“Damn, it,” I heard Cambridge muttering, as she attempted once again to push the mattress that we had been sleeping on for years into the loft thing made of rafters that she had recently discovered were sturdy enough to hold her weight. She had decided soon after to make it into a bedroom.
“Uhhhhhhhy!” she screamed, as she gave one final heave, and sent the mattress flying into the loft.
A faint ‘broying,’ could be heard as the springs hit the rafters. She turned around, a triumphant grin spread across her face.
I just sat there for a moment, but then, in a moment of realisation, exclaimed flatly, “Uh, yay!”
“Hmmmmmm, the room looks strangely empty...........” she mused.
“Maybe it’s because there’s no furniture.”
“Uh, probably.” She walked over to the oven, which we hadn’t used in six months, and opened the door. I looked at her strangely. She pulled out a huge wad of cash.
“What the hell!? Why didn’t I know about this!?”
“You would have just gone out and spent it.”
“Yeah, on food!”
“Uh, whatever. It’s my money anyway.”
My brow furrowed in thought. Hey where would she get all that money? Is she a hooker? “Hey where did you get all that money? Are you a hooker?”
“Yeah!”
“Oh. Well, no more. That’s, like, bad, or something.” I went and sat down in the place the mattress used to be.
“Whatever.”
She walked out the door. Probably intent on buying some furniture.
“Zac! Come here and taste this!” I yelled to my boyfriend from the kitchen.
“What’s the catch.”
“No catch. Just taste the soup.”
“Uh.....I’m not sure about this.............”
“I’m not asking you to fuck a goat. Just taste the damn soup.”
“Damn it! Just give me the fucking soup!”
“A minute ago you didn’t want any.”
“No, I was just hesitant about it.”
“You’re going to have to take it if you want it now, because I’m hurt.”
“Whatever.” He reached for the soup. I whacked him with the big wooden spoon.
“No soup for you!”
“But you said that it was catchless!”
“That was just tasting it. This is stealing it. There is a catch to this.”
“Damn. And now I actually want to taste the damn soup.”
“Too bad.” I went back to stirring the soup.
A moment later I requested, “Hand me the spice rack.”
Zac handed me the spice rack. I searched it for the paprika. Once the small bottle had been retrieved, I un-twisted the lid and was about to sprinkle some into the mixture, when Zac exclaimed, “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” and dove toward me, snatching the paprika from my hands.
“What in the hell is your problem!?”
“I have a paprika allergy. I fear paprika.” And with that, he dropped the vial into the kitchen trash can.
“Okay then.” I turned to the spice rack to select an alternative. Marjoram. Marjoram is good.
After adding a minimal amount of the strong additive, I twisted the cap back on and replaced it on the rack. I went back to stirring.
After a few minutes, I felt my ass being slapped. “Zac!”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
A few minutes later, I felt a familiar sting. “I said no!”
“Caty!” he whined.
“No!”
“Damn.”
I was still sitting on the floor, when Cambridge flung the big garage door open, and began directing some big, scary looking men in hauling furniture inside.
“Hey, where did you get those big, scary looking men?”
She looked at me and explained, “Clients.”
She continued directing them.
I muttered, “Damn.”
“Hey, you wanna smoke all of Ike’s pot?” I suggested to my girlfriend (in secret), Dana.
“Uh, sure!”
We smoked all of Ike’s pot. I got really high, because I had done pot before, but, since it was Dana’s first time, she was uneffected.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaah! Now I see why Brandon does it! To annoy you!” I exclaimed to my bestfriend, Samantha.
“What in the hell?”
“I forget."
“Jessica! Stop calling me Bucko! And I’m not going to give you the fucking phone! Now go to hell!”
“Damn it! I’ll call you whatever I Goddam well please!”
“My Goddam fuckin’ name, is Taylor! Damn you! Go to hell!”
“Just then, a big hairy old banana clawed through the door.” I told my girlfriend, completeing the story.
“That was the worse excuse I have ever heard for a horror story.” Caty decided.
“Nuh uh-h! Just you wait! It’ll be bigger than Nightmare on Elm Street.”
“Yeah, Why would you want to see a man who had been burnt by a fire, coming back to scare the living shit out of kids, when we could see a big old hairy banana get killed by a dog!”
“Whatever. When I’m huge, you’re not gonna see two cents!”
“Yeah, well you’re not gonna see two cents yourself.”
“You’re probably right, but, oh well. Wanna fuck?”
“Okay.”
“Yah know, I can see what Carley sees in this,” I told my girlfriend.
“Yeah. Lapping milk out of bowls is cool. I could do this more often.”
“Yeah.” There was a pause in the conversation, but it wasn’t an awkward pause. Just a pause that we were both comfortble with. It didn’t make anyone feel weird, it was simply a feeling of unity. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with her.
“Hey, let’s go sit on the couch and watch some TV,” I suggested after a moment.
“Cool,” Dana agreed.
About fifteen minutes into General Hospital, I decided I was bored and leaned over to lay a kiss on her cheek. She responded to it with a kiss on my lips.
I returned it, and, pretty soon, we were making out on the couch. I slid my hand down her thigh, until it was resting between her legs. She opened them slightly, and, soon, I found myself feeling her up.
“Oh my God!” I heard someone exclaim. I quickly looked up. Taylor was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking shocked beyond belief.
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