Basically, we're insane. Read on if you REALLY want to know more, or if you're trying to stalk us. I bet you anything we'll end up stalking you, though, so beware.

Chesh is the baby. She's cooler than you, probably. She has an ego to rival Marc Bolan's and is now typing in third person. She sings and dances at random intervals and has Musical Multiple Personality Disorder. Moo? Yes. Moo. You can find her other fics in the U2 section of ff.net under Cheshire Cat.

Know what's cool? Black eyeliner. Know what they should do? Make black eyeliner with sparkles in it. You know, I bet they do, somewhere. I am Jesh, queen of sheer blatant stupidity and random sugar highs. FEAR ME AND MY EVIL LASER BEAM LIP GLOSS. I like a lot of things. Oh, the things I like. I am older than Chesh but I don't really act like it, and she acts 17 anyway. Whatever I meant by that, I do not know. PEANUT BUTTER IS NOT A SEX TOY. Unless you're Richey.

Chesh: I'M NOT going into detail. I have my limits. LMAO
Jesh: *Dies*
Jesh: I've always thought kissing was more sensual than blow jobs but...whatever. LMAO.
Chesh: But slathering Nicky's face in peanut butter would be even weirder, you know.
Jesh: WHY DOES RICHEY HAVE TO COMPLETELY COAT NICKY IN PEANUT BUTTER!?
Jesh: Can't he do ANYTHING intimate without the fucking peanut butter?!
Chesh: *Cracks up*
Chesh: NO.
Chesh: Not in THIS fic.

Contact Us! Chesh: super_cheshire@hotmail.com Jesh: staring_at_the_lemon@hotmail.com