Posts Tagged ‘Sweet Valley’

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

06 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 47,681

“Here, give me your watch and your barrettes,” Jessica hissed, trying to take the objects without drawing attention to the twins. She quickly pinned back her hair and clipped the watch onto her wrist. “How do I look?”

“Like me,” Elizabeth whispered. She gave her twin a shaky smile. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Jessica said dramatically. “I’m an actress.”

As she walked to the stand, Jessica willed her legs forward, even though they felt like two lead blocks that were holding her down. She and Bruce passed, just inches from each other. He looked into her eyes, searching for some kind of sympathy. Finding none, Jessica could pinpoint the split second he realized it was Jessica and not Elizabeth who was going to take the stand. She could practically feel the fear radiating off of him.

Don’t worry, Brucie, she thought with a smirk. I won’t rat you out. Twin switch in action

05

06 2011

Post-coital Tristesse — Word Count: 46,102

“I can’t believe you pulled out the bird thing!” Bruce exclaimed, pacing back and forth in front of Ned Wakefield’s desk. “Does everyone really need to know about that?”

“Bruce, you have to understand what my strategy is here,” Ned argued, flipping open the file folder that held all of his notes on the case. “I barely understand it myself. But we’re trying to paint you as a harmless, non-date-rapey kind of guy.”

“All right, so a man who’s scared of birds is unlikely to be a date rapist,” Bruce said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “What else have you got?”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Ned said. “We could bring up your intentions of opening up the Patman Date Rape Crisis Center. I know it was all Elizabeth’s idea and that you’re not too into it, but the idea is so crazy, it just might work.” Ned kicks ass

04

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: 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: 40,211

Sure enough, at the next turn, there was Ken’s Toyota wrapped around a tree, smoke pouring out from under its hood. Todd slammed on the brakes, bringing his car to a stop in the middle of the road and jumping out.

He ran toward Ken’s car, the sharp pellets of rain pelting his face. Please be OK, Ken, he hoped. Please be all right.

Todd could feel the heat of the engine fire as he approached the Toyota. Throwing up one arm to shield his face, Todd moved cautiously toward the car. Any second now, this thing could blow sky high, he thought as he choked on the acrid smoke. It filled his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

Reaching the driver’s side door, Todd hesitated for a split second before yanking it open. Ken was slumped over the steering wheel, his eyes closed and his face pale. That “fatal” night

27

04 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!

19

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

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: 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