Well, it turns out that finishing your dissertation does not automatically equal having no work to do. Silly me. Apologies for the unduly long hiatus. I'm sure I lost all but my most stalwart readers with that break. I understand. I don't have that kind of patience with blogs either.
But if you're here, hi! Welcome back.
Where were we? Ahhhhhhh yes. Angel was rapidly falling prey to Jeff's irresistible charm and armsocks. (charmsocks?) After a stupid phone conversation with Madusa, she decides to go and visit him in NC, where she plans on giving up the goods.
Violet/Marie/Nightshade/whatever lured Scott back into her evil web of seductive lies. For some reason.
Chris and Justina had the good fortune to get stuck in a hotel room next to Barry, who spent the evening entertaining a lady friend.
I think that brings us up to speed. Therefore, with no further ado, I humbly present:
Chapter 65: Discovery
“Again?” Justina cried. “How did we get stuck in a room right next to Barry and his bevy of beauties again?”
“Dumb luck, I guess.”
“I’m going to start banging on the wall with a hockey stick. That always worked in college.” [oh, how Canadian of them!]
“No hocked sticks here. You can use my boot.”
“Ugg. [as in Ugg boot? Somehow I didn’t picture Chris as wearing Ugg boots. But now I totally will.] Let’s just put the TV on again.”
“This lady is just as loud as the one in Harrisburg.”
“I know.” Justina tried burying her head under a pillow. “Oh the plus side,” she said in a muffled voice, “Now I can’t breathe.” She emerged and climbed out of bed. “Where’s the boot?”
“Foss, you can’t. I’ll make sure not to get a room next to him next time. I promise.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Come back to bed. I’ll find us a nice infomercial.”
“Chris? Listen.”
“Foss … eew.”
“It’s the same woman.”
“I reaffirm: eew.”
“It is!”
“So?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Saying what?”
“That I’m a busybody.”
“You can say that again. Give me the remote.”
“Hang on … I can almost make out her name.”
“Foss! Give them some privacy!”
“Privacy? If they wanted privacy, they’d moan more quietly. And they’d stop shouting each others’ names so effusively.”
“Effusively?”
“I know big words.” She left the bed. [when did she get back in bed? How can I not maintain continuity when there are only two characters in one room?]
“Apparently. Where are you going?”
“The bathroom.”
“Justina … you are not using a glass to listen in.”
“Gross. Of course not. I just have to pee.”
She reemerged a few minutes later. “Besides, I don’t need one. That last volley of theirs featured impressive enunciation.”
“Mystery solved.” Chris yawned and closed his eyes. “I think they’re done. Goodnight, Foss.”
“Night, Chris. And goodnight Barry and Alex.” She snuggled next to him.
Chris’ eyes snapped open. “Alex?”
“Yep. Problem?”
“No. I mean … it can’t be.”
“What?”
“Just a coincidence, I’m sure.”
“What?” Justina sat up.
“Another guy’s wife has the same name. But I’m sure it’s a common name and all.”
“Well, if this goes the same way it went in Harrisburg, she’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Look out the peephole.”
“Foss, that’s ridiculous.”
“Come on.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“Tell me what she looks like,” Justina said, walking to the door.
“You’re being insanely nosy,” he said, but he followed her and looked out the peephole. [how big is that peephole that both of them can look out of it at the same time?] Nothing. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Shh! She’s leaving!”
Chris watched the hallway. He heard Barry’s door open. There was muttering and giggling, and then, she walked towards the elevator, past Chris and Justina’s room.
It was Alexandra York Rhodes.
NOTES:
1) OHHHHHHHHHHHH SNAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wait, were any of you surprised? No one? Huh.
2) I can't help it. I still kind of like Justina and Chris. Maybe it's just the fact that she's not Angel, but I remember having fun writing their scenes way back when.
3) Speaking of way back when: thin walls, love triangles, level 20 drama ... hoo boy, there are a few things about college I will probably never miss. (things I do miss include, but are not limited to: eating pierogies at 2 AM, DDR marathons, being used as a human jump-rope)
COMING UP NEXT ...
Oh boy! We will be treated to one of Angel's extended internal monologues. Now there's a way to get readers back. Tune in next time for ...
Chapter 66: Driving South
Showing posts with label Justina Foster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Justina Foster. Show all posts
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Chapter 62: Harrisburg
Wow. It's been a while. Sorry, folks. I am THIS CLOSE to finishing my dissertation. I can see the light at the end of this 8-year tunnel of garbage. I think I'll be defending at the end of March and graduating in May. Between now and then, I'm probably going to be a little spotty with the updates. I promise never to let it go too long between posts ... but I know I won't be able to keep up my weekly schedule. I'm going to shoot for every 2 weeks. Man, I can't wait to be done with this.
Aaaaaaaaaaanyhoo, when we last left these cretins, Angel had a stupid conversation with Madusa while we all tried to keep our lunches down. Today: Barry!
I apologize for the lack of parenthetical snark in this installment. I got nothing. Feel free to supply your own in the comments section!
Chapter 62: Harrisburg
Chris put his duffel bag down and searched his pockets for the hotel key. As he rummaged, Barry Windham emerged from the neighboring door.
“Hey Barry. Good match tonight.”
“Thanks, man,” Barry said. “I’m going down to the hotel bar to get a drink. Interested?”
Chris pondered this invitation. On the one hand, a drink sounded fabulous. On the other hand, he couldn’t handle running into Angel in the lobby, the bar, the elevator—not tonight. He’d almost botched his blade job badly enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary—-that would have been horrendous—-and he had no interest in tempting fate twice.
“Nah, but thanks. Just going to hang here,” he said.
“Chris? You back?” Justina called from inside the room.
At that, Barry nodded and grinned, “Ah, I get it.”
Chris lifted his arms in mock surrender.
“Catch you later, man,” Barry said. “Hey,” he added, “You stayed in this fleabag before?”
“Dude, compared to that place in Baltimore, this here Harrisburg Best Western is hardly a fleabag.”
Barry laughed. “How thin are the walls?”
“We’ll try to keep it down,” Chris nodded gravely.
“Not me I’m worried about,” Barry said with a sly grin.
“Hey now! Alright, man. I’ll catch you later.”
Barry smacked him heartily on the back and got on to the elevator. “Enjoy your ring rat,” Chris muttered under his breath as he opened the door.
“Hey hot stuff,” Justina greeted. She was wearing very little.
------
Barry did indeed prove to Chris that the walls in the Harrisburg Best Western could use some soundproofing.
“Ugg … Again?” Justina wailed. “How are they at it again?”
“That fella has stamina.”
“And that woman has lungs.”
“You want to try and drown them out?”
“Chris, that’s weird and gross.”
“I meant with the TV.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes. Bring on the infomercials. See if you can find that one where they cut through cans and tomatoes with the same knife.”
“No promises. But I will try.”
“Who is that woman anyway?”
“With Barry? I dunno. As far as I know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He probably just met her, if you get my drift.” [I don’t know, you’re being pretty opaque.]
“You mean like a hooker?”
“No. Well … probably not. I mean like a ring rat.”
“What’s that?”
“Like a wrestling groupie.” He turned to face her, “How did you date Scott Steiner without ever hearing that term?”
“I dunno. I don’t think he knows what those are either. Like I said, he’s weird. He dated this one crazy woman before he met me.”
“Marie?”
“Yeah. I think that was her name. How’d you know?”
“Long, weird story.” Chris pushed the hair back from Justina’s eyes. “Foss, you know what?”
“What?”
Chris looked into her eyes, unsure of what he was going to say. He had meant to say something sweet and reassuring, something like “I’m happy,” or “I love being with you,” but none of those words would come out. “You … have really beautiful eyes.”
“Aww, thanks, Chris.” She smiled and pecked his nose. “Yours are also lovely. Now what say you hand me that remote. There has to be something better on than the Weather Channel.” [hey, I’ve seen some pretty good stuff on TWC].
“Actually,” Chris said, cocking his head to one side, “I think we’re out of the woods, so to speak.” He muted the TV and they both listened intently.
“I think you’re right,” Justina remarked. “Finally.”
Chris turned off the television. The room sank into darkness once again.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“How did you know about Marie?”
Chris flipped his pillow to the cool side. “Scott was good friends with Angel. I told you that, no?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did. It just slipped my mind. Small world, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Good night, Foss.”
“Night, Chris.”
NOTES:
1) Oh Barry, you're such a player.
2) Poor Justina. Chris can't even tell you that he's happy. Oh Chris, why can't you get over Angel? How hard can it be?
COMING UP NEXT:
Angel overthinks things some more and then calls Jeff. Boy howdy, Jeff is as charming as can be. And Angel is just cute as a button! Those two crazy kids and their charming cuteness! I can’t wait! I hope you’re just as excited as I am for …
Chapter 63 - Revelation
Aaaaaaaaaaanyhoo, when we last left these cretins, Angel had a stupid conversation with Madusa while we all tried to keep our lunches down. Today: Barry!
I apologize for the lack of parenthetical snark in this installment. I got nothing. Feel free to supply your own in the comments section!
Chapter 62: Harrisburg
Chris put his duffel bag down and searched his pockets for the hotel key. As he rummaged, Barry Windham emerged from the neighboring door.
“Hey Barry. Good match tonight.”
“Thanks, man,” Barry said. “I’m going down to the hotel bar to get a drink. Interested?”
Chris pondered this invitation. On the one hand, a drink sounded fabulous. On the other hand, he couldn’t handle running into Angel in the lobby, the bar, the elevator—not tonight. He’d almost botched his blade job badly enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary—-that would have been horrendous—-and he had no interest in tempting fate twice.
“Nah, but thanks. Just going to hang here,” he said.
“Chris? You back?” Justina called from inside the room.
At that, Barry nodded and grinned, “Ah, I get it.”
Chris lifted his arms in mock surrender.
“Catch you later, man,” Barry said. “Hey,” he added, “You stayed in this fleabag before?”
“Dude, compared to that place in Baltimore, this here Harrisburg Best Western is hardly a fleabag.”
Barry laughed. “How thin are the walls?”
“We’ll try to keep it down,” Chris nodded gravely.
“Not me I’m worried about,” Barry said with a sly grin.
“Hey now! Alright, man. I’ll catch you later.”
Barry smacked him heartily on the back and got on to the elevator. “Enjoy your ring rat,” Chris muttered under his breath as he opened the door.
“Hey hot stuff,” Justina greeted. She was wearing very little.
------
Barry did indeed prove to Chris that the walls in the Harrisburg Best Western could use some soundproofing.
“Ugg … Again?” Justina wailed. “How are they at it again?”
“That fella has stamina.”
“And that woman has lungs.”
“You want to try and drown them out?”
“Chris, that’s weird and gross.”
“I meant with the TV.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes. Bring on the infomercials. See if you can find that one where they cut through cans and tomatoes with the same knife.”
“No promises. But I will try.”
“Who is that woman anyway?”
“With Barry? I dunno. As far as I know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He probably just met her, if you get my drift.” [I don’t know, you’re being pretty opaque.]
“You mean like a hooker?”
“No. Well … probably not. I mean like a ring rat.”
“What’s that?”
“Like a wrestling groupie.” He turned to face her, “How did you date Scott Steiner without ever hearing that term?”
“I dunno. I don’t think he knows what those are either. Like I said, he’s weird. He dated this one crazy woman before he met me.”
“Marie?”
“Yeah. I think that was her name. How’d you know?”
“Long, weird story.” Chris pushed the hair back from Justina’s eyes. “Foss, you know what?”
“What?”
Chris looked into her eyes, unsure of what he was going to say. He had meant to say something sweet and reassuring, something like “I’m happy,” or “I love being with you,” but none of those words would come out. “You … have really beautiful eyes.”
“Aww, thanks, Chris.” She smiled and pecked his nose. “Yours are also lovely. Now what say you hand me that remote. There has to be something better on than the Weather Channel.” [hey, I’ve seen some pretty good stuff on TWC].
“Actually,” Chris said, cocking his head to one side, “I think we’re out of the woods, so to speak.” He muted the TV and they both listened intently.
“I think you’re right,” Justina remarked. “Finally.”
Chris turned off the television. The room sank into darkness once again.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“How did you know about Marie?”
Chris flipped his pillow to the cool side. “Scott was good friends with Angel. I told you that, no?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did. It just slipped my mind. Small world, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Good night, Foss.”
“Night, Chris.”
NOTES:
1) Oh Barry, you're such a player.
2) Poor Justina. Chris can't even tell you that he's happy. Oh Chris, why can't you get over Angel? How hard can it be?
COMING UP NEXT:
Angel overthinks things some more and then calls Jeff. Boy howdy, Jeff is as charming as can be. And Angel is just cute as a button! Those two crazy kids and their charming cuteness! I can’t wait! I hope you’re just as excited as I am for …
Chapter 63 - Revelation
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Chapter 60: Passenger
Previously on UnabashedlyBad: Angel and Jeff made us all want to gouge our eyes out by being generally gross. Dustin and Angel made up. Dustin talked about Tahiti. Angel decided to call Jeff. Zzzzzzzz. Today, as promised: an Angel-free chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter 60: Passenger
“So let me get this straight,” Chris said as he tossed his duffel bag into the trunk. [huzzah! Duffel bagging!] “You got a job applying make-up?”
“You make it sound so glamorous,” Justina said dryly.
“It’s just weird. All the guys do their own paint.”
“Not on guys, dipwad. On the women. You know how much they’ve got invested in T&A.”
“But I thought you were in fashion.”
“I am. But that’s more of a side job—I take orders and make ring outfits. But that’s not a steady gig. Plus,” she added, getting into the driver’s side, “Now I get to travel, see the country.”
“Sounds like a pretty lame fringe benefit, Foss. Traveling is heinous after a while.”
“So where exactly are we off to again?” she asked as Chris closed the door.
“Harrisburg, PA.”
“Long drive.” [from Baltimore? No it’s not. Not even close.]
“Yep, but cheaper than flying.” [of course it is. Who would fly from Baltimore to Harrisburg?]
“Gives us time.”
“For what?”
“To sort this out.”
“Justina …”
“Chris, it’s been a while. We need to talk. I need to talk, if nothing else.”
“Allright. I guess I’m not going anywhere … unless I want to walk to Harrisburg. Although that does sound like an attractive option right now.”
“So I think I finally saw Angel.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm. She’s the nurse, right?”
“One of them. I think there are two now.”
“Well, the one I saw was blonde.”
“They’re both blonde.”
“Oh this one was with Dustin Rhodes and …”
“That was her.”
“Ah. Well. She’s pretty.”
“Yep.”
“Extra pretty.” [you need a few more “extras” if you want to accurately convey her physical beauty, lady. Like at least a baker’s dozen of “extras”.]
“Foss …”
“I’m just saying … you have good taste. Anyway, what was she like?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, I guess. I’m just curious.”
“Well what was Scott like.”
“He was a nice guy. A little overemotional. Kind of weird about sex. But a nice guy.”
“Weird how?”
“Like … he was interested in doing it, but not about talking about it. You know?”
“Huh.”
“Yeah. So what was she like in bed?”
“Foss …” His tone sharpened.
“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.”
They sat in silence for the next few minutes. [a few minutes? They must be halfway to Harrisburg, then.]
“I don’t know, actually.”
“What?”
“What she was like in bed. We never slept together.”
“You didn’t? But I thought you’d been dating for a while.”
“We were. She was waiting for marriage.”
“Oh. Not ready to seal your coffin, eh?”
“Charming portrait of holy matrimony. And actually, she was the commitment-phobe. I proposed and she turned me down.”
“You proposed?” Justina nearly swerved into the next lane.
“Careful there.”
“Damn. I guess it was pretty serious.”
“You could say that.” Chris studied the landscape intensely. [ah, the beautiful I-83 corridor]
“I’m sorry, Chris.”
He nodded and swallowed hard.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Not really. Wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Do you … do you want her back?”
“Justina …”
“I won’t be mad, Chris. I just want an honest answer.”
“No. We’re done. We had a lot of issues independent of you and me. So no.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What are we, Chris?”
“We are … Justipher 2.0.”
“Ugg, I’ve been trying to forget that nickname ever since we graduated.”
“I lobbied hard for Chris-tina.”
“Christina Adkins shot that down.”
“Remember that crazy English professor?”
“Hey … Cavanaugh was an integral portion to my education portion.”
“Your hair was awesome back in the day.”
“Speak for yourself.” [is that the proper retort? I think she means “you’re one to talk” or something like that]
“You went through hair spray like water.”
“Again, speak for yourself.” [see above]
“Guilty,” Chris said, smiling.
“Chris, how did you end up in my hotel room?”
“That was my hotel room.”
“What a bizarre mix-up.”
“I know.”
“Fate?”
“Who knows?” Chris said. He reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. “I’ll make a deal with you. You let me sleep the rest of the way, I’ll cover gas money.” [so you get a 20-minute nap and have to chip in $3.50?]
“I choose the music.”
“Deal.” Chris opened his wallet. He grabbed two twenties and put them into the glove compartment. Before closing his wallet, he removed the picture of Angel. Justina watched him from the corner of her eye.
Chris rolled down the window and let the picture flutter out. Then he closed his eyes and reclined his seat back.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Justina said.
“Yes I did.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
NOTES:
1) That’s nice. So now women can either be nurses, secretaries, seamstresses, or make-up artists. Or, of course, vindictive psychos.
2) Chris, heartbreak is no excuse for littering. On another note, does anyone carry pictures of their girlfriends in their wallet? Slice sure as heck doesn’t. He prides himself on having as little as possible in his wallet. I think he’s got one credit card, his license, and maybe a dollar. Also, his wallet is made out of duct tape. To be fair, I’ve never given him a wallet-sized photo of me. Sears portrait studio, here I come!
COMING UP NEXT …
This Angelless chapter was nice, no? Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, because the next one is chock full o’ Angel. It also features a character I’m willing to bet most of you had forgotten about. The mystery of who that character is should probably be solved upon reading the title of our next thrilling installment … tune in next time for …
Chapter 61: Deuce
Chapter 60: Passenger
“So let me get this straight,” Chris said as he tossed his duffel bag into the trunk. [huzzah! Duffel bagging!] “You got a job applying make-up?”
“You make it sound so glamorous,” Justina said dryly.
“It’s just weird. All the guys do their own paint.”
“Not on guys, dipwad. On the women. You know how much they’ve got invested in T&A.”
“But I thought you were in fashion.”
“I am. But that’s more of a side job—I take orders and make ring outfits. But that’s not a steady gig. Plus,” she added, getting into the driver’s side, “Now I get to travel, see the country.”
“Sounds like a pretty lame fringe benefit, Foss. Traveling is heinous after a while.”
“So where exactly are we off to again?” she asked as Chris closed the door.
“Harrisburg, PA.”
“Long drive.” [from Baltimore? No it’s not. Not even close.]
“Yep, but cheaper than flying.” [of course it is. Who would fly from Baltimore to Harrisburg?]
“Gives us time.”
“For what?”
“To sort this out.”
“Justina …”
“Chris, it’s been a while. We need to talk. I need to talk, if nothing else.”
“Allright. I guess I’m not going anywhere … unless I want to walk to Harrisburg. Although that does sound like an attractive option right now.”
“So I think I finally saw Angel.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm. She’s the nurse, right?”
“One of them. I think there are two now.”
“Well, the one I saw was blonde.”
“They’re both blonde.”
“Oh this one was with Dustin Rhodes and …”
“That was her.”
“Ah. Well. She’s pretty.”
“Yep.”
“Extra pretty.” [you need a few more “extras” if you want to accurately convey her physical beauty, lady. Like at least a baker’s dozen of “extras”.]
“Foss …”
“I’m just saying … you have good taste. Anyway, what was she like?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, I guess. I’m just curious.”
“Well what was Scott like.”
“He was a nice guy. A little overemotional. Kind of weird about sex. But a nice guy.”
“Weird how?”
“Like … he was interested in doing it, but not about talking about it. You know?”
“Huh.”
“Yeah. So what was she like in bed?”
“Foss …” His tone sharpened.
“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.”
They sat in silence for the next few minutes. [a few minutes? They must be halfway to Harrisburg, then.]
“I don’t know, actually.”
“What?”
“What she was like in bed. We never slept together.”
“You didn’t? But I thought you’d been dating for a while.”
“We were. She was waiting for marriage.”
“Oh. Not ready to seal your coffin, eh?”
“Charming portrait of holy matrimony. And actually, she was the commitment-phobe. I proposed and she turned me down.”
“You proposed?” Justina nearly swerved into the next lane.
“Careful there.”
“Damn. I guess it was pretty serious.”
“You could say that.” Chris studied the landscape intensely. [ah, the beautiful I-83 corridor]
“I’m sorry, Chris.”
He nodded and swallowed hard.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Not really. Wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Do you … do you want her back?”
“Justina …”
“I won’t be mad, Chris. I just want an honest answer.”
“No. We’re done. We had a lot of issues independent of you and me. So no.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What are we, Chris?”
“We are … Justipher 2.0.”
“Ugg, I’ve been trying to forget that nickname ever since we graduated.”
“I lobbied hard for Chris-tina.”
“Christina Adkins shot that down.”
“Remember that crazy English professor?”
“Hey … Cavanaugh was an integral portion to my education portion.”
“Your hair was awesome back in the day.”
“Speak for yourself.” [is that the proper retort? I think she means “you’re one to talk” or something like that]
“You went through hair spray like water.”
“Again, speak for yourself.” [see above]
“Guilty,” Chris said, smiling.
“Chris, how did you end up in my hotel room?”
“That was my hotel room.”
“What a bizarre mix-up.”
“I know.”
“Fate?”
“Who knows?” Chris said. He reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. “I’ll make a deal with you. You let me sleep the rest of the way, I’ll cover gas money.” [so you get a 20-minute nap and have to chip in $3.50?]
“I choose the music.”
“Deal.” Chris opened his wallet. He grabbed two twenties and put them into the glove compartment. Before closing his wallet, he removed the picture of Angel. Justina watched him from the corner of her eye.
Chris rolled down the window and let the picture flutter out. Then he closed his eyes and reclined his seat back.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Justina said.
“Yes I did.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
NOTES:
1) That’s nice. So now women can either be nurses, secretaries, seamstresses, or make-up artists. Or, of course, vindictive psychos.
2) Chris, heartbreak is no excuse for littering. On another note, does anyone carry pictures of their girlfriends in their wallet? Slice sure as heck doesn’t. He prides himself on having as little as possible in his wallet. I think he’s got one credit card, his license, and maybe a dollar. Also, his wallet is made out of duct tape. To be fair, I’ve never given him a wallet-sized photo of me. Sears portrait studio, here I come!
COMING UP NEXT …
This Angelless chapter was nice, no? Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, because the next one is chock full o’ Angel. It also features a character I’m willing to bet most of you had forgotten about. The mystery of who that character is should probably be solved upon reading the title of our next thrilling installment … tune in next time for …
Chapter 61: Deuce
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Chapter 56: The Other Half (part I)
Hail, fearless readers. Last week, Jeff nauseated the entire galaxy by singing the praises of Angel's lips. This week, our stomach linings are granted a reprieve: today's chapter is approximately 87% Angel-Free. Whee!
Chapter 56: The Other Half (part I)
Angel felt as if her insides were made of gelatin. What had just happened? She grinned. Her phone rang.
“No way. He can’t be calling that soon,” she reasoned. But her heart leapt at the idea. But the caller ID was Dustin. [caller ID! Ha! Remember that?] She turned the ringer off and went to bed.
------
“Chris? You in there somewhere?” Justina asked, waving her arms theatrically in front of his face.
“Yeah … Yeah. Sorry, Foss. I’m just …”
“Thinking about the blonde.”
“How did you know she was blonde?”
“Benoit, you have a picture of her in your wallet.” [does anyone actually carry pictures of their girlfriends in their wallets?]
“Where did you get my wallet?”
“It’s open here on the end table. You should really keep track of it better.”
“Yeah. Hey, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Look … I know things are really confusing for you right now. I’m sorry I complicated everything.”
“Two to tango, Foss.”
“I know. Look, Chris … I didn’t want to ruin your life.”
Chris put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her intently. “Foss, you didn’t ruin anything. I’ve just got to sort some things out.”
She took his hands into hers and kissed them. “I have to go to work. I’ll see you later.”
Chris kissed her forehead and began to pack up his gear [woo! Duffel bagging!]. He exchanged nods and smiles with the other wrestlers who filtered through the dressing room and headed into the corridor. [sooo … this whole exchange took place in a dressing room? What was Justina doing there? Why would Chris have his wallet out on a table? How many dressing/locker rooms feature end tables?]
“Hey,” someone called behind him. Chris spun around to see Dustin Rhodes.
“What?”
“You going to tell me what’s going on with Angel?” [woah, that’s a bit forward, no?]
Chris put his bags down.
“Why the hell should I? You’re the one who screwed us up in the first place. So just back off, Rodeo Clown. I have nothing to explain to you. I owe you nothing.”
“Fair enough. Look, I know you have no reason to trust me or listen to me. And I also know that you and Angel’s relationship is none of my business … But I’m worried about her.”
“Dustin, I know she’s upset, but …”
“No—it’s not that. Chris, she left a bar last night with Jeff Hardy.”
“Jeff Hardy?”
“Yes. And when I tried to stop her, she went berserk on me. Chris, that fella is just no good. Parties all the time … with a different woman every night. Now, I’m not telling you what to do or how to run your love life, but I am telling you that you were so good for Angel, and I feel like a piece of garbage for getting in between y’all, and I’d do anything to get her away from that creep. I’ve said my piece.” [how patronizingly thoughtful of you]
Chris was silent. He clenched his jaw and offered his hand to Dustin.
“I appreciate that, Dustin. She doesn’t want to talk to me right now, and I don’t blame her. I screwed up bad. Bad. It’s going to take time. And my life is really confusing right now. So please, if you could, look after her as best you can?”
“Sure thing, Chris,” said Dustin, shaking Chris’s hand.
Chris ran his fingers through his hair, [ah, the classic physical manifestation of angst] picked up his bags, and left the arena.
NOTES:
1) Don’t you love it when male characters ask other male characters to “look after” female characters as if they were small children? Way to be progressive, college me.
2) I love how everyone knows Jeff Hardy well enough to have heard of him both as a wrestler and as a womanizer, but Angel couldn’t recognize him at the bar.
3) I kind of liked Chris in this chapter. Until he started showing concern for Angel.
COMING UP NEXT ....
In this chapter's exciting conclusion, Angel talks to various people on the phone. Wait, let me read it over again ... yeah, no, it's just talking to people on the phone. That's it.
See you next time for ...
Chapter 56: The Other Half (Part II)
Chapter 56: The Other Half (part I)
Angel felt as if her insides were made of gelatin. What had just happened? She grinned. Her phone rang.
“No way. He can’t be calling that soon,” she reasoned. But her heart leapt at the idea. But the caller ID was Dustin. [caller ID! Ha! Remember that?] She turned the ringer off and went to bed.
------
“Chris? You in there somewhere?” Justina asked, waving her arms theatrically in front of his face.
“Yeah … Yeah. Sorry, Foss. I’m just …”
“Thinking about the blonde.”
“How did you know she was blonde?”
“Benoit, you have a picture of her in your wallet.” [does anyone actually carry pictures of their girlfriends in their wallets?]
“Where did you get my wallet?”
“It’s open here on the end table. You should really keep track of it better.”
“Yeah. Hey, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Look … I know things are really confusing for you right now. I’m sorry I complicated everything.”
“Two to tango, Foss.”
“I know. Look, Chris … I didn’t want to ruin your life.”
Chris put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her intently. “Foss, you didn’t ruin anything. I’ve just got to sort some things out.”
She took his hands into hers and kissed them. “I have to go to work. I’ll see you later.”
Chris kissed her forehead and began to pack up his gear [woo! Duffel bagging!]. He exchanged nods and smiles with the other wrestlers who filtered through the dressing room and headed into the corridor. [sooo … this whole exchange took place in a dressing room? What was Justina doing there? Why would Chris have his wallet out on a table? How many dressing/locker rooms feature end tables?]
“Hey,” someone called behind him. Chris spun around to see Dustin Rhodes.
“What?”
“You going to tell me what’s going on with Angel?” [woah, that’s a bit forward, no?]
Chris put his bags down.
“Why the hell should I? You’re the one who screwed us up in the first place. So just back off, Rodeo Clown. I have nothing to explain to you. I owe you nothing.”
“Fair enough. Look, I know you have no reason to trust me or listen to me. And I also know that you and Angel’s relationship is none of my business … But I’m worried about her.”
“Dustin, I know she’s upset, but …”
“No—it’s not that. Chris, she left a bar last night with Jeff Hardy.”
“Jeff Hardy?”
“Yes. And when I tried to stop her, she went berserk on me. Chris, that fella is just no good. Parties all the time … with a different woman every night. Now, I’m not telling you what to do or how to run your love life, but I am telling you that you were so good for Angel, and I feel like a piece of garbage for getting in between y’all, and I’d do anything to get her away from that creep. I’ve said my piece.” [how patronizingly thoughtful of you]
Chris was silent. He clenched his jaw and offered his hand to Dustin.
“I appreciate that, Dustin. She doesn’t want to talk to me right now, and I don’t blame her. I screwed up bad. Bad. It’s going to take time. And my life is really confusing right now. So please, if you could, look after her as best you can?”
“Sure thing, Chris,” said Dustin, shaking Chris’s hand.
Chris ran his fingers through his hair, [ah, the classic physical manifestation of angst] picked up his bags, and left the arena.
NOTES:
1) Don’t you love it when male characters ask other male characters to “look after” female characters as if they were small children? Way to be progressive, college me.
2) I love how everyone knows Jeff Hardy well enough to have heard of him both as a wrestler and as a womanizer, but Angel couldn’t recognize him at the bar.
3) I kind of liked Chris in this chapter. Until he started showing concern for Angel.
COMING UP NEXT ....
In this chapter's exciting conclusion, Angel talks to various people on the phone. Wait, let me read it over again ... yeah, no, it's just talking to people on the phone. That's it.
See you next time for ...
Chapter 56: The Other Half (Part II)
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Chapter 54: Again
Salutations, all.
Where were we? Ah yes. Courtesy of Violet’s Evil Scheme, Chris bumped into his ex-girlfriend. Courtesy of Justina’s lavender nightie, they instantly started knocking boots. Then Angel and Scott realized that their significant others had slept together and almost had A Moment. Today: Chris talks to people on the phone.
Chapter 54: Again
Chris stared at the phone in his hand. Should he call? Shouldn’t he call? What would she say? What would he say? e looked down at the He looked down at the slip of paper and dialed the numbers.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Foss.”
“Chris?”
“In the flesh … err … on the phone.”
“Dipwad.”
“Lovely.”
“I am.”
“I know.” [oh, the wittiness of this repartee]
“Benoit, we’ve been having the same conversation since we met.”
“Minus 10 years.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“I know. It’s kind of weird.”
“I missed your voice.”
“I did too. What happened to us?”
“Just drifted apart … one of those things. We were kids.”
“We had dreams.”
“We had different dreams.”
“Yeah we did. Looks like they’re overlapping a little now.” Chris laughed.
“I guess so. Some cosmic forces want us together.” [if by cosmic forces you mean an irrationally vindictive psycho with three names, then yes, you are correct]
“Maybe. Look, Foss. Did you tell your boyfriend about us?”
“Yeah. Didn’t take it so well. Did you tell your woman?”
“No. It’s gonna be rough.”
“I ended up dating a wrestler, you know. I guess you got me hooked.” [how? It’s not like he was a wrestler when they were in college]
“I guess so. It must be the muscles.”
“They help.”
“So, who was it?”
“Scott Steiner.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“Holy crap.”
“What?”
“Dude is best friends with my ex.” [oh, so she’s your ex now? Does this mean that you won’t agonize over how you cheated on her? I’m guessing not.]
“Woah. Small freaking world. I guess she must know then.”
Chris was struck silent.
“Christopher?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Hey, Foss, why don’t we meet up later or something? Tomorrow night?”
“Ok. You gonna be all right?”
“Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
Chris hung up the phone. His head swam in circles. What was he going to do? How had his life turned upside down so quickly? Did Angel really know? Only one way to find out. He dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“Angel?”
“Chris.”
“How are you?”
“Fine. You?”
“Oh, you know, hanging in there.”
“Tell me it’s not true, Chris.”
“I can’t.”
“Ok.” Her voice was oddly calm.
“Angel …”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear any of it. I don’t want to hear a single word of explanation. Not one lurid detail about you and her and what you did. Just leave me alone, Chris. I honestly mean it.”
“Angel …”
“Weren’t you listening to me?” she was shouting now. “I don’t want to talk to you. You’re just like all the rest of them. So go and be with your college sweetheart … go screw each others’ brains out. But don’t you ever, ever speak another word to me.”
With that, she slammed the phone down. Chris threw down the receiver and gritted his teeth.
“Angel … I’m so sorry.” He turned out the lights, sat in the dark, and stared at the ceiling. [how can he sit down and stare at the ceiling? Won’t that hurt his neck? Well, at least he’s not crying. Which is odd, because I think that this is an appropriate crying situation.]
NOTES:
1) Yes, this chapter was pretty much just people talking on the phone. Hey, at least that means no extended descriptions of the night air or, like, Angel’s internal anguish.
OK, folks. So here’s the deal: I took a lengthy break from this in 1996. In that year, I actually developed a social life, which included getting a real boyfriend. So there was actually a three-year gap between this chapter and the next one that I wrote. Yes, I was 19 when I wrote most of the rest of this. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I kept it up throughout college. Yes, some of you knew me personally when I was writing this.
So you might be saying to yourself: “You were a semi-adult when you wrote this? AND an English major? AND the editor of your college literary magazine? Why then surely what follows must be well-written, incisive prose.”
Uhm, no. No it’s not. It’s still crap. You see, even though I was older and “wiser,” I wrote this in pencil in marble notebooks and had no intention of ever showing anybody. This means I never edited it, planned ahead, or worried about the quality of the writing. It might not be as gut-wrenchingly horrific as some of the oldest stuff, but it’s still … unabashedly bad. And I’m going to keep on posting it. Yes, eventually, I will get to the point where I’m fresh out of the old stuff. But never fear; that’ll be quite a while from now. And I’ve got a plan for a fun way to continue past then.
Anyhoo … on to the matter of the next chapter.
Coming up next …
Angel goes to a bar (!) and gets hit on. You know, because she’s so beautiful and all. And at this bar, she has an alcoholic beverage (!)
BUT WHICH BEVERAGE???
That’s right … it’s another Unabashedly Bad Contest. If you can guess what alcoholic beverage our beloved Mary Sue imbibes, you will win a WWF VHS from my personal collection. Leave guesses in the comments section.
See you next time for …
Chapter 55 – Reevaluation
Where were we? Ah yes. Courtesy of Violet’s Evil Scheme, Chris bumped into his ex-girlfriend. Courtesy of Justina’s lavender nightie, they instantly started knocking boots. Then Angel and Scott realized that their significant others had slept together and almost had A Moment. Today: Chris talks to people on the phone.
Chapter 54: Again
Chris stared at the phone in his hand. Should he call? Shouldn’t he call? What would she say? What would he say? e looked down at the He looked down at the slip of paper and dialed the numbers.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Foss.”
“Chris?”
“In the flesh … err … on the phone.”
“Dipwad.”
“Lovely.”
“I am.”
“I know.” [oh, the wittiness of this repartee]
“Benoit, we’ve been having the same conversation since we met.”
“Minus 10 years.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“I know. It’s kind of weird.”
“I missed your voice.”
“I did too. What happened to us?”
“Just drifted apart … one of those things. We were kids.”
“We had dreams.”
“We had different dreams.”
“Yeah we did. Looks like they’re overlapping a little now.” Chris laughed.
“I guess so. Some cosmic forces want us together.” [if by cosmic forces you mean an irrationally vindictive psycho with three names, then yes, you are correct]
“Maybe. Look, Foss. Did you tell your boyfriend about us?”
“Yeah. Didn’t take it so well. Did you tell your woman?”
“No. It’s gonna be rough.”
“I ended up dating a wrestler, you know. I guess you got me hooked.” [how? It’s not like he was a wrestler when they were in college]
“I guess so. It must be the muscles.”
“They help.”
“So, who was it?”
“Scott Steiner.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“Holy crap.”
“What?”
“Dude is best friends with my ex.” [oh, so she’s your ex now? Does this mean that you won’t agonize over how you cheated on her? I’m guessing not.]
“Woah. Small freaking world. I guess she must know then.”
Chris was struck silent.
“Christopher?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Hey, Foss, why don’t we meet up later or something? Tomorrow night?”
“Ok. You gonna be all right?”
“Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
Chris hung up the phone. His head swam in circles. What was he going to do? How had his life turned upside down so quickly? Did Angel really know? Only one way to find out. He dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“Angel?”
“Chris.”
“How are you?”
“Fine. You?”
“Oh, you know, hanging in there.”
“Tell me it’s not true, Chris.”
“I can’t.”
“Ok.” Her voice was oddly calm.
“Angel …”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear any of it. I don’t want to hear a single word of explanation. Not one lurid detail about you and her and what you did. Just leave me alone, Chris. I honestly mean it.”
“Angel …”
“Weren’t you listening to me?” she was shouting now. “I don’t want to talk to you. You’re just like all the rest of them. So go and be with your college sweetheart … go screw each others’ brains out. But don’t you ever, ever speak another word to me.”
With that, she slammed the phone down. Chris threw down the receiver and gritted his teeth.
“Angel … I’m so sorry.” He turned out the lights, sat in the dark, and stared at the ceiling. [how can he sit down and stare at the ceiling? Won’t that hurt his neck? Well, at least he’s not crying. Which is odd, because I think that this is an appropriate crying situation.]
NOTES:
1) Yes, this chapter was pretty much just people talking on the phone. Hey, at least that means no extended descriptions of the night air or, like, Angel’s internal anguish.
OK, folks. So here’s the deal: I took a lengthy break from this in 1996. In that year, I actually developed a social life, which included getting a real boyfriend. So there was actually a three-year gap between this chapter and the next one that I wrote. Yes, I was 19 when I wrote most of the rest of this. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I kept it up throughout college. Yes, some of you knew me personally when I was writing this.
So you might be saying to yourself: “You were a semi-adult when you wrote this? AND an English major? AND the editor of your college literary magazine? Why then surely what follows must be well-written, incisive prose.”
Uhm, no. No it’s not. It’s still crap. You see, even though I was older and “wiser,” I wrote this in pencil in marble notebooks and had no intention of ever showing anybody. This means I never edited it, planned ahead, or worried about the quality of the writing. It might not be as gut-wrenchingly horrific as some of the oldest stuff, but it’s still … unabashedly bad. And I’m going to keep on posting it. Yes, eventually, I will get to the point where I’m fresh out of the old stuff. But never fear; that’ll be quite a while from now. And I’ve got a plan for a fun way to continue past then.
Anyhoo … on to the matter of the next chapter.
Coming up next …
Angel goes to a bar (!) and gets hit on. You know, because she’s so beautiful and all. And at this bar, she has an alcoholic beverage (!)
BUT WHICH BEVERAGE???
That’s right … it’s another Unabashedly Bad Contest. If you can guess what alcoholic beverage our beloved Mary Sue imbibes, you will win a WWF VHS from my personal collection. Leave guesses in the comments section.
See you next time for …
Chapter 55 – Reevaluation
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part II)
Alright, buds. It’s me again. A day late again. Many apologies. I continue to blame work. Actually, it’s not so much my job per se as it the ridiculousness of the academic job market. It’s BAD out there, my friends. BAD. Almost as bad as …
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (part II)
They shared an English Lit class in their Freshman years at Edmonton University. He perfectly recalled the first day he had caught eyes with her:
She was wearing an Edmonton Oilers tee-shirt and giant neon green bangles on her wrists. Her spirals of copper hair exploded from her head in a myriad of directions.
“Is this English Literature 101?” She had asked him, staring down at a crumpled schedule.
Chris: long-haired, sort of gawky, decked out in a Black Sabbath shirt [uhm, was his Frankie Valli shirt in the wash?] and black boots, mumbled: “I think so.”
They sat next to each other as Professor Cavanaugh entered the room. Without missing a breath, he delved right into a speech. “First of all, I loathe wasting time. I also loathe tardiness. The first portion of literature we will be studying is a portion of the works from the Shelley portion of our Anthology.”
From that day on, Justina and Chris kept a daily tally on how many times Professor Cavanaugh said “portion” in a class. They would fight to stifle giggles and kick each other under the desk. A smile stretched across Chris’ face when he thought of the day of their first big exam. Upon reading the first question, “In which portion of the play Macbeth does the first portion of blood imagery come into play,” they had both burst into uncontrollable laughter. They then sat through a lengthy lecture (containing 31 “portions”) and were given one more chance to shape up before failing the semester. [for laughing during a test? Dang]
He recalled their first “date.” He invited her to watch the Oilers game with him in the commons [sic] room. They laughed over every stupid commercial—Chris was astounded that someone else found Mr. Whipple as amusing as he. He walked her back to her dorm and they turned towards each other in the doorway. There was no awkwardness in this moment. The night surrounded them in an inky fluid. The moon caught her face in a soft, luscious light. She smiled up at him and he brought her lips [sic] down on to hers gently. She touched the back of his neck lightly and then pulled back.
“The dating portion was fun, Chris, and the kissing portion was fantastic, but we both need to study before we fail the English 101 portion of our college years.”
He looked at her and grinned. “No, cousin. I’ll to Fife.”
“What?”
“Well, Shakespeare is romantic, and that’s the only line I can remember.” [actually, this is a remarkably accurate depiction of the way most freshmen think of Shakespeare. That’s because they read Romeo and Juliet, which does not contain cannibalism, infanticide, gang rape, and mutilation. That’s Titus Andronicus. You don't read that in high school. For good reason.]
“I think you need to study more than I do. Goodnight, Christopher. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He saw her tomorrow. He saw her the next day. He saw her every day for the next four years. And then they separated with promises to stay faithful. But time had watered down their bonds – she moved to Michigan, he began his wrestling career.
And here they were now.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“What ya thinking about?”
“Everything. This is so weird, Justina.”
“I know. But it was great.”
“Yeah.”
“Chris? I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh. I have … uh … an Angel.” [oh, gross]
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
“Did that really just happen?”
“I’d ask you to pinch me, but if you did, it’d probably happen again.”
She giggled. He put his socks on. [where is he going? What time is it?]
“I have to go to work, Foss.”
“Me too.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“I’m sure.”
She pinched him anyway. Just in case.
NOTES:
1) Look, folks, I’m going to out myself as a college English teacher here. Because I simply must express my incredulity: How are Shelley and Macbeth being taught in the same course? That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever written.
2) I had a biology teacher who comically overused the word “portion.” I always counted. Her record was 89 “portions” in one class. It was amazing.
3) I had an English teacher who repeated the line “No cousin. I’ll to Fife” incessantly. It supposedly demonstrated Macduff’s integrity. I’m playing it for “comedy” here, of course. Apologies to the Bard.
4) Where was the "discussion" of the "reprocussions" [sic]? I guess it was more important to flex my writing muscles by overwrought descriptions of the magical night.
And alas, the answer was Mr. Whipple. No contest winners this round. But another one is coming up in chapter 55!
COMING UP NEXT:
Scott and Angel have a chat. And unlike all of their previous chats, important information is actually exchanged. And there are meltdowns. But, seeing as how Scott and Angel are involved, they are dumb meltdowns.
Tune in next time for …
Chapter 53: Company
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (part II)
They shared an English Lit class in their Freshman years at Edmonton University. He perfectly recalled the first day he had caught eyes with her:
She was wearing an Edmonton Oilers tee-shirt and giant neon green bangles on her wrists. Her spirals of copper hair exploded from her head in a myriad of directions.
“Is this English Literature 101?” She had asked him, staring down at a crumpled schedule.
Chris: long-haired, sort of gawky, decked out in a Black Sabbath shirt [uhm, was his Frankie Valli shirt in the wash?] and black boots, mumbled: “I think so.”
They sat next to each other as Professor Cavanaugh entered the room. Without missing a breath, he delved right into a speech. “First of all, I loathe wasting time. I also loathe tardiness. The first portion of literature we will be studying is a portion of the works from the Shelley portion of our Anthology.”
From that day on, Justina and Chris kept a daily tally on how many times Professor Cavanaugh said “portion” in a class. They would fight to stifle giggles and kick each other under the desk. A smile stretched across Chris’ face when he thought of the day of their first big exam. Upon reading the first question, “In which portion of the play Macbeth does the first portion of blood imagery come into play,” they had both burst into uncontrollable laughter. They then sat through a lengthy lecture (containing 31 “portions”) and were given one more chance to shape up before failing the semester. [for laughing during a test? Dang]
He recalled their first “date.” He invited her to watch the Oilers game with him in the commons [sic] room. They laughed over every stupid commercial—Chris was astounded that someone else found Mr. Whipple as amusing as he. He walked her back to her dorm and they turned towards each other in the doorway. There was no awkwardness in this moment. The night surrounded them in an inky fluid. The moon caught her face in a soft, luscious light. She smiled up at him and he brought her lips [sic] down on to hers gently. She touched the back of his neck lightly and then pulled back.
“The dating portion was fun, Chris, and the kissing portion was fantastic, but we both need to study before we fail the English 101 portion of our college years.”
He looked at her and grinned. “No, cousin. I’ll to Fife.”
“What?”
“Well, Shakespeare is romantic, and that’s the only line I can remember.” [actually, this is a remarkably accurate depiction of the way most freshmen think of Shakespeare. That’s because they read Romeo and Juliet, which does not contain cannibalism, infanticide, gang rape, and mutilation. That’s Titus Andronicus. You don't read that in high school. For good reason.]
“I think you need to study more than I do. Goodnight, Christopher. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He saw her tomorrow. He saw her the next day. He saw her every day for the next four years. And then they separated with promises to stay faithful. But time had watered down their bonds – she moved to Michigan, he began his wrestling career.
And here they were now.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“What ya thinking about?”
“Everything. This is so weird, Justina.”
“I know. But it was great.”
“Yeah.”
“Chris? I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh. I have … uh … an Angel.” [oh, gross]
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
“Did that really just happen?”
“I’d ask you to pinch me, but if you did, it’d probably happen again.”
She giggled. He put his socks on. [where is he going? What time is it?]
“I have to go to work, Foss.”
“Me too.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“I’m sure.”
She pinched him anyway. Just in case.
NOTES:
1) Look, folks, I’m going to out myself as a college English teacher here. Because I simply must express my incredulity: How are Shelley and Macbeth being taught in the same course? That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever written.
2) I had a biology teacher who comically overused the word “portion.” I always counted. Her record was 89 “portions” in one class. It was amazing.
3) I had an English teacher who repeated the line “No cousin. I’ll to Fife” incessantly. It supposedly demonstrated Macduff’s integrity. I’m playing it for “comedy” here, of course. Apologies to the Bard.
4) Where was the "discussion" of the "reprocussions" [sic]? I guess it was more important to flex my writing muscles by overwrought descriptions of the magical night.
And alas, the answer was Mr. Whipple. No contest winners this round. But another one is coming up in chapter 55!
COMING UP NEXT:
Scott and Angel have a chat. And unlike all of their previous chats, important information is actually exchanged. And there are meltdowns. But, seeing as how Scott and Angel are involved, they are dumb meltdowns.
Tune in next time for …
Chapter 53: Company
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay, ladies and gents. Busy with junk and stuff. Hope the marvelous stupidity of Chris' inner monologue in this chapter will make up for the lateness.
Enjoy!
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
Justina cuddled closer to Chris and smiled. He ran his fingers through her curls and kissed her head.
“That was …”
“Phenomenal,” he finished.
“Mmm.”
“But … back to reality. What are you doing in my hotel room, Foss?”
“Your hotel room? This is my hotel room.” [cue the wacky hijinx music]
“How? This wing is for WCW employees.” [they have their own wing now? Oh, whatever.]
“Your point being ...?”
“What, you got a job here?”
“You betcha. And Felicia Baigen showed me to this room.”
“Who?”
“I think she’s like some executive assistant or something. She’s got all of the paperwork and reservation thingies if you don’t believe me.”
“Course I believe you. Guess there was just a mix up. So what’re you doing here? Seamstress?”
“Tailor,” she corrected. [ah yes. That sounds much more believable.]
“Ah.” He turned his head and looked at her, eyes flashing.
“I know that twinkle.”
“Do you?” He grinned.
“Don’t you ever run out of energy?”
“Not with someone like you. Just watching you blink is sexy.”
She fluttered here eyelids in response.
“Oh baby.”
Hours later [hours? Dang.], Justina’s red head settled into the crook of his elbow as she slept peacefully [wait, what time is it anyway?]. Chris’ temporary brain fog had dissolved. Reality bit into him like a gust of winter. This woman lying next to him was not Angel. [duh. You just had sex with her. Wasn’t that clue #1?] He had just spent the last six hours releasing all his sexual frustration [eew?] on someone who was not Angel [hence the frustration, no?]. It was not their long-awaited wedding night; it was a week after he had dumped her. And this woman was not Angel. Chris closed his eyes and tried to convince himself otherwise. He was at Angel’s hosue and they had fallen asleep watching TV [naked?]. What had they been watching? The Pelican Brief. But it had gotten boring and … oh, to hell with it. It was no use. He could not pretend that the floor to the left of the bed wasn’t littered with their clothes, that the sheets weren’t tangled around his ankles, or that the woman next to him wasn’t anyone but Angel. [wait, did that last part make sense?]
How could this have happened? He hadn’t seen Justina in 10 years. How could he have had sex with her 10 minutes after meeting her again [maybe it was the lavender negligee]. Where had been his self-control? The truth was, he hadn’t even thought for a second about Angel [congratulations, Chris. Congratulations]. Maybe what had just happened was a sign of some sort. Maybe it was time to move on.
Chris heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He was in a mess. He felt like he had cheated on Angel and they weren’t even technically still going out. Well … she had kissed Dustin Rhodes. But Chris had done much more than just kiss Justina. Should he tell Angel? Did it even matter? It would kill her.
This week without her had been torture for Chris. Was he just using Justina to escape his troubles? What did he feel for her? He had truly loved her in College, but what about now? [uhm, you just ran into her six hours ago. Chill.] Maybe she was a totally different person. He had changed quite a bit. He remembered the way they had been. They shared an English Lit class in their Freshman years at Edmonton University. He perfectly recalled the first day he had caught eyes with her ...
NOTES:
1) I swear I wrote this long before the “we were on a break” Ross and Rachel drama that ate Friends.
2) That’s nice. So women can either be nurses, airheads, vindictive bitches, or seamstresses. Excuse me … tailors.
COMING UP NEXT:
Chris waxes nostalgic about his relationship with Justina. I try to be a Serious Author by using Extensive Descriptions of, like, the moon and stuff. And I mention a beloved television commercial icon from the 80's. BUT WHICH ONE? That's right, folks. It's another UNABASHEDLY BAD CONTEST. The prize: a wrestling VHS from my personal collection. You know you want one. Leave your guesses in the comments section! And join us next week for ...
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
Enjoy!
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
Justina cuddled closer to Chris and smiled. He ran his fingers through her curls and kissed her head.
“That was …”
“Phenomenal,” he finished.
“Mmm.”
“But … back to reality. What are you doing in my hotel room, Foss?”
“Your hotel room? This is my hotel room.” [cue the wacky hijinx music]
“How? This wing is for WCW employees.” [they have their own wing now? Oh, whatever.]
“Your point being ...?”
“What, you got a job here?”
“You betcha. And Felicia Baigen showed me to this room.”
“Who?”
“I think she’s like some executive assistant or something. She’s got all of the paperwork and reservation thingies if you don’t believe me.”
“Course I believe you. Guess there was just a mix up. So what’re you doing here? Seamstress?”
“Tailor,” she corrected. [ah yes. That sounds much more believable.]
“Ah.” He turned his head and looked at her, eyes flashing.
“I know that twinkle.”
“Do you?” He grinned.
“Don’t you ever run out of energy?”
“Not with someone like you. Just watching you blink is sexy.”
She fluttered here eyelids in response.
“Oh baby.”
Hours later [hours? Dang.], Justina’s red head settled into the crook of his elbow as she slept peacefully [wait, what time is it anyway?]. Chris’ temporary brain fog had dissolved. Reality bit into him like a gust of winter. This woman lying next to him was not Angel. [duh. You just had sex with her. Wasn’t that clue #1?] He had just spent the last six hours releasing all his sexual frustration [eew?] on someone who was not Angel [hence the frustration, no?]. It was not their long-awaited wedding night; it was a week after he had dumped her. And this woman was not Angel. Chris closed his eyes and tried to convince himself otherwise. He was at Angel’s hosue and they had fallen asleep watching TV [naked?]. What had they been watching? The Pelican Brief. But it had gotten boring and … oh, to hell with it. It was no use. He could not pretend that the floor to the left of the bed wasn’t littered with their clothes, that the sheets weren’t tangled around his ankles, or that the woman next to him wasn’t anyone but Angel. [wait, did that last part make sense?]
How could this have happened? He hadn’t seen Justina in 10 years. How could he have had sex with her 10 minutes after meeting her again [maybe it was the lavender negligee]. Where had been his self-control? The truth was, he hadn’t even thought for a second about Angel [congratulations, Chris. Congratulations]. Maybe what had just happened was a sign of some sort. Maybe it was time to move on.
Chris heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He was in a mess. He felt like he had cheated on Angel and they weren’t even technically still going out. Well … she had kissed Dustin Rhodes. But Chris had done much more than just kiss Justina. Should he tell Angel? Did it even matter? It would kill her.
This week without her had been torture for Chris. Was he just using Justina to escape his troubles? What did he feel for her? He had truly loved her in College, but what about now? [uhm, you just ran into her six hours ago. Chill.] Maybe she was a totally different person. He had changed quite a bit. He remembered the way they had been. They shared an English Lit class in their Freshman years at Edmonton University. He perfectly recalled the first day he had caught eyes with her ...
NOTES:
1) I swear I wrote this long before the “we were on a break” Ross and Rachel drama that ate Friends.
2) That’s nice. So women can either be nurses, airheads, vindictive bitches, or seamstresses. Excuse me … tailors.
COMING UP NEXT:
Chris waxes nostalgic about his relationship with Justina. I try to be a Serious Author by using Extensive Descriptions of, like, the moon and stuff. And I mention a beloved television commercial icon from the 80's. BUT WHICH ONE? That's right, folks. It's another UNABASHEDLY BAD CONTEST. The prize: a wrestling VHS from my personal collection. You know you want one. Leave your guesses in the comments section! And join us next week for ...
Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Chapter 51: In the Dark
Chapter 51: In the Dark
The phone rang, jarring Angel from a sleep she had entered with great difficulty.
“Hello,” she rasped.
“Ang? Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“Sorta. What’s up, Scott?”
“Not much – what are you doing asleep?” [what kind of a question is that?]
“What are you doing awake? It’s … oh, it’s only 9:30, sorry.”
“Are you sick?”
“No, no.”
“Then what? You sound distressed.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s Chris.” [you remember that she has a boyfriend? And that this boyfriend has a name? how novel!]
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“It’s such a long story.”
“I have a while.”
“You’re sure you want to hear this?” [why isn’t she asking this of the readers?]
“Of course.”
“Okay.” Angel told him the entire story, from her kiss with Dustin to their pact to say away from each other for a few weeks. [her and Dustin’s pact? Of course not. Why would Angel and Dustin try to stay away from each other when instead they can be having sock-optional sleepovers?]
“That’s rough, Ang. I’m sorry.”
“Could be worse,” she sighed. [hey! Irony! Look how unsubtle!]
“Don’t worry. You two were made for each other. It’ll be okay.” [AngelSense™]
“I hope so. So what’s new with you, Scott?”
“I’m in love!” he nearly shouted. [that’s nice. That’s exactly what you say to someone who is having relationship troubles bad enough to alter her sleeping patterns.]
“That’s fabulous! Is it that woman you told me about before? What was her name … Justine?”
“Justina, and yes, she puts Marie in the dust.”
“Great! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I just called to tell you that she got a job at WCW with you, so maybe you can see her around.”
“Ooh! We can gossip about you!”
“Uh-oh. I’d better look out.”
Angel giggled. “What’s her last name?”
“Foster. She’s soooo beautiful.” [I can’t believe he didn’t offer up this information, as well as her hair and eye color, the second Angel picked up the phone.]
Foster … Justina Foster … Angel thought and thought but she couldn’t remember where she’d heard that name before.
“Can’t wait to meet her. Scott, nothing personal, but I’m dead tired.”
“Oh. Ok. Sorry to wake you.”
“That’s allright. I’ll see you soon.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Scott nearly bouncing off the walls with joy, Angel trying to dispel that nagging feeling she had that something was terribly out of kilter.
NOTES:
1) How can Angel not remember Justina’s name? Don’t you pay a lot of attention to your significant others when they discuss exes? Because that’s interesting stuff and it gives you all kinds of insight into their personalities and whatnot. And then you gladly accept the invitation your partner gives you to look at old pictures from college and you scrutinize the photos of him and his old girlfriends to make sure that you are prettier. Or maybe that’s just me. Wait, where was I? Ah yes. Justina. Well, let’s just chalk this one up to plot contrivance.
2) I would actually like to see Angel and Justina gossiping about Scott. I wonder how long it would take before Justina asked Angel if Scott has always had such a bizarre relationship with his brother and such confusing sexual mores, to which Angel would reply: “What are you talking about? Let’s get back to me here.”
COMING UP NEXT …
Justina and Chris stave off guilt by having at it once more, then Chris takes a trip down memory lane. See what I thought people did in college years before I actually went there. It’s a long chapter, so I think I’m going to split it up. The second part will feature a contest! Wheee!
Tune in next week for … Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
The phone rang, jarring Angel from a sleep she had entered with great difficulty.
“Hello,” she rasped.
“Ang? Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“Sorta. What’s up, Scott?”
“Not much – what are you doing asleep?” [what kind of a question is that?]
“What are you doing awake? It’s … oh, it’s only 9:30, sorry.”
“Are you sick?”
“No, no.”
“Then what? You sound distressed.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s Chris.” [you remember that she has a boyfriend? And that this boyfriend has a name? how novel!]
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“It’s such a long story.”
“I have a while.”
“You’re sure you want to hear this?” [why isn’t she asking this of the readers?]
“Of course.”
“Okay.” Angel told him the entire story, from her kiss with Dustin to their pact to say away from each other for a few weeks. [her and Dustin’s pact? Of course not. Why would Angel and Dustin try to stay away from each other when instead they can be having sock-optional sleepovers?]
“That’s rough, Ang. I’m sorry.”
“Could be worse,” she sighed. [hey! Irony! Look how unsubtle!]
“Don’t worry. You two were made for each other. It’ll be okay.” [AngelSense™]
“I hope so. So what’s new with you, Scott?”
“I’m in love!” he nearly shouted. [that’s nice. That’s exactly what you say to someone who is having relationship troubles bad enough to alter her sleeping patterns.]
“That’s fabulous! Is it that woman you told me about before? What was her name … Justine?”
“Justina, and yes, she puts Marie in the dust.”
“Great! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I just called to tell you that she got a job at WCW with you, so maybe you can see her around.”
“Ooh! We can gossip about you!”
“Uh-oh. I’d better look out.”
Angel giggled. “What’s her last name?”
“Foster. She’s soooo beautiful.” [I can’t believe he didn’t offer up this information, as well as her hair and eye color, the second Angel picked up the phone.]
Foster … Justina Foster … Angel thought and thought but she couldn’t remember where she’d heard that name before.
“Can’t wait to meet her. Scott, nothing personal, but I’m dead tired.”
“Oh. Ok. Sorry to wake you.”
“That’s allright. I’ll see you soon.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Scott nearly bouncing off the walls with joy, Angel trying to dispel that nagging feeling she had that something was terribly out of kilter.
NOTES:
1) How can Angel not remember Justina’s name? Don’t you pay a lot of attention to your significant others when they discuss exes? Because that’s interesting stuff and it gives you all kinds of insight into their personalities and whatnot. And then you gladly accept the invitation your partner gives you to look at old pictures from college and you scrutinize the photos of him and his old girlfriends to make sure that you are prettier. Or maybe that’s just me. Wait, where was I? Ah yes. Justina. Well, let’s just chalk this one up to plot contrivance.
2) I would actually like to see Angel and Justina gossiping about Scott. I wonder how long it would take before Justina asked Angel if Scott has always had such a bizarre relationship with his brother and such confusing sexual mores, to which Angel would reply: “What are you talking about? Let’s get back to me here.”
COMING UP NEXT …
Justina and Chris stave off guilt by having at it once more, then Chris takes a trip down memory lane. See what I thought people did in college years before I actually went there. It’s a long chapter, so I think I’m going to split it up. The second part will feature a contest! Wheee!
Tune in next week for … Chapter 52: Reprocussion [sic] Discussion (Part I)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Chapter 50: Mate
Sorry this one is a day late, folks. I got super busy over here. This time of year is a little hectic at my job and it's probably not going to quiet down until Christmas. But that most assuredly will not stop me from festooning you with this drivel.
So ... last week, Justina took a shower and put on two different outfits before going to bed. Chris walked into his hotel room and discovered Justina standing there in one of those two outfits. GASP. Today: cue the bow chicka wow wows.
Chapter 50: Mate
The present melted away from Chris's conscious mind and the past flooded in.
It was 1986. Chris was in his second year of college at Edmonton University. Memories flashed at him in bits and pieces [is this a flashback within a flashback?]. The way her hair always smelled. The tiny birthmark that looked just like a seahorse on her stomach. Her perfect impression of Professor Cavanaugh. The way she said his name. The warm, passionate, excited sparkles in her hazel eyes when she informed him that this would be The Night [hey now! Where did that come from?!?] How smooth her cheeks were, how firm her lips were, how soft her skin was, the way she could so easily drive him up the wall by kissing his neck, the sweetness of her voice every time she told him she loved him. Her strange obsession with rabbits [huh?]. Everything they had been through ran through his mind in a half-second.
“My God,” she whispered, feeling the same wave of memories wash over her.
“Tina? Foss?”
“You remember my nicknames?” [they’re not exactly far from your actual name, lady]
“Do bunnies hop?” [oh wow]
“Oh, Chris!”
They ran toward each other and embraced.
“Been too long, Foss.”
“Your biceps got bigger.”
“That’s not the only thing.” [oh WOW.]
“Your mind?”
“Noooo.”
“Hmm, say, what is that in your pocket.” [I didn’t. Oh, I did.]
“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”
“Same old conversation. You haven’t forgotten?” she asked as they drew apart.
“Forget? It’s only been what … ten years?”
“Damn. Oh, Christopher. I’ve thought about you so much.”
“Me too, Foss. You look as stunning as ever.” [especially seeing as how she’s wearing a lavender negligee. Why isn’t she frantically trying to put on pants? Shoot, if I ran into an old college boyfriend like this I’d be … well, in the case of 90% of them, I’d be trying to find an object to use as a bludgeoning instrument … but for the other 10%, I’d be frantically searching for pants.]
“Flattery got you everywhere.”
“I’d like to think it was more than flattery.”
“Mmm … maybe.”
“You’re still using the same shampoo.”
“I swear by it.”
“I remember.”
“What else do you remember?”
“Everything.”
“Like what?”
“Well … I remember how gorgeous you were.”
“Were!?!”
“And still are, Tina dear.”
“You look good enough to eat, my little love-rabbit.” [oh WOW. I haven’t been this embarrassed by my own writing for several chapters now. This is painful.]
“Really?”
“Really. Hmmm …”
“What?”
“I wonder … do you still have that one tickle spot?”
“Uhh … no.”
“I think I’ll have to test for myself.” Justina removed her hands from his and moved them slowly to both of his sides. Before he could push them away, she began working her fingers underneath his ribcage until his chuckles gave way to giggles, which gave way to peals of laughter.
“Stop! Please!” He begged, trying to gulp air.
“Do you admit the unrelenting superiority of the Edmonton Oilers over the Bruins?” [see, they’re Canadian. They obviously like hockey.]
“Yes! Yes! Please just stop!”
“Uhmmmm … ok.” She withdrew and let Chris alone. He fell onto the bed, giggling and wheezing, eyes streaming. She knelt next to him.
“You know what I remember?”
“Ugh?” he grunted.
“How tense the muscles in your back got.” She removed his shirt and pushed the heels of her hands into the taut flesh of his lower back, kneading and rubbing her way up to his neck and back down again.
“Oooh. I haven’t felt like this in …”
“Ten years?”
“Exactly.”
“Poor Chris. Too long. Nobody’s massaged you?”
“Not like that.”
“Well then … has anyone done this?” She lightly kissed his ear, along his jawbone, his collar [uhm, did he put his shirt back on?]. She then pressed her lips onto his and enveloped him in a long, beautiful kiss. That burst of memory was too much for him – he wanted nothing more than to make love to her now.
NOTES:
1) Woah, nelly! Way to get all racy here, young me! Let’s see, judging by the notes in the margin (i.e., I <3 PEDRO), I was dating my first “real boyfriend” when I wrote this (incidentally, Pedro broke up with me after a month. It was right before spring break and he told me that he had to move back to Puerto Rico. I was heartbroken, but what could I do? Fate was tearing us apart. Then I saw him at school after break was over. It was then that I discovered that he was a pathological liar who also apparently had problems with planning for future inevitabilities. Other than that, he was a nice guy.) Please do note that I was nowhere close to achieving the level of bedroom activity described in this chapter, and am thus mildly surprised that although the dialogue is completely inane, no one does anything incredibly weird, like sticking a tongue directly into an ear canal, for example.
2) So Violet’s plan has succeeded, huh? ENDGAME! Who would have thunk it? I wonder if this will satisfy her, or if she and Felicia will continue to harass Angel for no obvious reason.
COMING UP NEXT …
Scott Steiner calls Angel to ramble about how happy he is with Justina. Scott does indeed ramble. Angel says stupid things. Anvils threaten to flatten every character, but alas, only figuratively. I promise the one after this is slightly more interesting, but first we must suffer through …
CHAPTER 51: In the Dark
So ... last week, Justina took a shower and put on two different outfits before going to bed. Chris walked into his hotel room and discovered Justina standing there in one of those two outfits. GASP. Today: cue the bow chicka wow wows.
Chapter 50: Mate
The present melted away from Chris's conscious mind and the past flooded in.
It was 1986. Chris was in his second year of college at Edmonton University. Memories flashed at him in bits and pieces [is this a flashback within a flashback?]. The way her hair always smelled. The tiny birthmark that looked just like a seahorse on her stomach. Her perfect impression of Professor Cavanaugh. The way she said his name. The warm, passionate, excited sparkles in her hazel eyes when she informed him that this would be The Night [hey now! Where did that come from?!?] How smooth her cheeks were, how firm her lips were, how soft her skin was, the way she could so easily drive him up the wall by kissing his neck, the sweetness of her voice every time she told him she loved him. Her strange obsession with rabbits [huh?]. Everything they had been through ran through his mind in a half-second.
“My God,” she whispered, feeling the same wave of memories wash over her.
“Tina? Foss?”
“You remember my nicknames?” [they’re not exactly far from your actual name, lady]
“Do bunnies hop?” [oh wow]
“Oh, Chris!”
They ran toward each other and embraced.
“Been too long, Foss.”
“Your biceps got bigger.”
“That’s not the only thing.” [oh WOW.]
“Your mind?”
“Noooo.”
“Hmm, say, what is that in your pocket.” [I didn’t. Oh, I did.]
“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”
“Same old conversation. You haven’t forgotten?” she asked as they drew apart.
“Forget? It’s only been what … ten years?”
“Damn. Oh, Christopher. I’ve thought about you so much.”
“Me too, Foss. You look as stunning as ever.” [especially seeing as how she’s wearing a lavender negligee. Why isn’t she frantically trying to put on pants? Shoot, if I ran into an old college boyfriend like this I’d be … well, in the case of 90% of them, I’d be trying to find an object to use as a bludgeoning instrument … but for the other 10%, I’d be frantically searching for pants.]
“Flattery got you everywhere.”
“I’d like to think it was more than flattery.”
“Mmm … maybe.”
“You’re still using the same shampoo.”
“I swear by it.”
“I remember.”
“What else do you remember?”
“Everything.”
“Like what?”
“Well … I remember how gorgeous you were.”
“Were!?!”
“And still are, Tina dear.”
“You look good enough to eat, my little love-rabbit.” [oh WOW. I haven’t been this embarrassed by my own writing for several chapters now. This is painful.]
“Really?”
“Really. Hmmm …”
“What?”
“I wonder … do you still have that one tickle spot?”
“Uhh … no.”
“I think I’ll have to test for myself.” Justina removed her hands from his and moved them slowly to both of his sides. Before he could push them away, she began working her fingers underneath his ribcage until his chuckles gave way to giggles, which gave way to peals of laughter.
“Stop! Please!” He begged, trying to gulp air.
“Do you admit the unrelenting superiority of the Edmonton Oilers over the Bruins?” [see, they’re Canadian. They obviously like hockey.]
“Yes! Yes! Please just stop!”
“Uhmmmm … ok.” She withdrew and let Chris alone. He fell onto the bed, giggling and wheezing, eyes streaming. She knelt next to him.
“You know what I remember?”
“Ugh?” he grunted.
“How tense the muscles in your back got.” She removed his shirt and pushed the heels of her hands into the taut flesh of his lower back, kneading and rubbing her way up to his neck and back down again.
“Oooh. I haven’t felt like this in …”
“Ten years?”
“Exactly.”
“Poor Chris. Too long. Nobody’s massaged you?”
“Not like that.”
“Well then … has anyone done this?” She lightly kissed his ear, along his jawbone, his collar [uhm, did he put his shirt back on?]. She then pressed her lips onto his and enveloped him in a long, beautiful kiss. That burst of memory was too much for him – he wanted nothing more than to make love to her now.
NOTES:
1) Woah, nelly! Way to get all racy here, young me! Let’s see, judging by the notes in the margin (i.e., I <3 PEDRO), I was dating my first “real boyfriend” when I wrote this (incidentally, Pedro broke up with me after a month. It was right before spring break and he told me that he had to move back to Puerto Rico. I was heartbroken, but what could I do? Fate was tearing us apart. Then I saw him at school after break was over. It was then that I discovered that he was a pathological liar who also apparently had problems with planning for future inevitabilities. Other than that, he was a nice guy.) Please do note that I was nowhere close to achieving the level of bedroom activity described in this chapter, and am thus mildly surprised that although the dialogue is completely inane, no one does anything incredibly weird, like sticking a tongue directly into an ear canal, for example.
2) So Violet’s plan has succeeded, huh? ENDGAME! Who would have thunk it? I wonder if this will satisfy her, or if she and Felicia will continue to harass Angel for no obvious reason.
COMING UP NEXT …
Scott Steiner calls Angel to ramble about how happy he is with Justina. Scott does indeed ramble. Angel says stupid things. Anvils threaten to flatten every character, but alas, only figuratively. I promise the one after this is slightly more interesting, but first we must suffer through …
CHAPTER 51: In the Dark
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Chapter 49: Check
Howdy, friends. It's another scorcher here. Plus it's mosquitoey beyond belief. Yesterday I actually got six mosquito bites while I was sitting on my couch. And yes, my couch is inside.
In other amusing news, my mom called and said that she and my dad want to come and visit Slice and me for our first anniversary. Yeah. I replied: "Do you think you could just let Time rob the marriage of its romance gradually? Why must you hurry it along?" Good ol' parents. They mean well. Even Slice's. Who, incidentally, went into hysterics when we told them that we were going to the beach, because the sun will kill you instantly. I'd suggest that they were vampires, but that would infer that they drink blood, and I'm sure blood is very high in sodium. Maybe if SmartBalance made a blood substitute?
But I digress ... Where were we? Ah, yes. Violet's pawn is just about to take Angel's queen. Bring it!
Chapter 49: Check
The following week was a nightmare for Chris and Angel. They were around each other quite often at work, making for numerous uncomfortable situations. Their conversations were brief and strained, and they made every attempt to avoid each other. Violet, however, was in a better mood than ever, though she too wisely avoided Chris. With any luck, her pawn would be here any day, all thanks to a little bit of intelligent scheming and the reliability of Felicia.
Felicia met Justina’s plane at the airport in San Diego and drove her to the hotel.
“Wow, thanks, Ms. Baigen. Are you this hospitable to all of your new employees?”
“Of course! Company policy. Now, I must be off. Here is your key … Room 302. I believe I’m sure you’ll make a fine costume designer here.”
“Thank you for everything!”
“No problem at all! Be seeing you around.”
They said their goodbyes and Justine retreated to her room. She shook her long coppery curls from their bun and brushed them out [speaking as someone who occasionally has curly hair, this sounds like a recipe for frizz) before deciding to take a shower.
Chris Benoit got into the taxi and told the driver his destination, the San Diego Rialto Hotel. [so we’re back to these weird boutique hotels? And a taxi? That doesn’t sound cost efficient.]
Meanwhile, Justina turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a terrycloth towel. She selected a cool dress made form a light blue cotton and put it on. After drying her hair, she thought better of it and changed into her lavender negligee. It was almost time for bed anyway.
Chris arrived at the hotel and was immediately glad he had his key waiting for him on reserve. There was an enormous line of people waiting to get a room. He picked up the key from the front desk and made his way upstairs to room 302. As he fit the key into the lock, he barely had time to wonder why the lights were on [uhm, because they usually are in a hotel room?] before what he saw shocked his mind into numbness.
NOTES:
1) Is it just me, or is Violet’s Evil Scheme like the evil inverse of Angel’s kind-hearted, tear-inducing plan to reunite Brutus and Laurie? I can promise you that I just thought of this now, and was not going for any sort of literary depth when I wrote it.
2) Look, I can buy that Violet could get Felicia to pick Justina up at the airport and drive her to the hotel. I can even somehow buy the idea that they arranged for Justina and Chris to have the same hotel room. But how the heck did Violet wrangle a job for Justina? Is she sleeping with Ole? (probably) And how did Violet even find out what Justina did for a living? Were there other fake surveys that we were not privy to?
3) Re: Justina’s clothing: She’s alone in a hotel room, ready to settle down for the night. She takes a shower and then puts on a dress? Then changes her mind and puts on lingerie? I don’t know about you, but unless the room temperature was stuck at 40 degrees or the blinds were stuck on wide open, I’d have considered the situation clothing optional. Or, at the very most, I’d have donned an old T-shirt and gym shorts. Oh well.
COMING UP NEXT …
Will Justina’s lavender negligee help bring Violet’s Evil Scheme into fruition? Will I start making appalling single entendres? Will there be a tickle fight? Find out next time in …
Chapter 50: Mate
In other amusing news, my mom called and said that she and my dad want to come and visit Slice and me for our first anniversary. Yeah. I replied: "Do you think you could just let Time rob the marriage of its romance gradually? Why must you hurry it along?" Good ol' parents. They mean well. Even Slice's. Who, incidentally, went into hysterics when we told them that we were going to the beach, because the sun will kill you instantly. I'd suggest that they were vampires, but that would infer that they drink blood, and I'm sure blood is very high in sodium. Maybe if SmartBalance made a blood substitute?
But I digress ... Where were we? Ah, yes. Violet's pawn is just about to take Angel's queen. Bring it!
Chapter 49: Check
The following week was a nightmare for Chris and Angel. They were around each other quite often at work, making for numerous uncomfortable situations. Their conversations were brief and strained, and they made every attempt to avoid each other. Violet, however, was in a better mood than ever, though she too wisely avoided Chris. With any luck, her pawn would be here any day, all thanks to a little bit of intelligent scheming and the reliability of Felicia.
Felicia met Justina’s plane at the airport in San Diego and drove her to the hotel.
“Wow, thanks, Ms. Baigen. Are you this hospitable to all of your new employees?”
“Of course! Company policy. Now, I must be off. Here is your key … Room 302. I believe I’m sure you’ll make a fine costume designer here.”
“Thank you for everything!”
“No problem at all! Be seeing you around.”
They said their goodbyes and Justine retreated to her room. She shook her long coppery curls from their bun and brushed them out [speaking as someone who occasionally has curly hair, this sounds like a recipe for frizz) before deciding to take a shower.
Chris Benoit got into the taxi and told the driver his destination, the San Diego Rialto Hotel. [so we’re back to these weird boutique hotels? And a taxi? That doesn’t sound cost efficient.]
Meanwhile, Justina turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a terrycloth towel. She selected a cool dress made form a light blue cotton and put it on. After drying her hair, she thought better of it and changed into her lavender negligee. It was almost time for bed anyway.
Chris arrived at the hotel and was immediately glad he had his key waiting for him on reserve. There was an enormous line of people waiting to get a room. He picked up the key from the front desk and made his way upstairs to room 302. As he fit the key into the lock, he barely had time to wonder why the lights were on [uhm, because they usually are in a hotel room?] before what he saw shocked his mind into numbness.
NOTES:
1) Is it just me, or is Violet’s Evil Scheme like the evil inverse of Angel’s kind-hearted, tear-inducing plan to reunite Brutus and Laurie? I can promise you that I just thought of this now, and was not going for any sort of literary depth when I wrote it.
2) Look, I can buy that Violet could get Felicia to pick Justina up at the airport and drive her to the hotel. I can even somehow buy the idea that they arranged for Justina and Chris to have the same hotel room. But how the heck did Violet wrangle a job for Justina? Is she sleeping with Ole? (probably) And how did Violet even find out what Justina did for a living? Were there other fake surveys that we were not privy to?
3) Re: Justina’s clothing: She’s alone in a hotel room, ready to settle down for the night. She takes a shower and then puts on a dress? Then changes her mind and puts on lingerie? I don’t know about you, but unless the room temperature was stuck at 40 degrees or the blinds were stuck on wide open, I’d have considered the situation clothing optional. Or, at the very most, I’d have donned an old T-shirt and gym shorts. Oh well.
COMING UP NEXT …
Will Justina’s lavender negligee help bring Violet’s Evil Scheme into fruition? Will I start making appalling single entendres? Will there be a tickle fight? Find out next time in …
Chapter 50: Mate
Monday, July 20, 2009
Chapter 46 - Scheming
Y’all, I’ve been watching a lot of wrestling lately. It’s awesome. I really missed this stuff. I took a little hiatus after college because it was getting super crappy for a while. I'd pick it up here and there, but hadn't really watched with any sort of consistency until now. Slice was insanely busy at his job a few months ago, which meant lots of awesome TV-watching for me, so I got totally hooked again. I'm such a mark. And next Monday, Shaq is hosting RAW. SHAQ. I love Shaq. I don't even like basketball. But I like this commercial a lot.
Allllright. Where were we? Ah yes. Violet colluded with Arn to inform Chris of Asstin's treachery. Violet then capitalized on Chris's vulnerability by tasting his eardrum. Unfortunately for her, he came to his senses and threw her out of his room. This week: Violet turns to Plan B while drinking an outdated 90's beverage.
Chapter 46 – Scheming
Violet hurled the hotel Bible across the room [see? Eeeeevil.] Stupid blonde bitch [GASP! EEEVIL!] She’s got her boyfriend wrapped around her sweet little finger. Well, that’s alright. Angel might be pretty, but Violet thought she lacked sorely in the brains department. She knew what had to be done. Her trump card had to be played – soon.
Violet picked up the phone and dialed the number she had looked up weeks ago.
“Hello?” A young female voice said.
“Yes, Hello. This is Gillian Carter from Self Magazine. I’m conducting a survey of 18 to 30 year old females and the men they’re interested in. Do you have time for our survey?”
“Well … sure.”
“Great. Could I please have your first name – for reference.”
“Justina.”
“Hi, Justina. Are you currently involved with a member of the opposite sex?”
“Yes, I am.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how serious would you say your relationship is right now?”
“Oh gosh, we just met, really. I’d say about … six and a half.” [6.5? Even though you just met? Well, I suppose that’s an improvement over Angel and Marcus, who went from making googly eyes at each other to being in love in like, fifteen minutes.]
“Is he older or younger than you?”
“He’s a few years older.”
“Would you describe him as a blue-collar or white-collar worker?”
“Ohh … that’s tough. I’m not sure.”
“Well, if you don’t mind answering, what does he do for a living?”
Justina giggled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“He’s a professional wrestler. Of all things!”
Violet’s mouth hung open. She recovered quickly. “Oh really? I’m quite a fan of professional wrestling myself. Strictly off the record, of course, anyone I’d know?”
“Well, maybe. Ever hear of the Steiner brothers?”
Violet was struck into silence.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Oh … uh, yes. Yes. I’ve heard of them. I was just stunned. You see, they are my absolute favorite wrestlers on earth! So tell me … which one?”
“Scotty. He’s such a doll.”
Violet cleared her throat. “Well, thank you, Justina, for your time.”
“Oh, sure, no problem.”
They said their good-byes. Violet poured herself a [wait for it! wait for it!] Cappio. They always helped her to think. A plot was being born in her head.
She snickered and took a long sip. Hurt Scott and Angel at the same time. Oh, this would be fun. Maybe then she could have Chris to herself. She actually sort of liked him. Loyal, kind, and adorable. Violets’ snickers [mmm, snickers] turned into gales of laughter. This was too sweet.
NOTES:
1) Well, no one guessed Cappio. Hey, I told you it was a toughie! I'm just glad that there was a youtube clip to prove that I didn't make it up. Never fear, I'll have another contest soon. I've got a burning desire to share my VHS collection with others.
2) Let's review Violet's Evil Scheme as presented in this chapter: she calls Justina and asks her random questions. And ... that's it. What kinds of questions were those? Blue collar or white collar? It's not like Vi knew she was dating Scott Steiner. Let's say hypothetically that instead of dating Scott, Justina was dating a claims adjustor named Todd. How would that information have helped Violet in the slightest? What's that you're saying? Plot contrivance? Oh, yes, that explains everything.
3) Gillian Carter ... yes, that's an X-Files reference. I was an equal-opportunity nerd.
COMING UP NEXT ...
Angel has a stupid conversation with a character I'll be you've already forgotten about and will promptly forget again after the chapter is over. If that doesn't sound exciting, I don't know what does!! Tune in next time for ...
Chapter 47 - Friendly Advice
Allllright. Where were we? Ah yes. Violet colluded with Arn to inform Chris of Asstin's treachery. Violet then capitalized on Chris's vulnerability by tasting his eardrum. Unfortunately for her, he came to his senses and threw her out of his room. This week: Violet turns to Plan B while drinking an outdated 90's beverage.
Chapter 46 – Scheming
Violet hurled the hotel Bible across the room [see? Eeeeevil.] Stupid blonde bitch [GASP! EEEVIL!] She’s got her boyfriend wrapped around her sweet little finger. Well, that’s alright. Angel might be pretty, but Violet thought she lacked sorely in the brains department. She knew what had to be done. Her trump card had to be played – soon.
Violet picked up the phone and dialed the number she had looked up weeks ago.
“Hello?” A young female voice said.
“Yes, Hello. This is Gillian Carter from Self Magazine. I’m conducting a survey of 18 to 30 year old females and the men they’re interested in. Do you have time for our survey?”
“Well … sure.”
“Great. Could I please have your first name – for reference.”
“Justina.”
“Hi, Justina. Are you currently involved with a member of the opposite sex?”
“Yes, I am.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how serious would you say your relationship is right now?”
“Oh gosh, we just met, really. I’d say about … six and a half.” [6.5? Even though you just met? Well, I suppose that’s an improvement over Angel and Marcus, who went from making googly eyes at each other to being in love in like, fifteen minutes.]
“Is he older or younger than you?”
“He’s a few years older.”
“Would you describe him as a blue-collar or white-collar worker?”
“Ohh … that’s tough. I’m not sure.”
“Well, if you don’t mind answering, what does he do for a living?”
Justina giggled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“He’s a professional wrestler. Of all things!”
Violet’s mouth hung open. She recovered quickly. “Oh really? I’m quite a fan of professional wrestling myself. Strictly off the record, of course, anyone I’d know?”
“Well, maybe. Ever hear of the Steiner brothers?”
Violet was struck into silence.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Oh … uh, yes. Yes. I’ve heard of them. I was just stunned. You see, they are my absolute favorite wrestlers on earth! So tell me … which one?”
“Scotty. He’s such a doll.”
Violet cleared her throat. “Well, thank you, Justina, for your time.”
“Oh, sure, no problem.”
They said their good-byes. Violet poured herself a [wait for it! wait for it!] Cappio. They always helped her to think. A plot was being born in her head.
She snickered and took a long sip. Hurt Scott and Angel at the same time. Oh, this would be fun. Maybe then she could have Chris to herself. She actually sort of liked him. Loyal, kind, and adorable. Violets’ snickers [mmm, snickers] turned into gales of laughter. This was too sweet.
NOTES:
1) Well, no one guessed Cappio. Hey, I told you it was a toughie! I'm just glad that there was a youtube clip to prove that I didn't make it up. Never fear, I'll have another contest soon. I've got a burning desire to share my VHS collection with others.
2) Let's review Violet's Evil Scheme as presented in this chapter: she calls Justina and asks her random questions. And ... that's it. What kinds of questions were those? Blue collar or white collar? It's not like Vi knew she was dating Scott Steiner. Let's say hypothetically that instead of dating Scott, Justina was dating a claims adjustor named Todd. How would that information have helped Violet in the slightest? What's that you're saying? Plot contrivance? Oh, yes, that explains everything.
3) Gillian Carter ... yes, that's an X-Files reference. I was an equal-opportunity nerd.
COMING UP NEXT ...
Angel has a stupid conversation with a character I'll be you've already forgotten about and will promptly forget again after the chapter is over. If that doesn't sound exciting, I don't know what does!! Tune in next time for ...
Chapter 47 - Friendly Advice
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Chapter 44 - The Wedding Party
When we last left our merry band of losers, Dullexandra tied the knot and no one objected. This week: characters interact. That's about it. Sorry. On the plus side, we do get to see some more of Rick's trademark Goofball Antics. Wait, that's not a plus side. Well ... here's a plus side: no Clippy. Take what you can get, folks.
Chapter 44 – The Wedding Party
Sting hopped into Angel’s car. She pulled out of the parking lot.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
“Nice wedding, huh?”
“Yeah. It was beautiful.”
“Hey, Angel, did Dustin tell you what happened at the bachelor party?”
“With Barry? Yeah.”
“Where’d he end up? Did he just drive around all night?”
“No … he slept over at my house.”
Sting stared at her.
“Nothing happened, if you’re wondering. He slept on my couch. He needed a friend, and that’s what I was,” she said, annoyed.
Angel found a space in the rented hotel’s lot [they rented out the entire hotel? Dang!] and both she and Sting entered the party. The place was humming with activity, but Angel didn’t want to be a part of it. Odd feelings swept over her. It felt wrong for her to be here. She missed Chris and Bobby, but most of all, she missed her big brother Danny. She hadn’t spoken to him in over two years. [That’s what she feels bad about? That? With all of the other crap going on? Danny?]
Angel greeted everyone cordially, then found a table in the corner by herself. Why hadn’t she kept in touch with Danny? Well, she knew her big brother was never one to remember to call anyone. He was always busy with one project or another. Angel being a full time nurse and Danny being a struggling actor didn’t leave much time for communication. But still, two years? What was he doing now? Was he married? Did he have kids? That settled it. Angel would call him as soon as she could. [sure she will. Either that or we’ll never hear about him again.]
“Ang? You OK?”
Angel looked up. Scott was standing there.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Scott said, sitting next to Angel. [important detail there]
“How have you been, Scotty?”
“I’ve been alright. I, uh, met a woman,” he grinned.
“Yeah, what’s her name?”
“Justina.” [dunt dunt DUNNNNNNNNNNN!]
“What’s she like?”
“She’s about 27 or so, with curly copper hair, and these incredible blue eyes. They’re so beautiful.” [who gives out that kind of information upon being asked that question? Is the age significant unless it’s like, 17 or 87? Now that would make for an interesting story.]
“Sounds terrific! Where’d you meet her?”
“At this dance thing my brother dragged me to.” [a dance? A DANCE? Oh, I give up.] He looked away, into the crowd of people. “Wonder where he is.”
Angelica stood to help him search. She felt 2 hands cover her eyes.
“Guess who?”
“OJ Simpson?”
“Nope.”
“Homer Simpson?”
“D’oh! Nope – one more try.”
“Uhmm … Rick?”
“Give the woman a beer! Or at least a Zima or something.” [Yes. I wrote that. Wowlions.]
“Hey Rick.” She hugged him.
“Hey Angie.”
“Nice bowtie,” she said, taking in Rick’s neon pink neckwear.
“Thank you. Nice toenail polish.”
Angel looked down at her feet.
“Gotcha!” Rick cried in glee. [Oh, what a hilarious throwback to Sting’s party. Rick, you are a card.]
“Hi guys,” Greeted Sting, joining the group. “And gal.”
“Hey Sting.”
Much to Angel’s dismay, she had become thrust straight into the middle of the party.
“What’re we doing all alone here in the corner? Let’s mingle!” With a happy shriek, Sting moved into other swells of people. The party lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and Angel had a better time than she had expected [well thank goodness].
After the festivities were over, Angel packed her bags for Tupelo and Chris’ plane landed in St. Paul, Minnesota.
NOTES:
1) Wow, y'all, remember Zima? Those commercials were always on in the early 90's. "Zomething different!" Oh, the 90's. I wore so much flannel.
2) So Danny is a struggling actor in LA? And so busy with "projects" that he can't remember to call his only sister, who also apparantly can't remember to call him, despite the fact that both of their parents died in a horrific car accident years ago? Okaaaaaaaaaaay.
3) I think I can promise that this the only chapter that mentions OJ Simpson.
Coming up next … Chris + Arn + tape recorder = crying. You won’t want to miss this one. Join us next week for …
Chapter 45 – No Secrets, Part I
Chapter 44 – The Wedding Party
Sting hopped into Angel’s car. She pulled out of the parking lot.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
“Nice wedding, huh?”
“Yeah. It was beautiful.”
“Hey, Angel, did Dustin tell you what happened at the bachelor party?”
“With Barry? Yeah.”
“Where’d he end up? Did he just drive around all night?”
“No … he slept over at my house.”
Sting stared at her.
“Nothing happened, if you’re wondering. He slept on my couch. He needed a friend, and that’s what I was,” she said, annoyed.
Angel found a space in the rented hotel’s lot [they rented out the entire hotel? Dang!] and both she and Sting entered the party. The place was humming with activity, but Angel didn’t want to be a part of it. Odd feelings swept over her. It felt wrong for her to be here. She missed Chris and Bobby, but most of all, she missed her big brother Danny. She hadn’t spoken to him in over two years. [That’s what she feels bad about? That? With all of the other crap going on? Danny?]
Angel greeted everyone cordially, then found a table in the corner by herself. Why hadn’t she kept in touch with Danny? Well, she knew her big brother was never one to remember to call anyone. He was always busy with one project or another. Angel being a full time nurse and Danny being a struggling actor didn’t leave much time for communication. But still, two years? What was he doing now? Was he married? Did he have kids? That settled it. Angel would call him as soon as she could. [sure she will. Either that or we’ll never hear about him again.]
“Ang? You OK?”
Angel looked up. Scott was standing there.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Scott said, sitting next to Angel. [important detail there]
“How have you been, Scotty?”
“I’ve been alright. I, uh, met a woman,” he grinned.
“Yeah, what’s her name?”
“Justina.” [dunt dunt DUNNNNNNNNNNN!]
“What’s she like?”
“She’s about 27 or so, with curly copper hair, and these incredible blue eyes. They’re so beautiful.” [who gives out that kind of information upon being asked that question? Is the age significant unless it’s like, 17 or 87? Now that would make for an interesting story.]
“Sounds terrific! Where’d you meet her?”
“At this dance thing my brother dragged me to.” [a dance? A DANCE? Oh, I give up.] He looked away, into the crowd of people. “Wonder where he is.”
Angelica stood to help him search. She felt 2 hands cover her eyes.
“Guess who?”
“OJ Simpson?”
“Nope.”
“Homer Simpson?”
“D’oh! Nope – one more try.”
“Uhmm … Rick?”
“Give the woman a beer! Or at least a Zima or something.” [Yes. I wrote that. Wowlions.]
“Hey Rick.” She hugged him.
“Hey Angie.”
“Nice bowtie,” she said, taking in Rick’s neon pink neckwear.
“Thank you. Nice toenail polish.”
Angel looked down at her feet.
“Gotcha!” Rick cried in glee. [Oh, what a hilarious throwback to Sting’s party. Rick, you are a card.]
“Hi guys,” Greeted Sting, joining the group. “And gal.”
“Hey Sting.”
Much to Angel’s dismay, she had become thrust straight into the middle of the party.
“What’re we doing all alone here in the corner? Let’s mingle!” With a happy shriek, Sting moved into other swells of people. The party lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and Angel had a better time than she had expected [well thank goodness].
After the festivities were over, Angel packed her bags for Tupelo and Chris’ plane landed in St. Paul, Minnesota.
NOTES:
1) Wow, y'all, remember Zima? Those commercials were always on in the early 90's. "Zomething different!" Oh, the 90's. I wore so much flannel.
2) So Danny is a struggling actor in LA? And so busy with "projects" that he can't remember to call his only sister, who also apparantly can't remember to call him, despite the fact that both of their parents died in a horrific car accident years ago? Okaaaaaaaaaaay.
3) I think I can promise that this the only chapter that mentions OJ Simpson.
Coming up next … Chris + Arn + tape recorder = crying. You won’t want to miss this one. Join us next week for …
Chapter 45 – No Secrets, Part I
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Chapter 40: A New Nurse
We’ve moved to yet another marble notebook (don’t worry, there’s plenty more), and in this one, I started making notes of when each chapter was written. This particular one was composed on September 14, 1994. That makes me 14. Still technically in middle school, because my junior high went up to 9th grade for some reason, but really, I probably should have known better from here on out. I didn’t. I just kept plugging away. And you, gentle readers, are the beneficiaries. Or something like that.
Moving right along …
Last week, Asstin decided that their friendship was the most powerful force in the universe. This week, Violet’s Evil Scheme starts rolling. Excited? I sure am …
Chapter 40: A New Nurse
Angel had never cared much about her two nurses, Katlin Ross and Leslie Canter [maybe that’s because I promptly forgot that they existed after mentioning them]. So when Leslie decided to quit, Angel’s only worry was who her replacement would be.
Felicia Baigen [name of a boss in Final Fantasy 2, thankyouverymuch] was her name. She was 24, a skilled nurse, and stunning. With her pale blue eyes and size six figure [is she from Sweet Valley?], she looked as if she just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Her chin-length hair was platinum blonde and shone like cornsilk.
She seemed like an okay person to Angel, who was relieved to be rid of that snob Leslie.
Too bad she didn’t realize that there were much better people to wish to be rid of in WCW. [FORESHADOWING!]
------
Violet Royce sat down in her hotel suite and reread the letter she had intercepted from Chris to Angel [intercepted? Was she hiding in a mailbox?] It wasn’t very interesting—mostly about his wrestling matches and how much he missed her, but there was one tidbit of information that could prove useful …
“… Hey, you remember that woman Justina Foster I was telling you about? (I know you’d rather not!) Well, Anyway, she used to work as a seamstress here for All-Japan before she moved back to the states. Cool, huh? (Okay, not to you) …….”
----
Violet couldn’t help but wonder – who was this Justina Foster? Someone Angel would dislike. An ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? The possibilities were intriguing. Violet would have to find out more.
She very carefully re-glued the steamed-open envelope with the letter in it, but only after jotting down the information about Justina. This would be fun.
-----
Angel finished giving Felicia the grand tour of the nurse’s office in a typical building [huh?]. After meeting the wrestlers on hand (not many of Angel’s friends of course, what with Chris, Bobby, and Dustin all away) Felicia decided to help Angel finish setting up for the night’s matches.
After the long night of work was over, Angel returned home and wrote a letter to Chris. There was only four days left until Dustin’s wedding. She couldn’t wait.
NOTES:
1) Why do they need three nurses? It’s not a hospital. They don’t need to work shifts. There’s like, three hours of matches max. And pretty much all Angel ever does is put gauze on things and let people cry on her. Doesn’t sound too taxing.
2) Hey, Violet: thanks for not making us read that entire letter.
3) Justina Foster! And you thought that was just going to be a random name that I dropped and never picked up again. Well, it still might be. Only one way to find out, folks!
COMING UP NEXT ….
Dustin’s bachelor party! Will there be strippers? Beer? Bell peppers? A fist-fight? No, no, no, YES. That’s right, YES. SWEEEEEEEEET! Tune in next time for …
Chapter 41: Dustin’s Bachelor Party (Part 1)
Moving right along …
Last week, Asstin decided that their friendship was the most powerful force in the universe. This week, Violet’s Evil Scheme starts rolling. Excited? I sure am …
Chapter 40: A New Nurse
Angel had never cared much about her two nurses, Katlin Ross and Leslie Canter [maybe that’s because I promptly forgot that they existed after mentioning them]. So when Leslie decided to quit, Angel’s only worry was who her replacement would be.
Felicia Baigen [name of a boss in Final Fantasy 2, thankyouverymuch] was her name. She was 24, a skilled nurse, and stunning. With her pale blue eyes and size six figure [is she from Sweet Valley?], she looked as if she just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Her chin-length hair was platinum blonde and shone like cornsilk.
She seemed like an okay person to Angel, who was relieved to be rid of that snob Leslie.
Too bad she didn’t realize that there were much better people to wish to be rid of in WCW. [FORESHADOWING!]
------
Violet Royce sat down in her hotel suite and reread the letter she had intercepted from Chris to Angel [intercepted? Was she hiding in a mailbox?] It wasn’t very interesting—mostly about his wrestling matches and how much he missed her, but there was one tidbit of information that could prove useful …
“… Hey, you remember that woman Justina Foster I was telling you about? (I know you’d rather not!) Well, Anyway, she used to work as a seamstress here for All-Japan before she moved back to the states. Cool, huh? (Okay, not to you) …….”
----
Violet couldn’t help but wonder – who was this Justina Foster? Someone Angel would dislike. An ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? The possibilities were intriguing. Violet would have to find out more.
She very carefully re-glued the steamed-open envelope with the letter in it, but only after jotting down the information about Justina. This would be fun.
-----
Angel finished giving Felicia the grand tour of the nurse’s office in a typical building [huh?]. After meeting the wrestlers on hand (not many of Angel’s friends of course, what with Chris, Bobby, and Dustin all away) Felicia decided to help Angel finish setting up for the night’s matches.
After the long night of work was over, Angel returned home and wrote a letter to Chris. There was only four days left until Dustin’s wedding. She couldn’t wait.
NOTES:
1) Why do they need three nurses? It’s not a hospital. They don’t need to work shifts. There’s like, three hours of matches max. And pretty much all Angel ever does is put gauze on things and let people cry on her. Doesn’t sound too taxing.
2) Hey, Violet: thanks for not making us read that entire letter.
3) Justina Foster! And you thought that was just going to be a random name that I dropped and never picked up again. Well, it still might be. Only one way to find out, folks!
COMING UP NEXT ….
Dustin’s bachelor party! Will there be strippers? Beer? Bell peppers? A fist-fight? No, no, no, YES. That’s right, YES. SWEEEEEEEEET! Tune in next time for …
Chapter 41: Dustin’s Bachelor Party (Part 1)
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Chapter 33: Turning Up the Heat (Part III)
How ‘bout them Tar Heels?
Are y’all ready for the thrilling finale of this chapter? I know I am. So far, Bobby has had the lamest party ever, which he made even lamer by crying about his wife. Chris made coffee and Angel patted Bobby’s arm. It’s all uphill from here. Cue the bow chicka wow wow music, because the heat is getting turned up in …
Chapter 33: Turning Up the Heat (Part III)
Angel sat next to Chris on the couch.
“Some party,” Chris commented, handing angel a cup of coffee.
“I’m just happy we could help him.”
“You’re too nice, Angel.”
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
Angel sipped her coffee and sputtered. “Geez, Chris, what did you do to this coffee?”
“Coffee? That’s not coffee. That’s the blood of ten thousand millipedes.”
“You are disgusting.”
“Want a refill?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“You know Angel, we still have time to have a party of our own.”
“Oh really?”
“Uh-huh.”
He pressed his body close to hers and they shared a long, passionate kiss. Chris began to untuck her shirt from her jeans [HEY NOW!], and Angel pulled away. [that’s better.]
“What is it, Sunshine? You’ve never minded when I’ve done this before.” [was she drugged?]
“I know, Chris, and I love to have your hands caress me like that [eew], but we have to talk.”
Chris smiled. He found it charming that Angel called feeling her up being caressed. “Talk about what?”
“Chris, have you ever slept with anyone?”
“Angel …”
“No. Answer me. It’s not like I’m going to get mad.”
“Well, yeah. I lost my virginity in my second year of college.”
“Who was she?”
“Geez, Angel. Her name was Justina Foster.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yeah, I loved her. We just drifted. What’s the third degree for, huh?”
“I don’t know,” said Angel.
“Then it’s my turn. Who was your first?”
“Mr. Rogers.”
“C’mon.”
“No, really. We spelled out dirty words with letter blocks.”
“Be serious.”
“I’m a virgin.”
“I said be serious.”
“I am being perfectly serious.”
“You didn’t sleep with Marty or Marcus?”
“No.”
“Well … what are you waiting for?”
Angel smiled. “Marriage.” [10 bucks says that was a self-satisfied smile]
“Why are you bringing this up, Angel?”
“Honestly?”
“No. Lie to me.”
She ignored his comment. “Well, Chris. I’ve been wondering. Why should I lose my virginity on my wedding night when just about everyone else doesn’t give a damn about morality?” [here we go again]
“Angel, if everyone else …”
“I know, I know. If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you too.”
“Actually, Ms. Know-it-all, I was going to say ‘If everyone else plugged in a Cuisinart standing in a puddle of Kool-Aid, would you too?”
“That I would do.”
“The point is, Angel,” said Chris with a sigh, “You are your own person. Everyone is. And you should be proud of being a virgin.”
“I am … it’s just …”
“Just what?”
“Sometimes I want to give myself to you so bad.”
“Maybe you don’t have too long to wait.”
“What do you mean?”
Chris shrugged.
“You were talking about me us marrying again, weren’t you?”
“I guess I was.”
“Oh, Chris …”
“I love you, you love me …”
“You would look good in a big purple dinosaur suit.”
Chris knew Angel hated talking about getting married so he dropped the subject with a sigh. He put his hand behind her head and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll love you forever, Angel. I knew that from the first time I saw your beautiful face that we were meant to be together.” He started to say more, but Angel put her finger on his lips and ran her hands through his baby-soft brown hair. He leaned close to kiss her, and the phone rang.
“Sorry, Chris,” she got up to answer it reluctantly.
“Hello?”
“Angelica?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Scott Steiner.”
“Hi Scott. How are you?”
“Not too good.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Ang, it’s a mess. You’ll be here tomorrow, won’t you?” [good golly, Scott. Co-dependant much?]
“Of course.”
Scott breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. I just needed to be sure.”
“You OK Scott?”
“Not really.”
“Hang in there.”
“Thanks, Ang.”
“Anytime.”
They said goodbye and Angel returned to Chris, who had quizzical expression on his face. “Scott Steiner,” Angel answered the question before it was asked.
“Oh?” an eyebrow arched.
“He’s my buddy.”
“Buddy?” both eyebrows arched.
Angel threw a pillow at Chris. “Stop being so jealous.”
“I can’t help it. The thought of you with another guy …”
“Revolts me,” Angel interrupted. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she kissed him on his cheek. The phone rang again. Angel mussed Chris’ hair. “Be right back.”
“Hello.”
“Stay away from him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t go near him tomorrow.”
“Who is this?”
There was a click as the other person hang up. Angel slammed down the receiver.
“Sunshine?”
“Nevermind.”
“No, what?”
“Marie.”
“Oh, Angel.”
“Chris, I don’t want to talk about her now.”
“Sorry. Don’t let her get to you,” he stood and grabbed his coat from the nearby rack.
“Where are you off to?”
“Sorry, Sunshine. My day starts early tomorrow.” [and let’s face it, it must be at least 8:30 by now.]
“Okay,” Angel pouted. He kissed her warmly and left.
His mind was full of thoughts. Justina Foster. He hadn’t thought about her in years. Where was she now? Chris shook her head. Who could even think about Justina Foster when he had Angel?
NOTES
1) I suppose that there’s no need for me to rehash the “morality” eye-roll, but seriously. Angel. Saying that you don’t want to sleep with someone before you’re married because of morality implies that you tie equate premarital sex with immoral behavior. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, usually suggests that a person has a religious objection to premarital sex. So look, whatever, no problem with that, but seeing as how I was a completely areligious child, I’m just going to bet that Angel herself was likewise areligious. Her objection to sex, therefore, is merely a way for her to hold herself above her peers, judge others, and, perhaps, refuse to commit to anyone. My objection to sex when I wrote this was that it sounded gross. I think that’s a good attitude for 14-year-olds. I suppose my idea of “morality” also came from my mom. When I got “the talk” from my mom, she told me that people should wait until they’re married, which I now find hilarious, considering the fact that she and my father cheated on their respective spouses with each other, then divorced their spouses, shacked up with each other for a year, and then got married on my dad’s lunch break. Also hilarious: when I was 22, I told my mom that me and my long-term boyfriend weren’t sleeping together, she said, and I quote, “that’s not fair to him!” I suppose she thought she knew best, and maybe she did, because the fact that he didn’t care whether or not we slept together should have been a clue to me that something was amiss in our relationship (or that he secretly preferred the company of men, which, as it turns out, he did. But that’s another story). Uhmm … where was I? Oh yes. Angel. She’s basically just a paragon of virtue. And she needs everyone else to know that.
2) I give Angel a lot of crap for being Angel, but hey, Chris is pretty passive-aggressive about the whole marriage thing, isn’t he? Back off, bro. I mean, I can see where it would be frustrating, but dropping all of those subtle “hints” isn’t helping your case.
3) Marie is crazy. Scott is needy. Got it.
4) “Who could even think about Justina Foster when he had Angel?” Obviously you, Chris. Trouble’s a-brewin!
Coming up next …
Angel talks with Scott about his relationship problems. Angel somehow makes it all about herself. Of course.
Tune in next time for …
Chapter 34 – A Talk with Scott
Are y’all ready for the thrilling finale of this chapter? I know I am. So far, Bobby has had the lamest party ever, which he made even lamer by crying about his wife. Chris made coffee and Angel patted Bobby’s arm. It’s all uphill from here. Cue the bow chicka wow wow music, because the heat is getting turned up in …
Chapter 33: Turning Up the Heat (Part III)
Angel sat next to Chris on the couch.
“Some party,” Chris commented, handing angel a cup of coffee.
“I’m just happy we could help him.”
“You’re too nice, Angel.”
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
Angel sipped her coffee and sputtered. “Geez, Chris, what did you do to this coffee?”
“Coffee? That’s not coffee. That’s the blood of ten thousand millipedes.”
“You are disgusting.”
“Want a refill?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“You know Angel, we still have time to have a party of our own.”
“Oh really?”
“Uh-huh.”
He pressed his body close to hers and they shared a long, passionate kiss. Chris began to untuck her shirt from her jeans [HEY NOW!], and Angel pulled away. [that’s better.]
“What is it, Sunshine? You’ve never minded when I’ve done this before.” [was she drugged?]
“I know, Chris, and I love to have your hands caress me like that [eew], but we have to talk.”
Chris smiled. He found it charming that Angel called feeling her up being caressed. “Talk about what?”
“Chris, have you ever slept with anyone?”
“Angel …”
“No. Answer me. It’s not like I’m going to get mad.”
“Well, yeah. I lost my virginity in my second year of college.”
“Who was she?”
“Geez, Angel. Her name was Justina Foster.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yeah, I loved her. We just drifted. What’s the third degree for, huh?”
“I don’t know,” said Angel.
“Then it’s my turn. Who was your first?”
“Mr. Rogers.”
“C’mon.”
“No, really. We spelled out dirty words with letter blocks.”
“Be serious.”
“I’m a virgin.”
“I said be serious.”
“I am being perfectly serious.”
“You didn’t sleep with Marty or Marcus?”
“No.”
“Well … what are you waiting for?”
Angel smiled. “Marriage.” [10 bucks says that was a self-satisfied smile]
“Why are you bringing this up, Angel?”
“Honestly?”
“No. Lie to me.”
She ignored his comment. “Well, Chris. I’ve been wondering. Why should I lose my virginity on my wedding night when just about everyone else doesn’t give a damn about morality?” [here we go again]
“Angel, if everyone else …”
“I know, I know. If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you too.”
“Actually, Ms. Know-it-all, I was going to say ‘If everyone else plugged in a Cuisinart standing in a puddle of Kool-Aid, would you too?”
“That I would do.”
“The point is, Angel,” said Chris with a sigh, “You are your own person. Everyone is. And you should be proud of being a virgin.”
“I am … it’s just …”
“Just what?”
“Sometimes I want to give myself to you so bad.”
“Maybe you don’t have too long to wait.”
“What do you mean?”
Chris shrugged.
“You were talking about me us marrying again, weren’t you?”
“I guess I was.”
“Oh, Chris …”
“I love you, you love me …”
“You would look good in a big purple dinosaur suit.”
Chris knew Angel hated talking about getting married so he dropped the subject with a sigh. He put his hand behind her head and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll love you forever, Angel. I knew that from the first time I saw your beautiful face that we were meant to be together.” He started to say more, but Angel put her finger on his lips and ran her hands through his baby-soft brown hair. He leaned close to kiss her, and the phone rang.
“Sorry, Chris,” she got up to answer it reluctantly.
“Hello?”
“Angelica?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Scott Steiner.”
“Hi Scott. How are you?”
“Not too good.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Ang, it’s a mess. You’ll be here tomorrow, won’t you?” [good golly, Scott. Co-dependant much?]
“Of course.”
Scott breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. I just needed to be sure.”
“You OK Scott?”
“Not really.”
“Hang in there.”
“Thanks, Ang.”
“Anytime.”
They said goodbye and Angel returned to Chris, who had quizzical expression on his face. “Scott Steiner,” Angel answered the question before it was asked.
“Oh?” an eyebrow arched.
“He’s my buddy.”
“Buddy?” both eyebrows arched.
Angel threw a pillow at Chris. “Stop being so jealous.”
“I can’t help it. The thought of you with another guy …”
“Revolts me,” Angel interrupted. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she kissed him on his cheek. The phone rang again. Angel mussed Chris’ hair. “Be right back.”
“Hello.”
“Stay away from him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t go near him tomorrow.”
“Who is this?”
There was a click as the other person hang up. Angel slammed down the receiver.
“Sunshine?”
“Nevermind.”
“No, what?”
“Marie.”
“Oh, Angel.”
“Chris, I don’t want to talk about her now.”
“Sorry. Don’t let her get to you,” he stood and grabbed his coat from the nearby rack.
“Where are you off to?”
“Sorry, Sunshine. My day starts early tomorrow.” [and let’s face it, it must be at least 8:30 by now.]
“Okay,” Angel pouted. He kissed her warmly and left.
His mind was full of thoughts. Justina Foster. He hadn’t thought about her in years. Where was she now? Chris shook her head. Who could even think about Justina Foster when he had Angel?
NOTES
1) I suppose that there’s no need for me to rehash the “morality” eye-roll, but seriously. Angel. Saying that you don’t want to sleep with someone before you’re married because of morality implies that you tie equate premarital sex with immoral behavior. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, usually suggests that a person has a religious objection to premarital sex. So look, whatever, no problem with that, but seeing as how I was a completely areligious child, I’m just going to bet that Angel herself was likewise areligious. Her objection to sex, therefore, is merely a way for her to hold herself above her peers, judge others, and, perhaps, refuse to commit to anyone. My objection to sex when I wrote this was that it sounded gross. I think that’s a good attitude for 14-year-olds. I suppose my idea of “morality” also came from my mom. When I got “the talk” from my mom, she told me that people should wait until they’re married, which I now find hilarious, considering the fact that she and my father cheated on their respective spouses with each other, then divorced their spouses, shacked up with each other for a year, and then got married on my dad’s lunch break. Also hilarious: when I was 22, I told my mom that me and my long-term boyfriend weren’t sleeping together, she said, and I quote, “that’s not fair to him!” I suppose she thought she knew best, and maybe she did, because the fact that he didn’t care whether or not we slept together should have been a clue to me that something was amiss in our relationship (or that he secretly preferred the company of men, which, as it turns out, he did. But that’s another story). Uhmm … where was I? Oh yes. Angel. She’s basically just a paragon of virtue. And she needs everyone else to know that.
2) I give Angel a lot of crap for being Angel, but hey, Chris is pretty passive-aggressive about the whole marriage thing, isn’t he? Back off, bro. I mean, I can see where it would be frustrating, but dropping all of those subtle “hints” isn’t helping your case.
3) Marie is crazy. Scott is needy. Got it.
4) “Who could even think about Justina Foster when he had Angel?” Obviously you, Chris. Trouble’s a-brewin!
Coming up next …
Angel talks with Scott about his relationship problems. Angel somehow makes it all about herself. Of course.
Tune in next time for …
Chapter 34 – A Talk with Scott
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