Yes. Long time, no updatey. I know. Kill me. Actually don't. Kill my funniness. It went, like, hay-wire. I don't know. I just became this unfunny lump of sod for a while. Ask my friends. Sadly, it's true. I think I spent too much time with my family...
Enough with the foreplay, here's the story..
-&-
Sigh.
Meeting the parents. With James. This is going to be... intresting.
... No, it's going to be scary as hell.
And James knows it. I can see it in his wide, oh-my-fuck,-what'd-i-get-myself-into? eyes.
I patted his shoulder awkwardly as we waited for my parents to let us into their house.
Poor Possum.
He looks as scared as a high mexican who's prone to bouts of paranoia and thinks the walls are trying to steal his ACDC shirt.
"It'll be ok," I said, though my voice shook with LIES as I said it.
I'm honestly more scared than him because he doesn't know yet that:
A) My mother is an alcholic. And has anti-depressant medication. Fun sum: Alchol plus My Mother plus anti-depressants equals awful things like... dead babies. God Bless her, I always have an excuse if I ever started taking drugs ("But, officer, my mum SAID I could." "Oh, you're free to go then..." "What? I mean, oh, um thanks." "PHSYCHE. PSH. YOU REALLY THOUGHT I'D LET YOU GO? ARE YOU FO RIZZLE? I GOT YOU GOOD. I GOT YOU GOOD!")
B) Vernon Dursley (sex god extrodinaire) was over. Petunia's boyfriend (sigh). He's extremely good looking, albiet on the thin side. My mum said comfortingly once that when he grows up he'll be as fat as a cow, because that's the way both his mother and father look. I'm clinging to that hope.
and
C) My father. Oh god. You'll see what I mean when we meet him. He's where I get my rabid panda genes from... Yeah, it won't be pretty. At all.
plus
D) We have an ex-army neighbour who spies on us all the time. I'm serious. Just for something to do. He'll sit on his back porch making little notes about our every moment. It's kind of flattering.
... Damn it.
Where are my family?
Where oh where oh where oh where oh where oh where oh where -
James knocked on the door again, and then grinned down at me.
Nervously.
James. Nervous. Ha ha.
James' nervous smile is very nervous indee-
The door flund open and my dad instantly filled it up, booming, "LILY!"
He scooped me up in a huge hug, "YOU'RE NOT FAT ANYMORE!"
"I WAS NEVER FAT YOU INSOLENT LYCRA-WEARING SWEATER VEST!"
He chuckled, "Just the same as I remember you."
This is how we communicate.
Through painful ploys at the other's deepest insecurities.
... I love my Dad.
"You've grown a beard," I commented in distaste.
"Hey," My father said firmly, "MEN'S MEN have beards. And since I am a MAN'S MAN, yes, I have a beard."
Oh no...
Since last Summer, my father has kind of been going through this horrible "I AM A MAN'S MAN, HEAR ME ROAR" phaze...
It's really scary/sad/not sexy. Not that I would find my dad sexy anyway but, I mean, I'm not incestuous or anything it's just-
"Who's that?" My dad said, guesturing at James, a look of revoltion on his features.
"My boyfriend."
"He looks like a nancy's boy. Not very manly at all."
I glanced at James. Yes, he's very good looking. But he was also wearing a sweater vest and glasses.
When we have children, I hope they don't need glas-
WAIT A MINUTE.
WHAT?
WHAT?
WHAT?
WHAT?
JAMES? CHILDREN?
CHILDREN? ME? JAMES?
JAMES? CHILDREN? ME? HUMPHREY BOGART?
...Wait? What? How did a 1950s muggle screen icon come into this?
Anyways...
I'm only sixteen.
I don't want children. With James. Ever.
Haha, I can just imagine it. My rabid pandaness, James' messy hair - with my horrible red in it!
Oh it would be just flatulant.
- I mean, fabulous.
I always get those two words mixed up.
... Heh.
But what if, just by chance, my genes were the dominant genes?
And I was born a little girl with red hair who looked exactly like me.
That would be cool.
Then I could just lie and say James wasn't the father.
That my child was a product of immaculate conception.
... Don't look at me like that.
... It worked for Mary.
Oh what fun my child (not James') and I would have, running in fields, going on Merry-go-rounds, licking lollipops...
... calling James long, offensive, eloquent names, tag-teaming in insulting James...
Not that I want a child. It's just, if James and I ever do it (and that's a huge if... wait a second, how can one if be bigger than another? That's a stupid saying. I'm going to go cry in a corner in a round room.) and I get impregnanted my James' Sea Men (is that too obscene? I think so) because the INFAILABLE contraception.. failed, then I want the child to be like me.
When I stopped thinking and looked back at James and my father, I wished instantly I hadn't gone off on the whole "James/Child/How the Hell did Humphrey Bogart come into this?" tirade.
My father was currently telling James exactly why he wasn't a "Man's Man" like Petuina's 'perfect' boyfriend Vernon.
"And look at your sweater vest!" he cried, poking James in the chest.
I saw James' jaw clench. But he was taking it.
Tosser.
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'RE WEARING!" I yelled.
"What?" Dad said blandly, turning around to look at me.
I montioned down to his lower half.
Dad stared back, apparently not realizing why I was guesturing at him.
"The KILT," I said.
"AHEM," My Father said sternly, "Kilt's are Scottish, and it's a well known fact that the Scottish people are all men's men. Even the women. But they're not gay and/or butch. They're just masculine. And not unattractively so. EVERYONE KNOWS that the Scottish people are the most hairy-chested, tobbaco-spitting, log-chopping people in the world - They are, by all rights, a strong and superior race. They can chop trees down with their bare hands! They can drill holes with their eyes. They can bite off the heads of their enemies with their minds! I wish I was Scottish."
My mother and Vernon came into the room half way through the 'Scottish people are men's men' tangent.
"...Robert, where did you get this information about the Scotts from?" My mother asked unsurely.
... Heh, she's obviously not high yet. She can still make decipherable sentences.
"From a show called Super Haggis... And from the Internet," he said, supposedly triumphant.
Vernon started shaking with laughter.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw his face scrunch up with mirth.
"WHAT'S SO FUNNY?" demmanded my father.
"Haggis," he wheezed through his manly giggles, "If you-" he broke into another fit of laughter, "If yo-" another fit, "If you" another fit.
"SPIT IT OUT!" demmanded my father.
Sigh, why couldn't he by my boyfriend?
...I meant Vernon, not my dad.
"If you put an "S" on the start of Haggis, It's SHAGgis."
That's why.
Silence reigned for a moment, only broken my Vernon's hysterical, almost epileptic giggles. Suddenly, my Father started roaring with laughter, "NOW THAT'S A MAN'S MAN JOKE!"
They both collapsed in (Man's man) giggles.
James and I exchanged startled looks. Even I'm not used to this level of dad's obnoxiousness.
"Mum-" I started enquiringly.
"He's had half a bottle of red," my mother explained, "God, I could go for a drink. But I promised myself that I wouln't get sloshed until the dinner was ready."
"That's very responsible of you," I told my Mum proudly.
She grinned, pleased.
Don't look at me like that.
I never said our family was normal.
Did I?
No, you say.
"Robert, will you come into the kitchen with me?"
"SO YOU CAN SHAGGIS?" Vernon asked, still doubled over, laughing.
"THAT'S A GOOD ONE!" hooted Dad as he was dragged off to the kitchen.
And then there were three: Me, James and Humphrey Bogar- DAMN IT, why does he keep coming up? GOSHSTICKS! Me, James and Hu- I mean, Vernon...
"So, are you shagging yet?" asked Vernon conversationally.
James and I exchanged glances.
This was going to be a long night.
And I'm not even drunk.
-&-
Scarlet Emerald: You say faithful to my story, that you'd faithfully await it... But did you? Don't lie, I saw you reading another story that... that... hussy. It's over! (I'm joking.. Keep reviewing... Please)
GoddessoftheMaaN: Thanks heaps for your kind review. I'm sorry it took so long to update.. But you know, I was really for a while... To much of that Spin Off Joey, It's not funny..
Snuffles101: Hopefully, you haven't like gone off my story and decided it was gay in the two months that I was away. If you're reading this: Spigglyspooch.
Dr. Spigglyspooch - he specializes in tongue hair. He doesn't make much money, but you know, he still lives in the same cardboard box as his parents... And he's FORTY!
Ourlittlesecret7: I, too, love Anchorman. "Rick... we're you get a hand grenade?" "I don't know". "So Hot... Milk was the wrong choice." "They've done tests, you know.. 60 percent of the time, it works, everytime."
Phsycho-pyro-shrink: Thanks! I'm sorry it took so long to update... I am pond scum. Scum among the ponds. I AM OPHELLIA BALLS, HERE ME ROAR! ... I'm actually not... but ... OH MY GOD I MISSED DR. PHIL!
Addled.Brain: Yes, I believe that wonky eyed people are A) Fags (And I do not mean ciggarettes), B) ... Sob. I'm sorry. I can't function like this... I MISSED DR. PHIL:'(!
Queen Noisla: Thanks for my finding my story very amusing. It makes me sob with pride... That and I missed Dr. Phil (sobs)
Miss Kat: If you've put my full name in a review, I will kick you... In the knuckles.
GaryLovesPickles: I kind of abandoned the preview, I wanted to add crazier bits... Plus, I didn't know how to fit in the MAN'S MAN Jokes if I didn't.
Luanna: Thank you for your kind words. They fuel the world with their excellence.
Until Next Chapter,
You Radioactive, feasting-on-the-children crocodile, you
Love,
Trapped Rabbit.
