Okay, so I can't stop writing for this. I've literally never updated anything this fast or excitedly in my life, but, low and behold, I'm doing this. I'm mildly astounded at how successful this has become, and I'm excited beyond belief about it. It makes me happy as anything, and thanks so much to all of you still following. I'm seeing this one through to the end, I promise you this, and we've only just begun. I own no one, except Cleave and darling Harvey. As of this moment, poor darling Harvey. XD

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Tick. Tick. Tick.

When I leave the party, there's another anonymous car to take me on home, but the second I walk out there's this deafening quiet. It's like what you imagine right before the big bang—a moment of earth-shattering, echoing silence, and then—

BOOM!

It's a few blocks away, but the sound shakes the ground like a megaton hammer from the heavens. I stumble on my feet, and suddenly all the fat, rich guys are in an uproar. I feel so empty that I could really care less what happens from here on in.

What kind of effect am I letting this freak have on me?

One thought lingers in my mind, entirely disturbed.

He licked me.

I need to take a few dozen showers.

By the time I get home I take my stupid prison-box up to my floor and there's Cleveland, watching a slinky roll down the molding stairs in his smiley boxers. The rain (did I mention that was just another fantastic part of the evening?) has ruined my attempted curly hair, and now it's just a pile of pitiful chestnut-and-auburn. It'll get curly in an awkward, gross way in a half hour or so.

I walk up the stairs past him. I don't make a sound.

"Well hello to you too, babydoll." He casts his eyes upward toward me, but I just flash out a hand passively in a bored, exhausted wave. "Had a bad night? Didn't score? What's the deal, buddy-boy?"

"Tired." Is the only word I say when I slam the door. As usual, he ignores that. Completely. I need to write an article.

"Ya know, if you…uhh…just..let stuff sit there like this, all broody and kinda pitiful, it'll only bite you in the derier, Harvey." His lips keep twitching, but it's awkward this time. It looks like he's trying to push down his grin. I lean back on the legs of my collapsing chair and stare at the cardboard square still glued to the ceiling. Fuck that shit.

"Do you ever know when to leave a girl alone?"

"Nope, ah, ya see—" He saunters over and kneels behind me, playfully tucking his chin into my shoulder. His tongue darts out, and it makes me spasm for half a moment in discomfort. I scowl, though, and just look over, "—it's one of my better qualities. Guys avoid the whole chick-flick talkey sessions, don't they?"

"You're not a guy, though, you're a giant snake."

"You look, ah…you look, ah…you look…ah…pretty…in that—ah…that…uh—ah…dress." He finalizes the statement after what I'm sure is malfunctioning, bouncing on his tip-toes while still in Spider-man-crouch position. His eyes roll with each 'ah' and 'uh', and I roll my own at that stupid habit. I can't believe I'm friends with this weirdo.

Flick.

My exhausted old television comes to life when I hit the cinderblock of a remote, and the dull drone of an anchorman resounds through the apartment. Both Cleveland and I look over, except his mouth makes an 'o' shape and he lets out a tiny, Scooby-Doo 'aroo' noise in curiosity.

"This just in. The Joker, Gotham City's latest mass terrorist threat, has blown up Gotham City Prep, the City's wealthiest private school within the limits. Though no one was harmed, it can't help but be wondered…is this only the beginning?"

I shudder and throw the remote across the room, my jaw twitching continually.

This guy.

I can't get this guy out from under my skin.

Cleveland just makes another 'aroo?'