This is a work of rockinyoursox. It is a figment of my mind. In other words, I copyrighted it so HA!©

A/N: Hello. My last story was thrown out (so sad..) but I was sitting around watching South Park one day while I was sick and had this great idea for a fanfic. So please R&R! Thanks for your patience!

(This is a remake of "The most twisted tale never told" told from Roxie's point of view. Enjoy!)

Roxie: (narration) I had to travel to Paris. No, really I HAD to...my agent had a great idea for a new book: Confessions of a Murderess. He suggested I go down to Monmatre, (sp?) the ickiest little dump in the world with hot, hunky, drunks. I had to see this writer, his name was what was it? Christobal? Anyway, he turned out to be a drunk too. I really do regret going into that apartment next to the old nightclub with those awful neon lights.

(Roxie goes into the building, up some stairs and knocks on the door.)

Roxie: It was then that the midget in glasses wandered up to me.

Toulouse: Hi!

Roxie: He was one friggin' UGLY midget.

Roxie: (in the story) Um, hi.

Toulouse: Are you going to join the Boho Wevowution?

Roxie: (narration) I did not know what a Boho was. It sounded like some kind of hippie cult.

Roxie: What's a Boho?

Toulouse: Thew'r artists and singers! And they beweve in beauty, twuth, and wuv, above awww things, wuv.

Roxie: (narration) Oh yeah. They were hippies.

Roxie: Heh. No.

Toulouse: Then what aw you doing?

Roxie: I'm going to write a book with Christobal.

Toulouse: (gasps dramatically) You can't go into thw shrew's place!

Roxie: Why?

Toulouse: You'll be dwoooomed. DWOOOOOOMED I SAY!

Roxie: Screw you. I'm going in there.

Toulouse: Bewarwe of the spintwew!

Roxie: Spinster?

Toulouse: AGHHH! (Throws his little midget-self down the stairs)

Roxie: (narration) Well, after that twip, I mean, trip, anything would have been more welcome then that wacko.

Christian: (opening the door with blood-shot eyes and a beard worthy to rival Dumbledor's) AYYY!

Roxie: No coffee for me thanks.

Christian: Holy haggis! You're a babe!

Roxie: Shitaki mushrooms of egypt! You have a huge honkin' zit!

Christian: Would you mind poppin' that sucker?

Roxie: Ahhhh. No.

Christian: Dang. Come on in!

(Roxie goes into the apartment.)

Roxie: (narration) He seemed like a well put together man. Aside from the redneck-like dialogue and the fact that the creamated remains of his lover where in a hand-painted urn, placed in a basket above his fireplace, he seemed well put together.

Christian: (sitting down at his type writter) I'm on an absinthe break. Let's make this fast.

Roxie: Mkay.

Christian: Ok. How did you start killing people?

Roxie: I only killed one. Fred.

Christian: BURP. And who was Fred?

Roxie: The furniture salesman.

Christian: (laughing loudly) And why did you kill him? Did he give you a high price on some unpainted oak?

Roxie: Aw. How cute. Did you think of that yourself?

Christian: Heck yes I did! Now why'd you kill Fred...snicker.

Roxie: Because...I...slept...with...him. Er...look! Absinthe!

Christain: (panting like a dog) I want it! I want it! Iwantitiwanitiwatit!

Roxie: (throws the bottle of absinthe) Go get it!

Christian: ARF! I'll see you tomorrow slutski!

Roxie: Uh, ok. (leaves) Men.

Roxie: (seeing some manly hunk o' drunks on the side of a street) Hey there! I need directions!

Manly hunk o' dunk no1: Omellette du fomage!

Roxie: (pause) AHHHHH! (runs away)

Manly hunk o' drunk no2: Ha. Stupid americans.

There it is. I realize it may not be as fun as the original, but I tried.

Christian: Weeeee!