Posts Tagged ‘Amy Sutton’

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 42,863

“BFFs,” Amy repeated. “Is that some kind of code for something?”

“Best friends forever, or best fucking friend, something like that,” Elizabeth said. “But that’s not relevant to the accusations that have been made against Mr. Patman.”

“So you’re fucking?” Amy asked, looking down at her notes and nodding. “…and weeping?”

02

06 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 41,203

“For the last time,” Bruce said evenly, “I am not the Sweet Valley date rapist.”

“He’s really not,” Elizabeth piped up. “Officer, I know this may be none of my business, but that’s never stopped me from interfering before. And I can say with about 60 percent certainty that Bruce is not the Sweet Valley date rapist.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. “I’ve been trying to tell this asshole that for the past five minutes.”

“Don’t you know who he is?” Lila demanded of the police officer. “He’s Bruce Fucking Patman!” BPattz, yo

28

04 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 36,269

“Thanks for the tip, Caroline,” Amy said, jotting down Bruce’s name in her reporter’s notebook and scribbling down a question mark beside it.

“But, speaking of Bruce — you’re going to be so interested in this piece of gossip, although I’m afraid it’s not actually newsworthy — he’s supposedly fucking Elizabeth Wakefield!” Caroline said, nodding furiously. “Can you believe it? Of course, Todd Wilkins is fucking Ken Matthews, so it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth made some bad decisions, but I really thought she’d give Enid Rollins a go, you know? Elizabeth seems too polite to turn anyone down for sex, regardless of her own sexual orientation. Oh, and I have it on good authority that she cries after every orgasm. Every single one! Can you believe it? I’ve never cried after an orgasm, but you know, my boyfriend lives out of town, so I can’t tell you the last time I actually had an orgasm — well, not one given to me by an actual human being and not something with batteries, anyway—” Hold up, bitch

13

04 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 34,880

She staggered down the street, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. She didn’t know how far Kelly’s was from the police station, or where she was exactly. Stopping in the middle of the street, she turned in a slow circle, surveying the area. She was somewhere on the outskirts of Sweet Valley, she realized now, taking in the low, long warehouses that dotted the landscape.

From inside one of them, she thought she heard sobbing and a voice calling for help, as well as a few loud banging sounds, but Enid had had enough drug-induced hallucinations to know never to trust her senses. She kept walking toward what she believed to be the center of town. As she approached a small cinderblock building with a sign that read “Unicorn Club,” Enid took note of the marquee out front.

“R U HORNY? WE R,” she read out loud. Then, underneath that, “2 FOR 1 DRINK SPECIALS, NOON TO 5 P.M. MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY.” Sounds like a good deal

12

04 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 32,330

“Besides, I’m not sure I like the name,” he pressed on. “Doesn’t it sound like the Patman Date Rape Crisis Center is for victims of ‘Patman Date Rape’?”

“No, I’m sure everyone will understand that Patman is modifying ‘Date Rape Crisis Center’ and not just ‘Date Rape,’” Elizabeth said quickly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It could send the wrong message.” I hear the food at the Unicorn Club is awesome

09

04 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 27,323

“Whatever,” Enid said, wrapping her arms around her chest. She was starting to get the shakes, a sure sign her latest hit was wearing off.

“Don’t you get it? Two children were found in a car in this parking lot — two little girls,” Amy said. “Enid, you left two small children in a car — by themselves — for god knows how long.”

“Oh, look at me: ‘I’m Amy Sutton, unlikely voice of reason,’” Enid mocked, flailing her arms in the air and waving around an imaginary microphone, which she then pretended to talk into. “‘Coming to you live from let’s fuck over Enid Rollins because I’m so stuck up because I volunteered for some stupid teen hotline, I’m Amy, blah blah blah.’” Drug bust, oh yeah

05

04 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 26,076

“Jessica? Jessica?”

Someone was shaking her awake. Jessica sat up with a start, for one terrifying moment believing the Sweet Valley date rapist had broken into her home. She lashed out, slapping at the person in front of her.

“Ouch, Jess, stop it!” Elizabeth cried, flinching and pulling back.

Jessica’s eyes focused in the dim light and fixated on her twin. She noticed Elizabeth’s cheeks were wet with tears.  “Oh, Liz, it’s just you,” she mumbled sleepily. “Can you make me a grilled cheese?” Bitch in the kitchen

09

03 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 18,041

“That’s impossible!” Elizabeth cried, throwing off her Snuggie. It slid to the floor and landed in a sleeved heap. “Bruce is my new BFF. I mean, sure, he may get a little handsy every now and then, but he’s certainly not a rapist!”

“Date rapist,” Jessica said, correcting her twin for once. “He at least has the decency to get a girl good and drunk or otherwise impaired beforehand.”

“Police have also declined to speak further about the case,” Amy continued. “They have, however, referred all questions about the Sweet Valley date rapist to a ragtag bunch of 16-year-olds with an uncanny ability to solve crimes and a shocking lack of parental supervision.”

Elizabeth shook her head angrily as Amy concluded her report.

“For Sweet Valley Action News, I’m Amy Sutton. Token Sweet Valley High Character We Don’t Give a Shit About But Who Inexplicably Became a News Anchor, back to you.”

“Thanks, Amy,” Jeffrey French said as the camera cut back to him. “Coming up: A look at your local forecast, which as we all know will be sunny and perfect, but first, our nightly check of the Wakefield twins’ bowel movements and a special report on why Elizabeth doesn’t love me anymore.” We’ll never know why

14

11 2010

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 15,560

The sun burned into Todd’s pasty, flabby skin. Through his sunglasses, he could discreetly check out Ken’s perfectly sculpted abs as the two of them lounged on their towels.

It’s Elizabeth I love, it’s Elizabeth I love, it’s Elizabeth I love, Todd repeated to himself over and over. Everything I’m doing — spying on her through her windows at night, getting in shape so I can impress her by joining a recreational basketball league, helping Ken get over the pain of losing Olivia sometime in the late 1990s — everything I’m doing is to win back Elizabeth.

But it was getting more and more difficult to convince himself, especially when Ken was lying just inches away from him in nothing but a tiny red bathing suit. Hotness

14

11 2010

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 11,697

Four
Sweet Valley

Jessica laughed, a silvery little giggle she sometimes used with clients to make them throw more dollar bills her way. “Oh, Marshall Stanton V, you are just the most fascinating man I’ve ever met in my entire life,” she purred, running a finger up his arm.

Never mind the fact that he’s approaching 70 and has less hair than boring old Todd Wilkins at this point, Jessica thought, shuddering. This fucker is totally loaded!

“As are you,” he replied. “Except you’re not a man. And you’re not even that fascinating. But you are beautiful.”

Jessica caught Lila’s eye and grinned, sticking her tongue out at her best friend as Marshall V turned away to admire one of the many original paintings decorating the walls of Lila Crest. Lila scowled and tipped back her fourth glass of champagne, downing it in one swallow. Indie cred

09

11 2010