The very same Messenger now locked away in the dungeons, in eternal pain and as close to death as one could possibly be.
Lucifer laid back on his throne and examined his daughter and his kingdom, smiling at their natural beauty. All was well.
The Messenger winced, "I've been expecting you."
"I've heard things. Rumors, accusations..."
"Of the end of days?" He held his dislocated shoulder in continued agony as he faced the shadowed character on the other side of his cell.
"Yes, and I heard you were the man who started this... this..."
"Prophecy?"
"I guess..."
The Messenger let out a throaty laugh, "The end of days was quite a statement I guess. But it got your attention did it not? The end of days are near, I suppose. But the clue is in the name..."
The shadowed character shook their head in disbelief, "Just give it to me straight you freak!"
"Hahaha freak, I love it! Well like I said the clue is in the name, this is not the end. But it's not the beginning either. The Gunslinger has traveled far and I need you to come with me so we can reach the Penultimate. Only then can we hope to see the end of days."
"And who says I want to see the world end?"
"My master, your master..."
The shadowed character slowly started backing away as the tone of The Messenger's voice grew angrier.
"And you are the final piece, his vengeance shall be sweet, justice will be served, and the end of days are before us! For now though, I shall leave you at his mercy, deep in the valley and Beyond!"
The Gunslinger cautiously pushed aside the steel door, peering both ways to make sure he was alone.
"So this is the place..." He muttered to himself - as he was so used to doing.
A white blank wall overpowered the otherwise grotty room. It was here that The Gunslinger took his seat, upon the throne of rags, and there he waited. Waited for the collision of the worlds.
To Be Continued 12.13.12
Penultimate
Apologies for the slight delay.
"You know it as well as I do... Your existence means nothing. There is no reason for why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now."
The Princess' mouth quivered, her cheeks red from fallen tears. Yet she said nothing. She couldn't. Her time was up.
The Gunslinger carefully loaded up his handgun with a slight touch of pride. What right did a boy have to hold such a clinical tool of destruction? It was beautifully horrid in his eyes how he had been allowed to so easily slip under the radar and wonder into Lucifer's Kingdom armed so heavily.
"It's a shame you can't stay though." He spoke with genuine compassion, "Your beauty and all round good nature is so hard to find in today's world."
"So it's all because of my father then? That's why I have to die? Because..."
"Because you are the future Queen of the Underworld? A maiden of hell?"
The Princess nodded.
"Lies! Lucifer is not your father, and this is not where you belong."
"I knew it!" A smile shone through her damp face, to her it was like a weight had been lifted from her very soul. The weight of the Underworld.
"He has been feeding you lies. I was much the same, until I learned to believe in the light, and now I chase it."
"So...so why must I die?"
"Like I said, your very existence is now pointless. But a part of you shall live on."
The Princess, in a confused state, stood up and walked closer to The Gunslinger, almost like she had forgotten about the weapon directed at her brain.
"How?" She asked.
"We're the same... you and me. This hell that is now our world is both of our enemies. And here lie all of our demons, phantoms and Lucifer. The people here call me a mad-man, intent on bringing the end of days. The truth is... days as we know and love them ended a long time ago. I'm just here to let our world die in a little dignity."
"So what are you, an angel?"
"Perhaps. If I can earn my wings..."
"By killing Lucifer?"
"Yes, but I cannot do it alone. Will you help me?"
"Well put that bloody gun down and I might consider it!"
"No."
"WHAT?!"
"I'm afraid I can't, you must die, here and now. Your blood must paint this white blank wall and our souls must become one, it is the only way Lucifer can be stopped."
"I...I..."
"WE ARE THE SAME! No longer must we live in fear, doubt or denial. Together we shall march to victory and towards the light!"
"You're nuts!"
"And they will know our name is the Lord when we lay our vengeance upon all of them motherfucking demons!"
Brace Yourselves For The End Of Days.
To Be Concluded 12.20.12
The End
They only spread rumors about him, avoided him, or simply ignored him. And so when the flood of fire poured itself down upon The Valley, the demons were unable to react.
Instead they were left for dead or let off in order to spread the word. After all, that's what they did best.
“It's about sending a message.” The Gunslinger mimicked. They didn't have to die, it was more out of cold-blooded revenge than anything.
The Gunslinger saw it as important to keep his blood cold in these parts, there was enough heat in hell already for his liking.
The Power of 2 rested inside of him, a terrific sense of both fight and flight simulated his way through The Valley with ease. At last he was truly living up to his name.
Up and through the gates he went, obeying the prophecy. He was a ghost passing through, the minions and all their mite couldn't halt him.
And so down went the grand door that separated Lucifer from his realm. His guards — dead in an instant. But much to Lucifer's awe, The Gunslinger began to make a pile of weaponry out of his entire arsenal on the ground between them.
“You're giving up already?” The king smirked.
“My bullets cannot harm you.” The unarmed trooper stated. “You and that golden, jewel encrusted monstrosity you sit on are untouchable.”
Lucifer leaned back on his throne smugly, “And so you came all this way for nothing? Just to tell me that my reign will last forever after?”
The Gunslinger looked through the now open doorway from which he came. “This kingdom you reign over... I believe you know nothing of it.”
“Of course I know my own fucking Kingdom!”
“Oh but you see... for it to be your Kingdom, you must be a rightful King — which you are not. You are a virus, Lucifer, all that is bad. And what was good was made your prisoner...”
“My daughter!”
“She is not your blood! She was once the harp to your pitchfork. Until your deceit destroyed her.” The Gunslinger pressed his hand against his heart. “But she lives on not through me, but WITH me.”
“Madness...”
“Not only have you been keeping what is good prisoner, but also the rightful King!”
“The Messenger...” Lucifer gritted his teeth, clenching his fists against the sides of his throne. “Please, just tell me, who really are you?”
The Gunslinger walked towards one of the walls, each bearing torches to light the room. “Your people call me The Gunslinger, yes? But... what I really am is what many may interpret as the Messiah. The form of the rightful King who can do what is right for this world, who can protect it, who can FREE IT!”
Lucifer looked on in disbelief.
“And now with her inside me, I know I can do good, and earn my wings for the both of us.”
“By bringing the end of days!?”
“No... by bringing YOUR end of days!” The Gunslinger forcibly threw one of the torches at his arsenal; setting it alight.
Lucifer exclaimed, “What are you doing, you fool!” But as he gazed upon the blaze of weapons he noticed a distinct dampness around his feet.
There had been a petrol tank hidden amongst the clutter, slowly leaking it's contents down to him throughout their face-off. The fire furiously ran the course and quickly ignited the throne.
“You are a virus, Lucifer. And I am a firewall. Bullets cannot kill you, but what you made can. The fire that consumes YOUR crooked kingdom, the throne that YOU survive upon...”
Lucifer laughed, “But you threw the torch, boy. And I sure as hell didn't make you!”
“Well actually... wherever there is evil, there will always be someone to fight back. So I believe I am no less the spawn of you than I am The Messenger...”
“No, no, it can't be!”
“Until next time, Lucifer...”
“NOOOOO!”
A light. The light. What he had been chasing for so long.
A voice. The voice. From father down to son.
“I have been prisoner for many years,” it said. “But you have freed me, and my world. You have truly earned your wings. And I am glad to see peace has been made between you and your alter. Together you shall help guide me through 'till the end.”
The son reached towards the light, smiling, as it started to come towards him too.
“But first, you must make the ultimate sacrifice...”
A clattering sound grew louder, his senses started to grow, and then the light him...
The 21:12.
“He came so close to entering reality...”
“But you didn't allow it?”
“I decided it best for him to remain up here...”
“That was the right thing to do.”
“But now that I know they can get out, separate themselves, and become an entirely different organism... well, it brings this war to a whole new level...”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine if I could rule over reality too...”
“Okay, I need to know who is talking to me. Is this The Messenger?”
“No, no, no. But I have got a message for you...”
“Lucifer? Gunslinger? I demand to know who I am speaking to!
“Welcome to the end of all our days!”
End Of Days 5: The Commentary
Hi there, here I will try my best to explain the End Of Days quadrilogy to you all...
The Gunslinger is a man who has supposedly travelled from the homeland (reality) through nothingness, beyond and now reached the Valley (hyper-reality).
Before descending into nothingness, The Gunslinger was a normal man — 'The Messenger' he is refereed to in End Of Days. He is the only thing stopping Lucifer's kingdom from going as he is holding on to fight his way out of the mad world The Messenger has created in his own mind. Basically, The Gunslinger best represents The Messenger from before he got trapped in his own mind, although because he is just one of The Messenger's egos he does not represent him fully.
Lucifer and The Princess are also essentially 'alter-egos' of The Messenger, but to a lesser extent.
They are all fighting for their place to occupy The Messenger's body in reality.
Lucifer represents all of the evil built up inside The Messenger, who has obviously experienced hardship as this is why he is in this unusual state. If Lucifer had of beaten The Gunslinger he would have taken the place in reality and who knows what kind of evil deeds he might have committed.
The Princess is the TG slant in this story as it is suggested that The Messenger is a crossdresser and has a slight wish to become a woman permanently; The Princess represents an entirely female side of him.
The demons that occupy 'Lucifer's Kingdom' are representative of the metaphorical demons that have held The Messenger back throughout his life, they also represent the real-life population, who showed fear and hatred towards The Messenger and thus in his mind he has become a gunslinger.
In Lucifer's kingdom; The Messenger is held prisoner — as he literally is trapped in his own mind.
Confused yet? Yeah me too, it's hard to remember what everything meant and represented at the time of writing.
In Penultimate, The Gunslinger and The Princess 'become one'. This is the discovery that The Messenger doesn't need to become a woman, nor does he need to ditch that side of him entirely. Together they are stronger and ultimately were strong enough to destroy all of the evil stored inside The Messenger (Lucifer).
Finally, here is the penultimate paragraph of the quadrilogy:
'A light. The light. What he had been chasing for so long.
A voice. The voice. From father down to son.
“I have been prisoner for many years,” it said. “But you have freed me, and my world. You have truly earned your wings. And I am glad to see peace has been made between you and your alter. Together you shall help guide me through 'till the end.”
The son reached towards the light, smiling, as it started to come towards him too.
“But first, you must make the ultimate sacrifice...”
A clattering sound grew louder, his senses started to grow, and then the light him...
The 21:12.'
This is basically The Messenger in reality thanking The Gunslinger for freeing him.
After getting hit by the light The Gunslinger earns his wings and has now become The Messenger's guardian angel. BUT HAS NOT TAKEN HIS PLACE IN REALITY AS WAS ORIGINALLY EXPECTED.
The 21:12 was a train. (The time reflects the date the world was supposed to end last year). It killed The Gunslinger as he attempted to enter reality and so now, with The Princess still inside of him, can only guide The Messenger in reality.
So this raises the question, what is The Messenger now? As none of the 3 alter-egos actually took their place as ruler of him in reality.
And so this brings us to the final scene, The Messenger is talking to a psychiatrist about The Gunslinger attempting to enter reality and how he now realizes there is an ability to let the madness inside of him out into the real world.
Right. So, I hope that covered most of the story. A lot of it was difficult to comment on looking back as I honestly have no idea what I was talking about at times! (I think I got a little carried away in the drama etc.)
After I finish gabbing about this story I am also going to post a teaser for a new one I am going to write that sort of follows on from this. (Don't worry though, it is going to be written more sensibly, and have more of TG element to it.)
I'd just like to finish my commentary by saying that this story was a complete work on fiction, not based on anyone or anything at all. It originally started as a solo story called 'Penultimate' about a boy torn between genders — it just got a whole lot darker and weirder as I went along!
Thank you for reading and I hope this commentary helped at least a little bit.
I understand this story was not really to many people's tastes but I hope to see you next time! Here's the teaser...
“There is a reason you cannot escape this place...”
Ali wiped his head of sweat, “What? What is it?”
“I'm The Reason. The Reason that you can't sleep at night, The Reason that when you close your eyes I'm standing there — cursing you.”
“You...you...”
“So you flipped out, had a little psychotic episode and ended up at the nut house. It's happened to everyone in here. But if you start thinking just for one moment that you can do to this world what you did to the one in your mind, you are sadly mistaken my friend.”
“I just want to go home... I'm sane now! I'm sane!”
The Reason smirked, “Stupid kid... Let me tell you, when I told you everyone was psychotic in this place I really meant EVERYONE.”
“But...but you're a doctor?”
“Oh it's so surprising what a white coat and glasses can do. No Ali, I am The Reason you got trapped in your mind.” The Reason bent down and looked Ali directly in the eye, “You're only nuts because I was nuts first.”
Wow. It's been a while since i've written anything for you all.
Ok, without giving too much away about this story; it's got some mafia stuff in, some conspiracy stuff, and a boy on the run. Enjoy!
"Where's my money Eric?"
"I.... I.... I don't have it...."
"Don't play games with me boy! Where is my god damn money!?"
"Look I.... I can pay you back, i'm good for it, I just.... I don't have a job right now and...."
"It's been 3 months Eric, you're lucky you got a second chance out of me, but there's no way in hell you're getting a third!"
Ok. Let me set the scene for you here a little:
Eric is 18 and has recently left college (to all you Americans out there, you start college at 16 and finish at 18 here in sunny Britain).
He is part of the growing unemployed list, so has no income whatsoever, and has found himself avoiding paying his rent.
Oh and that dude asking for his money, yeah that's Fat Steve, he's sort of got the whole Mafia thing going on, got his own crew and everything, not a nice bunch to be honest with you.
So yeah, Eric owes these guys like a lot of money. He accidently fell onto Fat Steve's Stretched Limo whilst saving a cat stuck up a tree.
It really sucks to be him, and as he has repeated to himself several times — 'that's what you get for trying to save a widdle puddycat fwom falling'.
Ok, so are we good? Right then, let's get back to the action....
"Just give me a few more days Fat Steve, i'm begging you!"
"Hmmmm.... well, I did forget my favourite baseball bat, and i'm not really up for beating you with anything else soooo i'll tell you what; you have one day Eric. One day to get me my £500."
Yes I know what you're thinking - ' £500? Well that's not very much?' - well guess what, Eric literally has no money whatsoever, no friends to lend him any money and the banks won't lend him anything either, the man eats scrapings from Bargain Buckets outside the back of KFC for heavens sake! Ok , right, yeah, back to the story....
"Thankyou Fat Steve, I.... I won't let you down!"
"You better not Eric. You, me, here, tomorrow at 7", Fat Steve spat on the ground before Steve before backing into his newly refurbished Limo.
"Right then" Eric muttered to himself, "How the hell am I gonna get my hands on £500 inside 24 hours?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Ummmm.... I'd like a job, that pays upfront.... and starts today."
The man stared blankly at Eric; "Is this some kind of joke?"
"No sir" Eric looked at the man's name badge "No Mr. Wright sir!"
"Because The Job Centre is no joke young man."
"I know, I just.... I got into a bit of a trouble with...."
"Let me guess, Fat Steve?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
"He kind of owns the Job Centre."
"Wait a second. Fat Steve, the mafia guy, owns the Job Centre?"
"Yes, yes he does."
Having felt he had unearthed some sort of government conspiracy, Eric quickly got back to business.
"Look, buddy, I need £500 by tomorrow, is there not any way of me getting my hands on that wonga?"
Mr. Wright sniggered.
Eric, confused though he was, joined in with the laughter; "W....w....what's so funny?"
"Oh there's a way" replied Mr. Wright, "but you're not gonna like it." Mr. Wright bursted into fits of maleficent laughter.
Cue the convenient roar of thunder.
"Oh this can't be good" pondered Eric "this can't be good at all."
"Fat Steve! ...... Hi yes it's me Andy! ....... Andy Wright ...... I work at the Job Centre ........ You know, the Job Centre that YOU OWN!"
"ANDY! How are you my good sir?" Replied Fat Steve.
"I'm, i'm good thanks. I have a young man here; Eric, I hear he owes you a 'considerable sum of money'"
"That he does, that he does." Fat Steve was grinning, the very mention of money brought to him a disturbing amount of pleasure.
Eric was sweating, what was in store for him?
"Excuse me a moment", Mr Wright said directly to Eric as he exited the room.
Eric was now nearing having a fit, not helped by the fact that he hadn't licked any Bargain Buckets in over 2 days.
He knew that he stood no chance of getting the money in time without doing some unlawful deeds for Fat Steve, so he decided he'd make a run for it.
He would disguise himself as he knew Fat Steve would track him down with ease, and he couldn't afford a train ticket out of the city without any cash.
Within seconds he was out of window and running off into the distance.
Mr Wright stumbled back into the office, "Alrighty then Eric we have come to a decision that, hey where'd he go?"
Fat Steve stepped out from shadows of the corner of the room, "The hunt is on Alan, the little bugger made a run for it."
"Hey how did you.... I was just on the phone to you...."
"Shhhh" Fat Steve placed a finger upon Mr Wright's lips, "Now find me that boy, or else you're BOTH toast!"
"Wait. How am I going to disguise myself without any money?" Eric had never denied that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and the thought had only just occurred to him. Bless him.
"I think that I can be of assistance", the voice came from apparently nowhere.
"Who said that!?" stuttered a startled Eric.
The man stepped out of the shadows from behind a parked van. (Yes, people seem to like hiding in shadows in this city, I guess it's sort of part of their culture or something I don't know.)
"You need a disguise, I need a favour, are you in?"
Eric looked around puzzled.
"OI! You!" - Eric turned to see Mr Wright frolicking down the street.
"Oh crumbs! If you can get me away from here right now, i'm in!"
"Then let's do this thing" the mysterious man ushered towards the van.
TO BE CONTINUED....
So, Eric's now on the run from both Fat Steve and.... The Job Centre!?
Accompanied by a stranger who wants an unknown 'favour' from him it seems our young Eric is going to need a disguise, and a good one at that....
Eric just sat looking at his toes, whilst playing with his thumbs.
“My name's Ian by the way” said the mysterious man driving the van.
“Oh right cool, my name's Eric”
“Yes, I know”
“Wait. How did you-”
“So here's the plan,” Ian seemed to be avoiding the matter, “I'm leaving this city forever, and I need a companion to help me out a little.”
“Help you out in what way?” questioned Eric.
“Well, you see, this city is just so corrupt, this Fat Steve character has almost complete control over everything!”
“What? Surely he would've been kicked out by the government or something by now?”
“That's the thing! The government are just letting it slide.”
“Well.... that still doesn't answer my question though.” Eric was keeping one hand on the handle of the door, in-case he needed to make another run for it.
Ian pulled the van over and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. He was a rugged man, in his late twenties, he had fairly long blonde hair with untamed stubble across his face....
But what Eric noticed the most was his muscles. No he's wasn't gay or anything, but if things got nasty it would be helpful to have a bloke of his stature around.
“Look” Ian was beginning to sound surprisingly comforting, “You need a disguise yes? Well I know a guy.”
“A guy?”
“Yes, a guy.” Ian repositioned himself, facing forwards.
It was beginning to get light again, they had been driving for over 5 hours, Eric could only assume it was around 4:00am.
Ian flashed his headlights twice, and only then did Eric realise they were parked adjacent to a small car.
“What's going on?” asked an admittedly scared Eric.
“Shhhh” whispered Ian.
The small car copied the notion by also flashing it's headlights a couple of times.
Ian then stepped out of the car without any further word to Eric, though he could see the silhouette of the driver of the small car was doing the same.
Eric presumed he was to wait in the car and thus could hear nothing of the conversation between the two men, so he decided to lay back and rest his eyes.
Eric woke to see to men towering over him, one was Ian, the other presumably 'The guy'.
Now, you can forgive Eric for expecting 'The guy' to be a shady character, perhaps a wall of muscle, so it came as a shock when the first words he heard were:
“Well hi there handsome!”
Nope, it wasn't a chick, it was one of those overly gay guys, you know the type; blonde highlights, straightened hair, tight clothing, the whole get-up.
Eric tried to contain his laughter, “H...H....Hi, i'm E...E...Eric.”
“Aww bless he's all shy, now if you want to take my hand i'll take you to my lair”
“Your lair?”
“Mmmmhmm!”
Now Eric really couldn't contain his laughter as the car pulled up to the so called 'lair'. How fitting that a man of his nature would be.... yes you've got it, a salon owner!
“Is there something you find funny about my place of business, Eric?”
“No, no, sorry sir!”
“Alright then,” the man shot evils at Eric, “i'll see you inside”.
As he galloped into the salon, Eric turned to Ian, “Ok man, what the actual hell?”
“This is my guy”, shrugged Ian, “He's going to disguise you!”
Eric nodded unsurely.
“Don't worry about the costs, it's all on me, just like the plane tickets.”
“Ok, but why do I even need a disguise? I mean, if i'm leaving the city anyway....”
“Because Fat Steve is more powerful than you could ever imagine! He WILL track you down young Eric, and he WILL make you pay!”
“Well, surely if you're paying for all this, you could just lend me the £500 I owe him, it would save us a lot of time and effort!”
“BECAUSE!”, Ian realised he was shouting at the poor boy so lowered his tone, “because, Eric, I need a favour from you, and more importantly Fat Steve will have different plans for you now that you tried to escape from him.”
“Different plans?”
“Let's just say.... he's not afraid to pull a trigger on someone he hates.”
And with that, Eric ran into the salon.
The salon owner, who Eric found out was called Sammy, hovered over Eric; rubbing his chin whilst pondering. “Okay, now this Fat Steve guy, he like, he is super powerful so he will track you down easily.”
Eric gulped.
“Unless! We can get you a good enough disguise!”
“O....k.” Eric replied.
“Eric. How would you like to become Erica for a little while?”
Eric's eyes grew large, “W...w....what do you mean?”
“What I mean is; you need a full-proof disguise Eric, and this is the best disguise I can offer you.”
“I....But.....How would you make me look like a girl?”
“Oh i'm very good Erica, just you watch.”
Then, without even giving his consent, Sammy started stripping Eric.
He then proceeded to cover Eric's naked body with shaving foam and started to shave off his manly hairs.
Next he painted both his finger and toenails and filed them into perfect almond shapes.
Then he covered his face with all sorts of foundations, Eric barely got a word in, Sammy was in the zone, he was just a blur.
Sammy then threw Eric into a chair and started putting eyeliner, mascara and lipgloss onto him.
Next he placed a brunette wig over Eric and started pulling at it whilst messing around with a hairbrush.
Eric couldn't even get a chance to observe his new face and hair before he was thrown into a closet, where Sammy held multiple outfits against him before choosing a short, black dress with a v-neck, specially designed panties that hid any *cough* manly bulges, and a pair of low heel, sparkling red shoes.
He quickly pushed Eric over to a large jewellery box, well really it was more of a chest, and clipped a set of hooped earings onto Eric's ears, a bracelet onto his right wrist, and a silver necklace with a cross on the end hung delicately over his chest.
Sammy took a moment to observe his work before handing a large box to Eric.
“W...w.....what is it?” asked an overly confused Erica.
“Open it.” Sammy sounded awfully chuffed.
Erica opened the box to find a set of.... boobs?
“Put them on under your bra, they're very special — they adapt to the colour of your skin and you can actually feel them if anyone where too...” Sammy winked, “touch them”.
After Erica had put her fake breasts in place, Sammy handed her a handbag and a suitcase packed with spare clothes.
“Okay, are you ready to see the new you?” Sammy led Erica towards a large mirror, with both his hands over her eyes.
“I guess....”
Sammy released his hands from Erica's eyes, and she could only stand motionless in shock.
Before him stood a beautiful brunette, with a pretty face, and an admittedly sexy body.
Eric was just thankful that he was wearing the special panties, meaning his full-scale erection couldn't be seen by Sammy.
Sammy clapped his hands, “Ooooh the boys are going to go wild over you!”
Erica walked out of the salon, after thanking Sammy and paying him the large costs with Ian's money, with a handbag over her shoulder, and the suitcase in one hand.
Ian was sitting on the bonnet of the van gob-smacked as the new girl paraded out of the store. “Woah! Ma'am let me help you with that.” he took the suitcase from Erica's soft feminine hand and placed it in the back of the van.
“Th....th.....thankyou” she stuttered.
TO BE CONTINUED....
The plot thickens, and things are starting to get a lot darker.
Surely there is more to this than Eric, now Erica, owing Fat Steve £500?
“I KNOW THEY CAME HERE YOU FAGGOT! NOW TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE!”
“I s....s....said I d....d.....don't know” stuttered a tearful Sammy.
Mr. Wright had him pinned up against one of the full length mirrors in his salon by the collar.
“Are you lieing to me?” Mr. Wright stared directly into Sammy's eyes, with a look of pure evil pasted across his face “...Because you don't lie to the Job Centre Samuel, we will RIP. YOU. APART!”
Balls of spit were being fired all over the defenceless Sammy, who was now unable to hold back the tears.
“Look,” Mr. Wright had now softened his tone “I'm going to ask you one last time, have you seen this boy?” he held up a photo of a grinning Eric.
“N....n.....no.”
Mr Wright sighed, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gleaming samurai sword. Sammy remained frozen with fear.
“Y....y.....you carry a samurai sword in your jacket?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
Sammy was quizzical, but stayed with his back against the mirror.
Mr. Wright, however, showed no emotion whatsoever.
“I hope you understand, Mr. Samuel, that once this sword has been drawn, it can't be returned until it has tasted blood.”
Sammy gulped.
“So tell me, whose is it going to be, Eric's? ….Or yours?”
“I like your dress”
Erica simply offered him a weak smile. Ian's compliment had done little to kill the awkward silence that had swept over the van since Eric's transition.
“Look, this doesn't have to be awkward. I can just treat you like a girl, and you can act like one.”
“But I don't know the first thing about acting like a girl!”
“Just talk in a high pitch voice, and sway your hips around whilst walking. You're not trying to win a beauty pageant or nothing, you're just trying to be passable.”
Erica nodded. She knew that she had to start embracing her new self.
“Sooooo....” Erica crossed her legs and gazed into Ian's eyes whilst flickering her eyelashes, “Tell me a little more about yourself.”
“Well, i'm 26, an ex-Job Centre worker, and I own a VW Camper Van. What more is there to know?” he laughed and Erica soon joined in with her own feminine giggles.
But their laughter was short lived....
“Oh shit!” Ian exclaimed.
“What is it?” Erica grasped hold of Ian's knee.
He pulled over.
“Why did you pull over Ian?” Erica started panicking “Ian!? Ian look at me!”
“Good evening Sir and Madam, how are you this evening?” Erica turned her head towards her window to find a police after poking his head through.
“Fine thankyou.” Ian responded calmly, “What seems to be the problem Officer?”
“Well, security cameras seem to have followed your van from Sammy's Salon over in East London, would I be right in saying you've just come from that particular Salon?”
“Yes, officer.”
“Well, you see, there's been a murder down at Sammy's Salon, and yours is the only vehicle that has come from there today.”
Erica gasped.
The officer scanned Ian and Erica “Sir, madam, may I please ask you to exit the vehicle, you are both under arrest for suspicion of murder.”
“O....k.....officer” Ian was tapping the steering wheel nervously.
Just as Erica was about to open her door, Ian hit full throttle and they were off.
“What do you think you're doing?” she screamed at him.
“We can't get arrested Erica, we just can't.”
“Well, now we're fugitives from the law as well as on the run from Fat Steve!”
“Don't you get it? Fat Steve IS the law?”
“You mean....”
“Yes! The police are wrapped around Fat Steve's fat finger!”
“Oh gosh! Well, what now?”
“We're getting on the next plane out of here, that's what.”
'YOU HAVE 1 NEW MESSAGE'.
Fat Tony opened up his phone, he took a few seconds to read the message before putting it back in his pocket.
“They're taking the 8:35 flight to Rome” he looked over to his right at a short, latino man, “Do you remember what it is you've got to do?”
“Yes boss” replied the latino man.
“Very well, i'll see you in Rome. DON'T LET ME DOWN!”
“Ok, so, before we go inside the airport, I need you to do me a little favour?” Ian looked bashfully over to Erica.
“Oh! Is this the favour I owe you?”
“Mmmmhmm.” He handed her a small package.
“What is this Ian, is... is this drugs?”
Ian threw his hands up “You got me!”
“I'm a drug mule?”
“Well yes, I needed someone innocent and cute to carry it in through their rectum for me, that's all.” he grinned.
“Oh, well.... ok then....”
“And believe me when I say, you are cute girl!”
Erica blushed.
“Now are you ok to sneak those bad boys up that fine ass of yours?”
“Sure thing, baby” she winked at him, and slipped into the back of the van.
“Wait how am I going to get on the plane? I look nothing like my passport photo anymore” Erica questioned, as the pair stood in line, waiting to claim their tickets.
“Don't worry love, I settled it while you were at the salon.” he handed her a passport “You're very own passport, Erica Moore.” Ian winked at her.
“Wow! Is this legal?”
“Hell no!”
They both laughed as they stepped up to the front of the queue.
“Quick, we need to hurry, the gate closes in a few minutes!”
“I'm running as fast as I can in these darn heels!” cried back Erica.
Ian pressed himself against the desk and showed the two tickets to the flight attendant.
The attendant smiled at Ian and ushered him in.
“My friend will be here in a moment, could you leave the gate open for her?”
“Sure thing, sir”
Erica was breathless and had stopped looking were she was going when she ran into someone.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry Miss.” the man offered Erica a hand, as she had fallen to the floor.
“Oh, it's entirely my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going at all” she giggled.
“My names Diego by the way.”
“Oh, that's great, listen i've got to hurry it was really nice meeting you though!” Erica proceeded to run, but once again struggling, not helped by the fact that she felt the drugs has slid all the way up her butt due to the collision with Diego.
She got to the gate to find an impatient Flight Attendant waiting for her. Erica offered her apologies, and entered the plane.
Ian and Erica were once again sat together, this time however they were in the air rather than in the front of a run down Camper Van.
Ian put his arm around Erica, as she leant into his chest.
Erica looked up to Ian's face, “When we get to Rome, will we be safe?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise that once we get to Rome, we'll be safe” Ian kissed Erica on the forehead as she found herself falling asleep to the sound of Ian's heartbeat against her cheek.
TO BE CONTINUED....
PREVIOUSLY ON FAT STEVE:
Erica looked up to Ian's face, “When we get to Rome, will we be safe?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise that once we get to Rome, we'll be safe”
Can Ian keep his promise? Let's find out....
“Erica? Erica? Erica, wake up!”
“Huh? What?”, Erica found herself resting on Ian's crotch, “Oh my god! I am SO sorry Ian.”
“Nah it's fine, my pleasure” he winked at her.
The pair soon found themselves leaving the plane, collecting their items, and exiting the airport.
“Ok, so, where do we go now?” asked Erica.
“Ummmm.... I have no idea, I guess we should stay in a hotel for a while.”
“Well there's one right across the road, shall we-?”
“Yeah sure, ladies first.” they both laughed.
“Do you know any Italian?”
Erica shook her head.
“Shit....”
“No worries sir and madam, I speak perfect English, how can I help you?” interrupted the smiling receptionist.
“Yes, a twin room please.” said a thankful Ian.
“Certainly sir, let me just check the system....”
Erica pulled out a pocket mirror from her handbag and started redoing her makeup whilst waiting.
“.... Oh, i'm sorry sir, we're out of twin rooms.”
“Oh.... well do you have anything else?”
“THE HONEY ROOM SUITE!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?”
“I'm sorry Erica, but it's all they had.”
“No, no, i'm not angry,” Erica put her arms around Ian, “I'm just surprised.... How romantic!” She giggled.
“Yeah....” Ian walked uncomfortably into the bathroom, leaving Erica kissing the air.
Erica sat back on the King Bed and started sobbing gentley.
Thoughts were wizzing round her head; “How did it come to this? I was just a boy who owed a little money, and look at me now...”
She had started to notice that her voice was becoming naturally higher, and her body much more feminine since the plane trip....
Ian stepped out of the bathroom, “I'm sorry love, I just really needed to take a leak. So.... how about we do a bit of sightseeing?”
Erica wiped her eyes and grinned.
“What. A. Day.” Erica collapsed onto the King Bed, “Thankyou so much for such a magical day Ian, I really needed that.”
“My pleasure, sweetcheeks.” He walked over to the bar and started pouring drinks.
Now, usually, when Ian said something like 'sweetcheeks' to her, Erica would get an instant hard-on. But this time, it was different.
“I'm just going to.... powder my nose.” Erica said, as she backed into the bathroom.
Ian simply smiled and carried on making the complex cocktails.
But while Ian was making them, Erica was having trouble finding hers....
“Where's it gone?” Erica mumbled as she looked into the mirror with her skirt and panties down.
Where her penis used to be laid a.... vagina?
Ian banged on the door; “Is everything alright in there doll?”
What would have brought the old Erica an erection now bought her something very different.... her panties, which she had pulled up in a hurry, started to get unmistakably moist.
The first thought running through her mind is that she had wet herself, but the arousal she felt suggested something else....
Erica stormed out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, and once again collapsed onto the King Bed.
“I need to take these things off”, she pulled at her fake breasts.
Ian simply observed, in the corner, with his arms folded.
“Wait, they're not coming off, what the f-”
“Erica!?” Ian interrupted, “Do you have my pills?”
“Ummmm.... no.” replied a tearful Erica.
“OH! PERFECT!” Ian banged at a wall.
“I'm sorry, I.... They just.... Slipped right up-”
“Oh no, no, no, no. You've got it all wrong, i'm not angry, infact... i'm ecstatic! Everything has gone to plan.” Ian grinned menacingly.
Erica, still red around the eyes, crawled toward the edge of the bed, “W....w.....what do you mean, Ian? …..... Ian? ….... IAN!? What was in those pills!? …...... Answer me!” Erica was screaming, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Ian simply watched over her, looking modestly chuffed.
Then....
Everything turned dark.
“Wakey, wakey. Sleeping beauty.”
Now, you can't imagine how horrible it is to wake up to a gun staring you in the face, but i'll tell you this.... IT AIN'T PRETTY!
“Wh....wh....where am I?” Erica's eyes darted around the darkened room. She was no longer in the honeymoon suite, but somewhere much more dark and sinister....
“Why hello there Erica, we meet again.” A large hand rubbed against her cheek, she tried to pull away but it was hopeless, she was tied up tight.
“Who are you? I....I....Ian?” stuttered Erica.
“Oh no....” the mysterious man stepped out of the shadows, “Tis I..... Fat Steve!”
“SHIT!” exclaimed Erica, the man who she had been running from all this time, how did he find her?
“I know what you're thinking,” he put his fat, dirty hand under her chin, “How did I find you when you are disguised so.... brilliantly.”
Erica didn't respond.
“Well.... you see, you've been set up!” Fat Steve let out one of his trademark 'bad guy' laughs.
“You should have trusted no-one Eric, or should I say..... Erica.”
Erica remained silent.
“From the moment you tried to save that cat from falling, you've been set up. For you see, I put that cat up in that tree, I purposely parked where I knew you'd fall, I knew you couldn't afford to pay me back so I knew that in desperation you would go to the job centre.... that I own!”
Erica started whimpering, she couldn't act brave anymore.
“Then you met Mr. Wright, yes? Well he and I both knew that you would try to escape, and that's when you met your good friend Ian am I right? And I bet he told he was an ex-Job Centre worker, yes?”
Erica nodded.
“Well that's because he got a promotion last week.... to one of MY henchmen.”
Erica shook her head, “No that can't be true, Ian disguised me and helped me escape.”
“No dear, that's just what he made you think. In retrospect, he simply lead you into my trap. As soon as he knew what flight you were both taking, he told me it.”
Erica continued to shake her head, “No, no, no, it can't be....”
“And those pills he gave you? They were a little something to make you into the fully functioning female I desired.”
Erica could no longer put any words together.
“Since they were a suppository, I just needed someone to knock them in whilst you were holding them in your rectum.” he pointed to his left, “That's where my other henchman; Diego came in.”
The short, latino man simply nodded; keeping his concentration on holding his gun at Erica.
“For you see, this plan was all to make you.... My daughter.”
Erica had a coughing fit, “You.... you what?”
“Yes, it's true, i've never found love and my biological clock is nearing it's last tick. So I decided to adpot, I guess, in my own little way.”
Erica was once again drowning in tears through disbelief.
“I located you as a boy in desperate need, I thought I could offer you a better life, but I didn't want a son.... No, a son would get too strong, he would try and take me down. I just needed a daughter to carry on my name.”
Erica looked to Fat Steve's left to find Ian, standing motionless and like Diego; holding a gun at her. She frowned and looked back at Fat Steve.
“Now does helping a poor boy have a better life really make me so evil?” yet again, Fat Steve let out a menacing laugh.
He then moved right up close to Erica, so that she could feel his cyanide breathe against her neck.
“So how about it. Will you become Erica Moore, the daughter of and heir to Steve Moore's fortune?”
“Never.” Erica hissed.
Fat Steve stepped back a few paces; “Well.... now you say that, it makes me hate you....” he pressed a pistol against Erica's forehead.
“So, what's it going to be; the life of luxury? .... Or a death without dignity?
TO BE CONTINUED, TOMORROW, IN THE FINAL INSTALMENT OF THE 'FAT STEVE' SAGA ....
What started out as a light hearted comedy has been turned on it's head as both Eric and the author, Alesha, have spiralled into a dark tale of deception.
Now, as we enter the final instalment of the Fat Steve saga, Erica (previously Eric) finds herself left with an ultimatum:
To become the daughter of a criminal mastermind....
Or death.
“Meow.”
“Oh hey there little pussycat, what's happening little man?”
“Meow.”
Eric scratched his head, “Are you stuck?”
The random cat looked at him with wide frightened eyes, “.... Meow.”
“Alright, i'm coming up to save you little fella!” Eric clambered up the trunk, he'd never climbed a tree before and it's safe to say he wasn't the most athletic of boys.
“Almost gotchya....” Eric reached out his hand towards the kitten in distress.
“Ok he's up the tree, let's do this Diego.”
“Are you sure you want to do this boss? I mean, once we start, there's no looking back.” Diego questioned.
“Just park the fucking car beneath the fucking tree!” yelled an impatient Fat Steve.
“Ok....”
“Aaaah!” Eric slammed onto the bonnet of the car, “Ah my wrist! Oh shit, NO, please not....” he looked through the windshield.
It was Fat Steve's car, the mafia dude, he was officially screwed.
The cat then jumped down the tree at it's own accord and into the arms of the angered mafia boss; “Oh, good boy Whiskers.” he tickled the cat's chin, “and as for you, little boy....” he pointed at Eric, “you're in deep, deep trouble.”
Erica stared into the eye of Fat Steve's pistol, fearless.
Fat Steve also kept his eyes fixed tensely on Erica, “I need an answer....”
“No.” Erica said, assertively.
Fat Steve sighed.
“I can't join the very force i've been running from, I refuse to play any role in your corrupt plans.... so just shoot me, get it over with.” Erica didn't cry this time, she kept her cool and stayed sincere.
“Very well, I really didn't want it to end this wa-” Fat Steve's eyes bulged, like they where about to jump out of their sockets, Erica could see blood emerge out of his chest, staining his suit.
“Boss!? Are you ok?” cried a concerned Ian.
Fat Steve simply collapsed, head-first, into a pool of his own blood.
Diego and Ian threw their guns to the ground and ran to the side of the fallen man.
Their mistake was not looking behind them, where Fat Steve's killer stood, clutching a sword.
“Mr. Wright?” Diego looked at the hooded man, raising an eyebrow.
“Bingo.” Mr. Wright redrew his sword and sliced the latino's head right off. He smirked and faced towards Ian, “You next pretty boy.”
Erica could only sit and spectate the antics, it was all just a blur to her.
“No, have some mercy, I.... we're buddies, right?”
“Oh no we're not, Fat Steve sent me on a wild goose chase across the whole fucking country, and then over to fucking Rome to kill a little boy, and now.... he's making him the fucking heir to his fucking fortune? Oh no, no, no, no.”
“But c'mon man, I didn't do anything wrong!”
“You took my fucking promotion, do you think I want to work in the fucking Job Centre for the rest of my fucking life? I mean, the Job Centre's a joke. I'd been working so fucking hard for that promotion man. So, fucking, hard.” Mr. Wright started crying, it seemed the life of crime had sent him down a slippery slope, a descent into madness.
“I.... fine, just do it.” Ian bent down, on one knee, “But before I die...” he turned to Erica, “I just want you to know that i'm sorry, and.... I love you.”
Erica shook her head in disbelief.
“Hahaha! Fucking faggots...” he stuck his sword straight through Ian's heart and casually walked over to Erica like nothing had happened.
She could no longer hold back the tears, as she squirmed in a vain attempt to escape her fate.
“Any last words?” he held the sword to her throat.
Erica looked up to the heavens in the hopes of finding a miracle, until she saw someone very familiar lurking on one of the light fixtures....
“Well....” ushered Mr. Wright.
“What goes up,” she kept her eyes on the light, before looking Mr. Wright dead in the eye, “must come down.”
Mr. Wright laughed unsurely, before looking up, at his doom.
Down came the light fixture, flat onto Mr. Wright's skull, crushing him flat.
Erica let out a sigh of relief, before her hero landed on her lap.
Fat Steve mustered up all his strength to look up at Erica and her saviour, “Whiskers? You saved my.... my...... my daughter..” he produced a suffering smile before falling flat on the ground again. Dead. (100% dead, ok! He's never coming back, just making that clear to you!)
“Whiskers! You saved me!?” Erica giggled.
I think putting your trust in someone is a risk you have to take take.
Because if all goes wrong, you can always count on the consistent occurrence of a falling pussycat.
The.... fucking.... End.
Fear of Faith
Once again, do not expect a joyful tale reading this. On the contrary however, I write misery when I am at my happiest and vice versa.
This may seem like a shot at religion, but it is far from that. It tackles individuals and means no offence to any group of people, in fact I wrote this with a slight pro-religion perspective.
This is a work of complete fiction.
Richard caressed the unpopulated benches of his beloved church as he took slow thoughtful steps towards the alter. He put his faith before almost everything, dedicating his life to show praise to he who he'd never witnessed.
Light shone through the stain-glass windows modestly as the 50-something year old man prepared himself for prayer.
“Lord,” he started with his knees pushed down upon the aisle. “I am at a moral dilemma.” Beads of sweat began to form across the upper part of his face, this was to be no ordinary ritual of prayer.
“My son, he has sinned and will not learn or even acknowledge otherwise.” He briefly checked to see if he was alone before continuing.
“You know the facts Father, but I ask you not to smite him, he is my responsibility.” A hand drew from behind his waist.
“I ask you to let me smite him myself.”
The man juggled a small weapon between his hands trivially whilst looking up to the heavens — or the ceiling that separated him from them, anyway.
“I understand this is quite a request and so I ask of you, if you think this is in any way the wrong thing to do, show me a sign.”
He paused, gazing upon the handgun as if expecting it to burst into flames and ashes.
“Then it's settled... for the good of my name...”
Alex was on the very edge of his bed, as if a reflection of his spirit, strength and faith. A pool of memories surrounded him; photographs, clothing, notes, even dreams...
A faint gasp that showed nothing but hopelessness released itself from his mouth. If he were to regain his hope, he needed to start a new. The past needed to be taken care of... literally.
The grind of a match against the rough edge of the box drew upon his fragile state, the faint fall of said match followed.
What followed next was far from faint or quiet.
Flammable things memories, combine that with a teenagers room and boom — a sadistic individual's dream, and like the fires of hell they were.
Richard exited his car beholding the heavenly neighbourhood of which he lived in, basking in the midsummer heat and inhaling that barbecue smell you often sniff out in the suburbs, he progressed around the corner to his home.
What was his home, anyway.
Flames soared over the falling roof, windows were shattered and the house was engulfed in smoke.
On the curb he stood, speechless, watching his only son run from the side-door and on to the lawn. He was being burned alive and yet still he stood still and watched, his first thought? God had smitten what he had laid claims too.
“Well how about that?” A voice came from a few feet away. “Seems the job's already been done for you Richard.”
Richard turned, smitten, towards the individual — his priest. “How do you...”
“I heard your little prayer, perhaps better suited for the confession box don't you think?” The priest chuckled. “Your son's dead Dick, because he refused to match the image God intended for him. And for the good of your name and your 'faith' you wanted this to happen, yes?”
Richard let a discreet nod show.
“You know Richard, there is faith and then there is the fear of faith. Obey everything out of fear and soon you begin to contradict yourself and then...” The priest pointed to the mess that was beginning to look no longer like his humble abode. “... Hell breaks loose.”
Young Alex now belonged to the ground, as only a blackened corpse.
“Now then,” the priest rubbed his hands together. “Let's take the body somewhere a little less charted, for a burying fit for a heathen. The fear of faith is rich in this neighborhood, we shall hope they turn a blind eye.”
“But Reverend,” Richard took him by the shoulder as he stepped forth. “My son...”
“I'm sorry old friend, but I cannot allow myself to be found in anyway connected to this boy's death. For the good of my name and that of my church.”
Vic and Chuck are back ~ With a Special Halloween adventure!
* REMEMBER - DRUGS ARE NOT COOL! DON'T DO DRUGS AND DON'T READ THIS STORY IF YOU'RE UNDER 18! THIS STORY FEATURES DRUG USE BUT DOES NOT PROMOTE IT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM! *
"Trick or treat!"
"Trick or what now?"
"Trick or... treat!"
"Ummmmm... ok, what's with the costumes?"
"It's Halloween...?"
"It's Hallo- what now?"
"Halloween dumbass, now are you going to give us some candy or what?"
"Now why would I do that? This delicious candy belongs to me, not some lingering wannabee monsters."
"Ah screw it, let's just come back later and egg the place."
"Hey, these eggs are mine too! Stop trying to steal my food!"
Now when you're stoned out of your senses, Halloween can understandably be a pretty confusing day.
"Why was that kid dressed as a vampire, Vic?"
"Dude I have no idea."
"Oh shit, it's not the premier of Twilight: New Moon is it!"
"I'm pretty sure it isn't Chuck.."
"Oh poo!"
"And even if it was..... no, just no."
"Dude that movie is cool it's got vampires and...."
"Oh no, Chuck..."
"...Yeah?"
"What's the date today?"
"Why it's the 31st of Oc...tober.."
The two teens stared at eachother with increasingly widened eyes.
"It's Halloween isn't it Chuck?"
"Yessum."
5 minutes later, and Vic and Chuck's apartment was infested with discarded Halloween costumes; some tossed, some torn, and some stained with mysterious sticky fluids.
"I think I might go as a Pumpkin." Chuck thought aloud.
"How can you go as a pumpkin? You'd have to be round too..."
"Are you calling me fat, Vic?" Chuck's chubby face turned serious, as he pinned his buddy to the wall.
"Yeah man."
"Fair enough." Chuck retreated, "What are you going as then?"
"Apollo 13."
"Oh yeah, that's cool an-HEEEEEEY WAIT A MINUTE! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU GOING OT PULL THAT OFF!?"
"Simple!" Vic folded his arms chuffly.
"Dude..." Chuck stared at Vic as the pair wandered the city at night, "I dunno how you pulled it off, but you did."
Vic grinned, "And you are looking very pumpkinesque my good friend."
"Thankyou sir."
"Oh, let's try this house!" Vic said after he had begun galloping through the gate of a small house.
"Right on Vicster!" Chuck waddled after his friend, as he pushed the doorbell excitedly.
"Trick or treat!" The pair exclaimed.
"Trick or what now?"
Vic and Chuck turned towards eachother with shocked yet smiling faces.
Vic creeped through the doorway, "You're high ain't ya?"
"Are you the police or something?"
"No, no we are not. Sir, we would like to purchase some of your substances if you care to oblige?"
"You what?"
Vic sighed, "Dude can we have some weed?"
"Oh yeah sure man, here take whatever you want."
Vic and Chuck scooped multiple handfuls of the green substance into their candy bags whilst giggling.
The man turned to Chuck, with a confused expression "Hey, what's with the goofy costumes by the way?"
"Oh it's Halloween" Chuck said cheerfully.
"It's....? Oh my god! BRAAAAAAAAD!" The man shouted up the stairs to his roommate, "We forgot it's Halloween again!"
"SHIIIIIIIIIT! I'll go get my Apollo 12 costume ready!" Came the reply.
"Damn," Vic looked down at the carpet distraught, "Now I wont be the only spaceship in town."
Chuck looked around puzzled as they left the house, returning to the cool night air, "Where are you people even getting these Apollo costumes from anyway?"
The pair went from house to house stocking up on candy and weed.
They received the common comments; "Aren't you 2 a little old to be trick or treating?" and "Trick or what now?", before coming to a halt at the end of the cul-de-sac.
"Wait..." Chuck turned towards Vic, "Aren't we a little to old to be trick or treating?"
Vic's eyes widened, "Yeah... shouldn't we be partying or something?"
Chuck stepped back, "Woah! I don't like parties!"
"WHAT!? WHY DON'T YOU LIKE PARTIES!?"
"They're too much fun."
Vic raised an eyebrow, "...Fair enough."
"So here we are," Vic held out his arms, "Tracy Mulligan's Halloween Party!"
"Arr hell yeah! I love parties!" Chuck screamed while clapping his hands together.
"I thought you.... Ah screw it, let's goooooo!"
20 minutes later....
"Wow that party sucked man."
"Yeah I preferred Trick Or Treating" Chuck replied solemnly.
"Oh, you know where has the best treats in town!" Vic shouted.
"Willy Wonka's Magical Chocolate Factory?"
"No, I'm talking about the real world Chuck..."
"Oh... that place, sigh."
"THE HOSPITAL DUDE!"
Chuck zoomed out of his solemn state and started dancing on the spot.
In unison the pair shouted at the top of their voice, those two magical words....
"HOSPITAL PUDDING!"
"I. Can't. Belieeeve. It."
Chuck was in fits of tears, "How could they not have any pudding?!"
"The world I grew up in is gone, Chuck." Vic spoke whilst shaking his head miserably.
"I can't believe all they had was...." Chuck gulped, "Fruit bowls."
"It's a disgrace that's what it is."
"An outrage."
"I have lost all faith in humanity."
"Wanna go to a party?"
"Sure!"
"Well here we are..." Vic once again held out his arms proudly, "Lisa Silverspoon's party!"
Chuck nodded, "The popular kids certainly have cool names."
"That they do, Chuckie, that they do." Vic nodded thoughtfully.
"Ummm hey... guys?" Lisa approached and spoke unsurely, with her long brown hair dancing around her shoulders "What are you doing here?"
"We're here to PARTAAAAY!" Chuck shouted in the poor girl's ear.
"Guys, you weren't invited?"
"Well why the devil not?" Vic placed his hands on his hips angrily.
"Because..... just, because...."
"Ah, say no more," Vic backed away, "We no when we're not welcome."
"Okay, seeya guys!" Lisa smiled awkwardly, before walking back into the house - boasting her sexy legs and firm buttocks.
Yep, Vic seemed to have developed more than just a little crush on the girl....
"So...."
"This is nice beer" Vic pointed out.
"Yes it has a hint of alcohol to it, I like that." Chuck said whilst nodding at his plastic cup.
"Guys?" Lisa approached the awkwardly stanced pair, "What are you doing here?"
"Oh... we... are... here to partay!" Vic grinned hopefully.
"I told you you're not welcome here.." Lisa spoke through gritted teeth and with clenched fists.
"Yettt..." Vic paused and shrugged, "Here we are!"
Lisa's eyes darted from one stoner to the other, she whistled over her shoulder ushering over 4 of her female friends.
"Oh this can't be good" Chuck sweated.
"Unless it's a sevensome.... Ladies, is this a sevensome?"
"No." Lisa replied bluntly.
Vic turned to his orange friend, "Yeah.. this is only gonna end badly for us."
"So, Chuck, these five girls just so happen to be witches with a secret dungeon in their basement..... and this is how we've ended up where we are, chained up in this cell."
"All rather convenient if you ask me, Vic. I reckon if anyone happened to be writing a short novel about this particular experience of ours it must be working out alright for them."
"Indeed, Chuck."
"I wonder what they're going too do with us?" Chuck spoke timidly.
"Sevensome!?"
"Makes sense to me!" The pair laughed and imagined the group of girls making love to them.
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and hours turned back into minutes. (Ten minutes later the 5 witches approached Vic and Chuck)
"So... you boys thought you could just sneak into our party did you?"
"Yes, yes we did." Chuck instantly replied.
Lisa's eyes burned with rage, "Oh you are so dead!"
"No, no, no ignore my friend, he's an idiot. I'm sorry ladies, we had no idea you were witches!" Vic pleaded.
Chuck raised his hand, "I had an inkling."
Vic sighed, "Idiot" he grunted.
"So..." One of the other witches stepped forward, "You like Pumpkins do you?"
"Yeah they're delicious my momma always used to-"
"SILENCE!"
"Yessum"
"Well, FATTY, let's see how you like being one then!"
A clique lighting bolt hit Chuck with heavy impact.
Vic gawped as he watched his friend shrink into a round ball, "You just turned my friend into a vegetable!?"
"Actually, technically speaking, he's a fruit."
"No, he's a vegetable because he cannot move. But yes, he is also a fruit genetically."
"So he's a fruity vegetable?"
"CHUCK IS NOT GAY, OK?" Vic rose from his seated position in anger.
"Woah, woah, woah," Another witch positioned herself at the front of the pack, "No need to get angry Apollo 11!"
"It's Apollo 13, ACTUALLY!" Vic snarled.
"Yeah.... whatever, what shall we do with this one ladies?"
Lisa walked over to the chained up teen, "You know I actually quite like this one, I think he's kind of cute..."
Vic blushed.
"So here's the plan...." Lisa walked over to her gang and spoke quietly to them all.
"Oh that's genius, Lisa!" The girls all giggled and turned towards the frightened Vic, as Lisa swaggered over to him.
She knelt down, french kissed him for what seemed like an eternity, and then whispered seductively into his ear.
Vic's eyes grew wide, wider than ever, wider than that time he smoked an actual living toad.
Lisa walked back up to the party as Vic vomited on the ground she left behind her. The remaining witches gathered around him and began to smother him with makeup, dresses, and wigs before placing him on a metal chair.
"Now..." one of the witches spoke for the crowd, "You will read everything on this script accordingly."
"NO! NO! NO! I WON'T DO IT!"
"But you must, if you are to bring your friend back."
"Plus, you already know you did it, because it's all already happened.... Lisa."
Vic looked at his reflection on the side of the metal chair, and sure enough the beautiful Lisa was looking back at him.
"Now, Lisa, this chair will send you back in time to the start of the party, YOU WILL REENACT EVERY LAST DETAIL OK?"
Lisa nodded.
Now, readers, time to blow your minds. Go back to the start of Lisa Silverspoon's party, and imagine future Vic (dressed as Lisa) doing all that stuff with present Vic. WOOOOOOOOOOOOW! NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL A HALLOWEEN PARADOX! (A pretty messed up one too!)
Friday the 4th November...
"Dude, pass me the bong."
"There you go, Chuckie." Vic grinned dozily.
"You know...." Chuck paused to inhale a mouthful of smoke, "I was once a pumpkin for a short period of time."
"Oh really?" Vic reached over for the bong, "Well... I once made out with myself."
NOTE: Okay, so maybe there might be a flaw or two in the paradox, but it was really confusing to write so sorry if there is!
Also, I gather the paradox is a little messed up in that he french kisses himself, but yeah.. that should put you off taking drugs shouldn't it! x
'Because love is all, both good and bad, it can always go one of two ways'...
My 'Valentine's Day' story.
She kept telling herself to just ignore it. She let it stay in her guest room, she fed it, she even split the bills with it, but never did she acknowledge it. It was a burden.
But one day she just couldn't discount it any longer and so Susie did the unthinkable... she knocked three times.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure..."
"Hey..." Susie crept in. "I was just wondering how long you'll be staying here for?"
"I forget..." it sniggered.
Susie raised a finger, annoyed at her tenant's subtle rudeness, before deciding to just back out of the room. After all, she did have a date tonight for Valentines.
"So what do you think?"
Susie was wrapped up in her lover's arms on her sofa after a romantic evening facing perhaps the greatest dilemma of her adult life. "I... I... don't know..."
"Oh come on! It makes perfect sense! Heck, if you don't want to sleep in the same room as me, I can just stay in your guest room!"
"I just don't know if we're ready to move in together yet, you know?"
"No I don't know, Susan! We've been together for years now, we're madly in love, why can't we live together?!"
"BECAUSE OF IT, MARK!"
"It?" Mark lifted his arm from her shoulder and reached for the bottle of wine.
"Yes... it's staying in my guest room at the moment."
"What like a backpacker or something?"
"Yeah... sort of...." Susie took the wine from Mark and drank straight from the bottle.
"Well how long have they been here for? Why have I heard nothing about thi-"
"11 years."
Mark drew silent, his eyes lingering at the top of the staircase, "11... fucking.... years? What is it a guy, are you two-?"
"No, no, no! We've barely spoken..."
"Well he's been here longer than I've been in your fucking life for apparently!"
"No Mark it's not like that..." Susie slipped off of the sofa and sobbed pathetically.
Mark pushed her aside as he ascended the staircase droning out curses, "...gonna stick that backpacker's trunk so far up his fucking ass... won't move in with me.... stupid bitch....."
Susie knocked three times for the second time that one fateful day. Her face was red, tired, and broken. "He left me because of you..."
"Actually, he left because of you..." the unorthodox tenant spoke. "He saw nothing of me, because I am nothing to him."
Susie shook her head in disbelief.
"I will never forget what got you here today, 'Susan'. Nor will I ever let you forget."
"I knew you were just in my head... I knew I was going nuts..."
"Yes, yes. For I have a permanent vacancy up there just like I do in here, your humble home. Change is all well and good, but certain things can never be forgotten and some people will never learn how to let go."
Susie searched around her cabinet, dampening her miscellaneous bits and bobs with her falling tears. "This ends here!" She reached for something sharp...
"Go on. Do it. You will remain, I will remain, and together we will haunt these halls. Forever."
The tenant watched the blade fall to the floor and the girl soon followed. He stomped his foot heavily in horrid delight. "Some of these stories end in love and happily-ever-after-ness, others end in tragedy. Because love is all, both good and bad, it can always go one of two ways. When you have a past like yours, the present can be unfortunate, and you will never make it to the future by ignoring the elephant in the room."
Before we criticize this love story for ending in tragedy, let us remember Romeo & Juliet for example.
Socially awkward Darren decides to be bold and go out for the first time all summer.
Yet the world refuses to give him a break.
“Hello?”
“Holy shit you actually picked up your phone for once!”
“Ha...”
“Dude lighten up, you wanna come clubbing with me, Christina and some of her mates tonight?”
“It's not really my scene...”
“Oh come on man, you NEVER come out and Christina's friends are hot man!”
“Well...”
“Come onnnnn! You can just leave early if you don't like it aye?”
“Yeah alright then, I guess it might be laugh!”
“My man! I'll seeya at The Ministry at 8, yeah?”
“Sounds good!”
Darren didn't really think it sounded good, but he desperately needed to improve on his social life and this would likely do him a whole lot of good.
His best friend, and only friend — Francis, had been trying to get him out of the house all summer, but being the third wheel around him and Christina never really took Darren's fancy.
Yes, Francis and Christina were hopelessly in love, and it physically sickened young Darren to be anywhere near them.
He had always enjoyed hanging out with Francis, but ever since he'd started dating Christina they had been inseparable.
Being a scrawny, 'ugly' young man to put it bluntly, Darren had never so much had talked to a girl yet alone been in a relationship. He was waiting until they all matured and stopped caring about looks so much but alas it seemed that day would never come.
“Mum!”
“Yes Darren?”
“I'm going out!”
“Out....?”
“Ummm yeah...”
“Like... with people?”
“Yes...”
“Oh, well, have fun honey!”
“I'll try! Don't wait up, bye!”
Darren closed the door behind him and took a deep breath from the night air before taking small, cautious paces down the street.
He barely knew where the 'Ministry' was, but how was he supposed to know if he'd never been clubbing before?
After looking all over town, too afraid to ask passers-by, he eventually found the club. It's large flashing lights frightened and unnerved him, thoughts started pacing around his head; 'Maybe I should just go home, home is safe, if I'm at home then I ca-'
“Darren! There you are mate, I thought you'd wimp out!” Francis laughed proudly.
“Ha... yeah, I thought, you know, I might as well... Hey Christina..”
“Hey Darren!” Christina smiled awkwardly.
“Well...” Francis broke the silence, “Christina's buddies are waiting inside so, let's go!”
Staggering out of the club; Darren couldn't believe what a night he had had, he somehow managed to let himself loose of all his anxieties and generally had a good time.
He was even smiling, when was the last time he had actually smiled!?
Francis put his arm on Darren's shoulder, “Dude, best night ever! You're actually pretty fun when you're drunk and holy shit can you dance!”
Darren shrugged and grinned, “well, ya know!”
“So listen man, me and Christina are gonna head off now, are you cool going home? I think Lisa's walking your way so you can keep her safe yeah?”
“Yeah man, it's no dramas.”
“Cool, here..” Francis winked, tossing him a small foil package, “You might get lucky, I think Lisa quite likes you ya know.”
Darren smiled as he watched the couple walk off hand-in-hand before turning around to find Lisa fiddling around with her mobile.
He took another deep breath from the night air and cooly approached his new-found crush, “So... are you heading home now?”
Lisa looked up and smiled, “Sure am, do you mind walking me all the way? I live in a bit of a funny neighbourhood see.”
“Oh yeah, it's no problem babe, let's go!”
Now, Darren had never considered himself the 'smoothest', but he seemed to be really hitting it off with Lisa; they were flirting and laughing.. Heck, maybe he would get lucky tonight?
“Oh,” Lisa leaned over to Darren's hips, “You have some dirt on your...”
“On my...?” Darren asked, looking down, whilst trying to hold back an erection.
“What's this?” she held up the condom Francis had previously given him, with a stern expression pasted across her face.
“Oh that, ummm...”
“What exactly were your plans for tonight?” she spoke through gritted teeth.
“No, no, no, you don’t understand I...”
I feel it coming in the air....
Save me.
Darren awoke, stretched out along a bench, 'Fuck, did Lisa think I was gonna rape her? Did she knock me out?'
But his thoughts were soon distracted by a pain running through his groin, he screamed in an embarrassingly high pitch, luckily there was nobody around to notice it.
He put his hand down towards his groin when he noticed 3 things, 1 — his fingernails were painted red and the tips were long and perfectly filed, 2 — he was wearing a red dress, and most importantly... 3 — he couldn't feel his man parts!
He panicked as he examined his body from the feet up - he was wearing high-heeled shoes (also red), had shaved legs, multiple rings and bracelets, the red dress which boasted a lot of cleveage, and a head of long brown hair.
'Wait.... Cleveage!?'
he had boobs! Big, womanly boobs that he could actually feel when he touched them, as if they were actually his own!?
"What the?" he spoke out loud, once again in a higher tone than usual.
He held onto the sides of the bench, as if he was on a roller-coaster, 'had he switched bodies with some chick?'
Oddly enough, that seemed the most logical explanation.
Panicking, he decided he had to check it out and so edged over to the public toilets across the road.
He stood, gazing into the mirror with his mouth wide open.
He hadn't just turned into some chick, that was HIM in the mirror! Him with all sorts of makeup on and with two strange, yet realistic additions to his body.
I mean, he looked nothing like a boy anymore, the face staring back at him in the mirror... that was all girl.
"Woah! Honey, I think you walked into the wrong toilets"
Darren turned around, still with an open mouth, to find a young man, presumably in his early 20s looking over him.
"Oh, I... Sorry..." Darren raced out of the toilets.
The young man shook his head and laughed, "It's always the pretty ones...."
Darren wondered the streets, afraid of what to do, when he finally took note of the dainty black handbag hanging from his left shoulder.
He sat back down on another bench and examined the contents, it was all of his pocket contents along with a few new additions:
It held his phone, his wallet, his keys, a... *sigh* makeup bag, and a small piece of paper.
He held the paper in his newly feminine hands and read it over, 'Daisy, press re-dial if you want to know more....'
"Who the fuck is Daisy?" he whispered softly to himself.
He looked over at his phone, 'No... they can't mean....', without any further thought he hit re-dial.
"Daisy, how nice of you to ring at last..."
"Who's Daisy and WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?"
"Woah, calm down sweetheart, all will be revealed if you just co-operate."
"Co-operate!? I'm a freakin' woman!"
"I'm aware, and you got all you deserved..."
"What!? What did I do?"
"I shall now answer your first question... We are a charity set up by rape victims who help bring perves, such as yourself, to justice. The court has been much to soft on you twisted bastards."
"W..w...what!? But I'm no perve!"
"Yes, of course you're not honey.... Young Lisa brought you to us with good reason and so we decided you were eligible for our new programme."
"Which is....?"
"Giving you a taste of your own medicine, let's see how you like being a young lady wandering the streets alone at night. And if you do happen to get raped then well... it's nothing more than you deserve."
"But I'm not a creep I.... I'm not even a woman, I can't get raped?"
"Oh really, because you look pretty womanly to me? And you may have realized that little hole downstairs.."
"You castrated me!?"
"Of course not sweetheart, we merely tucked in your little friend."
"What the hell!? Untuck it! And how do I take off these ridiculous things!?"
"I presume you're talking about your breats, and I'm afraid only our special adhesive will remove them or 'untuck' your little friend."
"Bitch!"
"Hahaha have a nice night, Daisy. And if you're still alive in the morning, give us a call."
Daisy took a deep breath from the night air.
"Why did I ever leave my sanctuary?"
I've always wondered what would have happened if I never had went to the shop to get that juice box....
I probably would have dehydrated and died.
But that's not the point, because it was that juice box that changed my life.
It was apple, by the way.
It was just another Monday morning, I was marching down the street on my way to boring old school when I felt a little parched.
I checked in my wallet and sure enough I had two ten piece coins, what the hell could I get with 20p in times like these?
I gazed into the fridge, filled with colourful soft drinks. 50p for a bottle of water? In what world is juice cheaper than water?
So I picked up the 20p juice box with modest glee and headed towards the spotty fat faced cashier.
And that's when everything turned dark.
Nah, not really, that would have been the cool way of saying it, but what really happened is — I slipped on a moist floorboard, screamed like a 6 year old girl (I'm a 16 year old boy) and banged my head on a some bolognese sauce.
Then everything turned dark.
I awakened feeling a little fuzzy, the spotty fat faced cashier and an elderly man where watching over me, looking reasonably shook up.
“Oh thank goodness, she's alright.” said the old man.
Wait, what?
“Here let me help you up.” the spotty fat faced cashier offered me his hand.
“Ummm thanks.”
Wait, what's with my voice, it's all squeaky, I didn't damage my vocal chords screaming like a little girl did I?
“Do you need to go see a Doctor or something?” inquired the spotty fat faced cashier.
“I'm good.” I mumbled as I stumbled out the door.
Remember people, if you ever get a head injury — always go see the Doctor, you'd be wrong in the head not to! And well, wrong in the head to do so.... ANYWAY.....
So I'm walking down the street again, that's right, and I look in my hand and sure enough my juice box is without a dent.
MIRACLE.
I started slurping on the straw, when I noticed a group of lads, probably in the year above me, pointing at me and whispering to eachother.
Great, my lucks about to turn, I'm gonna get beaten up much like every other day. School sucks.
Yeah I'm that kid with no friends who somehow manages to get through everyday with a plastic smile on my face. Yo.
“Hey, what's your name?” asked the big tough guy at the front.
“You know my name John, so just leave me alone.”
“Actually,” he grabbed me by my arm to stop me from walking away, “I don't sweetcheeks.”
SWEETCHEEKS? What the f-
“Hey, don't hold her like that, you'll hurt her arm.” one of the other guys, Brandon, said as he removed John's monstrous hand from me.
HER arm? What the f-
“I'm sorry, I just haven't seen you round school before.” John looked embaressed.
Ok, what is going on here, these guys have beaten the living shit out of me everyday for the whole of my school-life, and now they're.... treating me like a chick or something?
John turned away, “I'll just leave you be, sorry to waste your time.”
Ok, so that was weird.
I continued walking up the hill towards school when I finally noticed something...
I was wearing tights?
And a skirt?
And I a bra?
AND I HAD BOOBS!?
Infact just looking down at my body, you could almost forgive those guys for thinking I was a chick, but seriously — what was going on?
I didn't go out dressed like this, and things only started getting weird after I collapsed in the shop....
Maybe I should go see a Docto-
“Hey!”
Was that aimed at me? Nobody ever says 'hey' to me?
I turned around to see a bit of a babe walking over, waving at me. When she came closer I recognised her as Katie, she was in a lot of my classes.
She was blonde, tanned, big breasted, she was.... well, one of the hottest girls in school pretty much!
“Alice, hey!”
Oh, she wasn't waving at me then, oh well...
“Alice!” she grabbed my shoulder, and hugged me, “Hey girl! How are you?”
“Ummm hey?” I smiled awkwardly.
“Oh, be right back, I left my phone back at home.” and with that she raced off back down the hill.
Ok, so this was getting super weird, and I could no longer deny it.... I had turned into a girl. It sounded weird, but the evidence was overwhelming.
I thought about waiting for Katie, but instead decided to leg it to school so I could take a look at myself in a mirror.
“Oh. My. God.” I stared at the reflection of myself.
I stroked my hair, slapped my cheek, and licked my finger to clarify that it was really me I was looking at.
Yeah, I'm just gonna say it.... I was a babe.
Dark brown hair,
Kissable lips,
C cup breasts,
And perhaps the longest legs I had ever seen.
As I stood facing the mirror, gob-smacked, another girl walked in. I recognised her instantly as Hillary, also blonde and also in a lot of my classes.
“Oh hey Alice! I like the lip-gloss, it looks good on you!” she said, also admiring my face.
“Oh ummm thanks.”
“Hey, Katie just rang me saying you ditched her just now..”
“Oh yeah, I.... kind of was in a hurry.”
“To do your makeup?” she giggled.
“No, I...”
“Don't worry, she'll understand.” She gave me a wink and ushered towards the door, “Now come on, we don't want to be late for English, Mr. Brunt will kill us and, more importantly, we wont get seats together!”
There's something about being in a classroom between two people who actually like and communicate with you, that I find assuring. I mean, usually I'm always fearful that someone might throw a pencil sharpener at me or something but now, sitting there in my girly clothes, I felt like someone.
And I was loving it.
I found myself laughing and joking with Katie and Hillary all through class, I can't remember the last time I smiled at school!
We helped eachother with the work, well mostly it was just me helping them — yes, they were your typical air head blondes but that was ok, because they were my friends. Heck, they were my best friends, the best friends I ever had! I was so freakin' excited!
Yes, all through that day it felt like I was in La La Land. (Sorry but don't you just love it when the title of the story is mentioned in the actual text! Anyway....)
We spent 2nd and 3rd periods (Maths and Geography) doing much the same as we had done before, it just felt great to be acknowleged by the teachers a little more too, you know?
Then, we spent Lunch together, where we also met up with a lot of other 'friends of mine'. And we spoke about celebs, playground gossip, boys....
“Hey, so any guys you like from our school Alice?” Hillary leaned forward and asked, grinning.
“Ummm no...”
“Oh come on, that doesn't sound convincing at all, surely there's someone you like?” Katie said, raising her eyebrows.
“Well....”
“Oooooh!” Katie and Hillary spoke in unison, leaning forward even further.
“Brandon's kind of nice.” I whispered.
“Oooooh! Is he the big muscly guy?” questioned Hillary.
“No, that's John, Brandon's the...”
“John's ginger friend.” Katie interrupted.
“Oh....” Hillary leaned back again.
“Oh come on, he's nice.”
“He saved you from evil John earlier didn't he?” Katie smiled, with a mouth full of salad.
“Well, yeah I guess he did....” I found myself looking dreamingly over at him.
Ok, this just got weird again.
The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.
This period probably wasn't gonna be as good as the previous 3 since neither Katie, Hillary, or anyone else I knew was in my class. But that wasn't the worst part.... it was P.E.
Yes, it had come to my attention that I did, in fact, still have a penis.
Not sure how that works, but I did.
So how long could I last, half naked, with a bunch of other half naked girls without being found out?
And I tell you what really didn't help, the fact that I was pretty sure I was still attracted to a lot of these girls, meaning Alice Jr. will be even more noticeable!
But, with nothing but pure skillz, I managed to swipe off my tights and skirt and pull on my short-shorts without arousing any suspicion. Even Alice Jr. failed to get aroused.
I was still attracted to girls, right?
“Ok, hello class. Today we're going to play a little football.”
Mrs. Butterfield's plan was welcomed with sighs from the other girls. I presumed they wanted to do ballet, or whatever. But for me I had always liked football, despite not having friends to play with I often found myself playing by myself.
Mrs. Butterfield proceeded to guide us all out to the field, “Ok Ladies, let's start with a little 11-a-side match, Lucy and Jennifer can pick the teams.”
“Ok...” Lucy thought, “I'll pick Alice!”
I couldn’t believe it, ME first pick? Not last pick, but FIRST!
“Thanks Lucy,” I smiled as I walked over, “Why did you pick me though?”
“Because you're the only one who seemed at all excited about the prospect of a football match!”
We giggled throughout the remaining process of picking a team, before setting up a formation, with me upfront.
20 — 2.
Yes, that was the final score, and we were playing football, not rugby!
I bagged 14 of the goals and well.... I WAS AWESOME!
Mrs. Butterfield came over as soon as the match ended, and started begging me to join the school's ladies football team, claiming I was 'good enough to even play with the boys'!
And, of course, I said yes!
I met Katie and Hillary at the school gates at the end of the day, and they started congratulating me on my performance.
“Wait, how do you know about it?” I asked.
“It's the talk of the whole school, everyone's going on about how amazing you are at well, everything!” Katie spoke whilst clapping her hands frantically.
“And apparently John well fancies you now.” Hillary added.
“Urgh.” I rolled my eyes.
“Ooooh here he is now!” Hillary pointed out.
“Hide me!” I screamed. But, instead, both girls decided to push me out right infront of him.
“OH! Hey Alice! Really sorry about earlier I.... I heard about you in football, that's awesome!”
“Thanks” I blushed.
“So I was wondering, do you wanna go get some coffee or something?”
I turned around to Katie and Hillary who were nodding me on.
“Ummm....”
My answer was interruped with..... a kiss?
JOHN WAS KISSING ME!? ON THE LIPS! TOUNG AND EVERYTHING!?
I didn't quite know what to make of it, it was actually really nice. Like REALLY really nice.
He held me close, and I held him tight.
I was the coolest girl in school, kissing the coolest boy in school,
With a recognised talent, and tonnes of friends,
I couldn't be happi...
'ER'
,read the sign on the wall infront of me, I was in a bed, obviously in an Emergency Room, with a nurse beside me, but with no family, no friends, no breats, no long brown hair, no fucking nothing.
Damn.
“It's wrong, but the law is the law and we must obey.”
“But all these poor innocent souls?”
“Well... I just hope heaven's nicer for them than the world we live in now.”
Mark loaded his gun clumsily, attempting to put off the inevitable, but he couldn't put it off forever.
His daughter, Elaine, led the doomed souls out to the woods, before chaining them to a tree.
Mark was tearful as he held the gun towards the chained up mass, “I'm sorry my pretties, I am so sorry.”
A sequence of bullets and cries of pain disturbed the birds in the forestry whilst attracting a group of circling vultures.
“Well darling, I guess we better send the bodies to the JC, for whatever they do with them.” Mark reached for his shovel, still overcome with shock and with teary eyes to show for it.
Elaine merely stood motionless, gazing upon her fallen loved ones.
Mark was about to scoop them into the back of his truck before he heard a nearby rustling; “Who goes there?” he stuttered.
“A life is a life....”
Mark and Elaine began to look frantically around the woodlands to find the source of the voice, before a hooded character came up from behind and put an arm over each of their shoulders.
“....Whether man or beast, a death is a death and a debt must be repaid because of it.”
“But these are neither man nor beast, they are innocent.” Elaine mumbled in her emotional state.
“All the more reason to seek vengeance on who killed them....”
Elaine looked towards her father who began to look frightened; “M...m...me? But I....”
“Yes, I know, you were only doing what you had to do — you're not the real murderer here.”
Mark released his breathe and sat down with his head in his hands, “Vengeance?” he shook his head, “That'll never happen, we're all just pawns in the JC's game.”
“Yes,” the mysterious character lowered their hood to reveal a young girl, “But the pawn always gets the first move.” she smirked.
“The 24th of July, the day Rome burnt.”
“The events that followed British mobster Fat Steve's death were inhumane, followers from the Italian capital seized the opportunity to express their anger at the death of their leader by setting their ancient city on fire.”
“This fire ironically opened the floodgates to allow similar acts of vandalism to occur in other major cities across the globe. Fat Steve's power was somehow overlooked by the feeble public and now, the world bows down, without any other option, to Fat Steve's heir....”
“Shit! Julie, we'll have to end it there, it looks like they're onto us, help me pack up the equipment and lets get the fuck out of here!”
Julie and Nigel were both pirate journalists, reporting what they shouldn't were as all other news stations reported on the propaganda they had been forced to.
They had to keep a low profile, and constantly stay on the go to avoid being caught by the forces.
“Phew that was a close one today” said Nigel as he sipped his Hot Chocolate.
“We're playing a risky game here Nigey, how much longer can we keep this up?”
“Me? Until I die. You? Well.... that's for you to decide.”
Julie turned away as to make it clear se didn't want to discuss the matter any further.
“I think we'll head back to London tomorrow, see if we can sneak into JC Headquarters, are you in?” proposed Nigel.
“Of course.”
Nigel grinned, “It's gonna be an early start then, best get an early nights sleep.”
Julie laughed while shaking her head, “Sleep is for the foolish, we must make our move now.”
Nigel leaped out from under the covers with an even larger grin on his face, “Then let's get this show on the road baby!”
“And how can I help you, Miss Cole?”
“I just need a job, the store I worked in got burnt down in the upheaval and I just need some income.”
“I see....”
“So put me anywhere, I just need to feed my family.” Miss Cole pleaded.
“Well, here at the Job Centre we like to think of ourselves as one big family, and we are very considerate of your situation Miss Cole I assure you.”
“Thankyou Mr..” she gazed at the recruitment officer's name tag, “Thankyou Mr Wright.”
“Think nothing of it ma'am. Now, we would really like to hire someone like you here at the Job Centre, are you married Miss Cole?”
“No, we divorced 2 years ago and I gained full custody of the children.”
Mr Wright sat on the edge of his desk gazing directly at the young lady; “And how many children do you have Miss..”
“Please, call me Jade.” she whispered, somewhat seductively, as she puckered her lips.
Mr Wright beamed, “Come with me, and we can discuss your duties....”
“Is that the last of them?” Elaine had her hands covering her face, avoiding watching her father and the mysterious girl scooping the dead bodies onto his truck.
“All done sweetheart, hop in.” Mark ushered towards the passenger seat which Elaine quickly filled without gazing upon the wreckage that laid heavy in the back.
She turned towards the mystery girl, “Aren't you coming with us?”
“No. I have some business to attend to first, but I'll see you there.”
Mark breathed heavy, “Business? As in....”
“None of yours.” she said, reasonably spitefully.
“Right well... stay safe.”
“You too Mr Nicholson.”
Mark shoved his head out of the window with bulging eyes, “How did you....”
“Oh. She's gone...”
“Daddy?”
“Yes Elaine?” Mark looked close to having a panic attack.
“Who's Mr Nicholson?”
Losing Control and Hurtling Towards Heaven
"Pro..." the young girl placed a note down on a black tile in her kitchen. "... change is good."
"Con..." she placed another note on a corresponding white tile. "... change is also kind of bad."
A glance back at the preceding tiles satisfied her that there was no obvious answer, her brain rattling process was interrupted though by the extravagant entrance of her counter. "Sweet Jesus, what have you done to the Kitchen?"
"Just formulaically making a decision." She responded.
"Right, well I don't remember the Kitchen being this... hall-y?"
Taking an extended look back and forth, it was soon apparent to the girl that she had created more than just a little list.
"There's got to be like a million tiles in here!" He gestured to the palace that was their humble Kitchen.
"A million and one, actually..."
"Yeah well a million and one reasons to believe you tried. Now either make a freaking decision or go to bed!"
She raised a finger to argue a point but none came in to fruition and so found herself huffing and ascending the staircase like an infant.
Her counter watched her depart before grabbing a broom to begin the tedious clean up procedure. "You know its funny, she is insane and smart enough to defy physics like this and yet unable to really comprehended not the size of her list but its numerical content."
He stood above the million-and-oneth tile and picked up its tentatively placed scrap of paper. His smirk turned to shock.
'Because I can.'
The Euros are on so here's a little football/soccer themed story to mark the occasion.
*the Euros is a football/soccer tournament for those that don't know
Synopsis: Ashley has been offered the chance to play soccer in America and with his old high-school buddy acting as his crumby agent what could possibly go wrong?
Notes: This is just a silly idea that I came up with as I went along. It sort of changes style at the end but hey-ho it's nice for one of my stories to actually have a happy ending for once.
There are also a few jokes aimed at American/British differences that may or may not be lost on some of you.
"Hello Sir, welcome to the United States Of America. Is your visit business or pleasure?"
"Pure business." Ashley said smugly.
"And your business is...?" The large sassy African-American woman asked whilst filing her nails.
"I am here to become a football player." Ashley continued in vain to impress the customs worker.
"You don't look much like a football player." She winced, examining the fairly skinny young man's body.
"Oh no you see back in Britain football is soccer. I'm here to become a soccer player."
"What in damn hell is soccer?"
Ashley sighed and muttered under his breath, "Ben warned me about this...." before looking back up at the impatient, confused woman, "The one with the black and white ball, two goals and loads of Brazilian players...?"
"Not following you." She frowned.
Ashley groaned, "The one with all of the low scoring draws?"
"OOOOOOH!" She exclaimed. "That." Her face turned to that of utter disgust.
"Yeah. Pretty cool eh?"
"Yeah sure," she mumbled sarcastically whilst stamping his passport, "Enjoy your stay."
"Ashley!" Ben greated his old high-school buddy with several pats on the back, "Welcome to sunny California!"
"Cheers mate." Ashley said as he attempted to push the overly touchy Ben off of him. "Nice place you've got here." Ashley looked up at the cheap motel Ben had been living in for 2 years now, "I see you've got a pool."
"Yeah but I wouldn't go in there if I were you, the ratio's about 2% water and 98% piss."
Ashley raised an eyebrow.
"Yeeeeah, we don't have a toilet here." Ben shrugged.
"Fantastic."
"Well here's the room." Ben spread out his arms, almost banging them both against the paralell walls of the small living space.
"Where's the bed?" Ashley questioned, dropping his suitcases by his side.
"Oh there's no room for a bed, so I just sleep on the fridge."
"Fantastic."
Ben grinned, "The American Dream buddy!"
Ashley grunted, "You just better pray this soccer team you've got me a trial with is good and pays well."
"Look I am a top quality agent, and when the LA Porcupines asked for my assitance in finding a top quality English talent to liven up their squad, only one name came to mind."
Ashley looked away bashfully.
"Yeah you were pretty good back in high-school, I think you scored a goal once didn't you?"
"Yeah I did actually."
"That helps." Ben nodded thoughtfuly, "Right - I'm gonna go make a cuppa tea, you want one?"
"They have tea over here?"
"Yeah but it usually has chocolate-chips in it."
"God bless America." Ashley rolled his eyes.
"Okay here we are, Porcupine Stadium - home of the LA Porcupines!" Ben pointed Ashley towards the small, run down shed next to a manky, overgrown field."
Ashley looked puzzled as he gazed upon the modest shit-hole, "Oh god damn it Ben, what the hell have you brought me to?"
"Look, look, look, this is fine, this is just what soccer stadiums look like in America; what with all the low attendances and everything...."
"Fucking hell man, are you even a proper agent?" Ashley shouted at a shaken Ben. "I mean, you've had no associates before me, your suit looks like it hasn't been washed in 2 years, and you live on a fucking refridgerater."
"Actually it's a fridge/freezer." Ben pointed out.
"Fuck you man!"
"Look keep calm, I'll just go in there book you in and everything will be fine. I'm sure it has a really nice decour."
"Oh it better, or I'm on the first flight back to Heathrow!"
"Hi!" Ben smiled as he approached the young lady at the tatty reception desk who smiled weakly back at him. "I'm here on behalf of Ashley Simmons."
"Oh excellent, the coach has been looking forward to meeting your client."
"Yep Ashley is just the bit of continental talent the Porcupines need." Ben said confidently.
"Okay... so, where is she?"
"Ashley's just waiting outside so I- wait, SHE?"
"Ummmm..." The receptionist giggled, "Yeah. Where is she?
Ben turned his attention to the club badge on the wall to the side of him, it read: "LA Porcupines - Woman's Soccer Team' and sure enough the spiky mascot had a rather large pair of knockers.
"Oh..." Ben breathed heavy, choosing his words carefuly, "Yeah, I...."
The receptionist sighed, "You haven't brought a man have you?"
Ben nodded his head whilst looking down at his roughed up shoes in embaressment.
"Well... the coach certainly wont be happy with this."
"Won't be happy with what?" A large bearded man interrupted their awkward conversation.
"Oh Sir, I thought you were on lunch!"
"Pffft, lunch can wait - I want to meet my new superstar, where is she?"
Coach Harrison banged his fist against his desk in anger, as the two young men sat opposite him tried to stop themselves from pissing their pants.
"I can't believe you brought me a man! Why did I choose the cheapest agent in Hollywood!?"
"Because you're in soccer." Ben answered back in aggravation.
The coach sighed and conceded, "Yeah you've got me there, but now I can't afford to bring in another player!"
"And now I'm back to no clients again." Ben whimpered.
Ashley looked at the pair of sobbing blokes and rolled his eyes, "Well that does it, I'm heading back to England."
"Yeah good luck with that." Ben chuckled.
Ashley decided against asking what was so funny and instead opted to dash out of the run-down shed as fast as he possibly could.
Ashley approached the elderly woman behind the airport counter, "Hi one economy ticket to Heathrow thanks."
"Certainly Sir, let me just... Oh."
Ashley raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"It says here that you stated you were visiting the US on business for 3 years."
"Well yeah, but that was only because I was supposed to sign a 3 year contract until it fell through."
"Well I suggest you find another job because for the next 36 months you are not allowed back out of this country." The woman spoke with authority.
"What? Screw that, I'm going home!" Ashley legged it towards the X-ray machines with the cries for security coming from behind him.
After 17 hours of interrogation and anal probing, Ashley pushed open the motel door to find Ben sat on his microwave watching TV.
"Back already then?" He smirked.
Ashley let out a tired groan, "Airport security has really cranked up, I didn't even know that when they asked for the purpose of your visit it actually mattered what you said."
"Oh yeah dude, this is America you're in now - Paranoia capital of the world! What do you think has kept me in LA this long even though I'm such a failure here?"
Ashley let out a weak laugh as he curled up on top of the fridge, "Well it looks like I've got to find myself a job now to keep me going for the duration."
"And I've got the perfect one for you, which will satisfy everyone!"
25 years later...
"And that kids is the story of how, for three years, I became the greatest female soccer player in America."
"Oh shut up Dad, that can't be true."
"Yeah she's right," Brad ackonowleged his sister, Amy. "How would you have passed all the drug tests with a wang?"
"It's American Soccer son, there are no drug tests. Nobody gives a shit."
"Fair enough" Brad conceded, "Show us some pictures then if you really want to prove this baloney to us!"
The twins sat in shock as their adoptive father opened up a photo album filled with pictures of a young brunette girl kicking balls around.
"No. Way." Brad spoke, gobsmacked.
"Dad you look beautiful!" Amy cried.
"Haha thanks love. You know, I attracted a fair few Hollywood movie stars in my time there and even brought a record attendance to Porcupine Stadium on my final game for them." Ashley pointed towards the picture on the back of the album.
"Wow!" Brad exclaimed as he counted up the faces in the crowd, "17 people!"
"Did you hook up with any famous actors?" Asked a grinning Amy.
"Nah. I mean, I know every single Hollywood actor is gay but... there was only one man I had my eye on." Ashley turned to his husband, who was stood in the corner dressed in a top of the range suit.
Amy also looked over at Ben and smiled, "So was it in LA that you started dating then?"
"Oh no, that was when we spent a few years in Paris."
"Why where you in Paris?" Brad asked.
Ashley grinned, "Oh did you not know? I was a professional ballerina for six years, here let me show you the photo album!"
"What?!" The twins shouted in unison.
Only Fools Fight With Fire
Jim is your typical awkward teenager who finds himself in way over his head.
I thought that I would try my hand at more of a light-hearted story again, seeing as its been about a year since I last wrote in this sort of style.
She was beautiful, dazzling, remarkable and various other adjectives. Essentially it was love at first sight, the type that is written in books and displayed upon silver screens. Unfortunately this was the feeling Jim got any time he saw any girl.
Average height, little muscle and with a damp greasy touch to his hair, he was the token young man destined for a miserable high school experience. He could usually be found walking the halls with his head down; a literal low profile to avoid his most vile classmates. He put in a good effort in class, not that the teachers recognized this as he sustained the unique qualities of a ghost — no one was ever aware of his existence until a routine pounding was due.
“Maybe you should ask her out?”
Jim originally ignored the statement, considering it not of his business as it was usually just shouting he was blessed with in these parts. That was until the rugged voice repeated itself, this time in Jim's more familiar manner.
“OI! SQUIRT! I said, maybe you should ask her out!”
Jim turned, his eyes wide like that of a deer in the headlights. He pointed to his chest whilst darting his sight left and right, visually clarifying that it was he who was being addressed.
“W...w...what are you talking about Brad?”
Brad, with the physique of a sportsman and the fuse of an illegal firework which contained his nasty ways, walked up to him, towering over his innocent fellow despite Jim being of normal height. “You were well checking out that bird yo,” the renowned bully continued. “Just ask her out or somin.”
Jim couldn't quite put his finger on it, was Brad generally taking an interest in his shambolic love life? Or did he have an ulterior motive in that hateful little mind of his? After spewing out various stuttered syllables in a anxious mess, Jim sought to discover. “What's it to you?”
“I just see you hanging bout this place, lonely as shit yeah? Thought you might just wanna act on your urges for once.”
Jim shrugged, “She's out of my league and you know it.”
“Nah man,” Brad rolled his hand across the spiky coverage of his brown hair, “I heard her talking to her lil friends bout you. Says she thinks you're kind of cute — fuck knows why.”
“Claire said that?” Jim responded whilst stroking his chin, home to his non-existent beard. “Well maybe I could try and... but I wouldn't know what to say... or do... or e-”
His trail of nonsense was interrupted however by Brad pushing Claire directly in to him before setting off down the neighboring staircase.
“Oh I'm so sorry!” Claire threw her hands up and backed away, examining Jim from head to toe and back again.
Feeling awkward in every sense, Jim repeated the apology despite both of them knowing all to well of Brad's contribution to the 'accident'.
“You look errr... nice.” Brad thought a compliment could break the ice nicely, expecting something of more smoothness and confidence to reveal itself from his seldom spoken mouth, though.
She really was a pretty girl. Jet black hair cascading down either side of her face and a tasteful body hosting complementary curves and delights. She began twisting strands of said hair between her fingers, presumably out of pure awkwardness. “Thank you,” she responded to his compliment with a hint of laughter. “It's Jim, right?”
“Yes!” Jim's face lit up and his reaction was about as smooth as Velcro. “You're Claire,” he pointed at her, literally pointed at her. “You're in my History class, we...”
“Yeah, yeah. We sit near to each other, how nice. Listen...” She placed her hands on her hips and gently rocked back and forth speaking with a confident and dominant tone. “Listen, you're cute. Ask me out.”
Jim hadn't prepared for this, I mean, who would wake up expecting to be asked to ask someone out twice in one day? This was completely off the ball and the girl of his dreams was seeming to be much the same. “I... umm.... are you sure?” He cringed inside and shouted at himself to just seal the deal with the impatient Claire looking on with whatever interest she had in him fading fast. “Go out with me? Thursday?”
Claire smiled and turned on her heel. Looking back at him she repeated, “Out with you, Thursday. It's a date.”
“Alright Jim... there's a big night ahead of you and there's one thing I'd just like to reiterate to you...” He stared sternly into his own eyes with his hands flat on the bathroom counter, hunched forward whilst giving himself a true team talk. “Don't fuck this up!”
Sprays upon sprays from a stack of bottles settled themselves upon his skin, hair and virtually his entire surface area. Jim was taking no chances tonight, he might not have been born with the best or most manly of appearances, but he had hope that it might come from a can.
And so, with a modest bouquet of flowers in one hand and his other pressed against his chest; controlling his heavy breathing in the midst of first date anxiety, he departed from his home.
He couldn't believe it, as he stared up at the ceiling fan whizzing around and around, he simply could not believe it. Everything had gone so wrong, at least he thought so anyway. The restaurant was cheap and most horrible. He couldn't drive and so rather awkwardly accepted a lift onwards with Claire, onwards to a breakdown which involved a long wait in the woods furthering the awkwardness and a stop off at a club where Jim's terrible dance moves were to be exhibited to the world. And yet here he was, in the early hours, butt naked in Claire’s room attempting to work a condom on to his positively bewildered dick.
She was just a wall's width away, 'fixing' herself up for him. This was it, the night of first kisses, first major contact and now his real first time. He turned to his hand and laughed, “Looks like I won't be needing you anymore. Well, once you help me put on this penis strangler, anyway.”
“I'm coming out!” Clare spoke seductively as one of her bare legs poked its way out of the door, stroking the frame in lust and desire. Jim positioned himself upright on her bed and folded his arms as if he was about to watch a movie. Then again, getting to witness breasts in person for the first time really was quite a momentous occasion for him. In fact h-
Jim couldn't believe it. This time, he really could not believe it. Shame, hate, embarrassment, these things all ran through him as he ran through the neighborhood; butt naked.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” He groaned, as he had been played — played like a triangle — with very little dignity. Set up by Brad to ask out a girl truly out of his league, led on and then overpowered and thrown out by the very same girl to face the cruel morning break in unfamiliar territory with only a very familiar skin to comfort him. Worst of all, Brad must have known how much tomorrow meant to him. It was to be the day that would complete an entire year of perfect attendance and he was to be rewarded appropriately by the Principal in the coming weeks for his consistency. He simply had to make it, he was at his lowest right now and needed to secure whatever pride possible. It was a case of making it to school before the masses joined him and hoping that he might be greeted by garments of the lost & found and a very understanding member of staff.
“Oh god, oh god, oh shit!” He resumed his panicking, how many people must have been opening their windows hoping to see the crack of dawn only to see the crack of his hairy arse?
He scuttled through a back enterance to the school and re-assumed his position of one hand over his front parts and the other covering the back. Shame had now fully turned to urgency as he despairingly looked through window to window for what he required.
“Boy!”
Jim looked back to find a teacher exiting a room, addressing him. It seemed all he had to do was strip to avoid his 'ghost' status. “Why are you-? What are you-? Just get in here!” She ushered towards her room and Jim tracked her course without second thought.
Turned out she was a drama teacher, Mrs. Hutton. She sat him down in a corner and wrapped a temporary rag around him for warmth. “So, care to tell me your story? Seems it could be an interesting one.” She licked her coffee stained lips and shuffled on her chair.
Jim proceeded to explain to her his agony and before long she was on the edge of her seat with her hands clutching his own in deepest sympathy.
“You know, I was much like you when I was younger,” She looked out of the room's one solemn window and reminisced. “Bullied, prank'd upon, miserable...”
Jim shrugged, “You don't know the half of it, sister.”
“Oh but I do! Do you know one year I was tied to the back of the school's mascot as it was set loose around the school. It was a pig. They used to call me Fat Betty Hutton, so I guess it sort of suited me.” The now vulnerable teacher gestured to her noticeable stomach.
“I'm sorry to hear that...”
“Oh please, at least I was clothed. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is being invisible to others isn't so bad."
“And why not?” Jim sighed, now shamelessly scratching his worse for wear groin.
“Because, you can use it to your advantage... for revenge!” Mrs. Hutton carefully arose from her seat and rolled over a rack of costumes and props.
Jim watched on both slightly confused as well as grateful at the sight of clothing. Although, to say they wasn't much to his tastes would be an understatement. “And how am I supposed to get revenge from no one really knowing who the hell I am?!” He raised an eyebrow.
Mrs. Hutton grinned and began shuffling through the wigs, fabrics, hats and make-up.
Brad put a hand on his long time girlfriend's shoulder. “I'm sorry, babe. But it's over.”
Claire gasped in disbelief. “But why?!”
“It's you babe. Not me. You. I've found someone way more hotter.”
Claire threw his hand away from her and crossed her arms in anger. “Well, who is it then?”
“She's in my drama class, so sexy!”
“Well what's her name then?!”
“Errrm... Jasmine or something... oh shit here she comes now!”
She had legs right the way up, emphasized by her current summer dress and with dark blonde hair pushed back her hooped earrings were free to sparkle and shine as she walked on by.
“Hey babe,” Brad wrapped the new girl in his arms and pushed his lips against hers making Claire green with envy. As if knowing that he made a better looking girl than her wasn't good enough for Jim; seeing her this disgruntled about it made it all the more sweeter. Not quite as sweet as the heartbreak he had in stall for Brad though, once he got the cocky S.O.B. to love Jasmine for more than just her looks, but still a delightful treat for his eyes — now cascaded with liner and color.
“And the award for highest attendance goes to Jim Howard!” The Principle announced.
Jim raised himself from his seat with utter pride in his heart, welcomed by a weak and perhaps a little sarcastic round of applause from his peers.
… with 99% attendance!” The Principle continued.
'99%? No, that can't be right...' Jim thought to himself, recounting every day and lesson he had attended on time, whilst collecting his rusty trophy.
The principle showed Jim to a seat to the right of the stage and moved on to the next acceptance; “And now for more of a less prestigious award... perhaps, more of a joke award if anything... The student with the lowest attendance! And this goes to...”
Jim continued to rattle his brain, thinking of what could have marked down his perfect attendance whilst the Principle wrestled with the envelope holding the name of the lesser student.
“... Jasmine Howard! With 1%.”
Jim turned to his left in shock and all became clear; he never quite attended that all important Friday in the end, not as himself anyway.
The Principle looked around the flock of students looking for the underachiever before turning to face the gob-smacked Jim. “Jim, where is your sister?! I know it's not the least bit ironic her not being here looking at these figures but-”
“I think she's out back, I'll go look for her!” Jim smiled at Mrs. Hutton in the corner of the auditorium as he made his way to the drama department.
'Who knows?' He thought to himself. 'Maybe Jasmine will get the higher attendance next year?'
Ed is a nuisance in class and is frequently kept behind at the end of lessons. He is your typical teenage rebel which teachers hate, but Miss Taylor particularly despises the young boy and so has a few plans for him....
The bell rang, signalling lunch time. It was welcomed with sighs of relief from the group students as they scurried out of the classroom.
“Ed, I need to talk with you, come here.” ordered Miss Taylor.
Ed was used to this, he was a nuisance in class and was frequently kept behind at the end of lessons. He was your typical teenage rebel which teachers hated, but Miss Taylor particularly despised the young boy.
“Please take a seat Ed.” motioned Miss Taylor.
Ed complied. “So, what do you wanna talk to me about this time Miss T!?”
“You know too well, what I want to talk about Edward.”
Ed sighed.
“You're constantly disrupting my class which means not only are your grades are slipping, but your fellow students' are too!”
“....Yeah but, what ya gonna go bout it?” said Ed smugly.
“Oh I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it.” Now it was Miss Taylor who was grinning.
“Ummmm what then?”
“Oh just a little something I should have done a long, long time a go...”
Miss Taylor jumped onto Ed's lap and pushed a needle deep in his neck. Ed's struggle was short lived, as he soon found himself fully paralysed across his entire body.
“You see Edward, I have a friend who is what many may call a 'mad scientist' and well.... he gave me something that he told me would help deal with no goods like you.”
All Ed could do was watch the hate filled teacher as she drew another needle from her bag.
“I guess you're wondering what this shot is going to do to you huh? Well.... it's filled with estrogen and many more good girly things...”
Ed was beginning to sweat heavily, 'what the hell is she going to do to me?' he was thinking.
His silent panicking was disrupted by a second shot to his neck.
“Now, say goodbye to all of your memories Ed, because this is going to replace them all. No one will remember the old you, and that includes yourself. You will be known to everyone as Ellie. A good, hard-working, beautiful girl.” Miss Taylor laughed menacingly.
A searing pain began to flow through Ed's body. - He began shrinking all over. Soon he had lost an entire 6 inches in height.
Ed's body then began to develop in unthinkable ways; his chest expanded producing 2 modest B cup breasts and his hips and butt bulged outwards. He now boasted a curvy, feminine frame.
His hands became small and delicate, his fingernails an immaculate almond shape.
His face began to reshape to that of a young girl, pretty and glowing.
His hair grew down past his shoulders, a gorgeous set of blonde locks now rested upon him.
But then came the most agonizing of all the traumatic changes; Ed's penis started shrinking into his body, replacing it - a dainty clit.
His baggy jeans and football top where replaced with a Pink V-Neck and a denim mini-skirt by Miss Taylor.
Ed now had power of his body again;
“What have you done to me!?” he screamed in a shrill voice.
Miss Taylor just sat and watched as Ed collapsed to the floor.
__________________________________
“Ellie? Are you alright sweetheart?”
Ellie woke to find Miss Taylor watching over her, concerned.
“Oh yes, I'm fine thankyou Miss.”
“Good. Now off you go sweetheart, you don't want to miss cheer-leading practice!”
To be continued......?
Bruce was the perfect secret agent; athletic, smart, seductive and fearless. All this meant that it would take the agency's entire arsenal to make him look like the sultry female required for tonight's task.
"So have you memorized the plan?" The gravelly voice of the commander bellowed into Bruce's ear. The agent managed to find ignorance of his superior's constant references to tonight's mission as well as his mascara.
Bruce was the perfect secret agent; athletic, smart, seductive and fearless. All this meant that it would take the agency's entire arsenal to make him look like the sultry female required for tonight's task.
"The results look good, Agent Bridge." The commander continued as Bruce made his final touches. "Here's your weapon. You seduce, relocate and then shoot - understood?"
Bruce nodded and slid the hair off his blonde wig behind his pierced ear. He strapped the gun to his shaved thigh and rose to face the aging man in the eye. To remain professional and composed was a struggle for the Commander as he shuffled on the spot.
Bruce handed him a drink he had collected from the bar earlier, "Why don't you loosen up a little hm?"
At last the commander found himself without a comment or comeback and could only watch as the lovely 'Miss Bridge' strutted off down the corresponding corridor, swaying like a pendulum that would make even Galileo's jaw drop.
How could he resist her? The most beautiful woman in the ballroom - so befitting for a man of his wealth. Dirty riches were why he was wanted by the agency, dirty riches was why dirty bitches threw themselves at him. Many had attempted to assassinate him but it would take a true professional in the art of seduction to bring him to his knees - in more ways than one. The mysterious Miss Bridge was a fitting profile as they danced the tango, two of the most seductive men on earth locked in an extended embrace - one of them not knowing of the latter. The dirty rich fool was in love, Miss Bridge showed the look of lust.
She darted a look over at her partner for the mission, Agent West, with a martini in his hand he gave her a subtle nod - the moment was right. She led him to the corridor, where they would be followed only by and secretly by Agent West.
Whispers and kisses where shared between the new couple as a half disgusted Agent West watched on. The dirty rich fool rubbed her legs up and down, halted at the knee by the understandably paranoid man in drag - after all, there was more than just a gun up there to give her away.
The sweet nothings continued to be whispered in her ear, "We'll move to the Caribbean.... I'll buy you a yacht..... You will live like a queen....". All of which caused the agent's rouge lips to curl upwards in a smile most sultry. It was time.
She drew the gun from its flattering home and with the lighting speed Agent Bridge was so well known for fired in an instant. Dead on fire, she was not forced to face whimpers, oh how she hated to hear their dying whimpers. The sweet nothings continued though, as Agent West's blood slowly drenched the red carpet - deepening its attire.
The commander burst through the double doors and into the corridor as the dirty rich fool marveled at his new found love's abilities as what he believed to be a makeshift bodyguard.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Bridge?!" The gravelly voiced persisted to shout down as he strode closer.
"Oh, didn't I tell you to loosen up a little?" She smirked.
"Well I-!" The commander froze mid-rant and turned to face the half empty glass in his right hand. There was a slight amount of fizzing occurring in its depths. "YOU SON OF A-!" The commander collapsed, shards of glass firing around the scene.
"Damn, you just saved my life!" The rich fool exclaimed, somehow even more in love.
"Well, how about I make it too?" Miss Bridge moved closer to the subject, rubbed his chin and winked.
In gasps of passion and gratitude he winced, "Care to join me in the Caribbean, then?"
Self vs. Self
I don't sleep.
I dream, but I don't sleep.
Yet I live in a constant reality.
I drink my coffee, I go to work, I arrive home, I eat, I relax, I catch up on some paperwork and then finally.... I lay down.
But I don't sleep, reality continues, yet I dream.
But when I dream, i awaken, although i haven't slept.
i drink my coffee, i go to work, i arrive home, i eat, i relax, i catch up on some paperwork and then finally.... i lay down.
i don't sleep, reality continues, yet i dream.
But when i dream, I awaken, although I haven't slept.
I don't know whether my bed(s) even gets used or not, but I'm sure i'll think about it again later so no need for ME to worry.
So I lay and i awaken, not the next day but in the night.
But i'm sure it's the day but I know better, or do I know worse?
Is it 2 cities, 2 countries, or even 2 realities we live in?
No. One city, one ME.
There's an axis to ME, and that means there's a Y and an X.
Y do things differently in the day than X do at night.
Today I met myself, and it killed ME.
Super!(Part 1)
Matt was just a useless pizza boy, until his world was turned upside down!
The recruits laughed half-heartedly.
“Tell me gentlemen, how does it feel to know that your name will be forever pasted in the history books?” The Suit stood and waited for an answer that never came, “Jefferson! 15 years of your life have been dedicated to this project, what do you feel?”
“I feel we should switch the fucking thing on so that we can move on with our lives.” Nick Jefferson frowned, it was he who was the brains behind this operation, The Suit only funded it. And now look who was running it...
“Money over brains...” Nick muttered under his breath.
“A pleasure as always Jefferson,” The Suit continued, “Very well, Worthington! Get one of the egg heads to switch this 'fucking thing' on!” He turned back to the recruits, “Today welcomes in a new age, gentlemen...”
“A new age? The fuck is he on about?” Nick muttered to one of his colleagues.
“He sure likes calling us 'Gentlemen',” was the only response he could get.
The Suit's eyes widened, “My age...”
“Hello Sir, here's your pizza!”
“You're late,” replied the balding slob stood in the doorway.
Matt scratched the back of his head at a loss, “I got here as fast as I could, Sir.”
“Yeah well it's been 34 minutes, that means my pizza's free!” Spit flew into poor Matt's face as the slob scratched his unmentionables.
“But... but... Sir, I'm afraid we don't run that policy...” Matt stuttered, as he often did — he wasn't good with confrontation.
“Yeah well,” the slob reached into the pocket of his open robe and pulled out a pistol, “I MAKE THE POLICIES NOW MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Shit! Shit! Okay here's your pizza...”
“And your wallet!”
“A....And my wallet...”
“And your car with the giant pizza slice on it!”
“But that's a company car...”
“YEAH WELL IT'S MY MOTHERFUCKING COMPANY CAR NOW MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Okay... okay.... I just...” Matt ran. Without looking back and with as little dignity possible.
Why did stuff like this always happen to him?
“You got robbed again?!”
Matt looked at the floor as his boss, Papa Pizza, shouted furiously at him.
“That's 57 pizzas and 4 company cars you loose me now!”
Matt tried to hold back the tears; he had already lost enough dignity tonight.
“That's it, if you lose even one more slice of pepperoni, you'll be out of here faster than you can say cheese!”
“O...o....okay M...M....Mr Pizza...”
“Damn, it take you big time to say anything! But I will still fire your sorry ass!”
“Yes Mr. Pizza...”
“Okay. I have one last delivery for you to make tonight, don't fuck it up!”
Matt clambered off of the children's bike he had acquired cautiously, desperately trying to prevent himself from damaging the pizza. He was a mess of a man; twenty years of age, average height, alarmingly thin, with greasy hair and an untamed beard, or as close to a beard as he could possibly grow (which wasn't much).
“One day I'll be running my own business and then... then I'll get all the girls and the money...” Matt daydreamed aimlessly as he knocked on the door of the warehouse.
“Who's that!?” The Suit turned towards the door in fear.
“Ah yes, that must be the pizza!” One of the elder recruits, Quinton, exclaimed.
“The pizza?!” The Suit shouted angrily, “Who the hell ordered Pizza? This is a big, serious event here!”
“I did Sir,” Nick replied, “You know... to test the machine?”
“Ah yes, that... I'm sorry old friend but me and a few of the eggheads decided to change the specs of the machine a little.”
“What do you mean?” Nick gritted his teeth. “Does it still permanently preserve food and make it bigger so that we can help feed the world?”
“Oh. Oh no, not at all Jefferson. You see, that was all far to boring...”
“What have you done?” Nick clenched his fists as Quinton approached the door.
“Oh you'll see...”
“Hi Papa Pizzas, here's your pizza!” Matt spoke surprisingly confidently whilst somehow managing to not notice the gathering and the 20ft machine stood behind the man answering the door.
“Oh ummm... thanks, Kid...” Quinton smiled, pretending not to be concerned by the goings-on behind him.
“Enjoy your pizza!” Matt waved as he walked back to his already stolen bike. “What a nice old man,” he wondered to himself, “I wonder what he's doing in an old abandoned warehouse...”
“Right,” The Suit stood to attention and pointed at several of the recruits, “You go turn on the machine, you go fetch me that pizza — I'm hungry, and you go kill the boy.”
“Kill... the boy?” Nick raised his eyebrow.
“He knows too much!”
Quinton looked on in horror, “but boss he barely even looked insi-”
“I SAID KILL HIM!”
“Very well...” Answered Alan, the recruit The Suit had asked to carry out the process.
Nick watched on, astounded at how submissive the middle aged man with a wife and two kids had become. “Suit. Tell me, what have you done?”
“Remember when I told you we'd become legends?”
Nick and his fellows nodded.
“Well I was wrong. Tonight, we become Gods!”
Matt turned around to see the windows of the warehouse glow as the building rocked on it's foundations.
“What the-?” He decided to go back and check that the old man was alright.
“Excuse me Sir, excuse me, are you okay?” He yelled at the warehouse as it's glow started to fade.
He then noticed a figure walk out of the door, except it wasn't the old man. Infact, it barely even looked human...
It had a phone in one hand, held up against its ear, and a gun in the other — pointing in Matt's direction.
Matt stepped back anxiously, why did stuff like this always happen to him?
“Yeah hi honey,” the thing spoke, “It's Alan, I'll be home a little late from the office tonight, I've just got to finish a little paperwork.” Alan the thing shook his gun around as if to tell Matt not to move. “Yeah alright baby, I'll see you tonight.” He made a few kissy sounds into the phone before hanging up and grasping the gun with both of his hands, “FREEZE PIZZA BOY!”
“W...w...what are you?” Matt gasped, looking upon his scaly features and large, razor sharp teeth.
“What do you mean what a-” Alan caught a glimpse of his torso and froze in horror.
Matt considered making a run for it but was petrified and now also at a stand-still.
“The fuck?” Alan examined himself, “I have a tail! Why do I have a tail? I'm a lizard! I'm a fucking liz-” The man/thing swooned to the ground in comical fashion before he could even finish his sentence.
After remaining motionless for a couple more minutes, Matt decided to check out the warehouse. After facing a dinosaur man with a gun and coming out of it without a scratch, Matt felt nothing but bravery.
One peek into warehouse and strange ideas popped into Matt's head. Inside was a mass of mutants smashing, dashing and prancing around.
“Gentlemen!” A suited man stood on a platform and silenced the unusual crowd, “I hope you all like your powers and I especially hope you are all eager to fight for my cause...”
“Yes Master!” They replied in unison.
“Good, then, wait — the pizza boy! Somebody KILL HIM!”
A large man made of rock placed nearest to the open doorway stood to attention and advanced on Matt, who felt every ounce of bravery drain from his body.
The rock man cornered him in the field outside of the warehouse and grinned.
“W...w...why are you made of rock?” Matt questioned in panic.
“Master give us powers, powers make us rulers of world!”
“Please, show a little mercy, I have a family. Well, a ferret.”
“Nighty night kid!” The rock man's eyes filled with insanity as he threw a nearby tractor on top of Matt.
Matt was awoken by a sharp ringing in his ear. He was surrounded by darkness and couldn't move, “Oh God they shut down my power again!” Matt grumbled before remembering the events from earlier.
He pondered for a while before resuming talking to himself a little more, “Am I under a tractor right now? Why aren't I dead? I think there's worms in my earsAAAAAAH!” Matt shot up in an instant and wiped his ears frantically. It took him a few seconds to notice the turned over tractor beside him.
“Did I just-?”
Matt looked down at his hands before bending down and grasping the heavy piece of machinery. And with a flick of the wrist, it was up and held over his head.
“No. Freaking. Way!”
“Matt why you not come back last night, why you no bring my daughter's bike home? YOU'RE FIRE-”
“No need Mr. Pizza, because I quit!”
“You what?!”
“You heard me, I said I quit!”
“But you can't leave, you need money, you need to pay for college.”
“I don't need money and I don't need college, Mr. Pizza.” Matt smugly grabbed a slice and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Why the hell not?!”
“Cos I'm a motherfucking superhero, bitch!”
Swapadopoulos
Sometimes I'm.... somebody else.
“So what is it you wanted to talk about Martin?”
“Ummm hey Mr. McLeod-”
“Please, call me Jeff.”
“Ummm ok, Jeff. You're a guidance counsellor person, right?”
“Yes Martin, that's what it says on my desk.”
“Well, I have a bit of a problem...”
“Ok, well... you can tell me anything Martin. There's no judgement in here.”
Martin paused and started drumming his knees nervously, “Not really sure how I can explain this to you...”
Jeff rolled his eyes.
“... I should, I should just go — I have homework and stuff.”
Jeff reached out and held the boy's shoulder to stop him from running out, “Please, Martin. A problem shared is a problem halved.”
Martin sat back down cautiously, “Ok, here's the thing... I.... Sometimes, I'm not myself.”
Jeff reclined on his chair and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” he questioned.
“A few days back I made a sort of discovery.... The reason I've missed so many classes is.... sometimes, I'm not me.”
“Not you?”
“Yes, sometimes I'm.... somebody else.”
“I....” Jeff was speechless, “I'm just not sure what you mean by this Martin?”
Martin groaned and looked up at the ceiling, “Look, I don't know the science behind it but basically I turn into someone else, and I lose all knowledge of who I really am OK!?”
Jeff sighed, “Ok Martin, supposing you're not just bullshitting me here — How did you find this out, if you 'lose all knowledge' of who you really are?”
“See I told you this was too hard to explain, I'm just gonna go home.”
Martin walked home, attempting to hold back the tears but failing. Why was he cursed with this? Will it ever stop? How could he make anyone believe him?
“Martin you're late AGAIN!”
“Sorry Jane, I had a meeting with the school guidance counsellor.”
“Well, what was it about? You don't really need a counsellor you know, we're all perfectly qualified to help you out!”
Martin lived in an orphanage. It wasn't so bad, but he was forever waiting for when he turned 18. He so desperately wanted to live on his own, instead of with a bunch of other rejected kids. He still had 2 years to wait for that, though.
“It was nothing.” He faked a smile.
“Very well, come in then before your dinner gets cold.”
Dinner time in the orphanage wasn't quite like in Oliver Twist, it was a lively hub of good food and laughter, and you didn't have to beg if you wanted some more.
Tonight, Fish-fingers were on the menu. Which Martin saw as perfect, he could eat them quick then charge up to his room and escape from the madness.
There was one person in the home he could stand to be around for an extended amount of time. It was a she, of course, and the pair had been friends since they were only toddlers.
Martin watched Lucy as she ate her dinner from across the room. He was hoping they could chat tonight, if anyone was going to believe him it would be her.
“So, let me get this straight.” Lucy was pacing around Martin's room, her blonde curls dancing on her shoulders. “You just magically turn into someone else?”
“Yes...”
“Well, I guess that would explain why you keep missing so much school. Ok, I believe you, I can't see why anyone would lie about something so crazy like this.”
Martin smiled, he knew he count on his beloved Lucy.
She smiled back at him awkwardly before averting her gaze, “So... how did you find out about this?”
“I get my own thoughts back occasionally, for like a few seconds. It really only gives me time to panic.” Martin found himself yet again fighting back the tears.
Lucy put her hands on his, “It's ok, it's going to be ok. Have you told a Doctor about this?”
“NO!” Martin backed away, “It's embarrassing, I'm hoping this whole thing will just blow over. And besides, what's a Doctor going to do about this? Other than diagnose me as 'crazy'.”
Their conversation was cut short by the unwelcomed enterance of Jane, “Ok guys, time to get some shut-eye, tomorrow is afterall a school day.”
Martin rested his head against the window of the bus, Lucy was talking with a bunch of her girl friends on the backseats. He was fine with it though, it gave him time to think.
“Hey Marty.”
Martin turned towards the aisle to find his best -male- friend, Quinton.
Quinton was your chubby, glasses wearing, short, nerdy kid. Every school had one, and most people would either bully him or simply ignore him. But he was such a nice guy, Martin didn't care about his appearance or intelligence — It was just nice to have a good friend.
“Hey Quinton,” he patted the seat beside him, encouraging his friend to sit, “How's things?”
“Amazing!” Quinton exclaimed.
“Really? How so?” Martin hadn't seen his friend this excited in a long while, not since Lord Of The Rings 3 came out anyway.
“It's a girl Marty! A girl who'll actually talk to me, and she's... just, AMAZING!”
“Woah, hey, good for you buddy!” He was honestly proud of Quinton, he'd never been able to talk to girls. He'd usually waddle off when even Lucy came near.
“Hey Martin,” Lucy approached, “Could you help me out with my Maths Homework? I can't afford to get another D.”
“Oh I ummmm.... gotta go.” Quinton ran off the bus, his giant bag forcing him to sprint with a hunch.
Martin sniggered, “Sure!”
“How are you coping, by the way?”
“Yeah I'm fine, no wacky transformation for me today.”
Lucy grinned, “Good.”
Another night of honest talking between the pair passed by, before Jane sent them to bed.
'At least tomorrow's Friday', Martin thought.
Martin and Quinton placed their lunches down on a small table in the corner of the cafeteria, they knew here they would likely not be bothered by anyone. Lucy had gymnastics training so Martin knew he would have his friend for the full hour.
“So... How's things going with Lucy? I can't believe you still haven't asked her out on a date.”
“Look man, there's no point. She's way out of my league, I'm lucky enough to have her as a friend so I'm not going to ruin that!”
Quinton shrugged, “Whatever man, I'm thinking of asking that girl out myself.”
“What, Lucy?” Martin raised an eyebrow.
“No, no, no. Marina, she's the girl who talked to me the other day, I think she's Lucy's friend actually. HEY! WE COULD GO ON A DOUBLE DATE!?”
Martin sighed, “Actually... if it's a double date Lucy might say yes.”
“Exactly!” Quinton yelled.
“Dude, quieten down a little yeah? We're getting some odd looks.”
“Oh right, sorry. So what do you think? I'll ask Marina and you can ask Lucy?”
Martin paused, “Ummm.... yeah go on then, what the hell! Why not aye? A date would be just what I need to cheer me up.”
“What are you so down about anyway?”
“Ah it's noth-”
“Excuse me Mr. Parker.”
Martin looked up to find Mr. McLeod crouched beside their table. “Could I see you in my office?”
“Ummm yeah ok.” Martin almost chocked on his pizza, this probably wasn't going to be nice.
Mr. McLeod drummed his desk, “Ok Martin, after our little 'discussion' I looked into the matter.”
“Oh, right...”
“Yeah and ummm...” Mr. McLeod skimmed through a pile of papers on his desk, “It seems there IS actually someone who has missed all the lessons you have and attended all the ones you have missed.”
“Yes...”
“Infact while you are sat here in this room right now, this other student is absent. So this tells me that, either this is all just a massive coincidence or....” The bearded man leaned forward, “You're telling the truth.”
“Well of course it's the truth! I wouldn't make up such a freaky thing would I?”
Mr. McLeod grunted.
“So... what's his name?
“HER name is Marina. Marina Papadopoulos.”
Martin laughed, “Nah that can't be right. I'm pretty sure that in my split seconds of awareness, I was still a bloke.”
“Well, we'll see.” Mr. McLeod shrugged.
“No, no, no!” Martin leaped out of his chair, “I saw my hand, that's how I knew I was someone else. And, and, and it was just more tanned, and smaller, and the nails were...”
Mr. McLeod folded his arms.
“...Longer.” Martin's eyes widened, “....No, no, no. That's just silly. I've got to ummm go now. Bye.”
Mr. McLeod remained silent as he watched the boy run out of the room. He then reached for the phone, “Hello? Principle Stewart? ......Yes...... Yes......... Ok........ No he just ran out............ Yes, I'll keep an eye on him........ Yes, and Marina too.”
Martin bumped into Quinton charging down the corridor, who walked speedily behind him “Hey have you seen Mari-”
“NO!” Martin shouted back as he pushed his way past the door, leaving Quinton cursing at him.
Martin walked behind the gym, where there was no-one around, with his hands in his pockets. Once again asking himself questions like 'Why me?' and 'How did this happen?'
Just as he turned the corner, he ran into Lucy. “Oh my god!” she shouted, “You are so late!”
Before he could even say hello or ask what he was late for, she grabbed his hand. Which he noticed seemed more tanned than usual, as well as smaller and...
“Oh.”
The Beings Alike
Merry Christmas my wide eyed friends.
It was last December when we first met. You seemed nice, like someone I could really be friends with. And alas that's what we became.
Together we shared a winter of constant fun and laughter - where before I could only find loneliness. My parents were happy that I was finally happy and that Christmas was more special than any before.
Through the months of Spring and Summer, I didn't see you. I don't know why. I just learned to accept it but never stopped thinking of you in the heat and despair.
Christmas Eve came back around and snow fall was beginning, a white Christmas was imminent and I spared a glance half anxious and half hopeful out of the window. The doorstep was graced by you, my only friend.
The smile was the same as I had reminisced about all year round.
"Mum, Mum! Look who's back!" I sang merrily while skipping your way.
She noticed the differences - you had changed somewhere along the line that year. Through the sight of a narrow eye, like my mother's, your change was wrong and our friendship was now wrong. To me it was nothing, to me that unchanging smile could weather anything.
I spent Christmas Day by your side, things may never be the same with my family again but its worth it to stand for what we had and now have. Skin is skin, my only friend, and snow is snow. Your form, though different now, is still made from what I learned to love.
So Merry Christmas, Mrs. Snowoman.
Part 1
Bare with me on this one. The rest of the story is going to be a lot different than this first installment, so think of this as a sort of Prologue. This first installment is also written in the present tense as if you are in the protagonist's mind, so it is reasonably scrambled etc. (If it annoys you, don't worry, it is written in the past tense from Part 2 onwards.)
Hope you enjoy...
There are both good sparks and bad sparks. Some start fires that help heat food, to keep us living... others start fires that help end lives. But such as the world we live in they remain in balance.
So would you call a killer spark evil when they are all the same?
Sparks are not born with a conscience, they form one through factors such as location, nurturing and chance.
If a spark is in a suitable location, such as an oven, it will help heat your dinner.
If a spark is nurtured upon a bed of twigs, it will help start a fire for warmth.
These factors help create the spark's destiny. For better or for worse.
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP- SLAM!!!
Oh how I loathe that alarm clock, oh how I loathe everything. Being a cynical cunt is a tough occupation, and I just cannot be dealing with this.
Out of bed I get, torn up slippers on for whatever purpose they solve - apparently it's just such a hassle to walk around bare-footed in the morning.
Let me see... Monday. Yep, 5 days of that school business for me. Fantastic.
I'll pass on breakfast this morning, no doubt Mum will yet again inform me of it's importance as Dad shakes his head and frowns.
And now for that lonely half hour walk to hell. It gives me chance to think about stuff I guess, but I mostly spend the time to wallow in self-pity.
And here we are, “you have now reached your destination”, as that useless contraption for people who can't read maps would say. No friends for me here, no enemies or bullies I guess either but none the less being a literal ghost can be a downer. I guess I like not having to worry about people drama, but without friends my life just seems rather... meaningless?
Hello gossiping girls stood right by my locker, MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY. I could just ask them to budge but if I stand here long enough in absolute silence they will eventually flee.
Hello group of annoying hipsters, I see you're all wearing outrageous hats and listening to whatever isn't 'popular' at the moment. Good for you.
Hello person who used to be my only friend until you decided I was destroying your rep or something? I dunno, I can't remember, don't care either.
I do.
And here I am at Chemistry. Where we will undoubtedly do some crazy shit with crazy fluids and shit.
“Good morning class.”
Good morning Mrs. Saggy Tits.
“Today I'll be assigning you lab partners for...”
Oh shit, lab partners. That requires small talk and basic human interaction.
“...Will, you'll be with Grace...”
Please don't let it be an erection stimulator or a god damn hipster.
“...Tom, you'll be with Jerry...”
I just cannot cope with an erection for an hour and a half. Virginity is an inconvenience.
“....Generic Hipster, you'll be with Slutty McSlutty...”
Phew.
“...Mark...”
That's me by the way. My name's Mark, I'm 16, have brownish hair, brown eyes, braces, average height, small dick.
“... you'll be with Leonard.”
Who the fucks that? The name sounds nerdy, it even has 'nerd' in it, hmmm he could prove useful if this poorly assembled evidence is true.
“Okay everyone, get together with your partners and get to work!”
Yes Mrs. Saggy Tits.
Okay then time to go and find this Leonard fella and... Oh! There he is, he has big glasses and greasy hair. Perfect.
You know that awkward silence when you're working with someone you don't know and you're both social retards? Yeah, that.
“Could you pass the Sodium Bionicide?”
The fuck is that? I'll just reach for this purplish bottle...
“Woah! You want to mix Oxygen Hydronicide with Helium? * snort * hahaha!”
Did he just snort? Did that actually just happen? Christ, this kid makes me look like fucking Puff Daddy.
“How's everything going boys?”
Oh how I hate it when teachers nose in on your work.
“All good thanks.”
“Excellent Leonard. And Mark, I hope you're helping your little friend and not making him do all the work.”
This guy's my friend now? Oh, best answer her - “Yes Mrs. Taggysits.” - NOW PLEASE FUCK OFF!
“Goooooood. I'll leave you both to it then...”
THANK GOD!
“Hey Mark?”
“Yeah Leonard?”
“How saggy are Mrs. Taggysits tits!?”
Hey this guy ain't bad.
“So very saggy man. She's the reason I don't eat breakfast in the morning... so I don't end up hurling all over the place.” - surprising amount of truth in that.
“They should call her * snort * Mrs. Saggy Tits!”
This guy ain't bad at all!
“I know right!”
Wow I'm actually laughing with someone! Awesome!
“Hey Mark?”
“Yeah Leonard?”
“Wanna be friends?”
I am Mark Parker, and this is my story.
Some may call it sad, some may call it insane, others may even call it humorous. But I'll tell you one thing, it all starts and finishes with a spark. The faintest of sparks.
The Worst Case Seaside Scenario
Hugo had always loathed public toilets. The foul stench, the urine soaked floors, and the extreme likelihood of catching an STD from using the sinks yet alone the toilets had always lead to him avoiding the things at all costs.
But today he just couldn't hold it in any longer. He had previously drank his own weight in Sunny D and was 45 minutes away from home having spent the day with a few friends at the beach.
Note: This is a little short, but I'll probably continue it in the near future.
Hugo approached the grotty unisex portaloo nervously in anticipation.
"Okay..." He breathed in and out slowly, "It'll only be a couple of minutes. Whatever happens in there can't be any worse than pissing myself."
"For fucks sake kid," a well dressed man, presumably in his late 30s, interrupted him. "Just man up and take a wizz."
Somewhat startled and offended by the man's outburst, Hugo knew that he was right. It was time for him to shake off this silly fear. He was 19 now and was surely going to need to use a public toilet sooner or later.
"I guess if I use it now, I'll see nothing bad will come from it and will never be afraid again..." Hugo continued muttering to himself.
"Sure, whatever kid," the man shrugged. "Just hurry up cos I'm planning on fucking this hot chick in there in a minute."
Hugo laughed slightly, not sure whether to take the man seriously or not.
Hugo grinned as he washed his hands cautiously, happy that the toilet seemed fairly sanitary and nothing had gone wrong. However, as he reached for the door-handle with his sleeve wrapped tightly around his hand to avoid any further contamination, he found it wouldn't open.
"Hello?" Hugo knocked on the door rapidly. "Can anybody out there hear me? The door is jammed!" He was both humiliated and frightened at the same time. Why did he come in here? He should've just done it in the ocean, everyone else does!
Just as he was about to try shouting to the outside world again, the light in the cramped toilet started to flicker and smoke started to rise from the ground beneath him. Hugo was shocked, it was like something out of a movie scene. In fact, as the smoke started to rise up his body, he was starting to wonder whether he had passed out from the shock of using a portaloo for the first time and was just imagining all this.
He wasn't.
As his entire body drowned in the eerie mist, the light flickered out for good. He was now left alone in complete darkness.
This time he really did pass out.
He awoke god knows how long later to screams and banging on the portaloo door. Grimacing at the fact he was still trapped in his personal hell, Hugo got up off the floor and whilst feeling rather unbalanced took the single pace towards the door.
"...HURRY UP IN THERE!..." The shouting continued from outside.
Hoping that the door was now fixed and not wanting to upset this person any further; Hugo proceeded to reach up for his sleeve only to find that it had gone. As a matter of fact, his entire arm was bare...
There Is Nothing
Wow, so I guess this was sort of what many may call a rant. Following one's muse perhaps, and just letting it all pour out. Although there is a story deep inside this tightly drawn affair, I present this to you as only words on a screen. Its meaning or whatever you take from it is solely down to you, the reader.
To me it is a gasp, a reach out, a comfort to he or she who may not even exist. Then again, maybe they do...
Enjoy or loathe. I love it all the same as I seek not praise but recognition.
It's a curious thing, possession. When man-kind first began it was only for territory - in order to survive.
But look at us now, fanatical over the little things that are far from necessities yet we remain engulfed in their insignificance. We live under the upper hand of shiny currencies, in debt because of it but in debt to who? Who on earth could the world possibly be in debt to?
One thing I have noticed, throughout the crazy years of our species, is that togetherness strives. Above all it is what has kept as alive, sane and strong. Take that away and it seems... well, there is nothing.
In this modern small world, everything is convenient and we just live. Should we be damned without our basic human need for companionship, we are deemed ungrateful yet all the shiny little things can simply never amount to what some just don't have.
Different beliefs is what often tears us apart and frightfully it can often tear families apart. Can you believe it, FAMILY, the only thing we truly possess in this world and some let it burn over petty differences. If we were all alike we'd all be in ashes ourselves, this Western world is a capitalist world because we are ALL different. So why must we be set apart when these differences could just so easily bring us all together and unite us in a prosperous new age, not only in our own living rooms but across the globe. After all, what is the point of having such a small world if we are all pointing missiles at each other that are sure to only spray back at us?
However, we are not a peaceful species. When someone disagrees with us, why must we disagree with them? Why can't we just be the better man, accept their beliefs and prevent an eternal loop of doubt, deceit and eventual destruction. I guess sometimes it can be difficult to be the better man, especially when you wish not to be the latter but sometimes letting go can be the only way to hold on. And hold on you must. Nothing is of any comfort on your death bed but love, conditional or unconditional, it doesn't matter. Make it work and you may find peace; something only man and never man-kind can achieve.
And if you do feel like there is nothing, if you have been forced to walk this road alone or have chosen to do so, then remember this...
As your brain attempts to comprehend this, that's something. As you grieve or celebrate mild successes, that's something. If all is gone and laid to waste - be your own something, be your own someone and be your own better man.
Because there is nothing. Nothing but an I, you or we. Nothing but love.
There Was a Wizard In My Room
A lesson in fiction.
Robert couldn't believe his eyes, but there it stood in front of him. With a pointy hat, a long grey beard and a staff in his elderly hand. There was a wizard in his room.
“Hello, young man,” the wizard spoke softly.
“A...a...are you really a wizard?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
The wizard gave Robert a most peculiar look, “Now why would I do a thing like that?”
“Well it's 3 in the morning and you're stood at the edge of my bed...” The 9 year old wiped his tired eyes but knew too well he was not dreaming.
“Ha ha ha,” the wizard let out a powerful laugh. “No, no, no, I am a nice wizard.” He smiled as he looked around the boy's room — toys covered all four corners of it and all shared the same theme... “So you like spacey things?” The wizard said whilst fiddling with a miniature C3PO.
“Oh yes!” Robert leaned forward and clutched hold of his covers tightly. “When I grow up I want to be an astronaut!”
“Well that's just ridiculous!” The wizard spat out. “There is no space programme here in Scotland!”
Robert sighed and looked despairingly out of the window at the clear night sky, “Yeah... that's what Daddy always tells me.”
The old man immediately felt guilt run through him and reached out one of his frail hands, placing it on the boys shoulder. “Well, Scotland might not have a space programme, but I certainly do.” The wizard grinned a wide majestic grin.
“Would you like for me to show you?”
Little Robert couldn't believe it, there he was standing on a star, like he was a real-life spaceman.
“Beautiful isn't it?” The wizard smiled down at him from his perch upon a moon.
Robert nodded enthusiastically, it really was like a dream.
And so every now and then the wizard made sure to return to Robert's room during his slumber to grant another wish.
Robert wished for baseball bats, fancy hats, personalized welcome door-mats, a puppy, a budgie, hundreds of money and even an orbiting satellite... and the wizard gave him it all, if only for one night.
Infact, by the time Robert had reached the age of 18, he had now done just about everything a boy could want, as long as it rhymed and was gone when the sun came up.
And he owed it all to that Wizard in his room at night.
However, on the eve of Robert's 19h Birthday, he conjured up a wish so unusual it even took a wizard who had thought he'd heard it all by surprise.
“I wish I was a girl!”
“A girl?” The wizard raised an eyebrow quizzically. “But why?”
“I just think I'd just be happier that way.” Robert shrugged. “So, can you do it for me?”
“Why Robert, I don't think I can.” The wizard backed away slowly.
“But you've always granted my wishes?!”
“And enough was never enough!” The wizard opened the door and walked half way out, “I guess you're just too old now for the wizard in your room.”
And with that the wizard was gone and out of Robert's life.
He waited up every night though for his elderly friend to stop by, but he never did. And every day he cursed him for not granting that final wish.
10 years passed and Robert was now 28, unemployed, and ultimately unhappy. It was now that the wizard decided to re-enter his life, 20 years after they first met.
It took a few pinches, slaps against his own face, and sobering up to make Robert satisfied that he had really returned and he led by demand when the wizard ushered him towards the window in the corner of his adulthood room.
“I'm sorry I didn't grant your last wish, Robert,” the wizard spoke solemnly. “And I'm sorry I forced you to hold on to me for 10 years."
Robert watched as a shooting star traveled directly past his window. “I still want it though, that last wish, I think...”
The wizard turned towards the boy who was now a man who was now also the same height as him, “Because it truly is what you desire? Or because anything would be better than this?” He gestured towards the room and Robert's life in general.
“I... I don't know...”
The Wizard breathed in and out heavily, “You could have brought the universe to Scotland, you know. There was no real reason why you couldn't. Heck, you could have just bought a fancy hat if you really wanted one that bad! But, you didn't. You had all the things you wanted most in life but for one night only.” The Wizard spotted the old C3PO figurine and sighed, “That's all wishing is Robert, wishing can only bring you a little hope and a little joy for a little while, without any action these things just... fade away.”
Small tears had begun dripping down Robert's face.
“If you really want to become a woman, there is absolutely nothing stopping you.”
Robert made a weak attempt to dry his eyes before stepping closer to the wizard, “Are you even real?”
The wizard let out a throaty chuckle, “Ha ha ha, I think we both know the answer to that.”
Robert nodded thoughtfully.
“And so I will grant your final wish tonight if you so choose. Or, you can finally let me go and take action all by yourself.”
Robert looked out again at the starry sky as he thought about all the wishes he had let go to waste over the last 20 years. He thought of how since the moment that wizard set foot in his room he had become so full of hope and wonder, and yet had become so lazy.
“So...” the wizard reached out and put his frail hand on Robert's shoulder once again. “What's it going to be?”
This Is Exile
Just how exactly does a house become haunted?
A sort of prequel to 'There Was A Wizard In My Room', 'Haunt These Halls' & 'id'.
Do not read this expecting a nice short telling. Notice the genre and the CAUTION!
He wasn't a normal boy. He had always admired the female form, not like the cheesy guy at the other end of the bar, but on a much deeper level. Almost like a yearning.
He loved their clothing from top to bottom but adored just how little of it they could wear. How much of their beautiful form they could show to the world and only have them marvel at it.
As a boy, he admitted he had a problem. But no it wasn't of his desire to be or become a woman - it was the fact that he had no shame. He saw no sense in it, why should he be ashamed of what he was? Sure, he got hell for it at times, at home and at school but he marched on through seemingly without a care. Some of his fellow classmates often joked that he was without a soul, he could never prove them wrong. He didn't want to prove them wrong.
As time progressed he moved into a new housing estate, now a man - not a woman - he considered himself himself and by himself that was okay.
He continued to dress in whatever the hell he wanted, but never did he dress up. This was real, also he never went out.
Now I don't know what you know about loneliness, you may have considered yourself 'lonely' in the past, but if the two syllable word has ever left your mouth, you are wrong. This young man was so isolated, so alone, that he had no one to even whisper these words to. All he had was his walls.
Through a life of hurt, doubt, rejection and the unknown; these walls were something he could finally call his own. He had worked for them, he had earned them and now they were all he had. Soon this pride of possession got the better of him, and he chose to let them take the ultimate control over his life. He hung himself upon them.
You might wonder how I, the second tenant of this house, know so much about its previous owner. Well, of course under the circumstances, the estate agents told me nothing of him. But this is not a house that keeps secrets. It is one that does not make you mad, but finds the madness already inside of you.
I noticed it one day, almost like I had been exposed to the house's ways long enough to truly notice it. The writing on the walls... the writing of a mad man.
Naturally, I tried to scrub it right off. However, I feel the ink has long since sunk deep through these walls and I am now haunted by his dead letters and empty words. I guess he finally found himself a soul...
But now I can really feel the effects; I am reclusive, hallucinogenic, hollow and dead inside. It's too late for me, but I beg of whoever moves into here in the future, leave the moment you find this note.
Because this is exile.
This story contains strong language, sexual content and boys acting like jerks. (A little different for me) So you have been warned.
This story doesn't flow in a straight forward way, it is fairly scattered with headings for where/when each separate sequence is located - you should be able to pick up the whole storyline as you go along.
This story is just a little fun really; a silly little teen story, don't take anything in this piece at all seriously.
Enjoy. (Or at least try to!)
The Morning After
"Last night was amazing." Bill said, holding Samantha in his arms, who was still asleep.
"I was so drunk last night, but you are by far the best drunken mistake I have EVER made." He continued talking to her, despite the fact she couldn't hear him.
He smiled as he brushed her hair back behind her ear, "You're even more beautiful than you were last night." He smiled and held her closer to his chest, "I just want to stay locked in your embrace forever and ever."
Bill shuffled around for a little before pushing her away from him, "Buuuuuut it's breakfast time." He got up and walked towards the door, "I'll be back soon... my love."
The Bathroom (Part 1)
Max kicked his friend who layed perfectly still on the bathroom floor. "Dude he is passed the fuck out."
"I always knew he'd be a lightweight." Said Niall, sipping on a lager.
"We're only a couple of hours into the party as well," said Max whilst eying up his shiny new watch, "what should we do about him then?"
"Well... it's better we, his best friends, 'take care of him' before some heartless bastards take advantage of him."
"Agreed." Max nodded.
"Right, I'll need felt tip pens and a shaver - pronto!"
"I'm on it!" Max screamed in excitement, "DON'T let him out of your sight though!"
"Aye aye cap'n!"
Niall continued to guzzle down his beverage whilst shaking his head at the ungracefuly 'fucked up' teen on the floor, "Oh Keith, why oh why did you have that virgin cocktail?" he smirked. "Max better hurry up with those pens and shaver, my attention span is incredibly shor... SAMANTHA! Let's discuss me taking your virginity shall we?"
Niall waddled down the hallway, half drunk, towards a girl rolling her eyes.
The Downstairs
Niall barged into a large circle of people chatting in the kitchen, "Have you seen this guy anywhere?" He asked, pointing at a picture of Keith.
The group all grunted before dispersing.
"You carry a picture of Keith around in your pocket?" Max questioned.
"Well yeah." Niall shrugged, "I've also got you, my Spanish teacher, and Justin Timberlake."
"Seek help."
"Hey Bill." Max spoke awkwardly whilst approaching the host of the party who sat smugly on his chair as if it were a throne. "Have you seen Keith around anywhere?"
"Who?"
"Keith."
"Who?"
"This guy." Niall interrupted, showing the jock the random picture of the 16 year old.
"No I haven't fellas, why are you looking for him anyway?"
"He kind of passed out and well..."
"You wanted to write 'penis' on his forehead and shave off his pubes?" Bill asked.
"Yeah..." Max and Niall sighed in unison.
"Yeah boys, that's the dream." Bill stood up and put his arms around each of the guys' shoulders. "I'll tell you what I'll help you fi-"
An eerie silence spread across the room as the needle conveniently scratched on the record player causing the music to stop.
"Is that my sandwich?" Bill looked furiously down at the half eaten snack in Niall's hand.
"Oh I.... Max, where did you get this sandwich from?"
Max looked down at the ground awkwardly.
"YOU BASTARDS!" Bill reached behind the sofa.
"Holy shit dude he's got a gun!" Max screamed.
"RUUUUUUN!"
Bill legged it after the two fleeing boys but failed to catch them due to the added weight of his mother's bazooka.
The Hallway
"SAMANTHA! Let's discuss me taking your virginity shall we?"
"Great." SamaNtha rolled her eyes, "This guy again..."
"Oh come on baby, we both know there's something between us!" Niall grinned whilst downing his 3rd pint.
SamaNtha simply sighed and walked towards the staircase, making sure to nudge him on her way leaving Niall only able to frown at her departing behind.
"Don't be disheartened." A girl approached Niall whilst smiling reassuringly. "Samantha really likes you, though she does hide it well." She smiled in an apologetic way.
"Really?"
"Yeah I mean, EVERYONE knows there's something between you two."
"That's what I've been saying all this time!"
The girl smiled, "Soooo.... she wanted me to ask you something."
"And what's that?" Niall grinned, already knowing what to expect.
"She said, errrr.... 'meet me in Bill's bedroom asap'."
"HELL YEAH!" Niall fisted the air, before considering Samamtha's friends presence, "I mean ummm.... yeah ok, I'm sure she just wants to talk or something...." Niall's grin grew.
The Living Room
"Yeah so my Mum owns this sweet gun shop, she brings all sorts of cool shit home for me." Bill boasted to the tens of girls surrounding him on his throne.
"Wooooow your family's sooooo cooooool!"
"Yeah, the Stone family are the history of cool." Bill nodded as his ego inflated, "There are said to be cave paintings of my ancestors in Australia partying on down."
"Woooooooooow!" the random sluts all exclaimed in unison.
"Now, who wants to make Daddy a sandwich?"
Max walked past the pack of sluts and Bill muttering to himself, "Felt tips, felt tips, felt tips...."
"Everything alright there?" Bill shouted over to the puzzled Max.
"Yeah I'm just... OOOOOH CRAYONS!"
Bill watched him frollock off into his father's office before welcoming back the snack-bearing slut. "Thanks love, I'll have it in a sec, just got to go take a leak."
Max once again waddled past the pack, sniffing around a little.
The sluts all watched him in confused amazement as he followed a scent around in circles for a while.
"Ummmm can we help you?" One of them finally spoke.
"No I just.... OOOOOOH A SANDWICH!"
The Alley
Max and Niall continued to run into the night until they eventually reached a darkened alley.
"Holy shit dude." Max panted, "that was a close one, why does Bill's Mum even own a bazooka anyway?"
"No fucking idea. What are we gonna do about Keith?"
"Well we ain't welcome back there again, we'll just have to leave him, I'm sure he'll be alright."
Niall nodded and sat back against a grotty wall, "Dude I've got to be honest with you, I didn't actually take Samantha's virginity in the end."
"Oh."
"Yeah just a little anal instead." Niall winked.
"MY MAN!" Max exclaimed as the pair high-fived.
The Staircase
"Fucking hell I need a piss so fucking bad I could just bur-HEEEEEEELLO!" Bill halted and turned his attention to the hotty on the staircase. "And what would your name be?"
"Samantha..."
"Beautiful, just such a beautiful name. Hey Samantha?"
"Yes..." She sighed.
"Wanna have sex?"
"Piss off."
"Actually now you mention it..." Bill squeezed his bladder tightly, "We'll continue this conversation momentarily."
Samantha shook her head as she watched the host dash off up the stairs. She then started to overhear Niall boasting about their little 'get together' and started smiling herself before thinking it best to cover it with a frown to save herself a little dignity from any listener's-in.
She could feel his finger pointing over at her, oh the things he did with that finger in the bedroom only minutes ago...
She proceeded to watch the pair of numbskulls walk right past her before deciding to return to the bedroom for 'Round 2'. She nodded to her friend and pointed to the closed bathroom door before entering the darkened 'love chamber'.
Bill returned sometime later following on from the piss that seemed to never end, "Okay honey Daddy's ba- Hey, where did she go?" He starting looking up and down the staircase before hearing a quiet cough from behind him, he turned around to find a fairly attractive young girl staring at him.
"Well hello beautiful!" Bill shouted, whilst scanning her body.
"Ummmmm hey, I'm Samamtha's friend - Vicky."
"Nice to meet you." Bill smirked.
"Listen, Samamtha told me to tell you ummmm.... to meet her in Bill's, your bill right?-"
Bill nodded in anticipating.
"Okay to ummmmm meet her in your bedroom."
Bill let out a huge testosterone fueled YEEEEEEEEEAH as he patted the girl's ass on his way to the bedroom excitedly.
The Bathroom (Part 2)
"Oh my god!"
"He is so totally passed out!"
The two girls stood looking at the collapsed boy in the middle of the bathroom.
"What shall we do with him?"
Vicky looked over to her friend Samamtha who was being hassled by that Niall asshole again. "Hmmm.... I have an idea."
"What is it? Writing 'penis' on his forehead and shaving his pubes off?"
Vicky simply smiled, "Just help me drag him to the bedroom."
"Hey Sammy!" She screamed over to the staircase, "Follow us, and ask no questions until we're in the bedroom..."
"Hey Niall I couldn't find what you wanted so I got some crayons and a sandwich an... hey, where'd they go?" Max looked around the empty bathroom in confusion. "GOD DAMN IT NIALL!"
"What?!" pleaded Niall, as he grabbed the sandwich and dipped it in his 4th pint.
"Where the fuck is Keith?"
"Ohhh yeah right, Keith..."
Max sniffed the air a little, "You smell like spunk and adolescent guilt?"
Niall nodded chuffly before pointing to a frowning Samantha sitting on the staircase.
"Sweeeeeet. Let's go check downstairs for him." Max ushered towards the stairs while Niall followed, who was about to say something to Samantha but was stopped from doing so by someone dashing towards the toilet.
"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Bill watched as a never-ending flow of piss came out of his little friend. "I reeeeeeally have to stop drinking so much!"
The Bedroom
"Okay what's going on? And what's with the passed out boy?"
"We've got a plan to help you punish that Niall dickhead." Vicky answered spitefuly.
"And any other boys who trouble you!" The other girl, Annie, added. "It's just not fair how they treat you like an object just because you're so pretty!"
"And a virgin..." Vicky muttered.
Samantha sighed, "I'd do anything to get back at Niall, he's been hassling me ever since I hit puberty."
"Vicky clapped her hands together, "Then here's the plan..."
"I can't believe we're actually doing this!" Samantha said in disbelief.
"Okay I've shaved him and given him a little makeup, now we'll just wait for Annie to come back from Mrs. Stone's room with the clothes and wig."
"How do you know Mrs. Stone wears a wig?" Asked Samantha.
"Oh please," Vicky flapped her hand, "It's so obvious."
At that moment, Annie creeped in; "Okay I've got the stuff. That woman sure has a lot of guns..."
"Is Niall still out there?"
"Yeah he's moping around in the hallway."
"Excellent. Okay, start putting the accessories on this guy and I'll go and tempt Niall in."
"And when he enters..." Samantha interrupted.
"You start talking all sexily about him giving you anal whilst hiding underneath the bed."
"But wont he notice that it clearly isn't coming from the he-she in the bed?"
"It'll be dark, and besides when a guy's offered anal he wont pay attention to any details like that, okay?"
"Okay." Samantha repeated anxiously.
"Great."
"You know this guy actually makes a really cute girl." Annie said as she finished placing the wig on the unconscious Keith's head.
"Isn't this a little harsh on him though?" Samantha asked whilst also admiring her imposter.
Vicky once again flapped her hand, "Oh he won't remember a thing, as long as we get him out and undressed by morning. Now; can we please get going with this before Niall moves on to another vulnerable girl?"
Annie and Samantha struggled to hold in their giggles as Niall left the room following a solid 10 minutes of nastiness with a boy in a wig.
"I can't believe it!" Samantha snickered, "He actually did it! It actually worked!"
Vicky poked her head in and joined in the laughter, "Just give us a nod and point to any other guys you want us to mess with okay?" she giggled.
Monday Morning
"Good weekend?" Max asked whilst rushing his homework.
"Yeah I just spent it getting over my hangover and remembering that sweet, sweet 10 minutes with Samantha."
"That was some party." Max grinned.
"Sure was! I wonder what happened to..."
"KEITH!" Max shouted, as their estranged friend plodded over.
"Hey fellas!" Keith waved.
"What happened to you man?" Niall asked whilst he had started to copy Max's rushed homework.
"I dunno, I can only remember drinking that virgin cocktail and then waking up Saturday Morning at the Bus Station."
"Shit dude." Max laughed at his friends antics, "Oh hey there's Bill - HEY BILL!"
Bill looked over to the trio solemnly.
"What's up with you?" Niall asked.
"The love of my life was taken away from me this weekend fellas. After an amazing night, I went to make breakfast and when I got back..." tears had started falling down his cheek, "she was gone!"
"Sorry to hear buddy." Max said, only half-sympathetically.
"Who's this?" Bill asked.
"Oh this is Keith."
"Oh right, cool, I think we might have met before actually..."
Keith offered a weak smile.
"Well I best be off, that girl must be somewhere at this school; if only I could remember her name, damn it drunk Bill!"
The trio loitered around a little before also walking to classes, "You alright mate?" Niall asked Keith. "You're walking really strange."
"I dunno." Keith replied. "My ass just really fucking hurts."
We all seem to value other people's opinions too highly.
And sometimes we are too afraid to do or be what we really want.
So fear and doubt trap us in a corner where we start to fool ourselves.
Just know that everyone is strong enough to shake these feelings away.
You can only fool yourself for so long.
You can only pretend that this is all that you can be and that this is all that will be for so long.
You can cover it all up with ignorance, lies and medicine but the wounds will only reopen.
The only cure is acceptance.
Not from the world around you but from yourself.
You are your own world, nothing else really matters.
You need to accept the change, or what is already hiding inside of you, and embrace the chaos.
So take the plunge, raise your voice, stand tall, change yourself or even become yourself.
Please.
Before it's too late.
id (Part 1)
Alesha scratched the back of her head as she squinted up at the house. “So... it's cheap, I guess...”
“Yes! It's almost a steal!” The estate agent laughed.
“Haha...” Alesha was growing understandably weary, “But these 'incidents' that occurred here... something about wizards and giant elephants?”
“Oh goodness,” the agent put a hand on the young girl's shoulder. “They're nothing, just a little coincidence — two psychotic people living in one house at separate times!”
“So this house isn't haunted then?”
“Look at it!” The chubby woman pointed at the small house she so desperately wanted to sell, “Can you honestly say this quaint home in the middle of the city looks like it could possibly be haunted?”
Alesha put her head in her hands, having been emancipated at such an age she wasn't all too keen to look around, especially as most houses would cost a hell of a lot more.
“Okay!” She raised her arms carelessly. “I'll take it! Why not? Anywhere that's away from my past is fine by me!”
The round estate agent grinned, she was sure to get a raise for selling this dodgy settlement.
Alesha sighed as she threw herself down on the floor of her new lounge. “Right, five rooms, no wizards, no elephants, no.... nothing.” She looked over at the fully unfurnished area. No wonder she got it so cheap...
“No wine either,” she mumbled to herself. “How can someone sit solemnly in the corner of an empty room without a glass of red?”
She was too young to drink, old enough to do and experience pretty much whatever else though, it seemed.
She somehow managed to suck upon a small carton of apple juice for the next few hours though. Eventually it became a six pack, and with discarded little boxes surrounding her she reminisced,
“I once got knocked out after drinking some apple juice...” She spoke to no-one in particular, “I was really quite happy in that comatosed world I was sent to. But....” She continued fiddling with a straw, “Like a terrible ending to a story, it was only just a dream.” She looked up at her singular light-bulb as it flickered or perhaps danced. “You know what, I'm gonna go out! People go out, right? I'm a person!”
“Where to, missy?”
Alesha swayed back and forth, “A club, or something? I dunno, you know, yeah....”
The taxi driver leaned back over his seat, “A little too young to be drunk ain't you?”
“Pffft! Just too much apple juice...”
“Ha, sure!” He began driving regardless, “And a little too young to be hitting the club scene too, am I right?”
“Pffft!” she repeated. “This whole age thing really pisses me off!”
“Well that's no way for a young lady to talk!”
“Oh come off it, it's how I express myself you.... you cock sucker! You know what, pull over, I see a petrol station, I'm gonna get some banana juice, they make banana juice right?”
“I... I ...don't they think they d-”
Alesha interrupted him with a gasp and rolled over in to the passenger seat, “Then we could invent it! Split it 50:50, you and me!”
“Yeah I'm taking you home...”
“Oh spoil sport! Fine... I'm Coming Home in a taxi, there's something in that right?”
The driver rolled his eyes at the girl's antics as he tried to keep his eyes on the road.
“I'm not drunk you know.” A few minutes had passed and she seemed to have calmed down a little, “Apple juice just really makes me go.... crazy! Did I tell you about the time I bought an apple juice and got taken to this seriously cool comatised world in my mind?”
“No, no you didn't.”
“Well, I wrote about it, I write stuff you know. Here, have my card... Okay, I don't have a business card … I should get one! Don't worry though I'll leave room on it for our banana juice thingy!.”
“Listen, I-”
“Promise me you'll keep a pin in it!”
“Fine!” The driver shrugged, your parents are probably gonna be mad when I take you home, aren't they?”
“Oh, no, I'm emancipated! I live on my own, in a house with no furniture, well actually I'm getting a fridge delivered on Monday, it was either that or a bed but... you know, I can sleep on top of a fridge right?”
“Why are you emancipated?”
“Oh my god!” Alesha tossed her arms around in anger, “You are so fucking chatty!”
“Fine! Let's just both be quiet then, shall we?” The driver breathed a sigh of relief, this had to be the longest journey he had ever conducted.
“Thanks for the ride! Hey, maybe tomorrow you can take me to the hospital? They do the best pudding there!”
Alesha waved goodbye as the kind driver put a blanet over her on the floor of her lounge and closed the door behind him.
“Oh my god!” She looked in the mirror at her worn out reflection, “What happened last night?”
“Seems you really painted the town red!”
“Haha yeah I-” Alesha froze. “... Who is that?”
References:
'Because I Got High'
'Coming Home'
'Haunt These Halls'
'In the Air'
'La La Land'
'Nil - Nil'
'There Was A Wizard In My Room'
id (Part 2)
“I once said something about life going two ways.” Alesha was leaning with her back against the new fridge with an empty glass in her hand. “And there's all these other two ways that lead up to the ultimate two ways, but what does it matter?! I doubt love, success or riches are really that much comfort on your death bed. We think we're in control but we all share the same fate, and that's death. Lousy, stinking death.” She opened up the door and dragged out a pint of ice cream. “You know, just in case there are any wizards or elephants hanging around here, you're welcome to join me. Sure beats being alone...” She began shoveling the frozen treat into her mouth, “I haven't got enough to feed an elephant though...”
Alesha looked up to the large white blank wall that dominated her kitchen. “What if it could be so much more...” she whispered as her pupils grew, before looking down at the tub of ice-cream. “Yeeeeah... I think that's enough for one night.” The young girl flew up, grabbed her jacket and reached for the door. “Oh, shit, balls, that's right... every time I go outside it never seems to end well.” She turned back to her disastrously humble home, “Then again, whatever might be out there sure beats this!”
Her flat trainer shoes bounced off the hard pavement that bathed in the pale moonlight, she was not a girly girl, just... a girl. There weren't all too many passers-by, it was cold and she had decided upon herself that the rest of the human-race were lazy as the roads beside her were littered with vehicles.
“Ugh, fuck this!” She exclaimed as she headed down an alley way, “I'd rather get raped than put up with all that noise!”
She passed by a homeless man and threw him whatever coins she possessed, she'd only waste them all on juice any way, plus she thought it to be of best interests to stay on people's good sides at night.
“Hey thanks lady, you wanna squirrel?”
Alesha turned on her heel and gave the stranger a quizzical look, “You know what, I kind of do want a squirrel.”
“Well errrm, this little guy's called Ronnie!”
“That's a ridiculous name for a squirrel.” She directly responded before noticing that the entire process of naming squirrels was ridiculous. “But... ummm... sure, I'll take it!”
“Okay, make sure you keep him warm at night and don't feed him too much either!”
Alesha curtiously nodded at the odd man's requests and held the furry pest up to her eye level, “What is it, a Gremlin?” She joked before sensing it was time to exit the alley.
With the squirrel on her shoulder and, despite looking like Dr. Doolittle's secretary, she marched on in to the night. Her moonlit madwoman walk was soon disrupted though, by the honking of a horn on the road beside her.
“Hey...” a voice came from inside the black cab, “You're the weirdo from yesterday, right?”
“Who are you calling weirdo?!” Alesha clenched her fists before recognising the driver from the night before. “Oh... ummm.... sorry, hey...”
“The fuck is that on your shoulder?”
“Oh it's a-... you know what, I have no idea, shoo shoo!” Alesha ushered the vermin away from her before leaning in to the open window of the taxi. “So... what do you want?”
“I wa- I think! You should get in, it looks like I'm paying for a prostitute at the moment!”
Alesha realised what it might look like and buttoned up her coat in modesty, “Yeah... can you take me home? I really shouldn't be let outside.”
“You're a menace to society!” The driver joked as he opened up the passenger door.
Alesha turned to the driver and raised an eyebrow, “I have no idea what your name is.”
“What?” The driver kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“I have no idea what your name is! You've done so much for me and... what's your name?”
“It's no problem, sounds like you're in a rough patch,” he made a calming gesture with his hand. “The name's Sam. Sam Vettel.”
“Wow! Like the-”
“Yep. Like the racing driver...” Sam sighed.
“Wow!” Alesha repeated, “Do you race?”
“No I drive around loonatics at night.”
Alesha winced before reverting back to the silence that seemed to please Sam the most.
“So...” Alesha stood on her doortstep, “Wanna come in for some ice-cream?”
Sam was still stood on the pavement and did not look all too willing to come any closer, “Ice-cream?”
“Yeah, I don't own anything else. I got a fridge though!”
“I...” Sam shrugged innocently, “Why not?!”
Alesha watched as her guest took small, awkward mouthfulls.
“Hey Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it normal for a house to make noises?”
“Well yeah, all houses make noises...” Sam put the ice-cream down and leaned forward.
“Right, and is it normal for some of those noises to be... words?”
“Words?”
“I had a conversation with my house this morning.”
Sam shuffled back, “You know, I've let a lot of creepy stuff you've done slide but...”
Alesha turned read and looked to the floor, “It's just I looked in every room to see what did it, but there was nothing.... not any wizards or elephants either...”
“Wizards?”
“What I'm saying is,” Alesha forced an edgy laugh, “What's up with that?”
Sam tapped his knees for a few seconds before shrugging yet again, “I think it means you need to get some sleep. I'll go get a blanket from the back of the cab.”
Alesha smiled, not totally satisfied with his response but couldn't argue with the fact that she desperately needed some shut-eye.
id (Part 3)
The most unorthodox of stories continues.
“Hey,” Sam nudged the sleeping Alesha with his foot, “Wake up.”
“Wha-what?” Alesha groaned, she was never much of a morning person. Even if it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon.
“I was just reading some of your stories here.” Sam waved around a hand full of papers.
“Oh yeah?” She rubbed her eyes, “What did you think?”
“Well... they're very undescriptive...”
“Yeah.”
“In fact, most of these stories seem to be heavily based around simple dialogue...”
“Yeah.”
“...Just a basic back and forth between a couple of characters...”
“Yeah.”
“And Jesus H Christ, you swear a lot in these things!”
“Fuck yeah!”
Sam frowned, “It's hard to believe anyone would actually read this stuff...”
Alesha shrugged, remaining surprisingly unhurt by Sam's honesty, and reached into the fridge. “I'm not a world class writer, I'm still pretty much just a kid, what can you expect?”
Sam too shrugged and shared her interest in the fridge.
“All I can do is improve, hey?” Alesha continued, “Yeeeah there's not much point looking in there, I have nothing.”
“I should have guessed,” Sam laughed. “Going to get any more furniture any time soon?”
“I think next on the list is a TV.”
“Really?” Sam folded his arms, “That is a bigger priority than a bed?!”
“Well I'm guessing I'll see you around, probably on some street at night.” Sam joked as he backed out of the front door.
“Yeah sure,” Alesha smiled, “Thanks for everything!”
She waved for a while before shutting the door and wondering into the bathroom.
“Oh my god!” She squealed as she faced an unknown gentleman sat on her toilet.
“Oh jeez, oh I'm sorry, what a terrible time to walk in on me, I was ju-”
“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!”
“Well I'm taking a shit.... but, the name's Robert.”
Alesha covered her eyes with her hand, “Okay Robert, if you're here to steal stuff, you chose the wrong house!”
“No, no, not at all!” The man winced as he let out god knows what, “I've just come bearing a warning. You own this place now, right?”
Alesha nodded, uncertain of the man's motives.
“Well... I advise you to get the fuck out now!”
Alesha paused before waving her finger at him, “You're the one who spoke to me yesterday morning?!”
“What?”
“I knew I wasn't going crazy!” She sighed in relief, “It's just a crazy person in my house!”
“Hey, hey, I'm not crazy!”
“Really?” Alesha gestured to Robert's current predicament.
“Alright,” he shrugged. “I'll give you that, but I wasn't here yesterday!”
“You weren't?” Alesha bit her bottom lip and crossed her arms.
“No! I was in Belgium!”
“In Belgium?”
“Yes, Belgium!”
“...Well what the hell were you doing in Belgium?!”
“Looking around, eating sprouts, I dunno! What the hell are you doing in a house without a TV!”
“Okay, okay, fine! Just tell me why I so urgently need to leave my house before I kick you out!”
Robert lifted his trousers up and moved closer to the girl. “I'm the guy.”
Alesha noticed his eyes had turned suitably crazy.
“The guy who saw the Wizard!”
“Really? So the rumors-”
“All true! I'm not crazy, I'm afraid I might have cursed this place, I checked with the last owner and she said she saw some crazy ass shit too!”
“A giant elephant by any chance?” Alesha raised an eyebrow.
“Yes! Exactly!” Robert exclaimed, “Have you seen anything freaky since you moved in?”
“Well the house talked to me yesterday morning...”
“Well there you go then! Go! Leave!”
“Hey wait,” she pointed directly between his eyes, “You're the guy who sold me a squirrel last night!”
“Oh yeah!” He clapped his hands in ridiculous delight, “How is little Ronnie doing, anyway?”
Alesha froze.
“Oh god, no! Ronnie!” Robert stormed out of the bathroom, “You know what fuck you! Enjoy living in your haunted house!”
“Wait!” Alesha hurriedly followed him down the hall but couldn't keep up, he was long gone.
She later found herself back in the corner of her living room again, thinking about the strange encounter. How could someone come from having a wizard who'd grant their every wish to selling squirrels on the street corner? And, furthermore, why did she believe him?
She stared back in to the white blank wall. Why would a wizard be considered a curse? And had her house actually spoken to her the day before?
She continued to stare in to the white blank wall before reaching for a suitably white blank piece of paper.
She wrote down seven little words;
'There Was a Wizard In My Room.'