Pretty in Pink: Ya'll this is one of the greatest 80's movies ever, and you
seriously need to see it to believe the magnitude of its greatness.
I guess I'll pick up where the movie left off, a couple days after their senior prom night. Duckie, who lusted after Andie for years upon years, has finally realized it isn't meant to be and moves on. Andie and her rich-boy lover Blane overcome the obstacles of clashing social groups and fear of what others might think and go at it, and they live happily ever after. That's where I come in. the 'happily ever after' part.
"Duckie, I'm so glad Blane and I worked everything out, he's so perfect and wonderful!" Andie swooned to her best friend, former obsessive stalker Phil 'Duckie' Dale. Nobody knew her like Duckie though, and she could always count on that even though she broke his heart by not returning his love. "Yeah, yeah, but will he ride his bicycle past your house for hours on end just to see your face? Now that's commitment, Andie." Duckie explained. He was still quite bitter and heartbroken over the whole thing. He'd followed her for all of his high school life, and then she goes after Mr. Millionaire Heartthrob first chance she gets. Deep down though, Duckie knew that they'd never be. She didn't love him, and no amount of pining would fix that. So he might as well just stop wasting time on her and get laid already. "He fixed me dinner on his yacht last night, did I tell you?" Andie continued. She couldn't seem to shut herself up, her heart was just too giddy over Blane. She'd almost lost him before, a poor girl like her trying to mix with his snobby crowd nearly tore them apart. But to think, that he loved her enough to risk all that. again, Andie's insides tingled with delight. "He lit candles, we danced to a stringed orchestra that he'd hired, and-" "I heard you the first two hundred times, I think I'm done for the night." Duckie groaned. She was happy though, he had to admit that to himself. Happier than he'd ever be able to make her, Blane probably spent the equivalent of Duckie's life savings on their romantic night together. Not having money sucked. Suddenly, outside Andie's bedroom window a car horn honked. "What the.?" she whispered as she hurried to the window. "Oh! It's Blane!" she cried in delight. Duckie winced with heartache. "Andie baby, how about a midnight picnic under the stars? I've got cheesecake!" Blane called to her. Duckie could see him through the window holding up a picnic basket, and had a blanket draped over his arm. "Cheesecake, that's my favorite, how'd you know?" Andie squealed as she gathered her things together and hopped outside, without even a backwards glance at poor Duckie. "I knew that three years ago." Duckie grumbled, and walked out of the house and took the long bicycle ride home.
* * * * *
"I hope we're not going anywhere special, I'm only wearing sweatpants and a tee." Andie told Blane as they drove away. "You look phenomenal in everything, Andie." He answered expertly, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. And she certainly did, her strawberry red hair looked woven from silk, and those brown eyes. Oh, how Blane loved her eyes. He could get lost in them forever if he wouldn't make himself a road hazard in the process. He lived for her smile, and would die if just a teardrop fell from her face. This was definitely it, she was THE ONE. She had to be. What else would compel him to endanger his perfect life and friendships, a silly crush? No, this was true love. The couple drove off together, headed for yet another tender night of young love. If only it could've lasted.
* * * * *
Duckie needed a drink. Granted, he was eighteen and underage, and had never even touched liquor before. But rumor had it that when it came to drowning your sorrows, booze was your best bet for the thing to drown 'em in. And Duckie figured he had at least a twenty-four packs worth of sorrows. It was Tuesday. where could he find a kegger on a Tuesday? Just then, with impeccable timing, a black Buick carrying a bunch of smashed frat boys swerved around the corner, nearly hitting him. "Learn to drive, bastard!" he shouted. But he was singing quite a different tune a second later when the Buick screeched to a halt and spat out a pack of inebriated guys. They ran pretty fast for having more alcohol than brain cells, and were on Duckie in no time. "Wha're ya sayin 'bout us, chump?" the lead brute, over six foot and resembling Quasimodo, asked Duckie. "Nothing, buddy, just. er, nice ride you have there." he answered, hoping for the best. If you haven't discovered this before, the way to a man's heart is through cars and boobs. And since Duckie didn't have any boobs on him at the moment, he was hoping the car plan would work well. "Really?" the guy slobbered, his expression transforming into that of a shy schoolboy. "'S my Uncle's." and with that Duckie received the complete history of the Buick, but there is no point in me relaying it to you because Duckie didn't even understand most of it himself. The guy's speech was slurred with drunkenness, and nobody understood (or indeed, remembered,) most of it anyway. The thug draped an arm around his captive's shoulders and steered him back to the Buick, driving (if you could call it that) the group to a raging kegger at a nearby fraternity. In a bizarre quirk of fate, Duckie was getting exactly what he'd wished for.
* * * * *
Twelve Coors, five martinis, and a bag of gummy-bears later, Duckie couldn't remember much of anything. He was lying on a random rooftop wearing a random red cocktail dress, trying to recall exactly what he'd been so upset about. Downstairs on the porch beneath him, two guys in much the same state talked about something he would normally be very interested in if he hadn't been a drop away from unconsciousness. "Yeah, Connelly told me about some chick Blane McDonough's seeing. Supposed to be some real Cinderella story man, bankrupt family and all. 'S weird." "Yeah, 'cept for the fact that he's just yanking her. The boy's just gettin him some nice piece of ass then movin on. Told me so hisself. Psh, you made it sound like they were in loooooove or something." Evil cackles of laughter ensued, along with a great THUD as Duckie rolled off the roof and hit the turf.
* * * * *
The next afternoon, Duckie awoke to the pleasant feeling of involuntary vomiting. He was lying in some random front yard, wearing some random red cocktail dress, remembering scraps of information involving a black Buick and a big guy named Steve. A retch interrupted his thought process, but then everything came back to him just as everything came up out of him. He was at a frat party. On a Tuesday, no today was Wednesday, yesterday was Tuesday. Where the cocktail dress had come from he had no idea, but he picked up a mysterious pair of tartan slacks and a beige blazer from the lawn, traded them for that mysterious cocktail dress, and walked home. By the time he found his bike resting in the bushes a couple miles from there, all of the major details had been worked out inside his head. How he'd gotten there was pretty well sorted out, it was what took place after the first six-pack that gave him a little trouble. All he knew was that it was eleven o'clock on a Wednesday, and he was late for school.
* * * * *
EEEEE! I'm done with Chapter one, how'd you like it so far? PLEASE, please, pretty please, write a review on it, even if you thought it stunk. Remember, I can't improve unless you give me tips (and some compliments.) teehee, I sure hope I'm living up to the movie's standard. Lots of goofy smiles to you all, and I'll try to crank out chapter two in the next day or so. THANKS BUNDLES!!!!
~* SaRaNiMaL *~
I guess I'll pick up where the movie left off, a couple days after their senior prom night. Duckie, who lusted after Andie for years upon years, has finally realized it isn't meant to be and moves on. Andie and her rich-boy lover Blane overcome the obstacles of clashing social groups and fear of what others might think and go at it, and they live happily ever after. That's where I come in. the 'happily ever after' part.
"Duckie, I'm so glad Blane and I worked everything out, he's so perfect and wonderful!" Andie swooned to her best friend, former obsessive stalker Phil 'Duckie' Dale. Nobody knew her like Duckie though, and she could always count on that even though she broke his heart by not returning his love. "Yeah, yeah, but will he ride his bicycle past your house for hours on end just to see your face? Now that's commitment, Andie." Duckie explained. He was still quite bitter and heartbroken over the whole thing. He'd followed her for all of his high school life, and then she goes after Mr. Millionaire Heartthrob first chance she gets. Deep down though, Duckie knew that they'd never be. She didn't love him, and no amount of pining would fix that. So he might as well just stop wasting time on her and get laid already. "He fixed me dinner on his yacht last night, did I tell you?" Andie continued. She couldn't seem to shut herself up, her heart was just too giddy over Blane. She'd almost lost him before, a poor girl like her trying to mix with his snobby crowd nearly tore them apart. But to think, that he loved her enough to risk all that. again, Andie's insides tingled with delight. "He lit candles, we danced to a stringed orchestra that he'd hired, and-" "I heard you the first two hundred times, I think I'm done for the night." Duckie groaned. She was happy though, he had to admit that to himself. Happier than he'd ever be able to make her, Blane probably spent the equivalent of Duckie's life savings on their romantic night together. Not having money sucked. Suddenly, outside Andie's bedroom window a car horn honked. "What the.?" she whispered as she hurried to the window. "Oh! It's Blane!" she cried in delight. Duckie winced with heartache. "Andie baby, how about a midnight picnic under the stars? I've got cheesecake!" Blane called to her. Duckie could see him through the window holding up a picnic basket, and had a blanket draped over his arm. "Cheesecake, that's my favorite, how'd you know?" Andie squealed as she gathered her things together and hopped outside, without even a backwards glance at poor Duckie. "I knew that three years ago." Duckie grumbled, and walked out of the house and took the long bicycle ride home.
* * * * *
"I hope we're not going anywhere special, I'm only wearing sweatpants and a tee." Andie told Blane as they drove away. "You look phenomenal in everything, Andie." He answered expertly, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. And she certainly did, her strawberry red hair looked woven from silk, and those brown eyes. Oh, how Blane loved her eyes. He could get lost in them forever if he wouldn't make himself a road hazard in the process. He lived for her smile, and would die if just a teardrop fell from her face. This was definitely it, she was THE ONE. She had to be. What else would compel him to endanger his perfect life and friendships, a silly crush? No, this was true love. The couple drove off together, headed for yet another tender night of young love. If only it could've lasted.
* * * * *
Duckie needed a drink. Granted, he was eighteen and underage, and had never even touched liquor before. But rumor had it that when it came to drowning your sorrows, booze was your best bet for the thing to drown 'em in. And Duckie figured he had at least a twenty-four packs worth of sorrows. It was Tuesday. where could he find a kegger on a Tuesday? Just then, with impeccable timing, a black Buick carrying a bunch of smashed frat boys swerved around the corner, nearly hitting him. "Learn to drive, bastard!" he shouted. But he was singing quite a different tune a second later when the Buick screeched to a halt and spat out a pack of inebriated guys. They ran pretty fast for having more alcohol than brain cells, and were on Duckie in no time. "Wha're ya sayin 'bout us, chump?" the lead brute, over six foot and resembling Quasimodo, asked Duckie. "Nothing, buddy, just. er, nice ride you have there." he answered, hoping for the best. If you haven't discovered this before, the way to a man's heart is through cars and boobs. And since Duckie didn't have any boobs on him at the moment, he was hoping the car plan would work well. "Really?" the guy slobbered, his expression transforming into that of a shy schoolboy. "'S my Uncle's." and with that Duckie received the complete history of the Buick, but there is no point in me relaying it to you because Duckie didn't even understand most of it himself. The guy's speech was slurred with drunkenness, and nobody understood (or indeed, remembered,) most of it anyway. The thug draped an arm around his captive's shoulders and steered him back to the Buick, driving (if you could call it that) the group to a raging kegger at a nearby fraternity. In a bizarre quirk of fate, Duckie was getting exactly what he'd wished for.
* * * * *
Twelve Coors, five martinis, and a bag of gummy-bears later, Duckie couldn't remember much of anything. He was lying on a random rooftop wearing a random red cocktail dress, trying to recall exactly what he'd been so upset about. Downstairs on the porch beneath him, two guys in much the same state talked about something he would normally be very interested in if he hadn't been a drop away from unconsciousness. "Yeah, Connelly told me about some chick Blane McDonough's seeing. Supposed to be some real Cinderella story man, bankrupt family and all. 'S weird." "Yeah, 'cept for the fact that he's just yanking her. The boy's just gettin him some nice piece of ass then movin on. Told me so hisself. Psh, you made it sound like they were in loooooove or something." Evil cackles of laughter ensued, along with a great THUD as Duckie rolled off the roof and hit the turf.
* * * * *
The next afternoon, Duckie awoke to the pleasant feeling of involuntary vomiting. He was lying in some random front yard, wearing some random red cocktail dress, remembering scraps of information involving a black Buick and a big guy named Steve. A retch interrupted his thought process, but then everything came back to him just as everything came up out of him. He was at a frat party. On a Tuesday, no today was Wednesday, yesterday was Tuesday. Where the cocktail dress had come from he had no idea, but he picked up a mysterious pair of tartan slacks and a beige blazer from the lawn, traded them for that mysterious cocktail dress, and walked home. By the time he found his bike resting in the bushes a couple miles from there, all of the major details had been worked out inside his head. How he'd gotten there was pretty well sorted out, it was what took place after the first six-pack that gave him a little trouble. All he knew was that it was eleven o'clock on a Wednesday, and he was late for school.
* * * * *
EEEEE! I'm done with Chapter one, how'd you like it so far? PLEASE, please, pretty please, write a review on it, even if you thought it stunk. Remember, I can't improve unless you give me tips (and some compliments.) teehee, I sure hope I'm living up to the movie's standard. Lots of goofy smiles to you all, and I'll try to crank out chapter two in the next day or so. THANKS BUNDLES!!!!
~* SaRaNiMaL *~