Hey folks :D

Exams are over, woop woop !! Just have to focus on writing up my thesis now :/ :/ I'm planning on updating this here fic weekly from now on probably at the weekend when I have the most free time so probably each Sunday * cough Sin-day *

Can I say a colossal thanks to anyone reading my little story, adding it to their story alerts, favourites,and those reviewing and saying fuckawsome nice things, makes me a happy happy :)

Disclaimer: I still own fuck all, Robs crotch owns me. Robs crotch dipped in Jack Daniels No.7 Barbecue sauce is what heavens made of. I dont know how the whole beta thing works so I don't have one, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes or just general shityness. I still dont own Anchorman either, (although I will shamelessly continue to steal quotes from it), I dont own any of the music listed below either or Erica Jong, she aint mine. I dodnt own The Dude or The Big Lebowski either, I do have a copy of the soundtrack which is fuckawsome. And half the shit I make Em and Jazz say are quotes from my guy friends. Namely my "special" man friend Mr.P he knows who he is...named and shamed bitch, named and shamed :P

Songs featured in Chapter 4

Will Ferrell and The Channel 4News Team- Afternoon Delight

http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=eplbDbp6XJQ

Henryck Gorecki, Symphony No.3: Lento e Largo – Tranquilissimio, performed by David Zinman, Dawn Upshaw and London Sinfionetta

http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=ymuF7uG6wis

I felt like something was missing in the last Chapter but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.. anyway I'm reasonably happy with this Chapter (although its shorter than I originally planned but it seemed like the logical place to cut it off) so without further ado, I give you...

Chapter 4-'I reckon I could eat a chicken nugget every 15 minutes for the rest of my life'

EPOV

"Fuck off .." I mumble whilst trying to inject as much venom into my sleepy voice as possible. I lamely swat whoever the fucks pinging my nose's hand away and sluggishly turn over on the sofa hiding my face in the crook of my elbow to avoid the attack.

It doesn't work. The relentless assault commences on my ears this time and it hurts like a motherfucking bitch. Growling into my arm I shake my head in an attempt to escape the perpetrator which only results in adding even more fuel to their attack.

"What part of fuck off don't you get..." I grumble frustratedly as I shimmy around until I'm laying with my back on the sofa. I scrub my hands over my face a few times and dig my fingers into my eyes forcefully rubbing the sleep away before prying them open and looking up to see the ever-present jovial smile and bouncing blue eyes of one Jasper Whitlock.

"Nice to see you too Eddie boy" Jasper drawls as he stoops further over the back of the sofa and musses up my hair. At least he's stopped with the fucking pinging now.

" Sorry to wake you up sleeping beauty.." The haughty grin plastered on his face states otherwise.

" ..but you gotta move your ass so I can get my tush on that there sofa and eat all this fooood..."

He grins even wider as he spreads his hands out gesturing to the coffee table next to me. Following his gaze I laugh as he motions to the shitload of fast-food he's got lined up across the table.

Unsurprisingly, in the centre of the feast there's a plate with a mountain of chicken nuggets nestled upon it. Just waiting for Jazz to abuse it with his favoured condiment, good old Jack Daniels No.7 Barbecue sauce. Jazz leers at the plate in an entirely unnatural way for any man to be looking at a food that's primarily made of chicken skin, water and pulped carcasses.

"I reckon I could eat a chicken Nugget every 15 minutes for the rest of my life." Jasper mumbles as he stares at the plate dotingly whilst making his way around the sofa.

Snickering I haul myself into a sitting position and swing my legs off the sofa to make room for Jazz to sit down. I cant help but smile as he pushes a pile of my favourite barbecue chicken hot wings along the table towards me before passing me the Jack Daniels sauce.

"Ah! That's the face I was looking for"

He laughs as he bumps my shoulder with his before shovelling some nuggets into his mouth and spluttering out between bites,

"what's up... with,... you anyway?"

He looks questioningly at me before swallowing the chicken shit that's in his mouth and reaching for more. His face becomes clouded with apprehension and he pauses his attack on the mountain of nuggets with a handful half way to his open mouth to look at me again. His whole demeanor changes and he stares at me deadly serious for an insurmountable period of time.

"You can still play, right?"

I quickly nod my head in the affirmative to acquiesce him and watch as his posture drastically relaxes. Letting out a sigh I slouch back into the sofa with the plate of wings in hand and prop my feet up on the coffee table before answering him.

"Park Girl."

Its all the explanation he needs anyway.

"Ah, I see.." he replies in a sympathetic voice the trepidation in his eyes almost completely dissolved.

"I'm taking it you didn't speak to her then."

"Nope " I say popping the p and shaking my head before balancing the plate on the arm of the sofa and jumping up.

"Fancy a beer?" I offer as I head over to the kitchen stretching and cracking my back as I go to try and relax myself.

"As sure as shit I do..keeping the tradition alive I see.." Jazz replies with a glint in his eye.

Smirking back at him I head into the kitchen to get some beers out of the fridge. It became some sort of fucked up tradition that whenever any of the three of us are feeling shit, no matter what the reason. We head out to the nearest pub and drown our sorrows with a few beers, and if we're feeling extra shitty a few shots of Jack D get frown in too.

Its not like we're alcoholics or anything, I mean we only have a couple most of the time and its more about the company and being able to vent what's bugging us to the others than about the actual drink.

But fuck if I'm gonna start talking to Emmett about my feelings and shit without getting him fully inebriated beforehand.. he already thinks I'm lacking in the dick department over the whole Park girl fiasco I don't want to reinforce it. At least if drinks involved I've got a scapegoat for my emo fuckery.

I pop the beers open and head back into the living room.

"Tradition brings us all together and makes us feel close .. "

I tease back in a saccharine tone trying to sound like Esme. I don't know how many times I've heard her say that in my life... seriously. Tradition for some reason means a shitload to Esme. Her favourite tradition is one she lovingly made up her self and likes to call 'Our Day', and it really is as gay as it sounds.

It falls on the 11th of July each year, which just so happens to be in like a fortnight...fuck this years flying by. The point of 'Our day'? well its to celebrate the day my adoption, and in Esme's eyes 'The Cullen Family', became official.

Every year we spend 'Our Day' in the bowling alley. Every fucking year without fail. It was my favourite thing to do as a kid and since I was always allowed to choose how we spent the day it was unavoidable that we would end up prancing about with our feet in a pair of shoes 20 million other people have worn. After about 5 years Esme stopped asking what I wanted to do and it just became tradition that we would spend the day amid arcade games and greasy fries to bowl a few games.

I actually fucking loved it especially when I got older and Emmett and Jazz became a big part of my life and ultimately were dragged by Esme into the celebrations as well. It just seems to get better each year as well, especially now a few beers are involved and we get to take bets on how long it will be before Carlisle inevitably starts quoting The Big Lebowski.

Jazz the cheating fucker won last year, 6 beers (4 of which Jazz supplied him with) in 1 hour 25 minutes and Carlisle was shouting,"Smokey, this is not Nam'. This is bowling. There are rules!!" ,in his best Walter impersonation at the top of his lungs in the middle of the bowling lane. Fuck knows why he hasn't been banned yet.

Handing Jazz his beer I slouch back down onto the sofa smiling at the memories before Jazz brings me out of my reminiscing

"That's not the tradition... its the Jack Daniels.."

He beams and takes a long pull from his beer before continuing,

"Anyway we've to meet Em at 'Dirty Dicks' at 8, so don't worry tradition shall be upheld!"

He shouts as he punches his fist into the air. Why he felt the need to I don't know, but that's just how Jazz rolls.

"And you can spill the beans.." he looks at me pointedly.

"Looking forward to it.. " I grumble back.

He just chuckles at me before his face lights up in a stupid-ass expression and he springs up off the sofa, pointing at me.

"I'm gonna punch you in the ovary, that's what I'm gonna do. A straight shot. Right to the baby maker!!"

He shouts before flinging himself over the coffee table towards the flat screen, knocking a bowl of fries over sending them scattering across the table in his haste to search for our much abused copy of Anchorman.

I groan internally because watching Anchorman right now is not really gonna help me with the whole trying not to quote it to Park Girl when I eventually talk to her. Although ..."I don't normally do this, but I felt compelled to tell you something. You have an absolutely breathtaking....heiney. I mean, that things good. I wanna be friends with it." does sound pretty accurate..

Jazz finally finds the DVD and holds it up in the air in some euphoric gesture before starting the film up and launching himself back onto the sofa.

We watch the film and finish a few more beers off in quick succession, just about pissing ourselves laughing at this little slice of comedy genius before trying to get our shit together to head out to meet Emmett. Our attempt at getting our shit together ends up being a total fail as Jazz falls over the door jamb whilst doing a little, well a lot, of drunk guy dancing as he croons out a craptastic version of "Afternoon Delight".

"I'd totally hit that."

Emmett practically shouts across the table to us as he points his beer bottle in the direction of some red head posing at the bar. Looking back towards Em I snort into my bottle as he nods his head, winking and waggling his eyebrows.

"Dude...Id hit that so hard whoever could pull me out, would become the King of England!"

He continues in his vociferous drunken slur, his eyebrows waggling at rapid speed making him look like some ridiculous cartoon character and ending in me spluttering beer all down my chin as I snort at him and watch Jazz chortling away bouncing about on his barstool.

Suddenly Jazz bangs his bottle onto the table to demand our attention and looks between Em and myself blinking slowly and smirking lazily. Finally focusing his attention in my direction he leans over the table, sounding completely sozzled and ridiculously Texan, and just about manages to ask,

"Sooo, Edwardo", he hiccups," what's the..plan for Friday ?"

I watch in wonder as his face contorts in what looks like pain while he squirms around precariously perched on top of his stool. After what seems like forever he straightens up and sets free a ridiculously long ,and worryingly moist sounding, belch and smiles all shit happy as if he's won a medal or something. Perhaps I should cut his alcohol supply off pretty damn soon..

When we first got to Dirty Dicks Em was sitting at a table beaming with an absurdly long row of JD shots lined up waiting for us, I'm guessing Jazz had already told him about my pissy mood. I flung a couple back before even sitting down and launched into explaining the clusterfuck that was this morning.

Trying to maintain my cool, and hide behind my completely factitious "though art better than you, and can hold my drink" mask, I slur back,

"Fuck knows man, I'm just gonna walk up to her.."

"That's a start...that's, that's a good fucking start "

Jazz babbles back at me nodding his head seriously, I really should cut him off sooner rather than later... Rolling my eyes at him I carry on.

"m'not gonna take the guitar, cos I'll just shit out and end up fucking serenading her like usual."

I grimace, "I just hope that doesn't mean I'm gonna start singing all fucking a capella or something..."

"You better fucking do it man." Emmett shouts across the table in a warning tone, turning his beer bottle in my direction he continues,

"You need to suck the giant cock of life... and make it your own. You'll come out a better woman for it"

What.

The.

Fuck...

I stare wide eyed, dumbfounded and slack jawed at him as he sits smirking smugly and quaintly sipping his beer as if he's just bestowed the best piece of advice in the world upon me.

The carfuffle and sound of hysterical cackling and banging from the floor registers somewhere in my mind and makes me aware that Jazz is no longer precariously perched upon his stool but is now in fact face planted on the floor.

Checking to make sure he hasn't bust his nose open or some other fuckery I peek under the table to see him gracelessly splayed across the floor "hooterin' and a hollerin'" as he would say.

"What the fuck! what are you talking about..Emmett? what kind of fucked up advice is that?" I ask him genuinely perplexed by his outburst.

" Shit! no... that doesn't make sense here does it?"

I don't want to know when that fuckery ever makes sense, though I'm pretty sure its got something to do with his cock being the aforementioned "cock of life"..

He scratches his head deep in thought and rubs across his chin before smiling lopsidedly, crossing his arms across his chest and countering,

"What about ..' Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn't' ?"

Wait a minute I'm pretty sure that's an Erica Jong quote. Erica Jong the writer and feminist.. wonder what she'd make of the " suck the cock of life" advice..

"Arsehole". I smirk back at him because the fuckers right. I know what I need to do, I just don't want to do it, well I do but I don't. Fuck, shits not making sense any more, think I should cut myself off pretty soon too...

"Plus if you don't"

He takes a slurp from his bottle spilling some down his shirt,

"Me and Jazz here.."

He reaches down and pulls a still snickering and hiccuping Jazz up from the floor with one huge hand.

"..we're gonna gate crash your little Rendezvous spot and tell her all about you Aqualung.. "

He teases as he points his bottle in my direction once again and eyes me gravely to let me know he really isn't kidding.

Jazz finally recovers himself and takes a swig from his bottle, which miraculously he's managed to avoid smashing or even spilling any beer from. Fucker, I always spill mine when I face plant. He loudly clears his throat in an extremely dramatic "Ahem mmm!!" before raising his bottle to join Emmett's which is now hovering dangerously close to my face and making a toast.

"To Friday!..Friday, and finally meeting the infamous Park Girl!".

Laughing I raise my bottle to join there's and clink them together to seal the deal. As I raise the bottle to touch my lips Em's deafening voice booms into my ear,

"Down it or your gay motherfuckfucker!!"

Balls. Another tradition, not that there's fuck all wrong with being gay but well.. you know, need to gain man points here. I comply to tradition like usual and down the beer in one whilst Jazz bangs his bottle on the table in time with his chants of "Friday, Friday, Friday..!".

Slamming the empty bottle onto the table I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and grin in victory, while Em pats my back like I've been a good boy. He pushes another shot towards me and picks up his own from the table, and speaks assertively,

"Seriously man.. to Friday..".

Fuck I think I'm gonna regret this. Before I can confiscate Jazz's shot, because fuck if I want to be cleaning his chicken nuggety puke up, he moves with more speed than I thought was possible in his sloshed state grabbing the glass and raising it in the air and toasting again,

"To Fridaaayyy!".

For some reason my mind trudges up some of the basic Latin I learned whilst at Columbia University. All that useless shit they make you learn for no apparent reason, because this sure as hell didn't get me my degree. The origin of the days of the week, who needs to know that? Seriously.. Friday comes from the Latin 'dies veneris'', which translates as 'Day of Venus', the planet dedicated to the goddess of love, the Greek Aphrodite, or 'Aphrodites hemera' if you like.

That's got to be a good sign for Friday, right?.

Thursday I wake up with a start, sitting straight up on what I think is my bed, well its soft anyway, with the unmistakable heat of another persons body pressing into my legs. Shit..

Manning up and preparing myself for the worst case scenario, I crack one bleary eye open wide enough to take in a head of blonde frizz which thank fuck I recognize as belonging to Jazz.

I groan out loud in protest to the sheer amount of Jack Daniels I can practically feel splashing back and forth in my head making me feel sea-sick. Bad fucking idea. It just makes the splashing turn into a pulsing fucking Tsunami. It feels like my brain's been fucked by a Rhino or someshit, fuck that' visuals making me feel sick..I need more sleep.

I wake again, with the weight and heat of Jazz's body tossing about across my feet this time. Yawning I stretch my arms out and hit something wooden sending a soft chime out into the silence of the room.

Looks like I've been spooning with my guitar again... sad times. I know.

Pulling the guitar out from its place of rest wedged between my side and the back of the sofa I survey the room to see just how much damage we managed to inflict upon the apartment in the black-out that happened last night.

Jazz is passed out across my feet at the opposite end of the sofa spread eagle with a maraca sticking out the top of his trousers....because that's normal.

And Emmett's to the left of me in the love-seat curled up in the foetal position looking absolutely fucking ridiculous.

The man's a fucking machine I'm telling you, he's 6'4 which isn't intimidating if your a relatively tall guy I mean I'm 6'1 and jazz is just under 6'. The thing that's scary about Emmett is how much meat and muscle he has on his enormous frame.

He's not quite Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I've never met anyone stupid enough to mess with him. And the funny thing is he wouldn't hurt a fly in a food fight.

Seriously..he's genuinely one of the nicest people I know. The crudest mouth I've ever heard, probably where I picked up my 'potty' mouth as Esme says. But he's just like a big kid really with his brown eyes, curly hair and mischievous dimples.

I barely suppress the snort that builds up in my chest as Em grumbles incoherently and snuggles further into the pillow he's wrapped himself around.

And then there's Jazz.. who's now snoring lightly as he sprawls himself even more over my legs. I love that boy to bits too. He's just Jazz. There's no way you can really describe him that will do him any real justice. He's full of life and laughter and everyone immediately falls in love with his Southern boy charm.

He starts stirring in his sleep and making babbling noises that progress to an almost caw like sound as if he's impersonating a bird.

Laughing quietly I kick his ass to get him to shut the hell up, because I really don't want him to wake up Em, who from experience I've learnt doesn't deal well with hangovers until he's had enough sleep. Enough being when his body decides its time to haul ass.

He bolts upright onto his feet producing an abrupt swishy sound from the maraca lodged down his pants. His blonde curls are sticking out all over the place as he turns to look at me with his blue eyes shining.

"How do you think seagulls know whether they like each other or not? I mean, how do they make friends?" He asks in a panicked voice.

Trying not to laugh at his randomness I shrug my shoulders smiling in amusement before coughing to clear my throat,

"I dunno. Why?"

"I had this fucked up dream I was a seagull and all the other seagulls were ignoring me even though I was running after them shouting. None of them wanted to be my friend.."

He trails off, before laughing " fuck just how much did we drink last night.. "

"Way, way too much.." I moan and bury my head under my arm.

" I think, no wait I am...I'm still drunk, am I fuck going into work today..." Jazz states matter of factly,

" Hope we didn't wake the neighbours"

I hear the ping of Jazz's bass guitar and briefly remember Emmett falling over the coffee table last night to get to his bongos. And then flashbacks of a late night jam session of pretty much every Bob Marley song known to mankind flutter into cognition as Jazz lays back down at my feet and starts snoring again minutes later.

I must have drifted off to sleep as well, because I wake up sometime later spread out alone along the sofa and needing to piss like a motherfucking race horse. With a fucking post it note attached to my forehead.

Tearing it off, and narrowly avoiding screaming like a little bitch at how much it hurt since my fucking hair was caught up in it, I can just about make out what I recognize as Emmett's chicken scratchin scrawl.

"Hitting that Red head :P catch ya later Wankward".

The best part of the note though is the shitty stick people drawing on the bottom right hand corner. One of which I assume is Em complete with a cock larger than his body, the head of which is wrapped up in a pair of red lips belonging to a second stick person complete with red hair kneeling in front of him. And incase it couldn't get any better than that theres about 10 post it notes underneath the top note which make up a fucking flip book of stick man Em drilling his dick in and out of the red heads mouth. It's seriously a work of fucking art, good enough to get stuck on the fridge I think...

Sitting up and rubbing my eyes I stumble into the kitchen and stick the note onto the fridge grinning the whole time before making my way out into the hall towards my room only to find my jacket spread across the floor.

Fishing my phone out of the pocket I see its 6.43pm, fuck sake how long have I been sleeping. There's a missed call from Esme and a text from Jazz saying he's out getting us some hangover food, which no doubt will be made up of Hot Pockets, Ramen Noodles, Prawn Crackers and even more Chicken Nuggets for Jazz.

Making my way into my bedroom I quickly peel off my rank clothes before heading into my bathroom and taking the worlds longest and most satisfying piss.

I jump in for a quick shower, yawning the whole time since for some fucked up reason moving my ass from the sofa to the showers has knackered me out again. I pull on a pair of old worn in pj trousers and head out into the living room where I can hear Jazz moving around.

Walking back into the room I find Jazz settled back into the sofa with a McDonald's propped on his knee.

"Yours is in the kitchen" he muffles out through a mouthful of burger.

"Don't worry, there's Hot pockets in the kitchen for desert.." He laughs as he shoves a chicken nugget into his mouth along with the rest of his burger.

"Thanks"

I punch his shoulder lightly and try to fling a grateful smile at him before heading into the kitchen to retrieve yet another unhealthy meal.

I seriously don't think all this booze and take out is doing me any good. Carlisle would lose it if he seen half the shit I eat. Feeling guilty I decide I'm gonna leave the fries and only eat the burger, plus its a diet coke I've got that's the healthy choice right?

Making my way back into the living room I slouch down onto the sofa next to Jazz and start to slowly eat my burger, savouring it as I start to feel a little bit more human with each bite.

Its silent for a while, with the only sound in the room coming from the TV as Jazz watches Jackass and occasionally laughs at the stupid ass shit those boys get up to.

Usually I'd be laughing too but since I've been running various fucked up scenario's through my head of what could happen tomorrow, all of which ending with my balls retracting into my body and Park Girl laughing in my face, I'm starting to feel a bit worked up.

Its fucking Friday tomorrow. Glancing at the time on the TV I near enough start hyperventilating. It's fucking Friday in like 4 and a bit hours...shit.

Obviously Jazz being the perceptive fucker that he is, senses my moldy mood and makes an attempt to pull me out of my uneasy disposition.

"Don't worry Edward, it'll be fine. Just be you. That's all you gotta do. And don't put any pressure on yourself. I would say shes just like any other girl, but I get the feeling shes not just any girl..."

He smiles at me in his all knowing Jazz way again and laughs when I don't dispute him, because fuck, I know I dont feel like this when I think about any other girl.

"If all you find out tomorrow is her name? Then fuck, that's great.. you can build it up from there, no pressure mate"

Jazz says soothingly as he punches my arm lightly.

"But I've got a really good feeling about tomorrow. Something big''s gonna happen... I can feel it"

He states whilst smiling earnestly. And I believe him, because sure as shit something big is gonna happen tomorrow, and it can only go one of two ways. Either its gonna be a big fat fail or an epic win, at least I'll finally know though..

I smile genuinely for what must be the first time today and relax slightly more kicking my feet up onto the coffee table, I don't know how he does it but Jazz always calms me down.

I watch Jackass for a bit longer and guffaw along with him at the guys as they hide in the bushes at some Golf course blowing an air horn any time anyone makes a swing. Its pretty funny shit.

Yawning again I decide to head to bed early. I plug my iPod into its docking station to charge it up for tomorrow when I get in my room and scroll through the artists trying to find something that'll help me relax enough to sleep.

I stop searching when I reach Henryck Gorecki's Symphony Number 3. sticking it on low enough to sleep but loud enough that I can still hear the delicate piano before it stunningly bursts forth releasing it's ominous power.

I fall asleep easily my head swimming with the haunting music and memories of Park Girls smile from yesterday and dreaming of the million different ways I'd like to solicit to make her smile wide like that again.

A/N

Another authors note ? I hear you cry...Yep thats right, because I never know when the fuck to shut up on here which is kind of funny considering how quiet I am in RL.

So what do you think so far? Liking Em and Jazz? Liking Guitar Guy? hes just a big softie really (well other than the times I need him to be hard.. which may possibly be in more than one but less than three chapters :P oh I'm such a tease) Fed up with my ridiculous overuse of Anchorman quotes yet? because theres plenty more to cum, shit I meant come, Fanfic has corrupted me..

Okay so next Chapter will be back to BPOV I believe, and will either be up this weekend or next I havent decided yet..

Anyway, let me know what your thinking about the story so far, or just general ramblings about random crap (shitty jokes are always appreciated a la 'How does Bob Marley like his doughnuts? With Jammin' Mwahaha). I think I've drank too much coffee today,I do apologise :/

And since I'm a teasing whore those who review might well be rewarded with a little sneaky teaser of Chapter 5... *cough you will* :P

Speak to you soon my lovelies, Lulu x