Author's Note: Did you really think you could get away with a whole story
without ANY Nirvana lyrics? Ha!
Disclaimer: I'm out of clever disclaimers. I don't own anything and I never will, so please leave me alone and let me wallow in my misery!
*****
Chapter One --- Chocolate Chip Cookies
*****
"RUBBER DUCKY, YOU'RE THE ONE! YOU MAKE BATHTIME LOTS OF FUN! RUBBER DUCKY, I'M AWFULLY FOND OF YOU! BOO-BOO-BEE-DOO!"
"WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT'S LESS DANGEROUS! HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US! I FEEL STUPID AND CONTAGIOUS! HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US!"
"CON TE PARTRIÒ! PAESI CHE NON HO MAI ... VEDUTO E VISSUTO CON TE, ADESSO SÌ LI VIVRÒ! CON TO PARTRIÒ ... SU NAVI PER MARI CHE!"
I'm really not surprised the neighbors complain so much. Honestly, if I lived near our apartment, I would have poured kerosene down all of our throats in the night by now. We are a rather loud family, and for some reason all the noise gets on people's nerves.
At the moment, my six-year-old brother Angelo had managed to barricade himself in his room and had that moron Raffi blasting through his little blue plastic CD-player. Gino and Lia, both nineteen, had Nirvana playing full-volume from their shared bedroom as they "did their homework". And, as usual, Mama was playing her boring Italian opera as she cooked dinner. All in all, the combined effect of the three different types of music was ... interesting.
And me? Well I was lying on my bed, nursing a severe headache and wondering whether I had the willpower to actually get out of bed and across my rather small room to close my door.
I soon realized that I did not have that much willpower.
I forced myself to roll over and sort of wiggle from my bed to the desk where my computer was. Maybe Spot would be on.
I took off my away message and jumped a foot in the air as an IM box appeared on my screen. (I couldn't hear the little IM chime; I'm sure you can guess why.) "You have received an Instant Message from RedSuspendahs99. Would you like to accept?"
I moved my mouse over and clicked "Accept".
//RedSuspendahs99: dude, have you ever blown up a cookie in the microwave?
I laughed. Typical. This kid was a riot. I managed, using my wiggling technique, to get into my chair without actually standing up or putting in that much effort. I have made laziness into an art.
//EmusRockMySocks: well I inflated a marshmallow once, but my mom got really pissed and made me throw it out.
//RedSuspendahs99: I'm hoping my mom isn't coming home anytime soon
//RedSuspendahs99: the whole kitchen smells like shit
//EmusRockMySocks: lol!
//RedSuspendahs99: I was thinking it would be all warm and gooey
//RedSuspendahs99: I was wrong
//EmusRockMySocks: what?
//EmusRockMySocks: the cookie, the kitchen, or your mom?
//RedSuspendahs99: all three, actually
//EmusRockMySocks: *no comment*
//RedSuspendahs99: lol
//RedSuspendahs99: I actually meant the cookie ...
//EmusRockMySocks: good :-)
Spot and I were in an unusual situation. You see, we met about a month ago at an Indiana Jones Chat Room and have kept in contact ever since. Unfortunately, he's a completely paranoid lunatic and refuses to reveal any personal information to me about his life, besides his nickname: Spot. Strange name, but what's not to love? Besides, I should feel honored that he actually managed to find the guts to tell me that much. His mother is a little overprotective and I think it has gotten to him. Must be an only child thing.
So I decided that I wouldn't tell him any personal information about ME until he told me anything about HIM. This certainly limits our conversation topics, but he's an interesting fellow so we find enough to talk about.
I told him my nickname, Racetrack, instead of Anthony. I'm not particularly fond of my real name, and there was NO WAY I was going to let Spot call me that. He would torture me until the end of the world.
//RedSuspendahs99: dammit, we're out of that Fantastik crap I need to clean the kitchen with
//EmusRockMySocks: use nail polish remover, it works
//RedSuspendahs99: in the microwave?
//EmusRockMySocks: trust me
//RedSuspendahs99: lol
//RedSuspendahs99: brb
The phone rang in the kitchen, probably the neighbors getting fed up with all the noise. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" had ended now, but the album was continuing so the noise hadn't really lessened. And of course, Raffi and Andrea Bochelli (the Italian opera dude) seriously just DON'T STOP SINGING. The CDs go on forever.
//ReddSuspendahs99: we don't have any nail polish remover
//RedSuspendahs99: my mom doesn't wear any nail polish
//EmusRockMySocks: no sisters?
//RedSuspendahs99: nah, and I'm glad
//EmusRockMySocks: but if you had a sister, Spot dear, you wouldn't be in such a fix as you are now
//RedSuspendahs99: don't make assumptions like that! I happen to have a best friend who claims to be female, and I have never once seen her wearing nail polish!
//EmusRockMySocks: I'm sorry, Spot, I'll watch my stereotypes from now on
//RedSuspendahs99: oui, monsieur
//EmusRockMySocks: take French, I'm assuming?
//RedSuspendahs99: oui, monsieur
//EmusRockMySocks: moi aussi.
//RedSuspendahs99: oui, monsieur
//EmusRockMySocks: ok, stop saying that
//RedSuspendahs99: sorry dude :D
I jumped a foot in the air again when another IM box appeared on my screen. "You have received an Instant Message from BambiBaby11. Would you like to accept?"
"AAAAAH!" I yelled. "NO --- NOT BAMBI!! I THOUGHT I BLOCKED HER!! NO!" And hastily I clicked "Refuse".
Bambi Contrada could be considered my stalker. She goes to Brentwood High with me and literally CLINGS to my arm between classes. I can't get her to leave me alone! She's like a LEECH (a leach with big boobs and lots of make up, might I add) and---
"You have received an Instant Message from BambiBaby11. Would you like to accept?"
"I ALREADY TOLD YOU, NO!" I yelled at the computer, and clicked "Refuse" again.
"You have received an Instant Message from BambiBaby11. Would you like to accept?"
This wasn't working. Might as well get this over with ... I squeezed my eyes shut and clicked on the "Accept" button.
It took me several minutes to finally open my eyes.
//BambiBaby11: What's cookin', good lookin'?
//BambiBaby11: Race?
//BambiBaby11: Racey, where are you??
//BambiBaby11: Are you avoiding me?????
Yes.
//EmusRockMySocks: Nah, I was just going to the bathroom.
//BambiBaby11: Oh that's so CUTE!!!
Aaaah! No, it isn't!! I quickly minimized her IM and went over to Spot's.
//EmusRockMySocks: would you be alarmed if a girl thought it was cute when you peed?
//RedSuspendahs99: lmao!
//RedSuspendahs99: depends on the situation ... why?
//EmusRockMySocks: Bambi just IMed me again
//RedSuspendahs99: duuuuuuude!!!
//EmusRockMySocks: I know, I'm totally dying!
//RedSuspendahs99: just tell her to fuck off and that you're not interested
//EmusRockMySocks: already did
//EmusRockMySocks: she said that if I wasn't careful, I'd lose her
//RedSuspendahs99: lmao
I went back to Bambi's IM box.
//BambiBaby11: so what's going on at your place, Racey-baby?
AAAAAH! I fell off my chair. She did NOT just call me Racey-baby.
//EmusRockMySocks: just call me Racetrack, Bambi
//EmusRockMySocks: on second thought, call me Anthony
//EmusRockMySocks: I don't want you using my precious nickname
//BambiBaby11: oh Racey, you're so funny!
No I'm NOT! I was being completely serious! I decided to do an experiment.
//EmusRockMySocks: die, evil bitch
//BambiBaby11: lol!!
//EmusRockMySocks: your boobs are fake and you wear too much make-up
//BambiBaby11: lol!!!! stop it, my tummy hurts from laughing so hard!
She's from Mars. There is no other possible explanation.
//BambiBaby11: hee hee
//BambiBaby11: so Race, are you doing anything Saturday night?
No.
//EmusRockMySocks: yes.
//BambiBaby11: what about Sunday?
No, not really.
//EmusRockMySocks: yep, I'm busy pretty much all week
//EmusRockMySocks: I'm always busy! I never have ANY FREE TIME to go out with people! EVER! I AM ALWAYS BUSY!
Okay, maybe I overdid it a little. I was getting fed up. I should just get her to talk to Spot --- he would definitely scare her a little, and then maybe she would leave me alone on IM for a while.
//BambiBaby11: oh that's too bad.
//BambiBaby11: well, sugar, I have to get going
//BambiBaby11: I have to go to my voice lessons
Aah. Voice lessons. Bambi singing. By herself. I seriously pity the teacher.
//EmusRockMySocks: bye
I sat there and waited for her screen name to go into parentheses on my Buddy List before relaxing.
//EmusRockMySocks: SHE'S GONE!
//RedSuspendahs99: HALLELUJAH!
//EmusRockMySocks: dammit, I hate that woman
//RedSuspendahs99: me too
//RedSuspendahs99: I've never even met her
//EmusRockMySocks: lol
"DINNER TIME!" Mama called.
"WHAT?" Lia yelled.
"DINNER TIME!" Mama repeated, louder.
"WHAT??" Gino yelled.
//EmusRockMySocks: I should probably go
//RedSuspendahs99: yeah, me too
//EmusRockMySocks: talk to you later
//RedSuspendahs99: bye
I signed off and turned off my computer. Mama was now pounding on Angelo's door, screaming that he was going to get a smack on his bottom if he didn't open up and turn off the music. Angelo either couldn't hear her or simply wouldn't hear her --- in any case, the door wasn't opening and the music continued.
Then Papa came home from work and started singing along with Andrea Bochelli. "CON TEEEEEEEEE PARTRIÒ! PAESIIIIIIIII CHE NON HO MAAAAAAI ... VEDUTO E VISSUTO CON TEEEEEE, ADESSO SÌ LI VIVRÒ! CON TE PARTRIÒ ... SU NAVI PER MARI CHEEEEEEEE!"
That's about when the neighbors called again.
*****
Shoutouts!!!
GLimmer Conlon O'Leary: Aaah, thank you so much!!! Hug for you, you totally made my day! :D Thanks for reviewing!! (And by the way, love your signature: "Love 'n' Mush pants". That's just the greatest!)
Repeat: Wmp!!! No, Spot is not really a rapist, but I'm sure he would love to join your Irish Mafia gang. He wants a llama so he can battle Hannah's llama, could you fix that up for him with your connections? lol, thanks for reviewing, I love ya!
Liams Kitten: I know, Spot/Race RULES! This is my first one so wish me luck on it! (Aah, I just typed "wish me lick" by accident ... I think all this slash has gone to my head) llamas! Hooray hooray hooray, I love llamas!!! They are most definitely "bomb diggity". lol, thanks for reviewing!
Sapphy: Aaah, I love you too! :-) I love Harrison Ford too, he's damn HOT! (Well he is in Indiana Jones ... I'm not so sure about him in real live) I'm sorry I forgot Han Solo ... I am perfectly miserable about it, if it makes you feel any better. lol, thanks for the review!!!
*****
Author's Note: Well, there it is. It's fun being a compulsive writer! Dunno what I think of this chapter ... I'm sorry if it was difficult to tell between the IM conversations and real writing, but I don't know how to do italics (because I am blonde at heart) and fanfiction.net screwed up my formatting so --- yeah. Please review; I'll love you forever!! (And if you know how to do italics, could you please tell me? Because then I would WORSHIP you forever!)
-Saturday
Disclaimer: I'm out of clever disclaimers. I don't own anything and I never will, so please leave me alone and let me wallow in my misery!
*****
Chapter One --- Chocolate Chip Cookies
*****
"RUBBER DUCKY, YOU'RE THE ONE! YOU MAKE BATHTIME LOTS OF FUN! RUBBER DUCKY, I'M AWFULLY FOND OF YOU! BOO-BOO-BEE-DOO!"
"WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT'S LESS DANGEROUS! HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US! I FEEL STUPID AND CONTAGIOUS! HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US!"
"CON TE PARTRIÒ! PAESI CHE NON HO MAI ... VEDUTO E VISSUTO CON TE, ADESSO SÌ LI VIVRÒ! CON TO PARTRIÒ ... SU NAVI PER MARI CHE!"
I'm really not surprised the neighbors complain so much. Honestly, if I lived near our apartment, I would have poured kerosene down all of our throats in the night by now. We are a rather loud family, and for some reason all the noise gets on people's nerves.
At the moment, my six-year-old brother Angelo had managed to barricade himself in his room and had that moron Raffi blasting through his little blue plastic CD-player. Gino and Lia, both nineteen, had Nirvana playing full-volume from their shared bedroom as they "did their homework". And, as usual, Mama was playing her boring Italian opera as she cooked dinner. All in all, the combined effect of the three different types of music was ... interesting.
And me? Well I was lying on my bed, nursing a severe headache and wondering whether I had the willpower to actually get out of bed and across my rather small room to close my door.
I soon realized that I did not have that much willpower.
I forced myself to roll over and sort of wiggle from my bed to the desk where my computer was. Maybe Spot would be on.
I took off my away message and jumped a foot in the air as an IM box appeared on my screen. (I couldn't hear the little IM chime; I'm sure you can guess why.) "You have received an Instant Message from RedSuspendahs99. Would you like to accept?"
I moved my mouse over and clicked "Accept".
//RedSuspendahs99: dude, have you ever blown up a cookie in the microwave?
I laughed. Typical. This kid was a riot. I managed, using my wiggling technique, to get into my chair without actually standing up or putting in that much effort. I have made laziness into an art.
//EmusRockMySocks: well I inflated a marshmallow once, but my mom got really pissed and made me throw it out.
//RedSuspendahs99: I'm hoping my mom isn't coming home anytime soon
//RedSuspendahs99: the whole kitchen smells like shit
//EmusRockMySocks: lol!
//RedSuspendahs99: I was thinking it would be all warm and gooey
//RedSuspendahs99: I was wrong
//EmusRockMySocks: what?
//EmusRockMySocks: the cookie, the kitchen, or your mom?
//RedSuspendahs99: all three, actually
//EmusRockMySocks: *no comment*
//RedSuspendahs99: lol
//RedSuspendahs99: I actually meant the cookie ...
//EmusRockMySocks: good :-)
Spot and I were in an unusual situation. You see, we met about a month ago at an Indiana Jones Chat Room and have kept in contact ever since. Unfortunately, he's a completely paranoid lunatic and refuses to reveal any personal information to me about his life, besides his nickname: Spot. Strange name, but what's not to love? Besides, I should feel honored that he actually managed to find the guts to tell me that much. His mother is a little overprotective and I think it has gotten to him. Must be an only child thing.
So I decided that I wouldn't tell him any personal information about ME until he told me anything about HIM. This certainly limits our conversation topics, but he's an interesting fellow so we find enough to talk about.
I told him my nickname, Racetrack, instead of Anthony. I'm not particularly fond of my real name, and there was NO WAY I was going to let Spot call me that. He would torture me until the end of the world.
//RedSuspendahs99: dammit, we're out of that Fantastik crap I need to clean the kitchen with
//EmusRockMySocks: use nail polish remover, it works
//RedSuspendahs99: in the microwave?
//EmusRockMySocks: trust me
//RedSuspendahs99: lol
//RedSuspendahs99: brb
The phone rang in the kitchen, probably the neighbors getting fed up with all the noise. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" had ended now, but the album was continuing so the noise hadn't really lessened. And of course, Raffi and Andrea Bochelli (the Italian opera dude) seriously just DON'T STOP SINGING. The CDs go on forever.
//ReddSuspendahs99: we don't have any nail polish remover
//RedSuspendahs99: my mom doesn't wear any nail polish
//EmusRockMySocks: no sisters?
//RedSuspendahs99: nah, and I'm glad
//EmusRockMySocks: but if you had a sister, Spot dear, you wouldn't be in such a fix as you are now
//RedSuspendahs99: don't make assumptions like that! I happen to have a best friend who claims to be female, and I have never once seen her wearing nail polish!
//EmusRockMySocks: I'm sorry, Spot, I'll watch my stereotypes from now on
//RedSuspendahs99: oui, monsieur
//EmusRockMySocks: take French, I'm assuming?
//RedSuspendahs99: oui, monsieur
//EmusRockMySocks: moi aussi.
//RedSuspendahs99: oui, monsieur
//EmusRockMySocks: ok, stop saying that
//RedSuspendahs99: sorry dude :D
I jumped a foot in the air again when another IM box appeared on my screen. "You have received an Instant Message from BambiBaby11. Would you like to accept?"
"AAAAAH!" I yelled. "NO --- NOT BAMBI!! I THOUGHT I BLOCKED HER!! NO!" And hastily I clicked "Refuse".
Bambi Contrada could be considered my stalker. She goes to Brentwood High with me and literally CLINGS to my arm between classes. I can't get her to leave me alone! She's like a LEECH (a leach with big boobs and lots of make up, might I add) and---
"You have received an Instant Message from BambiBaby11. Would you like to accept?"
"I ALREADY TOLD YOU, NO!" I yelled at the computer, and clicked "Refuse" again.
"You have received an Instant Message from BambiBaby11. Would you like to accept?"
This wasn't working. Might as well get this over with ... I squeezed my eyes shut and clicked on the "Accept" button.
It took me several minutes to finally open my eyes.
//BambiBaby11: What's cookin', good lookin'?
//BambiBaby11: Race?
//BambiBaby11: Racey, where are you??
//BambiBaby11: Are you avoiding me?????
Yes.
//EmusRockMySocks: Nah, I was just going to the bathroom.
//BambiBaby11: Oh that's so CUTE!!!
Aaaah! No, it isn't!! I quickly minimized her IM and went over to Spot's.
//EmusRockMySocks: would you be alarmed if a girl thought it was cute when you peed?
//RedSuspendahs99: lmao!
//RedSuspendahs99: depends on the situation ... why?
//EmusRockMySocks: Bambi just IMed me again
//RedSuspendahs99: duuuuuuude!!!
//EmusRockMySocks: I know, I'm totally dying!
//RedSuspendahs99: just tell her to fuck off and that you're not interested
//EmusRockMySocks: already did
//EmusRockMySocks: she said that if I wasn't careful, I'd lose her
//RedSuspendahs99: lmao
I went back to Bambi's IM box.
//BambiBaby11: so what's going on at your place, Racey-baby?
AAAAAH! I fell off my chair. She did NOT just call me Racey-baby.
//EmusRockMySocks: just call me Racetrack, Bambi
//EmusRockMySocks: on second thought, call me Anthony
//EmusRockMySocks: I don't want you using my precious nickname
//BambiBaby11: oh Racey, you're so funny!
No I'm NOT! I was being completely serious! I decided to do an experiment.
//EmusRockMySocks: die, evil bitch
//BambiBaby11: lol!!
//EmusRockMySocks: your boobs are fake and you wear too much make-up
//BambiBaby11: lol!!!! stop it, my tummy hurts from laughing so hard!
She's from Mars. There is no other possible explanation.
//BambiBaby11: hee hee
//BambiBaby11: so Race, are you doing anything Saturday night?
No.
//EmusRockMySocks: yes.
//BambiBaby11: what about Sunday?
No, not really.
//EmusRockMySocks: yep, I'm busy pretty much all week
//EmusRockMySocks: I'm always busy! I never have ANY FREE TIME to go out with people! EVER! I AM ALWAYS BUSY!
Okay, maybe I overdid it a little. I was getting fed up. I should just get her to talk to Spot --- he would definitely scare her a little, and then maybe she would leave me alone on IM for a while.
//BambiBaby11: oh that's too bad.
//BambiBaby11: well, sugar, I have to get going
//BambiBaby11: I have to go to my voice lessons
Aah. Voice lessons. Bambi singing. By herself. I seriously pity the teacher.
//EmusRockMySocks: bye
I sat there and waited for her screen name to go into parentheses on my Buddy List before relaxing.
//EmusRockMySocks: SHE'S GONE!
//RedSuspendahs99: HALLELUJAH!
//EmusRockMySocks: dammit, I hate that woman
//RedSuspendahs99: me too
//RedSuspendahs99: I've never even met her
//EmusRockMySocks: lol
"DINNER TIME!" Mama called.
"WHAT?" Lia yelled.
"DINNER TIME!" Mama repeated, louder.
"WHAT??" Gino yelled.
//EmusRockMySocks: I should probably go
//RedSuspendahs99: yeah, me too
//EmusRockMySocks: talk to you later
//RedSuspendahs99: bye
I signed off and turned off my computer. Mama was now pounding on Angelo's door, screaming that he was going to get a smack on his bottom if he didn't open up and turn off the music. Angelo either couldn't hear her or simply wouldn't hear her --- in any case, the door wasn't opening and the music continued.
Then Papa came home from work and started singing along with Andrea Bochelli. "CON TEEEEEEEEE PARTRIÒ! PAESIIIIIIIII CHE NON HO MAAAAAAI ... VEDUTO E VISSUTO CON TEEEEEE, ADESSO SÌ LI VIVRÒ! CON TE PARTRIÒ ... SU NAVI PER MARI CHEEEEEEEE!"
That's about when the neighbors called again.
*****
Shoutouts!!!
GLimmer Conlon O'Leary: Aaah, thank you so much!!! Hug for you, you totally made my day! :D Thanks for reviewing!! (And by the way, love your signature: "Love 'n' Mush pants". That's just the greatest!)
Repeat: Wmp!!! No, Spot is not really a rapist, but I'm sure he would love to join your Irish Mafia gang. He wants a llama so he can battle Hannah's llama, could you fix that up for him with your connections? lol, thanks for reviewing, I love ya!
Liams Kitten: I know, Spot/Race RULES! This is my first one so wish me luck on it! (Aah, I just typed "wish me lick" by accident ... I think all this slash has gone to my head) llamas! Hooray hooray hooray, I love llamas!!! They are most definitely "bomb diggity". lol, thanks for reviewing!
Sapphy: Aaah, I love you too! :-) I love Harrison Ford too, he's damn HOT! (Well he is in Indiana Jones ... I'm not so sure about him in real live) I'm sorry I forgot Han Solo ... I am perfectly miserable about it, if it makes you feel any better. lol, thanks for the review!!!
*****
Author's Note: Well, there it is. It's fun being a compulsive writer! Dunno what I think of this chapter ... I'm sorry if it was difficult to tell between the IM conversations and real writing, but I don't know how to do italics (because I am blonde at heart) and fanfiction.net screwed up my formatting so --- yeah. Please review; I'll love you forever!! (And if you know how to do italics, could you please tell me? Because then I would WORSHIP you forever!)
-Saturday