Lolly, once again, rather annoyed at the fact that fanfiction alerts were failing her, sat down and decided to write yet ANOTHER annoying chapter of the overly-hated Kissing the MCBC.

I mean, how gross is that?

To physically kiss the Meg Cabot Book Club?

And anyway, so far it was only that darn Emily who got kissed.

And not even on the lips.

So, you see, this wasn't really going very well.

Lolly, who was running out of men to use, and was thinking of resorting to Sister Ernestine, suddenly realized that there were LOTS more fish in the sea!

GOODIE.

So, she grabbed the jock-strap of the character whom she wished to summon, and, throwing it into a bubbling, boiling cauldron, called upon the forces of darkness and within moments, Bradley Ackerman stood in her presence.

A thing of evil if there ever was on.

The ripe smell sure indicated so.

Lolly, tossing him some deodorant, said, whilst blocking her nose, 'Heya Dopey. You're gonna do a little favour for me.'

Dopey scratched his Dopey Jr. indignantly. 'Aww, man,' he snapped, 'What is your PROBLEM, dude? I was like this close to getting in Kelly Pr – '

Lolly didn't even want to know. She sprayed some of her deodorant at him, and he squealed as it hit him full force in the eyes.

'Shut up. I don't want to know about your sex-life. We ALL KNOW that it's detachable, anyway.'

Either that or he pumped it up like Ben Stiller did on Dodgeball.

Dopey narrowed his eyes at her. 'Stop stalking me. What the hell do you want, anyway? I don't think you understand, babe. I was about to get LAI – '

'Yes,' Lolly snapped, throwing her cauldron at him in annoyance. It bounced off of his head with a resonating bong – onomatopoeia, NOT a drug reference – and the contents burnt his big toe and shrivelling it up on the spot, saving him from EVER being attacked by Paul Slater's lustful foot-lovin' lips, 'I quite understand. But the point I'm saying is, I'm getting desperate now. I can't reuse characters – it's tacky. So, you'll have to do. And – ' Lolly paused. 'You were planning on having sex with Kelly Prescott in . . . those?'

Dopey looked down, regarding his neon yellow wrestling short-short-short-short-shorts in confusion. 'They're sexy,' he protested. His pink tank top hugged his chest tightly, possibly suffocating him, in his efforts to pronounce his sadly impressive muscles.

Lolly blinked.

Twice.

Okay, about nine times.

'Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight,' she said finally. 'Well, Dopes, I got a little task for you.'

'Will it give me a boner?' he asked eagerly.

Lolly, not being aware of the hotness of her victim yet, said slowly, 'Um . . . no . . . '

Dopey's eyes fell in disinterest. 'Screw this, then. KELLY can give me a b – '

'SIT DOWN, GOD DAMN IT. ARE YOU RETARDED? DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, YOU SILLY FREAK!' Lolly screeched in phenomenal fury.

Dopey scuffled to sit down, quivering in fear.

Lolly breathed. 'Thank you, Dope-lodocus. Now, you're going to do me a favour, or I'm going to let the entire wrestling team know a little something about you, Bradley Ackerman.'

'Well, what if I want to walk out of here right now?' he snapped.

'You can't,' Lolly said.

'Why not?'

'Because I'm the author and I'm writing everything you're doing and saying.'

Dopey's dumb face wrinkled in confusion. 'Huh?'

Oh yeah. Poor guy. No brain, much strain.

And anyway. Once you've gone Brad, nothing's as bad.

Hehehe. Lolly giggled. She made that up herself.

'Well, anyway. So, yeah.'

Dopey glared, screwing up his face unattractively. 'Oh yeah? What the hell do YOU know about me that the wrestling team would want to know?' he laughed mockingly.

Lolly waited for his chuckling to cease.

'Oh, I dunno, only that you're a virgin, and that you're currently obsessed with Daniel Radcliffe,' Lolly said boredly.

Dopey went still, and Dopey Jr. went into hiding.

' . . . No,' he said in horror, 'No, you – how did you know?'

Lolly smiled. 'Because I'm an omniscient author. I know all. I see all. I hear all. And among my hearings, was no screaming of Kelly Prescott's ecstasy.'

'Shut up,' Dopey said.

Lolly went on evilly, 'And I know that you've watched Prisoner of Azkaban, over and over and over and over again – '

'SHUT UUUUUUP!' he wailed, crumbling to his knees, and hammering on the floor. 'FINE. I LOVE DANIEL RADCLIFFE. I WANT TO BE WITH HIM. IF HE'D ONLY REPLY MY FRIGGING FANMAIL, I MIGHT STOP STALKING HIM. BUT WILL HE LISTEN? NO! HE JUST KEEPS GOING ON ABOUT HIPPOGRIFFS AND THE DARK LORD, not sparing me a moment of his time . . . his love,' Dopey ended sadly. 'If he only knew how much I lo – '

He stopped, looking up. Then he looked around furtively, and back at the widely smirking Lolly, who was sitting comfortably on her swivel chair.

It was the pimples that lost her sophistication points.

But shut up.

'So, we have an agreement then, Dopey-poo?' she asked sweetly.

Brad hung his head, in shame.

'Goodie,' Lolly beamed. 'I love winning.

8 -

Lolly's victim of choice sat in her room, awaiting her turn of being officially Kissed.

No, seriously. She'd full on prepared. She was ready to get Kissed by Paul. She had everything planned. She would not think that Paul was trying to enter her room to perv on her. (If so, she wouldn't mind.) She would NOT attack her Paul with a pillow. She would not subject her Paul to accordion practice. She would NOT not notice that Paul was trying to Kiss her. And she would NOT mind if he pashed her feet.

Which was the plan, anyway.

So there stood Lillita.

In a foot costume.

No.

Really.

She was dressed from head to toe . . . as a foot.

Five toes.

Toenails.

FLESH coloured.

Her little arms stuck out the sides of her costume, as she awaited Paul.

She was a Big Foot.

She wanted to turn Paul on the best way she knew how.

He'd have a fetish with HER.

But come on, guys.

SHE WAS DRESSED UP AS A FOOT.

SNORT. HAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

(Lolly finds this rather amusing to visualize.)

Lillita was ready. She was set. She was waiting . . . for her beloved . . . Paul.

So when the lump that was Dopey Ackerman flopped through her window, landing with a THUNK onto her floor, the Big Foot saw red.

And she promptly stepped on him with her, erm, Big Foot.

And squashed him into a Dopey paste.

'LOLLY!' she screeched, 'HOW COULD YOU? THIS SUIT COST EIGHTY BUCKS!'

And now she had Brad's guts on it.

Oops.

THE END.