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2 The Madness Continues

A noise from my bedroom made me swivel my head around. Fuck. I had completely forgotten the troubadour. Must have climbed the fire escape.

"I told you I was gonna get you!" he puffed.

My face darkened. Blackened.

"you are a fatty!" I thundered, rattling the paper in the air. "Didn't it say that fatties AREN'T ALLOWED?"

So I was taking my anger out on the innocent, I know. Who had forcefully entered my apartment, by the way. But who could blame me? I typically had one job-related psycho per week to deal with, and now this fiasco weighing on my back?!

"Woah, it's not like you're the sexiest at the moment either," the crazy pointed out.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a tent. Yesterday's make up still on. Hair seriously greasy.

"GET OUT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL SHOOT YOU IN THE HEAD!"

"Now, now…. First dates are always nerve-wracking –," he started in a calm voice.

I took my mote control and aimed it at his stomach. "Ouch!" he whimpered when it hit the target.

"Shut up. Your stomach is like a huge pillow," I commented.

"The pillow could warm you…," he rasped from his crouched position and caressed his pot of jiggling jelly.

Eeeeew. I wasn't up to basking in anyone's fatties. I opened my cookie jar and took the gun I never used.

"NOW, NOW…. I promise you, no need to get that excited…," the fatty started to ramble.

"Shit. How did this thing work again," I mumbled, inspecting the gun.

"WHAAT? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE THAT?!"

I raised my head from the gun so that our eyes could meet. "Does it matter?" I smiled. And bang, he was off!

I laughed when I heard him shuffle down the stairs. Some people were easy to scare.

I yawned. It was still too early for this kind of action. I put the gun back in the cookie jar, closed the front door and crawled under my blanket. Surely there wouldn't be more suitors at this hour. Besides, a little nap would help me sort this… madness out.

Four hours later, someone tickled my ankle. Joe. He was laughing, looking handsome in his police uniform. We had called it quits two weeks ago and kept our respective wound-healing distance ever since. We had agreed on trying to be friends, though. Yet, a friend or a foe, I still didn't like how people came and went in and out of my home like it was a central station.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Came to have some amusement in my life."

When he saw I wasn't amused, he explained. "A hysterical man came over to the police station. Someone had threatened his life. Gave us your address."

I groaned. "I bet he left out how he started it."

Joe looked thoughtful. "Yeah, he didn't seem too normal. I saw the paper. You want me to stay with you?"

"For the whole day? I am pretty sure he'll be the only psycho -," I paused. Now did I want to go there? Contemplating in front of Joe how only crazy people would find me attractive and companionable now that Joe was out of the picture?

Joe seemed to have followed my train of thought.

"Yeah. I dunno. I know I've questioned my sanity when it comes to you. Come, I made coffee."

I followed Joe to my living room. He gave me a cup of coffee and settled down on my sofa with his own mug.

"So. How are you?" he asked and patted the space next to him. I shrugged, and sat down.

"Nothing new."

"I see."

"You?"

"Same old."

We finished our coffees in silence.

"I've been thinking… What we have… is history," Joe said suddenly, interrupting my foggy thoughts.

I nodded.

"It would be foolish to let that go…"

Oh no. I looked at him. "Look, Joe. It's definitely over between us."

"Please. Just listen to me for once, will you?" He quickly stood up, reaching for his belt. "I need you," he whispered huskily.

"Joe...?"

He dropped his pants. Tights. He was wearing green tights.

I was horrified. "Joe! We broke up!"

"What else is new? I could use the money the paper promised. And the boys have missed you…," he said in a serious tone and cupped his crotch. This was his idea of wooing?

"I don't want a friends with benefits relationship."

He snorted. "I think that's what we've ever been. You don't want to marry me… You become uncomfortable when I tell how I love you. But sex… that's something we have always agreed on."

"And that's why we broke up."

"But Steph… Think about it… You know me. A romantic weekend. It could set us back on track. Your mother would approve. Time for us. No street rats interrupting..."

"Are you calling Ranger a rat?" I asked, offended on his behalf. Ranger was anything but.

Joe made an angry sound. "Ha! You recognized him from the description!" I could tell his arms were about to fly.

"He has helped me countless times!" I said, my own temper rising.

"So that he could get into your pants!"

I had a sudden urge to throw Joe out of my home. My rent was due tomorrow and once again, I had to do some last-minute skip-shopping to prevent acute homelessness… and here was Joe, stalling me, communicating with me like we were back to our routine of fighting / dating / breaking up.

As if things hadn't changed at all. Now that I think about it, what good had Joe ever been for? He was so-called negative energy according to the self-help books Connie loved to recite. He was always there to remind me of the things he believed I couldn't do.

I hissed. "I can't believe this! We are supposed to be friends, yet here we are arguing about the same things when we were together. I know what you want to say – I should please my mother, please you, leave my job and friends –"

"It's because I care! Why won't you get it through your thick skull that it scares me whenever you are out there, playing a hero when you don't even know how to use a gun!"

"If you truly cared, you'd support me in this!"

"I can't. Because you can't do it. How many times have you survived solely on luck? And that rat only encourages you. Jesus. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only adult here. It's like being a father watching his child do stupid teenage shit over and over again–"

"Ha! And you are sooo adult-like… Look at you, pants around your ankles, wearing green tights –"

"I love you!"

"Yes, yes. That's conditional love you're offering."

Joe sighed and looked down at his toes, like he was giving up already.

This was too easy. His face wasn't even red yet. I eyed him in suspicion.

And what do you know, he took handcuffs out of his breast pocket.

"Joe..?"

"I knew this would be hard," he muttered.

"So you're arresting me, for what?" I asked, outraged.

"I am kidnapping you…," he smirked. "Like the paper said. If wooing won't work…"

"It's only Monday!" I said. "And that announcement wasn't FBI's wanted list! It's not legal! I didn't give my consent. And seriously, you don't woo a woman by cupping your privates! That only alerts women of a self-centered prick that you obviously are!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm a police officer. And I'm going to take care of you."

He reached for me. I jumped over the couch. Ok, so maybe more like wormed over it hurriedly.

"Cupcake… Don't bother running. You know how easy it's for me to catch you. Unless you've started uncharacteristically working out."

Great. Thanks for reminding. I wasn't only teetering on bankruptcy, perhaps slightly unskilled in my current job, romantic life had been down the toilet for a while, my hair still greasy… I was also out of shape. And my strategy to cope with problems had always been to deny them.

"Face it, Cupcake. We were meant to be. This is what you were meant to be – my wife, the mother of my children. You can't deny it."

But denial was such a good friend of mine. So I took off.

"CUPCAKE! YOU CAN'T ESCAPE BY RUNNING!"

Yeah, yeah. I knew that. That's why I dashed through my front door and hid behind the enormous green bush in the hallway. No running needed. It took a while to Joe to follow though, but when he did, he seemed ready to explode. His face was blood-red and yep, his trousers were still around his ankles. This was the man I had history with.

"CUPCAAAAKE!"

I frowned. He was howling in my hallway like a bull in heat. But did it matter? I didn't care to feel embarrassed for him. Mrs. Kensington wouldn't give a damn. My mother didn't live here. Though she should. Should see how her favourite son-in-law candidate was behaving right now.

"I LOVE YOU! BOYS LOVE YOU!" Joe roared a little more and then finally hobbled down the stairs. But before I could move a finger, he already returned. "I can wait," he whispered like a sinister villain and closed himself into my apartment.

Damn. How was I supposed to get dressed now?

This was insane. Joe was insane. And I was obviously scared witless, because I went to see Mrs. Kensington for the second time.

She opened her door in a state of bliss. I hoped it was chocolate-induced.

"Darling Steph, you have no idea how many orgasms I've had in the past hour!"

"Good for you. Could I borrow some clothes?"

Mrs. Kensington smiled. "My former lover came back this morning. And ta daa, no double-dildos needed!"

There were other neighbours in the building. From now on I would turn to them.

"Clothes?"

"Yeah, yeah. Take whatever you want," she said, pouting a little at my disinterest in her sex life and pointed the closet next to us.

I opened it and she disappeared into her bedroom.

I rubbed my forehead in closet was full of catsuits. Catsuits in red, in black, in gold… in silk, in leather, in latex… She had to have casual clothing somewhere. Nevertheless, I was happy for her. I guess it could be hard for an 80-year-old to find a partner.

Just when I was about to ask for simple sweat pants, I heard a male whisper. "Maybe we could ask that Stephanie for a threesome."

I snatched a pair of black FMPs, a long leather jacket and the least revealing catsuit and hurried down the building.

Ranger. I should call Ranger.


Dum di dum! Sooo... where's our Batman at? : 3