rurounihime (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rurounihime) wrote2006-01-22 08:01 pm
rurounihime) wrote2006-01-22 08:01 pm
(no subject)
There isn't much time, so I'll make this brief, and I want one of you to follow my instructions closely, and to the letter. Someone, if you care anything about me or want to ever read my fic again, call the POLICE! She's got a gunny sack and a bit of garroting wire, with handles no less, and a crazy look in her eyes.
Or at least, that's what she had. She's left the room to go eat lasagna. But just as soon as she gets back, I know my fate is sealed.
It's my own fault really. I bought her "Audition" for Christmas, and then we watched it, and she just ... snapped.
It was all going so well. And then it went terribly wrong.
And what's worse is I know exactly what's in store for me, because I've already seen her last "pet." He used to be an attractive young man, that much is evident, and was obviously her type. You know, pale skin, spindly body, boney actually, long black hair. Deep dark cadaverous circles for eyes. You know, creepy. But hot. Creepy hot. Now, he's a handless, footless, tongueless, vomit eating, gibbering, gunny-sack gimp of despair and doom. She keeps him in a gunny sack hanging inside her closet, alongside her feather boas, some freaky many tailed whips, and a poster of 'N Sync (just to torture him). He rants on and on about that in particular, tonguelessly of course. It sounds something like "whaaaa uh ih ahve ooo eee 'ennn uuuuuuggg."
She only takes him out occasionally so he can make her a latte. He makes really good lattes. We call them "essence of gunny-sack gimp." He puts extra cinnamon in them, just the way she likes it. Thankfully, he also knows how to make them with soy. I think she kidnapped him from a Starbucks somewhere, or maybe some other trendy coffee emporium.
Oh shit, I think I hear her coming back. Gunny-sack-coffee-gimp is screaming something like "oooood ooood oooommmmmoood." I have no idea what that means.
Oh my, she's saying something creepy. It sounds a lot like "eateateateateat... lasagna goooood." She's walking through the door, oh dear lord, she's wearing a plastic suit and long long plastic heavy duty gloves and she's got her garroting wire all stretched out.
'Hello, you' she says to me. 'Are you prepared to lose your squiggly-spooch? Whahahahahahaha.'
No! No! No!! Noooooa;sdfljks;fdljk,f.c .....
Lambasted by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fireelemental79 :-P
Or at least, that's what she had. She's left the room to go eat lasagna. But just as soon as she gets back, I know my fate is sealed.
It's my own fault really. I bought her "Audition" for Christmas, and then we watched it, and she just ... snapped.
It was all going so well. And then it went terribly wrong.
And what's worse is I know exactly what's in store for me, because I've already seen her last "pet." He used to be an attractive young man, that much is evident, and was obviously her type. You know, pale skin, spindly body, boney actually, long black hair. Deep dark cadaverous circles for eyes. You know, creepy. But hot. Creepy hot. Now, he's a handless, footless, tongueless, vomit eating, gibbering, gunny-sack gimp of despair and doom. She keeps him in a gunny sack hanging inside her closet, alongside her feather boas, some freaky many tailed whips, and a poster of 'N Sync (just to torture him). He rants on and on about that in particular, tonguelessly of course. It sounds something like "whaaaa uh ih ahve ooo eee 'ennn uuuuuuggg."
She only takes him out occasionally so he can make her a latte. He makes really good lattes. We call them "essence of gunny-sack gimp." He puts extra cinnamon in them, just the way she likes it. Thankfully, he also knows how to make them with soy. I think she kidnapped him from a Starbucks somewhere, or maybe some other trendy coffee emporium.
Oh shit, I think I hear her coming back. Gunny-sack-coffee-gimp is screaming something like "oooood ooood oooommmmmoood." I have no idea what that means.
Oh my, she's saying something creepy. It sounds a lot like "eateateateateat... lasagna goooood." She's walking through the door, oh dear lord, she's wearing a plastic suit and long long plastic heavy duty gloves and she's got her garroting wire all stretched out.
'Hello, you' she says to me. 'Are you prepared to lose your squiggly-spooch? Whahahahahahaha.'
No! No! No!! Noooooa;sdfljks;fdljk,f.c .....
Lambasted by
fireelemental79 :-P
no subject
The handless footless school of latte making is a very obscure and carefully guarded secret. In other words, we really have no idea. ^_~
no subject
(Anonymous) 2006-01-24 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject