Round 15... and we did it Sid's way

[RedneckDiva]

And BY THE WAY --

Maybe I'm whinin' here, but why's everyone always lookin' up Angela's skirt? I have a perfectly good skirt for lookin' up, too! What's she got that I ain't got? Hmh? Hmh? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

[Tammyk]

RedneckDiva said:

Tammy said, "... you can smell me coming." !!!!! BWAH!! Oh my goodness, am I just about the most sophomoric person on here or what?!? Or maybe just incredibly dirty minded. Or maybe sophomorically dirty minded?

Heh.

Don't think I didn't realize what I was writing...lol. I wrote it anyway.

That song kept running through my mind ohh, that smell, can you smell that smell.

That's it. I'm leaving for while before I get myself into trouble.

[sidra]

man, i wanted a theme... i totally have writer's block now... with my own words! dammit!

maybe the theme should be... nudity? peanut butter? can anyone write a good story about nekkid people smearing peanut butter up their skirts while using the word "peppermint"? eh? eh?

hey, RD, maybe everyone's too busy looking at your boobs to think about what's up your skirt.

uh... what's that smell?

[RedneckDiva]

If the people were nekkid they wouldn't be wearing skirts, dear Sid!

[Chaos]

You guys are just about terminally silly. ;D So glad you're my friends!

LMAO...now, could we get down to business here and do what we DO?? Yes, of course, I mean writing stories...not the smearing of peanut butter, and voyeuristically looking up people's skirts...jeez!

Please! Go look up Diva's skirt for a change...trust me, Diva, it's not as thrilling as you might imagine..

[Chaos]

AD1

Shane stared sullenly at the table, currently littered with applications, loan and grant forms, and other college-related detritus. I wasn’t really sure that my 17-year-old son was even hearing me, but that, of course, wasn’t going to stop me from trying to get through to him.

“Son, I don’t mean to belabor the point,” I began, picking up the sorry excuse for an essay he’d given me to proofread for him, “but do you really understand how important the essay really is to your college applications?” His essay, written on the topic of “How New Technology will Impact the 21st Century,” read like the work of a 3rd grader, far below my son’s normally creative, expansive writing.

Shane didn’t answer, but just waved his hand at me dismissively and rolled his eyes. I dropped the “essay” on the table at his elbow. “Rewrite this thing, Shane. This time, why don’t you pretend like you’re a straight-A honor student, planning to major in English literature? Oh, wait! You are a straight-A honor student, planning to major in English lit! It’s really hard to tell, though, reading this.” I walked away from him, struggling to contain my anger and confusion at his recent behavior, and wishing for the first time that there was a father-figure in the picture for Shane to look to for advice and guidance. Normally it’s not that difficult, being everything to my children, but right now I wouldn’t mind a bit handing the reins over to someone else.

How did my out-going, intelligent, garrulous child become this angry, unresponsive, defiance-filled stranger, all in the space of three short months? How could he, after years of being focused on his goal of attending Yale, just throw everything away now, when he is just months from his high school graduation?

For years, all of us had acted as if his becoming a Yale alumnus was pre-ordained; ever since Shane heard of the famed college, it is all he has wanted. He made sure, through numerous conversations and meetings with his high-school advisor, that he was taking college-prep classes, and he never failed to give those classes 100% of his attention and focus. Up until now, in four years of high school, he hasn’t received a grade lower than 95% on any test, homework assignment, or paper.

Last December, he met Alicia. She is a military brat, moved around from place to place, and has attended more schools than any other child I’ve ever known of. Cargill High is the sixth high school she’s attended in the last two years. I know that has to be hard, but I suspect that Alicia uses this to her advantage. She struck me as a somewhat “hard” girl the very first time I met her, with her platinum-blonde hair, glittery make-up, and shrewd green eyes. Pretty, certainly, but somehow too old for her years. Shane met her at a school function, a dance held for seniors, off-campus, just to kind of blow off stress and steam from midterms. He came home that evening full of chatter about Alicia, and asked if he could invite her to dinner the following week. I am always happy to meet my children’s friends, so of course I said yes.

The next Friday, Shane drove Alicia home with him, and introduced her to me. Nothing about the way the girl handled herself at that first meeting suggested anything out of the ordinary. She was polite, well spoken, and obviously smitten with Shane. She even offered to help me cook dinner; I thanked her, and told her that I had dinner under control, but that if she wanted to help, she and Shane could set the table. She cheerfully did as I asked, with Shane’s help, and then the two of them went to play video games in the family room on Shane and his brother’s PS2. I smiled at the sounds of their squeals and laughter coming from the other room; it was good to hear Shane enjoying time spent foolishly, with another young person. He was normally so intent on his schoolwork that he rarely took time to just be a teenager.

The dinner went very well, with everyone asking for seconds. Afterward, Alicia and Shane, and Shane’s brother, Dale, cleaned up the kitchen. Alicia sought me out to thank me for dinner and then Shane announced that he was taking her home. He was gone for four hours.

When he came home, he wouldn’t look at me, nor would he respond to my queries of his whereabouts for the last four hours. He went straight to his room and locked the door, refusing to speak to Dale or me. I decided, after much thought, to break my own rule of respecting my kids’ privacy and I went outside to look through his car, hoping to discern a clue to his odd behavior.

Opening the car door, the strong and unmistakable scent of peppermint assaulted my senses. Upon opening the glove box, I found a small bottle of peppermint schnapps, mostly gone. I confiscated the bottle, and continued my search; however, the rest of the contents of the car were just the normal things of teenage boy…textbooks, notebooks, a car magazine, and empty soda bottles.

The next morning, I was awake and waiting for him when he came down from his room. The schnapps bottle was sitting on the kitchen table in front of me. His reaction was unexpected and violent.

“Where did that come from, mom?” He yelled.

“You know where it came from, Shane. The question is, what was it doing in your car?” I calmly asked.

“What the fuck were you doing snooping around in my car, mom? You’re always butting in where you don’t belong!” He grabbed the bottle and shoved it into his back pocket and headed for the front door, as if he thought I would just let him walk out with alcohol in his pocket.

Blocking the door, I said, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to like that, son? As I remember the agreement, that car is yours to drive, as long as you maintain your grades, which hasn’t been a problem. However, I never thought I also needed to tell you that another condition would be respecting your mother and no alcohol in the car…or anywhere else, for that matter!” I was so angry at that point that I was shaking, but I kept my voice steady. “Give me the bottle, Shane. This is not negotiable.”<br>
His eyes flashed angrily, but he yanked the bottle from his pocket and slapped it into my outstretched hand. “There. Happy?” He tried to move around me to escape through the front door, but I blocked him yet again.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re grounded, son. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for the next two weeks, at least,” I informed him.

“Two weeks? Are you crazy? I am going to pick up Alicia, and you’re not going to stop me!” He tried again to go around me.

“No, I might not be able to physically stop you, Shane, but I imagine the missing distributor cap on “your” car will hamper your plans a bit. You are grounded. No phone, no Alicia, straight home from school during the week, and that’s final. Two weeks. Yell at me again, and we’ll make it three.” I left him standing there in the foyer and went to my room to dispose of the bottle, wondering silently where this had come from. It had to be Alicia. She was the only “new” thing in his life; therefore she must be responsible.

Since that day in December, things have gotten progressively worse. Shane’s grounding lasted the full two weeks, and in that time he barely spoke three words to me. It was difficult, living under the aegis of his torrid anger, but we got through it. However, he continued going out without telling me where he was going, or stayed out beyond when he indicated he’d be home. Our arguments got louder and more volatile; the tension in our home became so thick that it could have been cut with a butter knife.

I suspected drugs, but was unable to prove it. My friends, with whom I consulted on Shane’s crazy behavior, suggested I buy a home drug-testing kit; I did, but the fight Shane and I had over that was such that our neighbor, the nosy Mr. Cane, called the police out to investigate. The helpful officers informed Shane that, since he is 17 years old, it is illegal for anyone other than a court, judge, or other such person, to force him to submit to a drug screen in this state. The cops then informed me of the same, and suggested that I seek counseling for Shane and myself. They didn’t have an answer for me when I asked how, if I can’t force him to take a drug test, was I supposed to make him go to counseling with me.

Alicia is still a large part of the problem, in my opinion. I know that Shane spends a lot of time with her, even though he hasn’t brought her back to our house since that first time. I’ve done a bit of investigating, though, with the help of a teacher friend at Cargill; Alicia has had trouble in every school she’s attended since sixth grade. While that doesn’t surprise me, considering her effect on my son, I wonder why her parents haven’t done anything about it. The one time I attempted to speak to her mother, I was promptly informed that I should mind my own business and stay out of theirs before the door was slammed smartly in my face. I got enough of a glimpse of Alicia’s mother that I noticed the fresh black bruise around her eye, though. I feel fairly certain that there is some type of abuse going on there, but again, since I can’t prove anything, I don’t know what I can do about it.

[Chaos]

AD1 (con't)

Sighing, I run my fingers over the picture of Shane on my bedroom wall. He was 12 years old and his winsome smile, toothy and wide, always made me smile in response, until now. My heart heavy, I walk down the hall toward his bedroom, hoping to talk to him again, without anger. If we could only get back to that place where he told me everything and I could really make it all better for him…like kissing a boo-boo when he fell off his bike to take the sting out of it.

Knocking on his door, I rested my forehead against the cool wood and said, “Shane…I’m sorry, son. I don’t mean to sound the way I do lately, I’m just so confused about how you’re acting. Please open your door so we can talk this through. If there is something hurting you or bothering you, I want to help. You know I love you, right? Shane?” There is no response, either to my words or the knocking. I knock harder and a little more insistently. “Shane! Open this door, son! Right now!” I reach down to rattle the doorknob, and to my complete surprise, the door opens easily. Feeling slightly foolish, I open the door, only to find that there is no one in the room.

There is a sheet of notepaper lying on the bed, so I pick it up and read it.

Dear Mom,

You’re right. My essay sucks. So I might as well not bother trying to even get into Yale, now. I have found something that means more to me than any school ever could.

Alicia and I are leaving. We are going to get married and find somewhere to live far away from her parents and everything else that can hurt us. Her father has been hurting her and her mom for years and I am not going to stand by and let it keep happening. She is mine, now, and I am going to do what has to be done to take care of her. We’ll be in touch with you as soon as we get settled somewhere.

I took your grocery fund money from the jar in the kitchen. I will send it back to you as soon as I find a job. I’m sorry.

Love,
Shane

I let the note fall to the floor as I hear the knock on the door downstairs. I know what has happened even before I open the door to find the policeman standing there. “Ma’am, there was an accident just outside of town. I’m afraid I have bad news…”

The rest just fades to noise as I begin to cry for the lost chances and shattered dreams that will now define my life forever.

[RedneckDiva]

*sob*

Gawd, that was sad. Thanks for perkin' me right up there, Angela! I can't write my story now - I can't see through the tears!!!

And someone looked up my skirt today, but it wasn't any of you guys and it left me feelin' kinda dirty and violated. Man, I hope it happens again soon...

[ThatWickedWench]

You mean to tell me that I now am supposed to write a story and submit it after Angela's?
The HELL.
GREAT job, hon. Hands down. As of now, you are the winner.
I hate to be the one to ask, but Hell I can take a beating.. Extension, anyone? Some of us work second shift jobs and have to spend the weekend's with their signif (or NOT so signif) others and don't have the time to get in under the deadline...
I have a story brewing but it won't be ready by midnight on Monday. Hell I don't even GET HOME til after midnights Mon-Thur!!! Maybe if you give us til midnight on Tuesday, then I can finish up my story while I'm supposed to be working..
I mean LOOK, only one person has posted so far anyway, what's the harm in another extension?

Oh and by the way:

WeLcOmE tO tHe NeWbIeS

*licks lips*
Yes.... new people can be sooooo fun! I could eat them right up..wait.. whoa *retch*

OKay Tricia, that smell has gone too far. Time to swap the peanut butter for some lysol and bleach. The newbies MUST be sanitized before they enter the Forum from NOW on!

*Evil Grin*

[EJinWonderland]

Ok...two things. Ummm...I would NOT hate an extension. I am new of course so you can certainly deny me...or beat me and allow an extension. I can be VERY submissive if you like

Oh, and where do you hot girly's find those avatars at?

[sidra]

i'm going to try to get mine finished and posted tonight... but if i don't... uh... tomorrow? i had horrible writer's block up until today! since it is MY way... an extension wouldn't be bad. just a couple days... or a day...? i know they're boring, but i guess a lot of us have lives outside of the internet. or we at least pretend to. or maybe we're too wasted to remember.

i mean, look at me, i was talkin' about nekkid people wearing clothes!

[RedneckDiva]

Sid and her nekkid people....stinky newbies.....Angela's sad-ass stories.... sometimes the 'net is an awful wonderful place, eh?

An extension would be tremendously helpfully awesomely wonderful. I mean, I'm just now sitting down to write here, girls. (and guys, if y'all are out there, but I have yet to see evidence you exist) I don't have a clue what kind of story I'm going to write yet....the writer's block has had it's grips on me all weekend. I've re-written the beginnings of the [glow=red,2,300]Next Great American Novel[/glow]about 20 times today alone! Sometimes it sucks being so damn artistic. I'm too happy - that's my problem!!

[Tricia]

*huhuhuhuhuh*
*runs into the forum breathless*

Look at this!
*holds out three big binders*

These are the reports that I have to turn in on monday!

Please forgive me... I must have an extension... is Wednesday night okay?
Better be!


Okay,
I'll get back to writing then.

[sidra]

okay, well, i pushed myself hard last night because that was really the only free time i was going to have, and i suddenly got an idea and rolled with it. i did use a character i already have established, but the story itself is 100% new and i just wrote it all yesterday. if it sucks at all, that's why. meh, don't matter; i had fun with it.

but yay for the extension! i wanta see more stories!

[sidra]

SG1

This rain was not natural. Elatha shook the water out of her eyes and handed her injured horse over to a very surprised young soldier. Another one ran up to her and saluted her, but she ignored him.

“Dame Greywing!” he stammered. Obviously the prince had not been expecting her, or he would have sent more competent men to greet her. Then again, Elatha usually intimidated most humans. Elves of her ancestry were generally taller and paler than most men found comfortable, and that she was not given to garrulous conversation did not help. If she spoke at all, it was in short, curt phrases, all of them so perfectly pronounced that anyone listening would know she did not intend to repeat herself. A tall, quiet, grim woman of any race would have been discomfiting to the average man, let alone the average soldier. “Have the Moonstones returned?”<br>
“A few men short,” Elatha said grimly. “Is the Prince within?”<br>
“He’s in the tower room,” the soldier stammered out, “but surely you need to find something dry?… er… perhaps some peppermint tea?…” Elatha spared him a sardonic glance, and he went silent. She swept past him into the fortress that was the pride of the land of Erthe, the stronghold of Harth, which Prince Soren Rosemund and his mercenary armies had captured bloodlessly nearly a fortnight ago.

She was not stopped by any of the many royal guardsman who saluted her as she stalked by, nodding her head in acknowledgement. Greywing was the only full-blooded elf serving in any of the mercenary squads that made up the Prince’s army, and she was difficult to miss. And it was well-known among both the mercs and the Royal Guard that she was second-in-command of the most elite of all the merc squads in Erthe; the Moonstones, and that only because she insisted that she not be their leader. Since the Moonstones took orders from and reported to only Prince Soren himself, it was not unusual for Elatha to approach him unchallenged. This held true until she reached the doors that led to the tower room that Prince Soren had appropriated for his study. A swarthy, cruel-faced soldier dressed in the livery of the Royal Guard stepped forward and blocked her way when she went to open the door.

“Apologies, Dame,” the soldier, who didn’t sound at all apologetic, rumbled. “The Prince doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”<br>
“He will want to be disturbed by me,” Elatha said shortly, reaching for the door again. This time the giant brute grabbed Elatha’s thin wrist in his meaty hand.

“No, Dame,” he sneered in defiance, pushing her arm roughly back, “he won’t.”<br>
“Do you know who I am?” Elatha said dangerously. “I suspect you do not, or you would not be touching me right now.”<br>
“Don’t know who you are, don’t care,” the soldier said stubbornly, not letting go of her wrist. “They’re not to be disturbed, for any reason.”<br>
“They.” Elatha raised a slim golden eyebrow. “Interesting.” Quick as a flash, her arm was free and the soldier fell heavily to the ground, winded, Elatha’s knee in his throat. “For your future benefit, I am Greywing, and you would be well-advised to get out of my way if you see me coming to see the Prince. You should have at least the wit to recognize the livery of his personal guard.” She gestured at the blue crescent that adorned the front of her ash-gray livery; the symbol of the Moonstone merc squad. “Remember that there are those above you in skill that have the particular privilege of guarding the Prince. Have I made myself clear?” The soldier managed to nod desperately in assent, his face purple. “Thank you for wasting my time.” Elatha rose swiftly, and stepped over the guard’s supine, gasping form to enter the Prince’s study.

She had expected him to perhaps be in conference with some of his generals; the leaders of the various merc squads he had enlisted to help him regain his throne and the commander of the garrison at Harth. She did not expect to see him hand-in-hand with a young woman; a thin, pale, winsome creature that could have been no more than sixteen. For the first time since she had allied herself to Soren’s cause and joined the Moonstones, she was completely taken aback. The young girl at least looked as if she came from royal blood, which boded well. It was important that Soren marry and begin producing heirs as soon as possible; even if they disposed of the usurper, there was still the possibility that Soren could die in the battle to secure his crown. His line should be established as soon as possible. Terpin, the commander of the Moonstones, would be relieved to hear that the Prince was showing an interest in women.

“My pardon for the intrusion, your highness, but I have pressing news from the city,” Elatha said, bowing. “I hope the Lady will accept my apology as well.”<br>
“Greywing,” Soren said tersely, “what did you do to the guard?”<br>
“Taught him a lesson,” Elatha said mildly. “He had ordained himself your personal guard and I felt the need to educate him otherwise. I did wonder to myself where Atrisi and Gelent went.” Some of the Moonstones had stayed behind to guard the Prince, and Elatha was displeased that they were not outside his study.

“I sent them off,” Soren said irritably. “And I’m about to do the same to you, Greywing. The Princess Allise and I were having a rather personal conversation. And, for the record, that guard was here for her benefit, not mine. I’ll thank you not to knock him down again when you leave.”<br>
“I am afraid this is not news that can wait,” Elatha said. “Perhaps you remember sending us off on a rather urgent mission, your highness? We have returned, and our news is not good.”<br>
“Very well.” Soren pressed a dark hand to his temple. “Please, have a seat, my princess. This should not take long.”<br>
“Are all of your subjects this bold with you, my lord?” the princess said, casting a haughty glance towards Elatha. Her cornflower blue eyes caught Elatha’s storm-gray ones for a moment, and a feeling of revulsion suddenly swept over the elf. She stepped back, unconsciously, narrowing her eyes in consternation. Something was wrong with this girl. Elatha suddenly did not feel comfortable at all with this girl being so close to the Prince. He had had his share of torrid affairs with common women, but Elatha had never had a problem with them; half of them had been soldiers that were loyal to the house of Rosemund. But Elatha felt something different about this girl, something that hinted at ill intent. She was not one to ignore her instincts, especially her inherent truth sense. The Princess Allise was hiding something from them, and it was not a good thing.