I actually like Paula, because if I didn't, then it would be highly hypocritical of me. Not just because I'm a Paula cosplayer, but because I have been in her situation. (For the record, it was only a kiss, but I did end up seriously fucking up our band (I was the vocalist/keyboardist and my ex was the bassist. Go figure)

Anyway, I love British grammar and slang. I love being British. I love being from 2D's hometown. I love you.

I own nawt. Geddit?

One

I hate being sick. Not hungover sick. Sick sick. Ill sick. Throwing up sick.

My half sisters, Erica and Nicola, stood in the doorway, watching me heave into the bowl of the loo.

"Paula?" Erica whispered, "Paula, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, poppet." I sat up and wiped the puke from my face. "Go back to sleep."

Erica didn't move, she stood chewing her lip.

I'm pretty sure that she is nine going on ninety.

"Go to bed, Erica." I turned around to look at her, but another wave of nausea hit me like a lorry.

"Are you having a baby?" Piped up Nicola once I had finished being sick.

I shot them both a look.
"No." I snapped. "I'm sick."

"But, Mummy says that people are only sick in the morning, if they're having a baby." Replied Nicola.

"I am not pregnant, Niks. Go back to bed." I ran my hands through my hair.

"But-" started Erica, but I interrupted her.

"Bed! Now!" I growled.

Both girls ran squealing back to bed, allowing me to vomit in peace.

A few hours later, I staggered down the stairs in a pair of red skinnies and black short sleeved top. My mum looked over at me and and raised her eyebrows.

"The girls told me that you were sick. You're not pregnant, are you?"

I didn't reply.

"You sure that you're not pregnant?" Mum asked again.

"I'm not pregnant." I paused by the fridge and pulled out a yogurt.

"That had better be true, Paula Ann." Mum warned.

"I haven't had sex in two years. I ain't pregnant." I snapped, grabbing a spoon from the dishwasher and sitting at the kitchen table opposite Mum.

"You still haven't found yourself a bloke?" My stepfather, Lewis, asked, chewing on a slice of toast.

"No." I spooned coconut yogurt into my mouth.

"You're nearly 32, Paula, you haven't dated a guy in over ten years."

"I don't want any other guy!" I yelled, cutting Lewis off.

"Well, you buggered up your chances with Stu, so I wouldn't bank on you getting him back." Lewis retorted.

At that I stood up and stormed off.

"Paula, come back!" Called Mum. "Sweetheart, please!"

"Sod that!" I yelled, grabbing my bag and slamming the front door behind me.

I slipped my sunglasses on and chewed on some nicotine gum.

I was trying to give up again. Smoking's a rubbish habit, you spend way too much money on it.

It was around ten on a Saturday morning, so the London streets were filled with people shopping. I stepped past a group of teenaged giggling blonde Barbie clones and heard one of them say.
"I'm pretty sure that he said "see ya later." What does that even mean?"

I wanted to tell her that you couldn't trust any man, but they were young and naïve. They would learn eventually.

I rounded the corner and headed to where I worked. A music shop. I needed some new strings for my guitar, Arnold.

As I stepped through the doors of "Wobble Instruments.", my boss, Clare looked up from where she sat behind the till, restringing an electric acoustic.

"Oh thank God, you're here, Paula!" She cried. "Look, honey, I need you to watch the till, I have to go run some errands. I know that you're not working today but it's just me all on my own, I'll pay you."

"Uh, sure." I shrugged.

I wasn't planning on doing anything else today.

I headed into the back and dumped my bag on the floor before grabbing my stereotypical "Hi! My name is Paula!" badge and an apron.

Clare passed the guitar and the rest of the guitar.
"Thank you!" She said, "You are a saint, Paula!"

I gave a half smile.
"It's okay, Clare."

Clare blew me kiss before hurrying out of the door.

It's just you and me, guitar, you bastard.

"Buggeration and arse!" I yelled, slicing my finger on the high E string for the third time. This is why I prefer nylon strings to metal strings. They don't cut your fingers to hell and back.

I sucked on my finger before grabbing a pick and strumming a few chords. At that moment Labyrinth by Enter Shikari came into the speaker.

Time for Paula Cracker to shine.

I getting into the spirit of the song when I heard someone clear their voice.

I held up a finger before going into the breakdown.

"We'll break the walls!"

I waited before I had finished the song before turning to the customer.
"Yes, can I help you?"

An Asian girl with dark purple hair ,that looked almost black, looked up at me.
"Uh, that was very good." She said in a slight accent.

"Ta, doll, I used to be in a band." I smiled.

"I see." Replied the girl. "Uh, I was sent to buy a few plectrums."

"Alright, you know want or do you want some help looking?" I put the guitar on the floor.

"Uh, I don't know which ones you need to play the bass." Said the girl. "They're for a friend."

"Ah." I replied, before pulling a pot of picks. "These are picks we generally use for basses. There are a lot of different picks, personally, I like this this one." I pointed to a black one.

"I'll have one of each kind of pick." The girl said.

"Uh, sure." I said. There must have been twenty different types in that pot. "Anything else.

"Do you sell melodicas?" Asked the girl.

"Yeah, just round the back near the keyboards." I pointed, "We only have a few models though."

The girl turned and walked out of the shop.

I gaped after her.

What the hell? What was that for? Did she even want those picks?

A few seconds later, she returned with a man by her side.

A man with blue hair and black eyes.

A man that I knew as Stuart Harold Pot. My ex. The one that dumped me thirteen years ago.

Oh, double buggeration with brass knobs on.

Why is it such a pain that the only art of Paula Cracker out there is that ONE canon piece?! And a whole bunch of fan art -.-;

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Peace in the South East

- Allie