A/N
*shifty eyes* I.. I have no excuses. Here is a chapter.
Fang POV:
I lean on the horn.
Jeez. He says pick 'im up at 7. It's 7:03. Where the heck is he?
Sighing, I turn off my car and walk up to Iggy's door and hit the bell.
And hit it again.
And again.
I go to hit it again, but the door swings open- revealing a half-naked Iggy with wicked bed head.
"WHAT!?"
"Hey, Ig."
"Hey, Ig? HEY, IG!? That's all you have to frickin' say after frickin' ringing my doorbell over and over like a frickin' 2 year old?!"
Wow. That's a lot of fricks.
"You're late."
"It's 6:05! I said 7, you idiot!"
"No, it's 7:05."
"6:05"
"7:05"
"6:05! See! Look at my watch!"
Hmmm.
"While I agree that your watch says 6:05, it is still 7:05, and you are late. Did you, oh I donno, remember the time change?"
"Time change?"
"Mhmmm."
"Oh."
…
"Let me fix my hair, I'll be right out. Wait in the car."
Whatever. He has to fix his hair? Seriously? Someone needs to revoke his man card.
Not that having sexy hair is a bad thing.
For example, girls seem to think that I have some damn sexy hair.
Or so they've told me.
Girls annoy me. They are always like, "Oh Fangy-poo, your eyelashes are like so looong. And your eyes! They like are like Edward's when he is hungry. *swoon*"
Gag. Maybe having sexy hair is a bad thing.
Like I wanna be like that sparkly fairy.
Now, Max.
That's a whole different ballpark.
Max is a woman.
A woman who could kick my butt if she ever knew I thought of her as a woman.
I wonder if she-
Iggy jumps into the car.
Seriously, he jumped- just like in everybody always does in movies made in the 80's.
"Not cool man. Just cuz my car's a convertible, does not mean that you can treat her like that. Knowing you, you could have broken my windshield."
"Dude, that was one time! Let. It. Go."
I pull out of the driveway only to realize that I have no idea where I am going.
"Hey, Ig, where is this place anyways?"
"Uh… lemmee see."
He pulls out his new Iphone 5- I have no idea where he gets the money to maintain his lifestyle and I don't want to know.
"Siri."
"Yes, Master Iggy?"
"Directions from P. Sherman Wallaby Way Syd-"
I cut him off, "Stop screwing around and get the stupid directions."
He sticks his lip out and pouts, "Fine. Siri?"
"Yes, Master?"
"Directions from "42 Skrill Avenue, Denver Colorado" to "Nevermore Club, Denver Colorado" please."
"Compiling… directions completed."
"Thank you Siri."
"Anything for you Sunshine."
Rolling my eyes, I follow the directions generated by Iggy's digital girlfriend.
Speaking of digital girlfriends, you would not believe the number of proposals I have gotten through the comment section on "Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports".
Take a guess.
53.
Fifty-three marriage proposals.
42 of them were women.
I can assure you that I do not swing in the direction of the other eleven.
Man, I hope tonight won't be total bummer- I really need to post a new chapter, but I'm blowing it off to go out tonight.
Iggy better hope I have a good time, or one of these days he's gonna wake up as a eunuch.
What?
I never said I don't hold grudges.
