Title: 38 & 39
Author: Rebecca Perlow
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline: post-Clerks
Feedback: lemonbaby67@yahoo.com
Summary: Very short. Veronica gets pissed. Jay and Silent Bob get lucky.
Disclaimer: The characters of Dante, Veronica, Jay and Silent Bob are the
property of Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions and Miramax. Their likenesses
are the property of Brian O' Halloran, Marylin Ghigliotti, Jason Mewes and
Kevin Smith. I'm profiting dick from this story, and is anybody still
reading after all that?
Warning: This is my first attempt at an Askewniverse fic. And it shows.
Notes: The idea for this story came when, while viewing "Clerks," my best
friend wondered aloud where Veronica had gone after she stormed out of Quick
Stop that last time. Yes, two of the lines are directly lifted from other
films. Also Jay and Bob's presence is never quite explained. Please forgive
me, it felt good at the time. And it's all just for a laugh, anyway.
**************************************************************************
"Veronica, I love you!"
"FUCK YOU!"
The petite brunette crashed through the glass door of the Quick Stop and
rounded the corner toward the parking lot, the pleas of her now ex-boyfriend
fading fast behind her. Far too late for that now. It was over. He'd lied to
her. He'd cheated on her -- or at least attempted to. And, hours before, he'd
had the gaul to call *her* a whore. It was over. *Over, over, over*, her boot
heels seemed to chant with each step. Her strides were long, her inner
mantra blinding her to everything but her own anger, causing her to nearly
stumble over a pair of aging Nike-clad feet.
'Fuckingbastardscrewingaroundbehindmybackyouthink37dicksisalotyoujustWAIT
lazywhiningcowardwantyourslutHAVEyourslut--*oof*'
"Hey baby, where's the fire?! Hey, my boy here and I would be more n' happy
ta put it out for you. Have you ever had your asshole licked by a fat man in
an overcoat?!"
Any other night Veronica would have stormed right past the two stoners that
seemed to have made the block of stores their permanent nesting ground.
Instantly recognizable. One tall, one short. One scrawny as hell, one fairly
rotund. One silent, the other notoriously, as well as obnoxiously, verbose.
They were part of the scenery, like the pungent aroma of shoe-polish, or that
break in the sidewalk she always tripped over. Something she tolerated in
being able to visit Dante. She'd never even spoken to either of them, though
the tall one had spoken to -- or rather *at* -- her on several occasions
similar to this one. Any other night, she would have let the comment roll
right off her and continued on her path of fury, sundry infuriating statements
Dante had made beating a steady tattoo inside her head:
/'A girl makes a guy come, it's standard.' 'Animal, vegetable or mineral.'
'I'm 37?!' 'Oh my God, I feel so nauseous!'/
Any other night..
'Fuck, I'll show you nauseous,' she spun on her heel, facing her harassers.
"Have you ever had your dick sucked by a short girl in the back of a
Volkswagen?"
Veronica watched as the skinny one blinked -- almost a double-take, lips
grabbing at the air, seemingly, in search of a response. Amusing. Leonardo's
own little sonic boom, apparently, if only momentarily, struck mute by
her reply. The cigarette the fat one had been nursing abrubtly fell from
his lips, dropping to the pavement.
"Thought so," she grabbed a handful of their coats and began steering the
duo toward the parking lot, "come with me."
As they weaved in between the various automobiles, Veronica thought she
heard one of them mumble a reply.
"Hope so."
Then..
"You said it Silent Bob! Hey, do we get lasagna afterward, too?"
***************************************************************************
Author: Rebecca Perlow
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline: post-Clerks
Feedback: lemonbaby67@yahoo.com
Summary: Very short. Veronica gets pissed. Jay and Silent Bob get lucky.
Disclaimer: The characters of Dante, Veronica, Jay and Silent Bob are the
property of Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions and Miramax. Their likenesses
are the property of Brian O' Halloran, Marylin Ghigliotti, Jason Mewes and
Kevin Smith. I'm profiting dick from this story, and is anybody still
reading after all that?
Warning: This is my first attempt at an Askewniverse fic. And it shows.
Notes: The idea for this story came when, while viewing "Clerks," my best
friend wondered aloud where Veronica had gone after she stormed out of Quick
Stop that last time. Yes, two of the lines are directly lifted from other
films. Also Jay and Bob's presence is never quite explained. Please forgive
me, it felt good at the time. And it's all just for a laugh, anyway.
**************************************************************************
"Veronica, I love you!"
"FUCK YOU!"
The petite brunette crashed through the glass door of the Quick Stop and
rounded the corner toward the parking lot, the pleas of her now ex-boyfriend
fading fast behind her. Far too late for that now. It was over. He'd lied to
her. He'd cheated on her -- or at least attempted to. And, hours before, he'd
had the gaul to call *her* a whore. It was over. *Over, over, over*, her boot
heels seemed to chant with each step. Her strides were long, her inner
mantra blinding her to everything but her own anger, causing her to nearly
stumble over a pair of aging Nike-clad feet.
'Fuckingbastardscrewingaroundbehindmybackyouthink37dicksisalotyoujustWAIT
lazywhiningcowardwantyourslutHAVEyourslut--*oof*'
"Hey baby, where's the fire?! Hey, my boy here and I would be more n' happy
ta put it out for you. Have you ever had your asshole licked by a fat man in
an overcoat?!"
Any other night Veronica would have stormed right past the two stoners that
seemed to have made the block of stores their permanent nesting ground.
Instantly recognizable. One tall, one short. One scrawny as hell, one fairly
rotund. One silent, the other notoriously, as well as obnoxiously, verbose.
They were part of the scenery, like the pungent aroma of shoe-polish, or that
break in the sidewalk she always tripped over. Something she tolerated in
being able to visit Dante. She'd never even spoken to either of them, though
the tall one had spoken to -- or rather *at* -- her on several occasions
similar to this one. Any other night, she would have let the comment roll
right off her and continued on her path of fury, sundry infuriating statements
Dante had made beating a steady tattoo inside her head:
/'A girl makes a guy come, it's standard.' 'Animal, vegetable or mineral.'
'I'm 37?!' 'Oh my God, I feel so nauseous!'/
Any other night..
'Fuck, I'll show you nauseous,' she spun on her heel, facing her harassers.
"Have you ever had your dick sucked by a short girl in the back of a
Volkswagen?"
Veronica watched as the skinny one blinked -- almost a double-take, lips
grabbing at the air, seemingly, in search of a response. Amusing. Leonardo's
own little sonic boom, apparently, if only momentarily, struck mute by
her reply. The cigarette the fat one had been nursing abrubtly fell from
his lips, dropping to the pavement.
"Thought so," she grabbed a handful of their coats and began steering the
duo toward the parking lot, "come with me."
As they weaved in between the various automobiles, Veronica thought she
heard one of them mumble a reply.
"Hope so."
Then..
"You said it Silent Bob! Hey, do we get lasagna afterward, too?"
***************************************************************************
