Post by Logan on Sept 9, 2012 9:39:42 GMT -5
[li]Secret Admirer
Summary: On a treacherous stormy night, Sarah Twilight is followed by a person who supposedly used to be a friend of Logan.[/i][/li][/ul]
LET’S FUCKIN’ FUCK
”Johnny Reb is going to get himself a nice episode of some Twilight Zone. A full fuckin’ marathon of it.” – Let’s Fuckin’ Fuck
[/color]”Johnny Reb is going to get himself a nice episode of some Twilight Zone. A full fuckin’ marathon of it.” – Let’s Fuckin’ Fuck
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The crowd in Mikes Sushi was small tonight. Perhaps everyone was not in the mood for raw fish. Hank Brown and I were seated at a red leather booth, sat on opposite ends. Several different sauces and sushi condiments covered the right side of the table. I didn’t bother with them. Call me a sushi purist. Whatever that means. Between mouthfuls, Hank Brown nodded with approval of the food and grabbed a quick swig of Pabst’s. He told me earlier that he hadn’t tried sushi before, now I suspected he just became a fan.
Hank Brown: Delicious.
Sarah Twilight: Sure.
He wanted to do an interview. I was hungry, thought he could meet me here. I didn’t even want to do an interview though. I didn’t even want to do a fuckin’ promo. I just wanted to think about fuckin’ nothing until my fuckin’ brain blew up and oozed out of my fuckin’ ears.
Hank Brown: What’s wrong?
He looked over at me with some concern. Maybe he noticed all the fuckin’-fuckin’ thoughts rubbing off on my face.
Sarah Twilight: What? Shut up. Shut the fuck up and give me a minute.
Dove a hand straight into my fuckin’ purse and gobbled up some Pall Red like real gawd damn gangsters do.
Sarah Twilight: Much better. Hey, fuck you, how you doing?
Hank Brown: Oh God not this.
Sarah Twilight: I’m boreder than fuck. Sick to death of yapping about these shit stains in WCF.
Hank Brown: Oh?
Sarah Twilight: You ever feel like you need to kill something and then fuck it? Or just fuck it. Because that’s how I feel. I want to stab Johnny Reb right in the fuckin’ throat and cut out his tongue.
Hank Brown: Oh.
Sarah Twilight: And then rub it on my asshole.
Sarah Twilight fell off the booth and onto the floor because he got tired of narrating himself in the first fuckin’ person.
Hank Brown: What the fuck are you doing?
Sarah Twilight: What does it fuckin’ look like I’m doing? I’m fuck-fuckin’ the floor.
Stomach down, Sarah thrust his hips vigorously over and over into the carpet. A small pink dildo protruding from the zipper of his pants and mashing into the floor.
Sarah Twilight: I’m pretending the floor is Steve Orbit.
Hank Brown: My God.
Many sushi eaters are disgusted by this act, spitting out raw fish into napkins.
Sarah Twilight: Eat my fuckin’ sushi, Steve.
Security began rushing in and pulling me up by the arms. I started thrusting my hips and fuckin’ the fuckin’ guards legs with my pink fuckin’ rubber dick doing all that fuckin’ shit in first narration again. They held onto my arms, but they could not contain my fuck.
Sarah Twilight: Eat my sushi motherfuckers. I’m trying to fuck Steve Orbit. Get off my fuck, stop fuck-blocking my fuck.
Guard: You can’t do that here.
Sarah Twilight: Why are there guards at a sushi joint anyway?
Hank Brown: You’re the one writing this.
Sarah Twilight: WHAT?!
Guard: WHAT?! YOU MEAN I’M NOT REAL? BUT I HAVE A FAMILY!
Hank Brown: I didn’t say that. I said, you’re the one writing… jizz… into the carpet.
Sarah Twilight: Just let me fuck the carpet. I mean, let me fuck Steve Orbit.
Hank Brown: What the fuck is it with you and carpets? (see ‘Secret Admirer’
Sarah Twilight: Just let me fuck something in peace.
Guard: NO.
Hank Brown: Oh, c’mon.. let him fuck the floor.
Sarah Twilight: Carpet.
Guard: Nobody fucks anything on my watch.
Hank Brown: What are you the Nazi-Fucker?
Guard: I don’t fuck Nazi’s.
Sarah Twilight: No, no, no. I think he meant that you get all Nazi when people fuck.
Guard: I don’t like no dirty business in the sushi bar.
Sarah Twilight: LIKE THIS?
I started fuckin’ his leg again.
Hank Brown: Is it time for a real promo yet?
Sarah Twilight: What’s wrong with this one?
Hank Brown: WELL…
Sarah Twilight: It has colors. Half of the boudles don’t even do that.
Hank Brown: OH MY GOD! YOU SAID ‘BOUDLE’.
Sarah Twilight: No.. I said.. I want to fuck a poodle. I did not break character. I just wanted to fuck a poodle.
Guard: I’d fuck a poodle.
PROMO COMMERICAL:
Do you feel sad?
Loss of appetite?
Dragging feet?
Can’t sleep?
Can’t say fuck enough?
Try Pall Red.
“Hi. My name is Logan. I eat Pall Red every day and now I’m a drag queen. Life is so much easier, and happier!”
Look at that smile. Here’s a before and after of his face.
Before Pall Red.
After Pall Red.
;D
It’s now available in chewable fruit flavored tablets. Try it now and you too can be happy.
The fifth shot of tequila went down like cold water on a hot thirsty day. My tongue lapped the salt off the crease between her breasts. I had never been known to be one who flirted or had a sexual attraction for the same sex, but tonight anything went. It was a time to let go. The club’s disco ball littered the floor with lights of all shapes and colors.
Party Girl: Love this song!
She dragged me out through an array of half drunken dancing kids half my age before I could gulp down another tequila shot. We kept close, finding a comfort zone on the floor, and throwing our bodies around like monkeys with rabies.
Party Girl: I don’t care that you dress up like a girl. I still think you’re hot.
Needless to say I found her to be a little confusing. Maybe she had too much to drink.
Sarah Twilight: Okay?
Either side of her thighs hugged my own and my leg was left tucked in-between hers.
Party Girl: I respect it. You know?
Sarah Twilight: My thigh?
Usually I do not wear skirts. Tonight I did, like I said, we’re getting loose. She wore one as well, and because of this I could feel the warmth of this strangers privates rubbing back and forth over my skin.
Party Girl: No, no. I respect that you are who you want to be and you don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks.
Sarah Twilight: I guess.
Party Girl: Stop being so humble. Throw up some middle fingers, girl, shake your ass in those motherfuckers faces. Freedom baby!
Maybe she was right. Though specifically I wasn’t sure of the exact ‘motherfuckers faces’ that my booty should have been shaken at. The general message was understood though.
Party Girl: Know what I’m saying?
I responded by slipping a hand underneath her skirt and grabbing a fleshly handful of ass.
Party Girl: Woooo!
We danced through the gathering of college’s drunkest and brightest, reaching the bar once more and rinsing and repeating. Shot of tequila. Sling some salt on her chest. Lick it off. Eat a Pall Red.
Party Girl: What’s that?
She noticed me down the cherry tablet.
Sarah Twilight: I don’t know, haha, but it makes you feel… better.
Party Girl: Like an escape from reality?
Sarah Twilight: You have no idea.
I knew the gamble before I handed her one. She’d see things that were there, maybe claw out her own eyes, or maybe not. Maybe she would enjoy it like I had come to. Who cared? No one did tonight.
Party Girl: Oh wow. This taste like strawberries.
Sarah Twilight: You might think you’re a strawberry soon.
Party Girl: Huh?
I munched up a few more for good measure to guarantee a good fuckin’ night.
Sarah Twilight: I’ll be right back.
And off my feet headed to the ladies bathroom. Fortunately there was no waiting in a line, everyone seemed to be sweating enough fluids out onto the floor. The sink water felt nice and cool over my hands, washing the sticky tequila off that spilled over them earlier. The mirror in direct view spelled time for a rare conversation. I since myself speaking into it – to myself, but I wasn’t actually speaking was I?
Sarah Twilight: You’re disgracing my name.
Did I really just say that? My mouth moved in the mirror and a clear audible voice was heard. My hand touched my mouth feeling nothing but numbness. The reflection did not duplicate my movements, only stared straight ahead into my eyes.
Sarah Twilight: Did I say that? Am I talking right now? I can hear myself talking.
Sarah Twilight: High heels and a fuckin’ skirt. Are you serious? I never wear that slutty shit.
My mirrors reflection furrowed his brows and spoke with more annoyance in his voice.
Sarah Twilight: And I don’t kiss girls either. I’m no dyke. And what’s with the makeup? The Mistress of Mischief does not wear lipstick.
Sarah Twilight: Did you just refer to yourself in the third person or did I? Or.. are you talking to.. me.. or am I talking to.. me?
Sarah Twilight: Focus. I don’t need to be in some damn club right now getting drunk with a bunch of college kids. I need to be thinking about Johnny Reb.
Sarah Twilight: Johnny Reb…
Sarah Twilight: Once Johnny Reb time travels his ass into a loss this Sunday, then I focus on War, and then I focus on finally getting my glorious moment in the sun against Jonny Fly.
Sarah Twilight: I’m dealing with more Jon’s than a hooker.
A hand lunged out of the mirror and stung my cheek.
Sarah Twilight: I need to pay more attention to what’s happening in the WCF. Johnny Reb may or may not be my ticket to Jonny Fly. It’s rumors. However, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. That’s why this Sunday I need to go full force into Johnny. He needs to be fucked up so much that the next time he time travels his fuckin’ teeth will be missing and end up in another dimension.
Sarah Twilight: That might make sense, but I don’t really understand time travel.
Sarah Twilight: Johnny Reb can also take that Boudlebot he built to have butt sex with, and throw it in a river where it belongs. Of all people why build a robot of Logan?
Speaking of the devil, Logan’s reflection walked into the edge of the mirror and past my own reflection. Logan briefly stopped behind my mirrors reflection, mouthing enthusiasm and pelvic thrusting into my reflections rear. I turned to see if anyone was actually behind me, but saw nothing.
Logan: Hey there babygurls. Doing a little ladies bathroom gossip are we?
Sarah Twilight: Gossip?
Sarah Twilight: More like match preparation –
Logan: SHUT UP!
My reflection in the mirror turned to give Logan a nasty look. I gave him one as well.
Logan: Prep THIS.
And once more he thrust his pelvic region.
Sarah Twilight: What are you doing here anyway, Logan. This is the ladies bathroom.
Logan: Oh is it? Because THAT..
He pointed at me.
Logan: Dude does not look like a lady. You look more like some boudle that has went to Connector City one too many times and shoved so many tickets up your own ass that you have no idea who you are anymore.
Sarah Twilight: Your insults just get weaker and weaker, Logan. You still sore about all that tapping I made you do?
Logan: My hand had a spasm. I did not tap to that trashcan Witch-boudle Spell move or whatever it is that you call it.
Sarah Twilight: Spellbound.
Logan: SHUT UP!
Sarah Twilight: Can you just leave?
His face looked a little desperate for company, lonely even.
Logan: I just, ya know, FPV teamed up with Roy Speede… DoT was a complete failure. My world is falling apart. Seth Lerch quit answering my three AM telephone calls. I need to give someone a Connector. You have no idea how it’s like to go this long without giving someone a Connector. I would settle for an Impact Style at this point… just one Impact Style. Maybe four seconds of locking someone into a Loganshooter. Then I could go away again for a little awhile. Everything would be okay again.
Sarah Twilight: Logan. Maybe you could help me?
Sarah Twilight: He could?
Logan: I could?
Sarah Twilight: Yes. I’m pretty sure he’s faced Johnny Reb before. I mean you had to have right…? You two have both been here for years.
Sarah Twilight: He did face Johnny Reb, and he lost.
Logan: Well… let’s not be so harsh here, babygurl. You see Johnny Reb must have went back into time and uh, maybe he, uh..
Sarah Twilight: No, Logan. Johnny Reb just beat you. That’s all he did. So, maybe you could give me some advice on how to prevent that from happening?
Logan: The Face of Treachery is not some Reb-Jobber expert. Maybe your trashcan boudle ass can coach some of these guys on how NOT to win a match against Jonny Fly. What was it.. three matches in a row? Who loses three matches in a row to the same guy? I don’t need you boudles. I am perfectly fine by myself, hanging out in mirror reflections and pelvic thrusting people from behind when they bend over to wash their face in the sink.
Sarah Twilight: Fine. Go then.
Logan: I WILL.
Sarah Twilight: Please.
Logan began walking back to the mirrors edge from where he first came, before he left though he cocked his head towards me and made another one of those desperate faces.
Logan: Oh.
Sarah Twilight: Yes?
Logan: Could you go get a hotdog with mustard and push it into the mirror for me?
That was a strange request. He must have noticed my puzzlement because he continued.
Logan: I don’t know how this stuff works, really, but it’s worth a try. I haven’t had a hotdog in so long… just one bite…
Sarah Twilight: No, Logan. Fuck off.
My reflection booted Logan’s reflection in the ass and he fell out of the mirrors view and disappeared.
Sarah Twilight: Hate to say it but I’m glad he’s gone.
Sarah Twilight: Why would I hate to say that?
Sarah Twilight: He’s funny sometimes.
I shrugged and yet my mirrors reflection did not. He composed a fierce appearance.
Sarah Twilight: Don’t worry about me. I mean – don’t worry about you – or… don’t worry about myself…
Sarah Twilight: I’m not. I’m just saying that I shouldn’t be clubbing right now when someone as talented as Johnny Reb is waiting in the ring for me.
Sarah Twilight: Johnny Reb is going to get himself a nice episode of some Twilight Zone. A full fuckin’ marathon of it. And I’m not fuck-fuckin’ around with WCF this time. If is it true that by beating Johnny Reb that I’ll go on to face Jonny Fly at War for the world title, then I will, and I’ll finally beat that Jonny Fly bastard, and finally get that world title. Then you know what I’ll do? I’ll go into the War and win that bitch too and do a jig for the One main event instead of a match.
Sarah Twilight: I like these plans.
Sarah Twilight: I love them.
Sarah Twilight: I love me.
Sarah Twilight: Or you.
Sarah Twilight: Right. Do I really think Johnny Reb is capable of time travel?
Sarah Twilight: I’m not sure, but I’m talking to a living breathing reflection in the mirror with its own personality… so anything is possible isn’t it?
Sarah Twilight: Only in WCF.
Sarah Twilight: I love WCF.
Sarah Twilight: So do I.
Sarah Twilight: I have confirmed that Reb is no pushover. He’s more than capable of winning the big ones, and this match is no doubt considered a big one.
Sarah Twilight: I know. A lot on the line here.
Sarah Twilight: My future is on the line. What I do tonight defines what I will do at War. I myself have never been in a War, but I think I would rather beat one man to get a title shot instead of twenty plus.
Sarah Twilight: Yes. It’s safe to say that beating Johnny Reb would be easier than winning a War.
Sarah Twilight: He’s won one before. He obviously knows what it takes. Above all else, I actually do respect Johnny Reb for that. He sounds like a very difficult match. And didn’t he come in second or so when he did it? I bet that takes a lot. I’m right, he definitely isn’t no pushover. This might just be my biggest challenge thus far, even bigger than last week when I took out three former world champions and Mr. Goat, Tommy. It’s rare that I ever give anyone else credit, but I’m giving it to Johnny Reb. He’s a man’s man. This isn’t going to be easy at all. You know what though? I’m Sarah fuckin’ Twilight, bitch.
Our faces simultaneously went forward and lips touched the mirrors surface for a loving kiss. My mind drifted from Johnny Reb and back to the dance floor outside. It had been quite a few minutes since Party Girl chewed up the Pall Red. How was she doing? Who gave a fuck. Time to blow this joint. Leaving the bathroom and bringing the club back into view, the least I could say was that I was a little surprised. Shocked really. Party Girl had stripped nude and currently performing a headstand on the bars table while two other girls funneled tequila into a hose fed to her mouth. She spotted me right from the get go and shouted out over the dance music.
Party Girl: Let’s fuckin’ fuck!
No time for that my dear. And besides… I wasn’t a lesbian.