Hiya peoples! sweeteangel1 and TwilightDork here!
As you have probably noticed, this is, or soon will be, a bunch of random one-shots detailing us just doing 'us' things.
Involving flamethrowers and the CIA. Although we probably shouldn't mention that.....
As well, sweeteangel1 is actually going to be represented by sweeteangel1 because of annoying incidents involving TwilightDork's computer not willing to actually save under her actual name. SO.
Hope you enjoy!
~sweeteangel1 and TwilightDork
Chapter 1
How do you feel about that?
"Fae!" Said TwilightDork, trying to push sweeteangel1 out the door.
"Re-BEC-ca!" wailed sweeteangel1, who was gripping the doorjamb for dear life. "I don't wanna go!"
TwilightDork stopped her futile attempt to get sweeteangel1 out the door, and looked at her with her eyebrows raised. "You honestly think I do? You know I'm only going to this thing because Mike threatened to kick us out of our apartment if we didn't get our mental health checked. Otherwise, I would never go near one of those people. You know that. They're way too freaky for me." TwilightDork shivered.
sweeteangel1 shivered as well, and seemed to contemplate TwilightDork's speech before sighing and begrudgingly letting go of the doorjamb. "Fine," she huffed, "I'll go, but I won't be happy about it."
TwilightDork rolled her eyes and said "Puh-lease Fae, you know you'll cheer right up as soon as you start playing mind games with the poor shrink."
sweeteangel1 grinned evilly at this while her eyes got a malicious glow in them. "You're right Rebecca," she said, now skipping out of the apartment complex, "maybe this session won't be as bad as I thought it would be."
TwilightDork had to run to catch up to sweeteangel1, but when she did, you could clearly see the mischief in her expression. "Think of all the blackmail...." she said wistfully, joining sweeteangel1 in her scheme.
sweeteangel1 gave TwilightDork a look that said 'And that's just the beginning.' Almost as though it was intended, sweeteangel1's look effectively scared off anyone in the surrounding area, making passerbyers hurriedly leave the area fearing for their safety. It was once said that sweeteangel1's looks did this to people who didn't know her, and had people who did know her contemplating suicide when it was directed at them.
Momentarily taken aback by sweeteangel1's expression, and extremely grateful that she was not the target of their plot, it took a moment for TwilightDork to find a suitable reply.
"Well....," began TwilightDork as she climbed into the driver's side of their white convertible VW Bug, but she was cut off by sweeteangel1.
"Hey!" She yelled.
"What?" TwilightDork asked, staring at her blankly. She rolled her eyes when she realized what sweeteangel1 was griping about.
sweeteangel1 knew that she didn't really have to tell TwilightDork what she wanted, for the two friends were so close that they could practically read each other's minds, but she felt like saying it anyways. "I wanted to drive."
"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Fae." TwilightDork, ever the practical one, was quick to point out. "I don't think that you could be deemed 'sober' in your current state. You're too drunk on mischief to think clearly."
"Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssee." sweeteangel1 whined, pouting.
"Fine." TwilightDork sighed, exasperated. She handed over the keys, getting into the passenger's seat and watching sweeteangel1 warily.
sweeteangel1 shook her head at her friend's antics, and decided to scare her a bit. Just for fun, she thought, but she knew that the real reason was that she wanted to get TwilightDork back from her earlier comments about how she wasn't a 'designated driver.'
"Fae....." TwilightDork said some 3 minutes later, even more wary now, as she had realized that they were going in the opposite direction of their destination.
"Yes Becky?" sweeteangel1 replied sweetly.
"Where are we going?"
sweeteangel1 just smirked as they pulled into the almost-deserted Wal-Mart parking lot. She smiled to herself when she noticed that there were no people milling around, only a few cars, and that the parking lot was still very icy from their recent snow. Perfect.
It was when she saw the smirk that TwilightDork finally realized what 1 planned on doing. "Look," she said frantically, trying to persuade sweeteangel1 from doing something that would surely kill them both, "I know that you have your emo bouts, but surely you're not suicidal. Please Fae, have some sense! We're in a convertible for goodness sake!"
"Too late." And with that, sweeteangel1 started doing doughnuts in the middle of the Wal-Mart parking lot, driving so fast and with such insane twists and turns that you would wonder how she did so without puking.
"P-pl-please!" TwilightDork begged, unable to escape the laughter that threatened to shake her out of the writhing car.
"No can do!" sweeteangel1 yelled, laughing, as she rounded another turn. There was a lull in conversation as sweeteangel1 kept spinning the car, all the while making precariously sharp turns and coming dangerously close to the few parked cars.
Suddenly, at the top of her lungs, TwilightDork yelled "WE'RE GONNA CRASH!!!!!!"
"Oh.... crap." sweeteangel1 whispered when she realized that crashing was, in fact, inevitable. She had jerked the wheel too hard on a spin, and they were now barreling headfirst into an oncoming car.
TwilightDork started screaming, and sweeteangel1 quickly figured out a plan.
"0.03" sweeteangel1 started counting.
"0.02" She said, bracing herself.
"0.01" She quickly swerved at the last moment, timing it just perfectly for the momentum to keep them from hitting the car.
"And that," sweeteangel1 said after she had their car parked safely in one of the parking slots, and was carefully monitoring the shell-shocked TwilightDork to make sure she didn't have a panic attack, "is why they recruited me to the CIA."
TwilightDork just muttered something under her breath about 'impractical daredevils' and made sweeteangel1 promise not to try anything else the rest of the way to the psychiatric hospital.
"Of course." sweeteangel1 agreed, specifically noting that she mentioned nothing about the way home.
They made it to the psychiatric ward without further incident, and were not surprised to that they were 20 minutes late.
"Next time, I'm driving." TwilightDork said firmly, still slightly shaken from the doughnut incident.
"Hey! It's not my fault that you insulted my driving capabilities! And besides, we're never going to set foot in here again after today, so there isn't going to be a next time." sweeteangel1 retorted.
TwilightDork was about to no doubt give a witty reply, but was unable to seeing as how they had reached the receptionist's desk.
"Hello." sweeteangel1 smiled sweetly at the lady behind the counter, a sign that TwilightDork usually took to mean as 'run.'
"We're here for an appointment with Dr. Palmer, his 2:30's."
"Room 113, down the hall and to the left." The lady replied, barely glancing at us before she went back to typing on her computer, her gum smacking so loud that it echoed off the walls.
"Thanks." sweeteangel1 smiled sweetly again, and TwilightDork almost chanced a searching glance around for terrorists, or people from the underground cult that she had discovered a short time ago.
Giggling at the gigantic pile of feathers that littered the ground in the waiting room, the girls made their way to room 113, and knocked softly on the door.
"Come in! Come in!" An overly cheery male voice called from inside the room. They gave each other a wary sideways glance, and reassured themselves before stepping into the door.
"Oh, look! My 2:30's showed up! I was worried you weren't going to make it!" Said a man with a big smile who looked like he should be on a cover of a magazine, holding a big sign that said 'Stereotypical American Father.' Both girls acknowledged the fact that things had just gotten a lot more interesting.
"So," said Dr. Palmer, after TwilightDork had taken a seat in the gigantic armchair the farthest away from the shrink, and sweeteangel1 had dramatically lain down on the chaise lounge in front of the couch he was sitting on, "let's talk about why you're here."
sweeteangel1 rolled her eyes, and TwilightDork put on her 'You have got to be kidding me' face. Dr. Palmer still looked optimistic.
"Fae and Rebecca, isn't it? Well--" The psychiatrist was abruptly cut off by sweeteangel1.
"You must have the wrong folder, Doctor." sweeteangel1 stated, sitting up. "We're Erin and Shaunee, not Fae and Rebecca."
"But, it says here," he said, pointing at the folder, "'Rebecca Washington and Fae Williams, 2:30pm.'"
"Yes," said TwilightDork, piping up, "Shaunee Washington and Erin Williams."
"They must've just gotten our names confused with somebody else's," sweeteangel1 said decisively.
"But there aren't any Erin's or Shaunee's scheduled at all this week!" He exclaimed, trying futilely not to make a fool of himself. But when TwilightDork and sweeteangel1 are involved, nobody gets to keep their dignity.
"I'm sorry sir, but your receptionist must have written down the wrong names." TwilightDork said solemnly.
"She doesn't seem too bright." sweeteangel1 added, stage whispering behind her hand.
Dr. Palmer looked startled, and just a little bit nervous, apparently finally catching onto sweeteangel1's 'Fear me, for I will kill you in your sleep' vibe, and TwilightDork's 'I am a pyromaniac, touch me, and get burned by my uncontrolled hyperness' personality.
"I sincerely apologize for the mix-up, Erin and Shaunee. I'll have to have a chat with my receptionist."
But neither of them were really paying attention; sweeteangel1 was playing with her hair, apparently finding that, at the moment, acting blonde was more interesting than torturing the psychiatrist, and TwilightDork was thinking of the new and improved version of the flamethrower that they had out in the black-market.
"Well," the shrink cleared his throat unceremoniously, "where were we. Oh! That's right, we were talking about your reasons for being here. So, would anyone like to volunteer to answer the question?"
sweeteangel1 raised her hand.
"Oh, good! Why don't you start. Erin, why do you think you're here?" Dr. Palmer asked eagerly.
"We're here," sweeteangel1 began, "because our landlord's an ass."
TwilightDork took one look at sweeteangel1's face and burst out laughing.
"You go, twin." And they high-fived.
Dr. Palmer looked more than a little bewildered. "I'm sure that there's another reason that you're here." He stated carefully."Mr. Newton said that the other people on your floor were complaining about the late hours you would come in at, and the fact that you girls always acted," he gulped, "slightly insane whenever anyone saw you. So much to the point that he called me, and asked me to make sure that you were okay."
TwilightDork snorted.
"I still say it's because he's an ass." sweeteangel1 muttered.
"Well, okay, lets address the first issue. Why is it that you girls keep such odd hours?" Dr. Palmer looked pleading.
"Our jobs." They said in unison.
The psychiatrist looked slightly shocked, obviously expecting a different answer. Did he honestly expect them to come right out and admit that they were doing slightly insane, and definitely not moral things in the late hours of the night?
"Ummm....okay, so, what do you do for a living Shaunee?"
TwilightDork looked frantic, but then quickly composed herself and became calculating. "I work with Erin." She said at last.
"Oh, so you two work together, that must be nice. I can tell that you're very close. So, Erin, what's your job?"
sweeteangel1 didn't have any hesitation. "I'm an actress." She replied promptly, "Shaunee and I work for the same company, though we don't always work directly together because we specialize in different areas. Shaunee is the head of the prop division."
"Wow, that must be exciting. What company do you guys work for?"
Now that threw 1 off. "Uhhhh...." she trailed off.
"Syah." Said TwilghtDork, saving the day.
"Yeah, Syah." sweeteangel1 smirked a little bit, like Dr. Palmer was missing out on an inside joke.
He looked confused, but eventually shrugged it off, telling himself that there was no use in trying to figure these girls out anyway."Well, now that we have the first part diagnosed, let's move onto the second: Exactly how do you girls act in public?"
********************************************************
One hour, two diagnostics, three burnt-carpet spots, and a broken lamp later, TwilightDork and sweeteangel1 walked out of the psychiatric ward.
"I can't believe he thinks that I'm a pyromaniac! I mean, come on, ME?!? What about you?" TwilightDork grumbled.
sweeteangel1 raised her eyebrows at TwilightDork. "I think he would consider pyromania one of my multiple personalities, Becky."
"You did lay on the bi-polarity a bit too much, Fae. You could only expect the guy to diagnose you with Multiple Personality Disorder with the way you were acting." TwilightDork responded scathingly. "Though it was quite funny when you took on the personality of a shrink, and kept throwing his questions right back at him. I think you make a better psychologist than he does, actually."
"Oh, being told that I had MPD was no surprise. I've always known that. Psssh! It comes with the job. What I didn't know was that my MPD is 'potentially harmful to myself and others if I cannot control my sudden shift in mood and demeanor'" sweeteangel1 said, mimicking Dr. Palmer's voice.
TwilightDork snickered.
"But, seriously, pyromania? I never would have guessed that. Especially not with that obsession for flamethrowers you have." She said sarcastically. "I'm hardly in shock. But you did scare him well. The look on his face when you pulled out that mini-flamethrower? Priceless."
TwilightDork sighed and said, "Well, I'm certainly never going back there again."
"I'm in total agreement with you twin," said sweeteangel1 as she climbed into the driver's seat of their VW bug. "Screw weekly sessions, I've got TCI's to stalk."
"And I've got government-produced weapons to manage." Chimed in TwilightDork.
With that, the two best friends drove the long trek back to their apartment, to wait for more adventures to head their way.
And as the sped off, you could faintly hear their conversation......
"Hey Fae?"
"Yeah Becky?"
"Wanna go blackmail Mike Newton?"
"YES!!! Let's go! I know the perfect......"
And then they disappeared into the night.
