A/N: *Bows Down Low and Bangs Head on Floor* I have finished chapter 9 for
you, my liege! Here it is, in all its scholastic glory, the 9th wonder of
the world!
Oh ye of little faith! Who said that I can't upload/date my next chapter in a punctual and brilliant manner? If you're speaking of my "past experiences", that was only ONE chapter, and it was only HALF because of my laziness. The other two halves were totally due to writer's block.
And down the rabbit hole to:
Chapter 9: Screw Your Courage To the Sticking Place
"What are you doing, Will? Won't you join us to thrash Charlie at bridge?"
I glanced up from my incredibly boring book to where Darcy sat at a desk, writing what looked like an epic ballad really, really fast. Chipmunk on steroids, my mind diagnosed, and I tried hard not to snicker as he turned and looked at Emma, who was holding the ugly five-suit deck out.
"No, thank you, I need to write to my sister. Perhaps Ms. Bennet will play with you," he said.
Oh no, oh please GOD no, don't do this to me, please...
"She's too wrapped up in her book to take any interest in a silly little game like bridge, now aren't you, Ms. Bennet?" Emma said scathingly. I didn't mind a bit. Honestly. The day I sit down and play BRIDGE, (BRIDGE of ALL games) with a couple of whiny brats will be a cold day in hell, in my estimation.
I forced a big, impressively fake smile, and said, "Of course, Emma, you're too thoughtful. I am enjoying my book, and I don't think I'll intrude into your game,"
"Oh, no, you should come play with us!" she countered quickly, making me momentarily suspicious of some strange and unexplainable mood swing disorder (aka: make-Lizzy-as-uncomfortable-as-possible-even-if-it-means- being-within-bullet-range-of-her-it is) "I bet you could teach Charlie here a thing or two with your advanced skill," Ooh. If it had been any LESS of a zinger, her lips would have frozen over. As it was, I detected some faint lip ice beginning to form around her lipstickled yap.
So I smiled, pretending that it was friendliness and not glee at seeing her so idiotic as well as vain.
Fun fun.
"No, I'm sorry, but I can't play bridge. So you'll just have to go without my 'teaching Charlie there a thing or two with my advanced skill,' "
God PLEASE get me out of this house.
"Whatever. So Charlie, what's shakin' at Pemberley this time of year? Anything new we should know about your sis?"
Ooh, hip-and-happnin' Emma's bustin' a move. Watch out everyone, here she goes with her street-style vocab-oo-lary!
"My sister just got back from Paris, and has a new horse," said Darcy, still not lookin up from his letter.
Well, sounds like a plan to me. Horses, Paris, having the frigid Darcy-bitch for a brother, all seems to lead straight to a very repressed individual whose only real pleasure came when her brother left and she could run away with random rich boys and make mad love in the moonlight.
But Emma just smiled sweetly (she did have straight teeth) and said, "Oh, your sis is SUCH a sweetie! And she's so talented and everything! We just don't get enough time with her, we never do,"
Gag me with a friggin' pitchfork, hag. If you wanna jump the guy, then cut the crap and get it over with. On an impulse, I asked, a wee bit spitefully, "What completes your definition of nice and talented, Emma? I mean, I'm sure Mr. Darcy's" ( I couldn't help calling him that) "sister is sweet and talented, like you say, but how can you be sure if someone's really talented?"
The two she-demons looked like they wouldn't be very averse to biting my fingertips off and feeding the rest of me to a pack of snarling, ravenous smurfs. But before they could express any outrage at being called ambiguously talented, Charlie burst in.
"All girls are talented, in their own way. All of them can sing, draw, paint, dance and play instruments. I guess that all people can be considered equally talented, when you think about it,"
This brought the best mixed look of disgust and dismay that I have ever seen on a human face. Except maybe that time when I drove mom's car through crap-infested swamp (an accident I swear!)
"Oh no, Charlie! How can you even think it? Not everyone is equal at all! I mean, we're not even just talking about talent, now are we? There's a word, isn't there? A word for having a god talent in many things...?"
Eclectic? Insane? "Accomplished?" I suggested, trying hard not to laugh at her anger that it had been me to supply her dumbness the word she had been looking for.
"Yeah, accomplished! It's MORE than talent, it's your way of expressing yourself, the way you walk, that sort of thing. There are only a few girls I've ever met that I could call accomplished" Emma made it clear who one of those girls happened to be.
Is this weirding you out? 'Cause it was doing the same to me. Suddenly, I'd stepped into a book from Merry Ol' England. Hell.
"Exactly. I have only met about six in my life," put in Darcy, still not looking up.
"Six? I'm surprised you've met ANY by the standards you're putting up," I said, suddenly sick of this damn conversation.
"You're being a bit harsh, aren't you?" Darcy said, finally taking his eyes off his letter to fix them on me.
"I never saw all of these...things, these-traits put into anyone at the same time."
There was immediately an outburst of rage from the cardstable, and the Medusa sisters began bumbling indignantly about know a lot of people who fit the bill (aka themselves), and I think there was a "blind ditz" thrown at me along the way.
Doncha just love people?
Well, that was it. I was sick of this conversation, sick of the "blind ditz" 's from girls who'd probably never opened a can of soda by themselves before in their lives, and most of all sick of that emotional fuckwit in the corner more commonly referred to as William T. Darcy, but whom I'd rather called Desensitized Worm Man. I wanted to sock all of them (except the uncomfortable Charlie at the card table, of course) a good one in the gob and run for my life, screaming "Vive la Révolution!"
But something, I really don't know what, stopped me. Maybe it was my need to break the tradition and NOT be thrown in the loony bin this year. Maybe it was the fact that that just might have been something my mother would do in my situation (only with her it would be naked/chicken costumed/covered in hot wing sauce).
But it probably was lack of imagination. I always think of these things AFTER the fact! Why can't I get one idea like that at the RIGHT TIME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
But I DID do something (Ooooh, ahhhhhh). I got up very quietly, made my goodnights, and left the dang room. (She said "dang" ! Potty mouth!)
****************************** Journal Entry # 141 page 279
The second she'd closed the door, Emma started on her again. "Ugh! That bitch! Do you know what kind of person she is Sarah?" she turned to her equally (I've got no idea why) enraged sister for confirmation of her fears.
"Definitely. She's the kind of HO who tries to get guys by dissing girls, like that's some kind of sick turn-on or something," They both looked like they'd come across the very secret of life, and also a big threat to that secret. A short, strangely-dressed, sarcastic, orange-haired girl who wore Rainbow Bright skirts, had staring contests with Dorito Bowls and was (amazingly) strong enough to carry a drunken, sobbing guy in a Weezer shirt from here back home.
May God help us all.
"I think it's disgusting," said Emma, looking to me for approval. I sighed, ready to protect Lizzy against her posh attackers. And then stopped. Why should I protect her? If I did, that would only heighten resentment, and also make it harder on me. What did I care if she was being insulted when she couldn't hear? She could take care herself, couldn't she? Meanwhile, I owed allegiance to my friends, no matter how indignant I was feeling towards them.
"I agree. Lots of women do that at least once in their life to get men. Anything done with that intention is despicable. I could never stand it,"
Emma pursed her lips, looking very satisfied with herself.
And I never felt worse in my whole life.
A/N: HEYO!!!!!!!! I updated, aren't you proud of me! Sorry, I have to study for Midterms, and I have play rehearsals, and...well, you don't want to know the rest, schedules are BORING.
Guess what I got for BOXING DAY!!?!?!?! Pride and Prejudice, the A&E movie (w/ Colin Firth!) AND, and, even though it doesn't get much better...I FOUND my copy of the book! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!
Hooray for life!
Oh ye of little faith! Who said that I can't upload/date my next chapter in a punctual and brilliant manner? If you're speaking of my "past experiences", that was only ONE chapter, and it was only HALF because of my laziness. The other two halves were totally due to writer's block.
And down the rabbit hole to:
Chapter 9: Screw Your Courage To the Sticking Place
"What are you doing, Will? Won't you join us to thrash Charlie at bridge?"
I glanced up from my incredibly boring book to where Darcy sat at a desk, writing what looked like an epic ballad really, really fast. Chipmunk on steroids, my mind diagnosed, and I tried hard not to snicker as he turned and looked at Emma, who was holding the ugly five-suit deck out.
"No, thank you, I need to write to my sister. Perhaps Ms. Bennet will play with you," he said.
Oh no, oh please GOD no, don't do this to me, please...
"She's too wrapped up in her book to take any interest in a silly little game like bridge, now aren't you, Ms. Bennet?" Emma said scathingly. I didn't mind a bit. Honestly. The day I sit down and play BRIDGE, (BRIDGE of ALL games) with a couple of whiny brats will be a cold day in hell, in my estimation.
I forced a big, impressively fake smile, and said, "Of course, Emma, you're too thoughtful. I am enjoying my book, and I don't think I'll intrude into your game,"
"Oh, no, you should come play with us!" she countered quickly, making me momentarily suspicious of some strange and unexplainable mood swing disorder (aka: make-Lizzy-as-uncomfortable-as-possible-even-if-it-means- being-within-bullet-range-of-her-it is) "I bet you could teach Charlie here a thing or two with your advanced skill," Ooh. If it had been any LESS of a zinger, her lips would have frozen over. As it was, I detected some faint lip ice beginning to form around her lipstickled yap.
So I smiled, pretending that it was friendliness and not glee at seeing her so idiotic as well as vain.
Fun fun.
"No, I'm sorry, but I can't play bridge. So you'll just have to go without my 'teaching Charlie there a thing or two with my advanced skill,' "
God PLEASE get me out of this house.
"Whatever. So Charlie, what's shakin' at Pemberley this time of year? Anything new we should know about your sis?"
Ooh, hip-and-happnin' Emma's bustin' a move. Watch out everyone, here she goes with her street-style vocab-oo-lary!
"My sister just got back from Paris, and has a new horse," said Darcy, still not lookin up from his letter.
Well, sounds like a plan to me. Horses, Paris, having the frigid Darcy-bitch for a brother, all seems to lead straight to a very repressed individual whose only real pleasure came when her brother left and she could run away with random rich boys and make mad love in the moonlight.
But Emma just smiled sweetly (she did have straight teeth) and said, "Oh, your sis is SUCH a sweetie! And she's so talented and everything! We just don't get enough time with her, we never do,"
Gag me with a friggin' pitchfork, hag. If you wanna jump the guy, then cut the crap and get it over with. On an impulse, I asked, a wee bit spitefully, "What completes your definition of nice and talented, Emma? I mean, I'm sure Mr. Darcy's" ( I couldn't help calling him that) "sister is sweet and talented, like you say, but how can you be sure if someone's really talented?"
The two she-demons looked like they wouldn't be very averse to biting my fingertips off and feeding the rest of me to a pack of snarling, ravenous smurfs. But before they could express any outrage at being called ambiguously talented, Charlie burst in.
"All girls are talented, in their own way. All of them can sing, draw, paint, dance and play instruments. I guess that all people can be considered equally talented, when you think about it,"
This brought the best mixed look of disgust and dismay that I have ever seen on a human face. Except maybe that time when I drove mom's car through crap-infested swamp (an accident I swear!)
"Oh no, Charlie! How can you even think it? Not everyone is equal at all! I mean, we're not even just talking about talent, now are we? There's a word, isn't there? A word for having a god talent in many things...?"
Eclectic? Insane? "Accomplished?" I suggested, trying hard not to laugh at her anger that it had been me to supply her dumbness the word she had been looking for.
"Yeah, accomplished! It's MORE than talent, it's your way of expressing yourself, the way you walk, that sort of thing. There are only a few girls I've ever met that I could call accomplished" Emma made it clear who one of those girls happened to be.
Is this weirding you out? 'Cause it was doing the same to me. Suddenly, I'd stepped into a book from Merry Ol' England. Hell.
"Exactly. I have only met about six in my life," put in Darcy, still not looking up.
"Six? I'm surprised you've met ANY by the standards you're putting up," I said, suddenly sick of this damn conversation.
"You're being a bit harsh, aren't you?" Darcy said, finally taking his eyes off his letter to fix them on me.
"I never saw all of these...things, these-traits put into anyone at the same time."
There was immediately an outburst of rage from the cardstable, and the Medusa sisters began bumbling indignantly about know a lot of people who fit the bill (aka themselves), and I think there was a "blind ditz" thrown at me along the way.
Doncha just love people?
Well, that was it. I was sick of this conversation, sick of the "blind ditz" 's from girls who'd probably never opened a can of soda by themselves before in their lives, and most of all sick of that emotional fuckwit in the corner more commonly referred to as William T. Darcy, but whom I'd rather called Desensitized Worm Man. I wanted to sock all of them (except the uncomfortable Charlie at the card table, of course) a good one in the gob and run for my life, screaming "Vive la Révolution!"
But something, I really don't know what, stopped me. Maybe it was my need to break the tradition and NOT be thrown in the loony bin this year. Maybe it was the fact that that just might have been something my mother would do in my situation (only with her it would be naked/chicken costumed/covered in hot wing sauce).
But it probably was lack of imagination. I always think of these things AFTER the fact! Why can't I get one idea like that at the RIGHT TIME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
But I DID do something (Ooooh, ahhhhhh). I got up very quietly, made my goodnights, and left the dang room. (She said "dang" ! Potty mouth!)
****************************** Journal Entry # 141 page 279
The second she'd closed the door, Emma started on her again. "Ugh! That bitch! Do you know what kind of person she is Sarah?" she turned to her equally (I've got no idea why) enraged sister for confirmation of her fears.
"Definitely. She's the kind of HO who tries to get guys by dissing girls, like that's some kind of sick turn-on or something," They both looked like they'd come across the very secret of life, and also a big threat to that secret. A short, strangely-dressed, sarcastic, orange-haired girl who wore Rainbow Bright skirts, had staring contests with Dorito Bowls and was (amazingly) strong enough to carry a drunken, sobbing guy in a Weezer shirt from here back home.
May God help us all.
"I think it's disgusting," said Emma, looking to me for approval. I sighed, ready to protect Lizzy against her posh attackers. And then stopped. Why should I protect her? If I did, that would only heighten resentment, and also make it harder on me. What did I care if she was being insulted when she couldn't hear? She could take care herself, couldn't she? Meanwhile, I owed allegiance to my friends, no matter how indignant I was feeling towards them.
"I agree. Lots of women do that at least once in their life to get men. Anything done with that intention is despicable. I could never stand it,"
Emma pursed her lips, looking very satisfied with herself.
And I never felt worse in my whole life.
A/N: HEYO!!!!!!!! I updated, aren't you proud of me! Sorry, I have to study for Midterms, and I have play rehearsals, and...well, you don't want to know the rest, schedules are BORING.
Guess what I got for BOXING DAY!!?!?!?! Pride and Prejudice, the A&E movie (w/ Colin Firth!) AND, and, even though it doesn't get much better...I FOUND my copy of the book! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!
Hooray for life!