Okay, there are barely any 'Cameron+Bianca' fanfiction. It's all Patrick
plus Kate, which is fine if you're not one of the people that skips through
all of their scenes ('cept for the singing one on the bleachers, 'cause
that was just bloody brilliant) but if your one of the ill-bred buffoons
like yours truly, you find yourself.bored. So here's for Bianca and
Cameron, whom do I like for 4 reasons: 1. C'mon, it's Joseph Gordan Levitt.
Ya gotta like him 2. He's lanky! Lanky guys rock! 3. He was on '3rd
Rock from the Sun' who had Newman from 'Seinfeld.' Therefore, that show is
genius on spatula. 4. Oh yeah, there's that Bianca chick too. Yeah,
she's okay. My god, I have got to get a life.
WARNING: This is a warning. Turn back. If you keep on reading you will be a witness of:
+total lack of plot
+grammatical errors
+spelling errors
+plot holes
+rambling
+characters losing all personality
+a writer's struggle against sanity
+teen angst
+obscure or non-sensical references
+false promises
+plain stupidity
+extremely high voltage
That is your warning. Flee to the hills while you can, for your own safety and the safety of your computer. You wouldn't wish any pain upon your computer, would you? You love your computer. Look at its bright screen, its sparkling lights, its good, trusting nature. Listen to its reassuring buzzing. You wouldn't want to lose that friend, would you? If you're still reading this, FOR YOUR COMPUTER'S SAKE! GO! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
If you don't care about the well being of you or your not-so-beloved computer and are still reading, you sicken me. But, you went this far, so I won't disappoint you. Here is the story.
AND SO THE STORY ENSUES! DUN-DA-DUN!
'Twas a normal day at Padua High School. The birds were chirping the teachers were groaning, and Ms. Perky was shut in her office armed with coffee, a thesaurus, and a laptop to help her write her erotic story. But I would rather not get into that at the moment. A plot awaits us, believe it or not. Not much of a plot, but a plot all the same.
To the passerby it would seem that school had just gotten out. The passerby would be.[opens envelope like they do at the Oscars] right. Wow. Well, there's a first time for everything. But it seems that Cameron is doing something that is NOT the first happening.
Scene shows Cameron who is walking home with Bianca and Mike. You may be wondering "Why isn't Mike on his motorcycle thing?" Well, I wanted him for this scene so lets just say his motorcycle was confiscated by his dad. I don't know why. I'll think of something. I always do.
"So then my dad said that he wouldn't give me back my motorcycle until I got better grades in art. Art is NOT my forte, as you both know." Michael told them as they walked through the school parking lot.
Bianca nodded, remembering vaguely a sculpture gone wrong on account of Michael. She had most of her attention centered on Cameron, who was talking on a cell phone [yeah, I know Cameron isn't the type to have a cell phone. Let's just say it's Bianca's or something]. She wasn't sure what the news was but she was sure it wasn't an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas. Something about Cameron's expression and tone had tipped her off.
"But-Can't this wait? I know! But lets face it, you call everything "urgent." Fine, fine, I'll be home. What do you mean "it's not my fault"? What's not your fault? Okay.I'll be home. Yeah. Bianca and Michael, why? Okay, I'll go home and I wont be side tracked. I wish you would at least tell me what this is about, though. Bye." Cameron handed Bianca her phone.
"What was that about?" Bianca asked. After all, who wouldn't be curious when their boyfriend gets a weird call? Perhaps someone who is not nosy. But come on, this is Bianca we're talking about.
"I don't know. My mom just told me it was urgent and that I have to go home." Cameron said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"You don't have a clue what this is about?" Michael inquired, finally realizing that his motorcycle story was not in public interest.
"Oh, I have a clue." Cameron said and left the two puzzled friends.
***
Mrs. James looked down at the celery and chopped it quickly. Okay, so they weren't having celery for dinner, so what? Mrs. James just felt like chopping something up and better celery than anything else. Mrs. James gave the impression of a beautiful woman who kept on giving up on life. On and off again they went, her efforts. Sometimes she would just sit back and let things happen, knowing that she was in no control of anything except what the James' would be having for dinner that night. But at other times she felt like SHE was in charge of everything and only SHE could change anything. Oddly enough, that second feeling usually came after a few glasses of her favorite wine. It was pure coincidence, of course.
It hadn't always been this way. At one point in her life she had always been in charge. But, as her favorite musician George Harrison had said many times "All things must pass." And so they had. Mrs. James was fair skinned with short black hair and had dark mahogany eyes.
"Hannah, you know it's not my fault. Please don't be mad." Mr. James pleaded with his wife. He eyed a bottle of Rodaro [Rodaro is a wine company, for all of you that don't know] on the kitchen counter. 'Damn Italians.'he thought bitterly.
"I know it's not your fault Arthur. It's just.those other times I didn't mind. We hadn't set down roots and neither had Cameron. But now Cameron has set down roots. He has friends. He has a girlfriend for god sakes! I thought he wouldn't have a girlfriend until he was 25, you know, because he's so lanky." Mrs. James exclaimed. Her chops on the celery became more and more intense.
"I don't have a choice! It's the-oh, hello Cameron." Mr. James turned around to see his son who had just entered the kitchen.
"Hey dad, hi mom." Cameron mumbled. He scanned the kitchen for the telltale sign. There it was: celery. "So, where and when are we moving?" he asked dejectedly.
"How did you." Mrs. James stammered.
"The celery, mom. Every time we move you always chop up celery. Although this celery looks particularly pulverized, even for you." Cameron eyed the shredded vegetable uneasily. 'Always lock my door when I'm sleeping.' He reminded himself.
"I'm sorry Cameron. I just got the word this morning. I know how happy you are in this town." Mr. James said sadly.
"It's okay.I can deal with it." Cameron said. He grinned a false grin at his mother and trudged up stairs to his room where he plunked his backpack down. He sighed and began digging through his desk drawers until he came to an old notebook. On the last page it said "Times I've Moved" in bad kid handwriting. He added the tenth tally on the page. "Well.this stinks." He murmured. 'Look on the bright side, mom is really building up those muscles by raging that onslaught upon the celery.' He smiled a small smile when a terrible thought struck him. 'What am I going to tell Bianca?'
Yeah, I know, this is short. I might continue, I might not. I don't know.
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the following:
10 Things I Hate About You
Joseph Gordan-Levitt
3rd Rock from the Sun
Seinfeld
The Oscars
The Bahamas
The Holy George Harrison
All Things Must Pass
Rodaro
Italy
WARNING: This is a warning. Turn back. If you keep on reading you will be a witness of:
+total lack of plot
+grammatical errors
+spelling errors
+plot holes
+rambling
+characters losing all personality
+a writer's struggle against sanity
+teen angst
+obscure or non-sensical references
+false promises
+plain stupidity
+extremely high voltage
That is your warning. Flee to the hills while you can, for your own safety and the safety of your computer. You wouldn't wish any pain upon your computer, would you? You love your computer. Look at its bright screen, its sparkling lights, its good, trusting nature. Listen to its reassuring buzzing. You wouldn't want to lose that friend, would you? If you're still reading this, FOR YOUR COMPUTER'S SAKE! GO! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
If you don't care about the well being of you or your not-so-beloved computer and are still reading, you sicken me. But, you went this far, so I won't disappoint you. Here is the story.
AND SO THE STORY ENSUES! DUN-DA-DUN!
'Twas a normal day at Padua High School. The birds were chirping the teachers were groaning, and Ms. Perky was shut in her office armed with coffee, a thesaurus, and a laptop to help her write her erotic story. But I would rather not get into that at the moment. A plot awaits us, believe it or not. Not much of a plot, but a plot all the same.
To the passerby it would seem that school had just gotten out. The passerby would be.[opens envelope like they do at the Oscars] right. Wow. Well, there's a first time for everything. But it seems that Cameron is doing something that is NOT the first happening.
Scene shows Cameron who is walking home with Bianca and Mike. You may be wondering "Why isn't Mike on his motorcycle thing?" Well, I wanted him for this scene so lets just say his motorcycle was confiscated by his dad. I don't know why. I'll think of something. I always do.
"So then my dad said that he wouldn't give me back my motorcycle until I got better grades in art. Art is NOT my forte, as you both know." Michael told them as they walked through the school parking lot.
Bianca nodded, remembering vaguely a sculpture gone wrong on account of Michael. She had most of her attention centered on Cameron, who was talking on a cell phone [yeah, I know Cameron isn't the type to have a cell phone. Let's just say it's Bianca's or something]. She wasn't sure what the news was but she was sure it wasn't an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas. Something about Cameron's expression and tone had tipped her off.
"But-Can't this wait? I know! But lets face it, you call everything "urgent." Fine, fine, I'll be home. What do you mean "it's not my fault"? What's not your fault? Okay.I'll be home. Yeah. Bianca and Michael, why? Okay, I'll go home and I wont be side tracked. I wish you would at least tell me what this is about, though. Bye." Cameron handed Bianca her phone.
"What was that about?" Bianca asked. After all, who wouldn't be curious when their boyfriend gets a weird call? Perhaps someone who is not nosy. But come on, this is Bianca we're talking about.
"I don't know. My mom just told me it was urgent and that I have to go home." Cameron said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"You don't have a clue what this is about?" Michael inquired, finally realizing that his motorcycle story was not in public interest.
"Oh, I have a clue." Cameron said and left the two puzzled friends.
***
Mrs. James looked down at the celery and chopped it quickly. Okay, so they weren't having celery for dinner, so what? Mrs. James just felt like chopping something up and better celery than anything else. Mrs. James gave the impression of a beautiful woman who kept on giving up on life. On and off again they went, her efforts. Sometimes she would just sit back and let things happen, knowing that she was in no control of anything except what the James' would be having for dinner that night. But at other times she felt like SHE was in charge of everything and only SHE could change anything. Oddly enough, that second feeling usually came after a few glasses of her favorite wine. It was pure coincidence, of course.
It hadn't always been this way. At one point in her life she had always been in charge. But, as her favorite musician George Harrison had said many times "All things must pass." And so they had. Mrs. James was fair skinned with short black hair and had dark mahogany eyes.
"Hannah, you know it's not my fault. Please don't be mad." Mr. James pleaded with his wife. He eyed a bottle of Rodaro [Rodaro is a wine company, for all of you that don't know] on the kitchen counter. 'Damn Italians.'he thought bitterly.
"I know it's not your fault Arthur. It's just.those other times I didn't mind. We hadn't set down roots and neither had Cameron. But now Cameron has set down roots. He has friends. He has a girlfriend for god sakes! I thought he wouldn't have a girlfriend until he was 25, you know, because he's so lanky." Mrs. James exclaimed. Her chops on the celery became more and more intense.
"I don't have a choice! It's the-oh, hello Cameron." Mr. James turned around to see his son who had just entered the kitchen.
"Hey dad, hi mom." Cameron mumbled. He scanned the kitchen for the telltale sign. There it was: celery. "So, where and when are we moving?" he asked dejectedly.
"How did you." Mrs. James stammered.
"The celery, mom. Every time we move you always chop up celery. Although this celery looks particularly pulverized, even for you." Cameron eyed the shredded vegetable uneasily. 'Always lock my door when I'm sleeping.' He reminded himself.
"I'm sorry Cameron. I just got the word this morning. I know how happy you are in this town." Mr. James said sadly.
"It's okay.I can deal with it." Cameron said. He grinned a false grin at his mother and trudged up stairs to his room where he plunked his backpack down. He sighed and began digging through his desk drawers until he came to an old notebook. On the last page it said "Times I've Moved" in bad kid handwriting. He added the tenth tally on the page. "Well.this stinks." He murmured. 'Look on the bright side, mom is really building up those muscles by raging that onslaught upon the celery.' He smiled a small smile when a terrible thought struck him. 'What am I going to tell Bianca?'
Yeah, I know, this is short. I might continue, I might not. I don't know.
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the following:
10 Things I Hate About You
Joseph Gordan-Levitt
3rd Rock from the Sun
Seinfeld
The Oscars
The Bahamas
The Holy George Harrison
All Things Must Pass
Rodaro
Italy