Posts Tagged ‘hipster d-bag’

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 44,662

Bruce glanced nervously over his shoulder at the twins. It was the most worried Elizabeth had ever seen him. He looks even more worried than that time we saw a hummingbird hovering outside of his office window at Patman Canning, Elizabeth thought. I think he seriously thought it was going to bust through the glass and peck our eyes out!

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ned continued, “I ask you: Would a man afraid of birds be capable of date rape? By the end of this trial, I’m confident you will come to the same conclusion that I have: No, a man afraid of birds doesn’t have the balls to commit date rape.”

Wow, it’s almost like Dad read my mind, Elizabeth thought. That’s kind of creepy.

Jessica giggled a little bit louder and shifted in her seat as their father took his seat back at the defense table. “Birds!” she repeated, laughing. “I lied: This is the funniest shit I’ve heard all week.” An obscure pop culture reference

03

06 2011

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: 37,608

“Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth cried.

Mr. Collins looked up at her, startled. And around him peeked Jessica.

“Jessica?” Elizabeth exclaimed. I was wrong, she thought grimly. Things just got a lot worse. She jumped up off of Bruce’s lap and ran toward her sister, not believing that it really was her. The ho stroll

17

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: 21,283

“Winston!” Elizabeth exclaimed, rushing over to her old friend and giving him a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

Winston pried himself out of Elizabeth’s grip and continued to mix powdered creamer into his coffee. It’s too early for this shit, he thought. And what the fuck is she wearing? A powder blue linen suit? Bruce doesn’t even wear suits to work!

“Uh, hey, Elizabeth,” he mumbled, stirring the coffee. “Guess we’re co-workers now, huh?”

“I know!” Elizabeth squealed. “It’s so exciting! I’m just so happy to be working with my best friends!” OMG besties!!

06

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: 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

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 8,450

Winston acted as if he hadn’t heard Bruce’s tirade. “Have you heard the new Droids album?” he asked.

“It’s pretty good,” Bruce admitted.

Winston laughed. “Talk about a joke!” he said. “Their earlier stuff was so much better.”

“They did hit their peak around 1995,” Bruce agreed.

Winston took a heavy drag on his cigarette. “1995? More like 1983,” he said, snorting.

“What’s your point, Egbert?” Bruce snarled, clearly annoyed.

Winston just shrugged.

“I don’t pay you to talk about the latest bullshit indie album,” Bruce snapped. “I pay you to fucking entertain.” Winston is totally cooler than you

09

11 2010

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 6,409

The club wasn’t very crowded. At a table to her left, Jessica spotted one of her regulars, Mr. Collins. He had been the twins’ English teacher at Sweet Valley High, and he’d popped Elizabeth’s cherry up at Miller’s Point one night. Elizabeth had come home crying uncontrollably, Jessica recalled.

Even though Mr. Collins kind of gave her the creeps, he was still one of her best-paying customers. Jessica worked her way over to his side of the stage, gyrating her hips and accepting dollar bills from A.J. Morgan and Claire Middleton as she did so.

“Hello, Mr. Collins,” Jessica said breathily, crouching down and holding out a hand for her usual tip. Inwardly, she shuddered in disgust, but in six years of dancing Jessica had become a pro at not letting her face betray her true feelings.

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins said warmly. “Do you need ‘advising’? Preferably in the champagne room?” Coke whoring

07

11 2010

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 5,044

“I — I lost my job today,” Elizabeth said, her voice shaking. At any moment, she was sure she was going to burst into tears.

“You did what?” Jessica screeched. “Do you know what this is going to do to my bikini line? Not to mention my career?”

“You’ll just have to work harder, Jess,” Elizabeth said quietly. She looked up at her sister, whose face was contorted in rage. “You know, help out a little bit around here.”

“You want help? Here you go,” Jessica said dismissively, reaching into her purse and pulling out a fat roll of cash. She threw it toward her twin.

“What’s this?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide as she unfurled the roll and started counting the money. “Jessica, these are all one-dollar bills.” Gemini to the main stage

03

11 2010