TITLE: Big Dykey Loser
AUTHOR: Amberina
E-MAIL: amberflower426@yahoo.com
WEBSITE:
MAILING LIST:
RATING: PG-13 for repeated use of the term "dyke"
FANDOM: Bring it On
PAIRING: Courtney/Whitney
SUMMARY: Courtney thinks about about her relationship with Whitney.
DISCLAIMER: Universal, Beacon, Jessica Bendiger, Peyton Reed - these people own. None of them are me. Just borrowing.
FEEDBACK: Please?
ARCHIVING: Fluent Fag, anyone else, ask.
BIG DYKEY LOSER
By Amberina
Courtney wasn't a dyke. This, she knew. She was too pretty to be a dyke, too fashionable, too cool. So she couldn't be a dyke. She had long hair, and liked to wear makeup. Her nails were long. She loved feminine clothing, pink and dresses. She wore lipstick and mascara, high heels and panty-hose. She wore a thong! So, you see, she knew that she wasn't a dyke.
She knew what dykes were like. They wore clothing like men, and cut their hair short. Their nails were short for reasons that Courtney knew, but didn't like to think about for too long. For that thought would lead to more disturbing thoughts, and the thoughts she was already having were disturbing enough.
These thoughts were insane, because Courtney wasn't a dyke.
So why do you want to screw your best friend? a voice in her head shouted at her.
Because she's overly masculine, Courtney would think back, knowing it wasn't true, but not willing to give any credence to the alternative explantion.
You're a big dykey loser, the voice would taunt.
I am not! You're the big dykey loser, Courtney would counter.
But I'm your inner-voice, you idiot. If I'm a big dykey loser, you're a big dykey loser. Are you admitting to being a big dykey loser?
No! Courtney would think. I am not a big dykey loser.
Then why do you want to screw your best friend?
I told you! It's because she's very masculine.
First of all, Blondie, you're in denial, second of all, you're insane to be having a full dialogue with me, and third of all, you are a Big. Dykey. Loser. With a capital "L."
"Am not!" Courtney would scream, forcing everyone in the locker room to turn their attention to her.
Are too, are too, are too, the voice taunted.
"Fine!" Courtney exclaimed. "I'm a big dykey loser. I want to screw my best friend!"
Everyone exchanged a knowing look, and Missy held out her hand. "Come on, pay up."
Courtney grabbed Whitney, embraced her in a rough kiss, and then charged over to MIssy, knocking the money out of her hand. "Go screw Torrance."
"Hey, I'm not gay," Missy said softly.
"Yeah right."
"I'm not," Missy said, shrugging in a bored fashion. "I'm not the Big Dykey Loser."
"That's right," Torrance said, bouncing up, a disgutingly happy sneer across her pretty face. "You are."
"You are."
"You are."
The words echoed as everyone laughed.
****
Courtney sat up straight in bed. She wasn't a big dykey loser. She wasn't.
The End
AUTHOR: Amberina
E-MAIL: amberflower426@yahoo.com
WEBSITE:
MAILING LIST:
RATING: PG-13 for repeated use of the term "dyke"
FANDOM: Bring it On
PAIRING: Courtney/Whitney
SUMMARY: Courtney thinks about about her relationship with Whitney.
DISCLAIMER: Universal, Beacon, Jessica Bendiger, Peyton Reed - these people own. None of them are me. Just borrowing.
FEEDBACK: Please?
ARCHIVING: Fluent Fag, anyone else, ask.
BIG DYKEY LOSER
By Amberina
Courtney wasn't a dyke. This, she knew. She was too pretty to be a dyke, too fashionable, too cool. So she couldn't be a dyke. She had long hair, and liked to wear makeup. Her nails were long. She loved feminine clothing, pink and dresses. She wore lipstick and mascara, high heels and panty-hose. She wore a thong! So, you see, she knew that she wasn't a dyke.
She knew what dykes were like. They wore clothing like men, and cut their hair short. Their nails were short for reasons that Courtney knew, but didn't like to think about for too long. For that thought would lead to more disturbing thoughts, and the thoughts she was already having were disturbing enough.
These thoughts were insane, because Courtney wasn't a dyke.
So why do you want to screw your best friend? a voice in her head shouted at her.
Because she's overly masculine, Courtney would think back, knowing it wasn't true, but not willing to give any credence to the alternative explantion.
You're a big dykey loser, the voice would taunt.
I am not! You're the big dykey loser, Courtney would counter.
But I'm your inner-voice, you idiot. If I'm a big dykey loser, you're a big dykey loser. Are you admitting to being a big dykey loser?
No! Courtney would think. I am not a big dykey loser.
Then why do you want to screw your best friend?
I told you! It's because she's very masculine.
First of all, Blondie, you're in denial, second of all, you're insane to be having a full dialogue with me, and third of all, you are a Big. Dykey. Loser. With a capital "L."
"Am not!" Courtney would scream, forcing everyone in the locker room to turn their attention to her.
Are too, are too, are too, the voice taunted.
"Fine!" Courtney exclaimed. "I'm a big dykey loser. I want to screw my best friend!"
Everyone exchanged a knowing look, and Missy held out her hand. "Come on, pay up."
Courtney grabbed Whitney, embraced her in a rough kiss, and then charged over to MIssy, knocking the money out of her hand. "Go screw Torrance."
"Hey, I'm not gay," Missy said softly.
"Yeah right."
"I'm not," Missy said, shrugging in a bored fashion. "I'm not the Big Dykey Loser."
"That's right," Torrance said, bouncing up, a disgutingly happy sneer across her pretty face. "You are."
"You are."
"You are."
The words echoed as everyone laughed.
****
Courtney sat up straight in bed. She wasn't a big dykey loser. She wasn't.
The End