Posts Tagged ‘Hot mess’

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 49,108

Everyone in the courtroom gasped. “Boyd? What kind of fucking name is that?” Bruce cried.

“Totally redneck,” Jessica assured him.

“Who the fuck is that?” Elizabeth said.

The courtroom burst into chaos as the doors opened and a man who looked just like Bruce was escorted to the witness stand by two police officers. As he took his seat, he and Bruce caught eyes, and Jessica could practically feel the hatred radiating from Bruce. Even trashier than cousinbro


06 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 39,021

Without thinking, Todd launched into trusty boyfriend mode. He wheezed and hobbled his way over to his own car, yanking open the driver’s side door with a strength he didn’t know he still possessed. The engine turned over with a loud roar, and Todd hit the gas, turning out of the parking lot in the direction Ken had taken.

Where is he? Todd thought, squinting to see farther down the road. None of the cars looked like Ken’s. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal, silently willing the car to go faster. The car shuddered and leaped forward.

Ahead, Todd noticed a car suddenly change lanes, nearly sideswiping a motorcycle. Someone in Sweet Valley still rides a bike? Todd wondered. I thought we all learned that lesson when Elizabeth was in a coma and started acting all slutty! High-speed chase action!


04 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


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


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


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


03 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 22,739

“Well then,” Bruce said, coming up behind Elizabeth and placing his hands on her waist, “looks like it’s just you and me.”

Elizabeth nodded, her body stiffening at Bruce’s touch. “Uh, Bruce, I hate to ruin the moment and everything, but is that — is that a can of peaches in your pocket, or—”

“No,” he said, his voice low with desire. “No, it’s not a can of peaches.”

Tears began to roll down Elizabeth’s cheeks as her body was racked with uncontrollable sobs. Stripper fight!


03 2011

Post-coital tristesse — Word Count: 19,572

As the man got into the car, Enid again looked at his face, this time, recognition dawning on her. “Oh, I know you!” she said, giggling.

The man smiled at Enid as he reached behind her seat and pulled out a paper cup and a bottle of wine. He poured the wine into the paper cup and added a small pill. “The wine is a 1945 Merlot. The date rape drug is a 1995 roofie,” he said, handing her the cup. “It was an excellent year.”

Enid accepted the cup and pounded back the wine. “You’re Bruce Patman,” she said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

“Something like that,” he said, turning the key in the ignition as Enid slipped into darkness. Crackies everywhere


01 2011

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


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


11 2010