Well. Now I'm FINALLY updating. About time, huh? The reason I haven't been updating is because TWO of my stories have been deleted, AND my boyfriend cheated on me.
AGAIN.
Oh, woe is me. I had to dump him. And I wasn't happy about it, either. Well, high school does have it's good sides and it's bad sides. Sniff.
Kyle: Oh, suck it up.
SHUT UP, KYLE! ANNOUNCE THE FREAKIN' FIC AND LET ME BE, GOD DAMMIT!
Kyle: Y-y-yes ma'am. R-right away, ma'am.
Quote of the Day
Hawkeye: What a unique device, the human tush. An architectural marvel, one of a kind. . . Actually, two of a kind. Designed to support our weight for a lifetime of sitting, it also has the subtlety to do the samba. And when attached to certain members of the female species when a time of light summer dresses are worn can cause some of us to drive our cars straight up a lamp post.
Disclaimer: NO! NO NO NO NO! I do NOT own MASH. If I did, I'd be living the life of luxery. . . And obviously I'm not. Sad, isn't it? But if you donate a dollar each, I can work my way up to buying MASH. I've already got ten bucks!
What The Hell Is Going On?
Chapter 16
Ah, the Power of Hormones
Really, I should've expected that the 'study week' was going to be hell. I mean, my wonderful family was supposed to help me study.
My tests were scheduled for Thursday and Friday of next week, so I had plenty of time to study BY MYSELF, but there would NEVER be enough time to study with the doctors, corporals, nurse, and Ferret of the 4077th.
So on Thursday (the day following the day after my family decided to help me study), I dragged myself to school, already worn out. The afternoon before had been brutal. . . I'd never known that the history of Catholicism was so brutal and bloody.
Did you know that in 1609, a Spanish nun named Laura was dropped into a vat of molten lead by a bunch of angry raiders? I was seriously tempted to ask Father Mulchay how he knew that at the time, but decided against it. I did however point out to him that we were studying the Ancient Egyptians in History class, and the only religion involved with that was the ever powerful gods (i.e. Set, Anubis, Isis, Osiris, Ra, etc.).
Anyway, I dragged myself into my first period class, which was Chorus. I slumped down into my seat beside Brittany and slammed my head on top of my desk.
"Are you ok?" I heard my friend ask timidly, as if she was afraid I was about to have a nervous breakdown. . . which was probably true, all things considering.
I lifted my head up and smiled in a most-likely psychotic fashion. "Oh yeah," I said in a raspy, tired voice. "I'm great, finejust peachy."
(A/N: You know what I just found out today? I just found out that this guy I have a crush on doesn't have a second toe. Seriously. It was shot off. Isn't that creepy? Er, sorry,I kinda had to get that out of my system. . .)
Brittany gave me a startled look.
"Damn girl," she said. "You look like your about to go on a killing spree!"
"Do I?" I rasped.
Brittany opened her purse and pulled out her mirror.
"See?" she said, showing me my reflection.
To put it bluntly, I looked like a psycho. My hair was messed up with strands sticking out from my bun in all directions,my eyes were dark with a slightly manic gleam, and they had more bags under them than usual. My face was pale, and my smile was just plain creepy.
"What a lovely picture I make," I muttered sarcastically.
"It'snot that bad," Brittany replied, standing up and walking behind me, her ever-faithful brush ready to take on any obstacle. "It just needs to be brushed a little is all."
Despite her small, thin frame and sweet disposition, Brittany doesn't seem to know how to be gentle when it comes to brushing hair. I flinched every time she dragged the brush acrosse my scalp.
"You've got so many tangles!" Brittany cried as she yanked a particuarly nasty tangle out, causing my eyes to tear up.
"Uuuuuhhh. . ." Ireplied, digging my nails into my palms.
Hell just seemed to follow me everywhere.
It happened in English class.
There I was, minding my own business while Ms. Hart (the English teacher) read a paragraph from Romeo and Juliet out loud when there was a knock on the door.
The teacher stood up, set the book down, and, with an annoyed look on her face, walked briskly to the door, her lips puckered to show her displeasure.
I watched all this through half closed eyelids, bored, and feeling sleepy and stupid. She opened the door.
That's when I saw HIM.
Brown hair, blue eyes. . . the bluest blue eyes I'd ever seen, and a well sculpted face; he was the best looking boy I'd ever seen.
I FELL IN LOVE!
I got all the symptoms; sweaty palms, irregular breathing, flushed face, pounding heart, the works!
My mouth was dry and my head felt light.
Everything around us disappeared. There was only him and me.
His name was Scott. He was a sophmore, and his family had just moved her from Washington, D.C.
The teacher announced all this. Scott just stared down at the floor. He looked so. . . lonely and lost.
HE WAS SO CUTE!
Ms. Hart told him to go sit in the third row, one seat back; only two seats ahead of me!
I watched, transfixed, as he walked down the aisle towards his desk (towards me!) his head bowed.
I watched him sit down. I watched him open the copy of Romeo and Juliet Ms. Hart had handed him. I watched him read.
And as I did all this, my heart sang.
I literally bounced home. I was so happy! As the wonderful Lord above would have it, I had not only English with Scott, but Algebra, Biology, and Home Ec. with him too!
I skipped up the driveway, pranced up to the door, and danced inside.
"I feel pretty, oh so pretty! I feel pretty, and witty, and gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!" I sang as I twirled into the livingroom. Unfortunately, my foot got entangled with the lampcord, sending me (and the lamp) crashing to the ground.
CRASH! (like that)
However, even that didn't bring me down from my cloud. I merely began to roll from side-to-side as I continued to sing my love-struck heartout.
"Was that a crash?"Hawkeye asked, running into the room with Trapper at his heels.
"A crash of victory, Hawkeye!" I screamed happily, and then proceeded to continue to roll from side-to-side as a sang in a rather off-key voice.
"I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty, and witty, and gaaaaaaaaaaay!"
Love does that to ya. It turns you into an idiot. But at that time, I didn't care. I didn't care that Scott didn't even know I existed. I didn't care that I was completely singing off-key. I didn't care that Hawkeye and Trapper were staring at me like I was completely nuts.
All that mattered was that the cutest, sweetest, most terrific boy ever was in four, count 'em, FOUR of my classes.
Coincidence? I think not.
NOT IN VICKY'S POV!
"I'm worried," Hawkeye whispred to Trapper as Vicky continued to roll and sing in the background.
"I know," the curly haired surgeon whispered back. "Where has our sullen little teenager gone?"
Indeed, that seemed to be a good question as the two doctor's watched the blonde-headed girl roll around in manic happiness.
"What do you supposed could've happened to her?" Trapper finally asked. The two were now sitting in the couch, watching Vicky continue (STILL!) to sing from her position on the floor. The teen suddenly began to sing something else, as if to give them some kind of clue or answer.
"Love is in the air! Everywhere I look aroooooooouund. . .!"
The doctors exchanged looks before turning their attention back to the blonde on the floor.
"Do you think it's love?" Trapper asked outloud.
Vicky eagerly answered.
"YES! I thought you'd NEVER ask! I'm in love! Pure, sweet, wonderful, glorious, addicting love! L to the O to the V to the E! L-O-V-E! LOOOOOOVE! Yippee!"
And then she went back to singing.
"I believe in miracles! Where ya from. . . You sexay thang! Sexay thang you. . ."
"Time to play detective," Hawkeye muttered, sighing.
"Ok, but I get to be the bad detective this time," Trapper replied. The both sighed.
"Girl or boy?" Hawkeye asked.
"Boy," Vicky replied cheerfully.
"Age?" Trapper inquired.
"I dunno, 15 or 16, something like that," was the reply.
"Hair color?"
"Chestnut brown. . ."
"Oh, she's poetic, Hawkeye! Eye color?"
"Blue-blue. The bluest blue you've ever seen! Even better than your's, Hawkeye!"
"I resent that.I LIKE my eyes, and they're a very nice blue"
"I never said they weren't!"
"But you were implying it!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"S'not!"
"S'too!"
Trapper intervened.
"PLEASE, you two! This is becoming sick!"
The interrigation continued.
"Height and weight. . . My eyes ARE a nice blue color. . ."
"I NEVER SAID THEY WEREN'T, HAWKEYE!. . . I'd say about 5 feet, 7 inches."
"I don't like the looks of this Hawkeye. . . Does he have any tattoos? Any signs or symbols that are gang/mob related?"
That's when Vicky sat straight up, which was suprising considering the cord was wrapped completely around her body due to her rolling.
"NO! There's no way my future husband is involved in any kind of gang!" Vicky shouted angrilly. Then she tried to sit up, but of course, was unable to because she was all wrapped up in the cords.
"Need some help?" Trapper asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Vicky huffed. The two surgeons stood, bended down, and pulled the young teen up.
Instead of thanking them, Vicky stuck her nose up in the air, "hmphed," and proceeded to hop away.
Hawkeye and Trapper burst out laughing.
BACK TO VICKY'S POV!
So there I was in dreamland, most likely snoring away in my warm bed as I dreamed of Scott and I with our future family,when THEY came in and woke me up.
"GOOD MORNING, VICKY!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIII!" I screeched, falling out of bed.
I laid there, twitching, listening to my 'two favorite uncles' try to muffle their laughter behind me.
Finally, I pulled myself up and faced the two, holding one hand over my bruised nose.
"What'd ya do that for!" I screamed, my heart racing.
"It's time to wake up! You have a big day ahead of you," Hawkeye said cheerily.
I swore loudly, letting lose a string of curses that would've made a sailor blush with shame (and THAT'S saying something).
That, however, didn't seem to faze them one bit.
"That's right! Practice putting sentances together," Trap encouraged as he pulled me up.
"That's our little over-acheiver," Hawkeye chimed in.
"What time is it?" I yawned, sleepiness reclaiming me as I gave up trying to stay mad at the two.
"4:00AM," Hawkeye answered.
Oh, how anger quickly returns to the body.
"ARE YOU INSANE!" I screeched at them. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MINDS! THE ROOSTER ISN'T EVEN UP YET!"
It was true, too.
"Yes," Trapper answered, smiling as if I had just told him Christmas had come early. "But today is study day. And a succesful day always starts bright and early."
"I'll study at school, when it's brighter and earlier," I muttered, crawling back into the safety of my warm bed.
"Oh, no you won't," Hawkeye contradicted as he yanked me out of bed by my ankles.
"THIS IS CHILD ABUSE!" I wailed unhappily.
"No, it's called 'Tough Love,'" Trapper corrected, and both doctors dragged me out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen.
"That's right, it's a very serious disease," Hawkeye said into the phone. He was talking to the school office; apparently, I was staying home for school all day so I could study for my tests.
Studying.
At home.
With my FAMILY.
ALL OF THEM.
That included Hawkeye, Trapper, Klinger, Henry, Radar, Father Mulchay, Margaret, and Frank.
Oh, the horror.
Don't tell me I'm lucky! I am NOT lucky. Yes, it does sound cool for people from your favorite TV series to pop up into your house and stay with you, but trust me, it's NOT.
You never know how much destruction they can do until they get there. . .
"What's the disease?" Hawkeye asked, most likely repeating the question our ever-paranoid school secretary asked.
I struggled vainly against Trapper's hold, frantically trying to bite his hand so I could scream S.O.S.
"The disease poor little Vicky has is. . . is called Tresolarchemy," Hawkeye said.
I almost fell over.
"What's that?" Hawkeye continued. "You've never heard of it? Oh, it's very rare, very uncommon, only happens to 1 out of 200 people. What's that? What's it do?"
"Hawkeye, she's licking me!" Trapper hissed to Hawk as I slobbered all over his hand. It was not pleasant, believe me.
"Well, ah, Tresolarchemy is ah. . . it's very contagious," Hawkeye said, signaling for Trapper to hold on and/or to keep it down. "It causes large boils to pop up all over a person's skin, and it makes them foam at the mouth. . . And to have an unresistible urge to drink milk. . . And. . . And it makes them act like a monkey."
'Lies! They're all lies!' I wanted to scream.
"Ooo-aaaah," Trapper went, imitating the noises a monkey makes to help his friend out. I began to fight tooth and nail (I did NOT want people to think that I thought I was a monkey).
"Yes, she's over there groaning and monkeying around on the couch as we speak," Hawkeye said, nodding his head.
Trapper made a few groaning noises and monkey sounds. I was almost in tears.
"Alright ma'am. . . Yes, thank you. . . Ok, you do that. . . Bye bye," Hawkeye said, and he hung up the phone. Trapper released me, and I fell down to the floor.
I looked up at them, sobbing pathetically.
"Why?" I wailed. "Why do you do this to mmmeeeeeeeeeee?"
The two surgeons merely laughed as I sobbed pathetically.
OH YEAH! GO ME! I GOT TWO A'S, 1 B, AND 1 C ON MY REPORT CARD! WAH-HOO!
Thank you LadyoftheLlamas for praying for me, Kooshball. . . And anyone else out there! I love all of you! You you you, and especially you!