A/N: Caution, this story is intended to rock ass. Enter at all costs, and without caution.
I.
Some girl in her twenties, much like Fry from Futurama... except she's a girl. There is no justice for what has happened to her, but justice for justice sakes isn't always the right answer. For this girl's acts of *justice* she's had to leave home (obviously), get a job (the horror!) and take up residency with the one parent whose NOT married. Currently, she's moved out, however. As
I write what I will now reveal to be a diary, I must tell you now that I am that girl. I am a girl who will now not spoil anymore details about this story and just tell it the best way I know. It will not be an easy task, to be sure. But it is one I must take upon myself to further better me.
And if you believe that, then clearly you take fanfiction too seriously... fiction in general.
I, too, once took fiction too seriously. Until one day. One fateful, life-altering day...
One week earlier...
"One minute, I'm in Central Park!" Mimi cried with soap in hand. "Next I'm down on something - something street. Singin' Whoo hooo WHO WHO WHO. I'm street wise... I can supervise." She winked, picturing Pedo Dodger. Laughing, Mimi continued singing until fully showered off.
The woman of early twenties whisked herself out of the shower of her one bedroom apartmemt and did a crazy, awkward dance down the hall to her bedroom. As usual, she checked herself in the mirror. In her birthday suit she had acquired a small round middle, inner thighs that came into contact and the ever growing fear that she would remain a virgin well into her late twenties.
Sighing, she slipped old black sweatpants on and the eagle-stitched sweatshirt from her small bed. The room was tiny, as was the bathroom in front of her door. A little hall led out to what had to be the most normal sized part of the house: the kitchen. There was a medium-sized living room on the lefthand side when she walked out and a small front yard when she left.
One-level apartment complexes in unimpressive dark tan ran four units long for four buildings.
A typical small town dweller's idea of medium sized living. Not too small, not too unappealing.
As Mimi mentally prepared herself for her job as a Sales Representative for Direct TV, she heard the unusual sound of a knock at her door. It was unusual because she never head any knocks. Aside from her mom and their shared cat Celine she rarely had visitors that weren't neighbours wanting to borrow something or maintenance men wanting to check her plumbing.
Finding it at a rather odd time as well, Mimi armed herself with a hammer off the floor and the assurance that her cell phone was in her left front pocket. The young woman crept along her faux wood floor, past her small kitchen table and placed her hand on the knob. She breathed:
"Who is it?"
No answer.
Mimi peered out her gauzy white curtains. There was still no one there.
Taking another breath, she unlocked her deadbolt and yanked the white door open.
A definitiely familiar gray face surveyed her casually, as did other familiar faces.
They were the Looney Toons.
"Ehhh... can you help us, Doc?"
Mimi, wide-eyed, pulled her cellphone out and dialed her work's number.
"Yeah, I don't think I can make it in today."
To be continued...
~ Lavenderpaw ~