Episode Four.
by Thomas Greene.
Some of these characters/situations/other stuff may be the copyright of MTV. This isn't as needed as a warning, but the writer doesn't want to get sued by The Man.
If you have any criticism on this work, send it to ReLect0@aol.com. If you feel the need to flame this work, I got two words for you, SUCK IT!
Anything else? Oh, yeah. Don't do drugs. Unless it is for good reasons.Ah, screw that, Smoke crack and worship Satan.
When we woke up that morning, we were surprised to find a girl standing in black on our porch.I had seen her around school sometimes. I think her name's "Stacy."
"Hey, why are you standing here?" I asked.
"I have come to study under Quinn to become a more perfect person," she replied.
I saw Quinn wake up, and told her.
"There's some girl on our porch who wants to study under us."
"Let me check this out." She walked onto the porch and looked her over. "Sorry, black isn't your color. Please leave." The girl stayed there for the whole weekend. Every so often Quinn would find a reason to not allow her in. Eventually, she just said "Well, if you're that determined about it..." She started to do our dirtier chores, so we were happy with her. Eventually, more people started to congregate on our porch and were subsequently denied. As with the first case, they were always allowed in within days. Soon, our house was easily as big as one of those nerdy *study groups.*
One day a couple of weeks later, I went into the house. The "helpers" and Quinn were sprawled out in front of the TV. I turned on the TV. The news was on.
"We have reports of a group of people who firebombed the local Abercrombie and Fitch after hearing that they were out of sweaty jockstrap hats today. The group is apparently a splinter of the controversial 'Fashion Clubs' that are dotting the American underground..."
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"Um, I don't understand. Buy me something pre-tty?" Quinn replied.
"That won't work this time. Did you blow up Abercrombie?"
"Rule one: Don't ask questions."
I had to leave immediately. I found a guy who thought I was cute and spent the night at his place. Sure, I had to sleep with him, but I was willing to in order to get away for a little bit. I went back "home." Quinn wasn't there. I took the key and just went in. I relaxed a little bit, gave my girl some attention, and just waited. Suddenly, our helpers came in. They were carrying someone.
"What happened?"I asked.
"We were trying to seduce cops and have them bust themselves for statutory. They thought we were tripping and opened fire. They shot her!" One of the girls replied. I took off the hood. I saw that it was Brittany. I tried to revive her. It was to no avail.
"Throw her into the garden," one of the girls said.
"What? Her parents might want to get her body back!" I exclaimed.
"Huh?"
"This is one of the,um, people I know! Yeah." I replied.
"Well, where do we go for her family?"
"Don't you know her name? Just go to anywho.com!"
"We have no names."
"Of course you do!"
We argued for a bit. Finally, one of the girls spoke out.
"Maybe, in death we get names. Since we don't know hers, I vote we call her name 'Robert Paulsen.'"
"That's insane! Her name is Brittany Taylor!" It was to no avail. Everyone started chanting "Her name is Robert Paulsen" over and over. I had to find Quinn. I snuck into one of her storage rooms. I found some plane ticket stubs. I decided to go to these places and find her. On my way out, I passed someone asking for her.
"Hi, is Quinn there? It's her sister, Daria."
"Um, Quinn's not here. Quinn's..absent."
"Okay. Get some sleep."
Stay tuned for part five.
by Thomas Greene.
Some of these characters/situations/other stuff may be the copyright of MTV. This isn't as needed as a warning, but the writer doesn't want to get sued by The Man.
If you have any criticism on this work, send it to ReLect0@aol.com. If you feel the need to flame this work, I got two words for you, SUCK IT!
Anything else? Oh, yeah. Don't do drugs. Unless it is for good reasons.Ah, screw that, Smoke crack and worship Satan.
When we woke up that morning, we were surprised to find a girl standing in black on our porch.I had seen her around school sometimes. I think her name's "Stacy."
"Hey, why are you standing here?" I asked.
"I have come to study under Quinn to become a more perfect person," she replied.
I saw Quinn wake up, and told her.
"There's some girl on our porch who wants to study under us."
"Let me check this out." She walked onto the porch and looked her over. "Sorry, black isn't your color. Please leave." The girl stayed there for the whole weekend. Every so often Quinn would find a reason to not allow her in. Eventually, she just said "Well, if you're that determined about it..." She started to do our dirtier chores, so we were happy with her. Eventually, more people started to congregate on our porch and were subsequently denied. As with the first case, they were always allowed in within days. Soon, our house was easily as big as one of those nerdy *study groups.*
One day a couple of weeks later, I went into the house. The "helpers" and Quinn were sprawled out in front of the TV. I turned on the TV. The news was on.
"We have reports of a group of people who firebombed the local Abercrombie and Fitch after hearing that they were out of sweaty jockstrap hats today. The group is apparently a splinter of the controversial 'Fashion Clubs' that are dotting the American underground..."
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"Um, I don't understand. Buy me something pre-tty?" Quinn replied.
"That won't work this time. Did you blow up Abercrombie?"
"Rule one: Don't ask questions."
I had to leave immediately. I found a guy who thought I was cute and spent the night at his place. Sure, I had to sleep with him, but I was willing to in order to get away for a little bit. I went back "home." Quinn wasn't there. I took the key and just went in. I relaxed a little bit, gave my girl some attention, and just waited. Suddenly, our helpers came in. They were carrying someone.
"What happened?"I asked.
"We were trying to seduce cops and have them bust themselves for statutory. They thought we were tripping and opened fire. They shot her!" One of the girls replied. I took off the hood. I saw that it was Brittany. I tried to revive her. It was to no avail.
"Throw her into the garden," one of the girls said.
"What? Her parents might want to get her body back!" I exclaimed.
"Huh?"
"This is one of the,um, people I know! Yeah." I replied.
"Well, where do we go for her family?"
"Don't you know her name? Just go to anywho.com!"
"We have no names."
"Of course you do!"
We argued for a bit. Finally, one of the girls spoke out.
"Maybe, in death we get names. Since we don't know hers, I vote we call her name 'Robert Paulsen.'"
"That's insane! Her name is Brittany Taylor!" It was to no avail. Everyone started chanting "Her name is Robert Paulsen" over and over. I had to find Quinn. I snuck into one of her storage rooms. I found some plane ticket stubs. I decided to go to these places and find her. On my way out, I passed someone asking for her.
"Hi, is Quinn there? It's her sister, Daria."
"Um, Quinn's not here. Quinn's..absent."
"Okay. Get some sleep."
Stay tuned for part five.