Ok peeps, here is the last chapter of this insane story. Although i would
hardly say the insanity is ended, because there still is more than half a
bottle of peach fizzy left, and I have an idea for a sequel if you would like
to see it. It will once again pick up the pace of the lunacy, this one kinda
ran out of steam since I could only keep him drunk for soo long ;) Keep all
the fabulous comments coming, i appreciate them greatly :) hmm..whatelse
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything ('cept maybe the peach fizzy hehehe)
all the rest belong to Henson etc. Oh! and if anybody wants to archive this
bit of fluff go for it! (just give me your page addy so I can go and gaze
upon my wise words)
LMK what ya'll think! :D
Peaches-
-Anne-Marie-
Peach Fizzy Part 4
The Goblins had big feet. But not as big as the chickens', even thought
they both were wearing lead weighted
tap shoes as they danced away on his skull. Jareth groaned.
'Ughhh..not a good idea,' there was a mass migration of lead weighted tap
shoes to his stomach. Jareth threw the covers off. And made a mad
dash to the bathroom, or what he hoped was the bathroom, he couldn't remember
very clearly where he was. He threw the door open and rushed over to the
Porcelin God.
As Jareth was worshipping images poped up in his head, images he hoped were
the conjouring of his drunk state and not memories.
He remembered cooing to Sarah about sleeping on her bed.
'Cooing!?!? Goblin Kings DO NOT COO!! Wait...a minute....SARAH?!?!?, she saw
me like this!?!?!' Jareth banged his head in the rim of the toilet in
frustration.
'Ooooo...big....mis..take...,' Jareth continued his ferverent worship.
*Wait a minute!*
*What now?*
*I am the Goblin King, I do not worship ANYTHING!*
*Well, would you rather have me say you were puking your guts out? or
barfing? or tossing your cookies? look I picked the most 'dignified way' to
say that you were hung over*
*This wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't decided to write such demeaning fic.*
*Whatever*
*I bet everybody really hates this story, I mean you are tormenting their
icon.*
*I think they are enjoying your torture as much as I am, and just for that I
am posting the sequel. So there!*
*AGHHHHHHHHHH NO!!!!! Not a fraggin sequel!! And I don't do macrome!*
*You do now*
*no not now, I joined a 12 step for it, I have quit*
*sure you have, don't think I don't know what you are giving the Listians for
their birthdays. Macrome jewelry boxes.*
*WHAT?!?! How did you find out, I mean, what are you talking about?*
*Whatever, back to the story now.*
*grrr*
He stood up on his wobbly legs and leaned on the cool bathroom counter he
splashed some water from the sink onto his face and peered into the mirror.
"Whoa!," 'another mistake...,'Jareth looked away. 'I don't want Sarah to see
me like this,' Jareth pushed the thoughts of what she had seen him like last
night away.
In an effort to save what little (ok he really has none at this point but, we
can allow him this one little dissillusion) dignity he had left, he pushed a
hand through the mirror and pulled himself into his castle.
"CRAP!!! It had to be this room I end up in!! Dag nabbitt!!!," Jareth looked
around the shelves and shelves of macrome and slumped into a nice errmm
comfy? macrome chair.
*****