Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee fiction
I do not own Glee. Thanks to my lovely reviewers!
Dear Kurt,
Karlie came over today. She brought with her an entire suitcase full of Barbie dolls. I remember her telling me that she was too old for them. Which can only mean one thing. She has decided today is National Torture Blaine. No you may not participate. Unless you plan to sexually torture me with more videos like Single Ladies. Male hips are not supposed to swing that way Kurt. And that should not have been your hand on your butt. That is MY hand's job. Well, it hasn't been hired yet, or even put in an application. But two certain friends, who shall be named Des and Wavid have told me multiple times as the video is stuck on constant replay to man up and do it. By stuck I do not mean that I have a playlist of Kurt videos that are on endless loop until my battery dies. That'd be absurd. Though I must say, you looked rather Kurttastic. Kurtastic? How do you merge your name and fantastic together? One t, or two? I mean it's far too tedious to type out Kurt-is-so-mega-freakin-hot-that-the-North-Pole-just-experienced-a-heat-wave-thanks-to-the-fact-that-he-is-so-fantastic. My word count says that it is 119 characters. That's a wee bit extensive.
Right, I about to tell you a story. I did not get completely sidetracked thinking about you, despite what the upper half of this email looks like. Karlie set up a Barbie doll hair salon in my living room. She decided that her Kelly doll needed dreadlocks. I now know why they are called DREAD locks. She ended up looking like Medusa by the time I was done. I took a picture for your viewing pleasure. Next time she decides to play Barbie hair salon, I'm breaking out the scissors.
But I'd gladly run my hands through your hair any day.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
Today for lunch Karlie and I had chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs. We found them at the back of the freezer behind all of Nana's leftovers. She was at an exercise class with her friend Flo. Now I love Nana and her friends very dearly. Especially when they let me in on their monthly poker night. They play their Buddy Holly and Louis Armstrong all night long and chug down cream soda that actually comes in a glass bottle. But all that cream soda has to go somewhere, and lately it seems to be taking up residence on their hips. And today I had the distinct pleasure of seeing said hips in elastic exercise pants. Exciting, I know. Luckily Karlie missed it, or I'd be watching hours of Hannah Montana to erase that form her mind. And in my opinion, Hannah can pack up and leave for Montana and stay there.
For this victory, I gave myself a mental high five. But considering I high fived myself, I guess that'd make it a clap. Which makes it sound way lamer. And we all know that I'm not completely lame. Lame people don't eat dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. Lame people do however dunk said nuggets into ketchup. That's so passé. We drowned our dinos in hot mustard. I was sensible enough to take a limited amount of mustard. Karlie put a giant glob on hers and despite my warning, shoved the whole thing in her mouth at once. Boy did her eyes water. I tried not to laugh as she drank half a carton of orange juice. Which proceeded to get all over her brand new woobie hoodie she got at Target. Luckily she had a shirt underneath it. I'm glad the tacky sweatshirt could get destroyed. It was ugly.
I'm putting a lock on my closet. Knowing you, you'll introduce my holey jeans to a half gallon of Tropicana. But be aware, these jeans accentuate my butt muscles in a very positive manner. Are you willing to risk it?
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
Karlie left me, and her sweatshirt after lunch. Her parents gave me one of those 'You-better-fix-this' looks, and I gave them one of those 'of-course-right-away-madame-slash-mister' looks. I rinsed the sweatshirt in the sink and tossed it in the washer with some laundry detergent. I threw some socks in there too, but that's not relevant. Well, at least now you know that I wear clean socks. Or somebody in my family has clean socks.
As my socks and her sweatshirt got washed, I decided to work on a crossword puzzle. Normally I'll help Nana fill in the clues that have to do with current celebrities. She had left one on my bedside table that she must've been working on over breakfast. I say this because there was a mysterious stain that looked like blackberry jelly on the corner of the page. At least, I hope it's just blackberry jelly.
I was plugging along fine until I hit 12 down. It was a ten letter clue for a famous Nirvana singer. Some of the letters had already been filled in from the across words. Even still, I would've known the answer. Kurt Cobain. Without the space of course. So it was like kurtcobain. Which if you say it fast enough, sounds like Kurt, co-Blaine. I like the sound of that, don't you? Wes calls us Klaine, and David calls us Blurt. But Kurt Cobain is, er was, famous. And that's what our relationship would be if we were together. Famous.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
Fiddle my sticks and fudge my ripple. I can not believe it. I was so rushed to get away from cashier girl I forgot to buy another tube of toothpaste. I went out while the laundry hung to dry in order to buy another bar of soap and toothpaste. He hair was pulled away from her face today, and her roots were showing. I could've sworn she was wearing lipstick too. It was hard to tell, since she picked a natural shade, but it extended too high to convince me otherwise. You'd think she was going for Angelina Jolie lips. She probably was. Her lips do tend to look thinner than cardboard.
They were all out of the winter care beauty (in my case handsome) bar for Dove, so I had to pick another kind. Seeing as no other customers around, cashier girl came out from behind the counter to help me. I think this was the first time I've ever seen her legs. I know she has them, but I didn't need to know that she had them stuffed in a pair of two sizes too small regulation uniform pants. It was khaki skinny jeans. And they were giving her a muffin top.
I grabbed the closest thing I could, which was a bar of cranberry scented Dial. So I apologize if I smell like Thanksgiving dinner for the next week or two. But she was really giving me the creeps. So I begged my mom to pick up another tube for me on the way home from work. Since she still likes to pretend I'm a kid from time to time she bought me sparkle toothpaste. It tastes like bubble gum, but it is so cool!
I'd share it with you, but you already sparkle enough on your own.
New email from Kurt. Read.
Dear Kurt,
We can have our movie marathon at my house. Nana is going to have some of her poker buddies over, but she won't hear a thing behind closed doors.
Yours until Rick rolls right off the Earth,
Backspace
Stuff and fluff,
Backspace
Inserting an obnoxious smile face here,
Blaine
(P.S. Nana's already on a cooking spree. She already made macadamia cookies, but I'm sure she'd be glad to make more.)