OK first attempt here, so be kind, eh? Just telling you right off the bat, I don't have plans for this story to be long. Three chapters minimum, five chapters maximum. But hey things can change right? The continuation of this story depends fully on all you lovely readers. You like it, I'll continue, if you don't, I won't.
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Standard Disclaimer: I do NOT own Sailormoon!
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"Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please fasten your seat belt and place your tray tables in their upright and locked position. We will be making our final descent in a few moments. Thank you for choosing Sky Blue Airlines and have a wonderful day." The click of the speakers signaled the stewardess was finished.
God I hate flight attendants. In case you weren't aware, there are always two different categories of flight attendants. Category one: The happy, cheerful, bubbly flight attendants whose life long dream of serving people peanuts and getting them pillows had finally come true. Then there was category two: The cynical, angry, volatile flight attendants who had long ago realized violence was the answer. Even though I hate any and all flight attendants, I still have a preferred category. My preferred is the latter, of course. Why you might ask? Let me explain.
If faced with a person who is so ecstatic about getting you a drink or incredibly honored that you deemed them worthy to "help" put your luggage in the overhead compartments, what do you do? You walk all over them. Take advantage to the third degree! You demand, demand, demand. It's understandable. If offered an apple, you take it. We, as passengers, are offered a helping hand in comfort. All we do is take it.
But, if faced with a person who will gladly shove a pillow down your throat to block out your irritating voice, what do you do? Cower in fear. You no longer feel the need to push the button that will summon a flight attendant for you. All of a sudden you no longer feel parched and in need of a beverage. Instead you keep your mouth shut and quickly avert your eyes when you see one of "them" patrolling the aisles. You have to admire someone who can do that and not even say a word in the process. I know I sure as hell do.
I know what you're thinking. But have no fear, I am not crazy. A little off kilter, but not crazy. I've just had a lot of time to think. Hey it's a three hour flight and the in-flight movie was "From Justin to Kelly." It still sends shivers down my spine just thinking of that movie. Whatever idea sparked that creation will forever haunt the history of man. So you see why I have had so much time to think. Being my forgetful self, I forget a magazine and I forget any type of musical device. So for the past three hours I've done nothing but twiddle my thumbs and think.
But finally we are landing. Thank God! I'm such a nervous flyer. Not really sure why though. I think society has traumatized me. I think I would like flying so much better if I were the only person on the plane. What can I say? I'm not a people person.
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It took me nearly an hour to exit the plane fully. Yet another reason to hate flying. As soon as the plane's wheel's touch the pavement people shoot out of their seat and begin rummaging for whatever items they have stowed above. It's a mad house. Anyone who has ever flown on a plane knows what I mean.
The worst is not over yet, not by a long shot. When I finally do get off the plane and begin moving away from the gate and towards baggage claim, I fall. Not just a harmless tumble but full ground impact. Apparently, I forgot how to walk. Of course everyone in the terminal ceases movement. All their eyes dart to me, the blonde whose hair is everywhere, legs twisting in a way not humanly possible, and just to add icing to the cake, whose pants now have a lovely rip straight down my butt.
I stand up with just a little bit of difficulty. Some people still have their eyes glued to me or rather my pants. I curtsy to them all. Well I couldn't really take a bow at the moment. I would like what's left of my pants to stay on. Grumbling all the way to baggage claim, I don't even try to conceal the opening in pants. I scowl even harder when I notice that a vast amount of children are pointing their chubby little fingers at me. Did I tell you I'm not too fond of children either?
My spirits go up when I see the sign that says, "Baggage Claim." It's the little things that makes life grand. I push my way through the throng of people, I feel you should know that most of said people smelled, and finally come to the conveyor belt. God bless the person who created the conveyor belt. It's quite a nifty contraption. I squint my eyes, trying to look as far as I can. Not seeing my luggage, I start getting a little nervous. You know I'm a paranoid person right?
As if my guardian angel, was reading my mind, I spot my luggage. I stand there for a few moments waiting anxiously for my slow moving baggage. Then with a "screw it" I jumped onto the conveyor belt and started in the direction of my luggage. It was sort of fun, but minus the fun and add a disaster. As soon as I took two steps forward.....go on guess. I have a feeling you guessed right. I fell flat on my face. I hear a faint, "That'll teach her," in the background and use all of my will power not to scream. I quickly remove myself from the conveyor belt and wait for my slow moving luggage.
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I'm in the airport bathroom right now, switching into a new, un- ripped, pair of pants. Tucking the cursed pants into my luggage, I zip it up and make my way out of the stall. With my suitcase on wheels, rolling behind me and my backpack slung over my right shoulder I make my way out of the airport or what I affectionately called Hell.
I move fast, like a bat out of hell. Around the corner, past the food court, and around the confused Russian man, I'm out. I inhale deeply and exhale loudly. I repeat this act a few more times until I feel my blood pressure lowering. I look around the city I've lived in and notice, giant puddles everywhere and water dripping from rooftops. I wonder how long ago it rained.
Without another thought I move forward and to the curb. I raise my right hand, signaling a cab. I lower my hand when I see a cab coming towards me. Finally my luck has turned around and for the first time all day I smile. I move just slightly forward but stop when I notice the cab moving faster then it should be. It was closer now and it wasn't stopping. "NO!" I hear myself yell. But it's too late.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!" I started screaming in the direction the cab was now disappearing in. I look down at my body, I was completely, one hundred percent, sopping wet. From my hair to my socks, I was coated in water. And not just any water, but gutter water. I'm marking this day on my calendar. I feel my anger rising and I start counting to five.
One, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch. Two, I hate flying. Three, I hate airports. Four, people are wearing on my last nerve. Five, calm down. I try to keep from going into The Hulk mode on all these innocent bystanders. I inhale deeply again, this time pausing before exhaling, feeling my neck vain pulsating. It started doing that when I started flying. Go figure.
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Finally I'm home. I'm going to spare you the details of my cab ride home. Trust you want to be thanking me right now. Not even a category two flight attendant could hold a torch to my fury. I rummaged through my backpack looking for the keys I know are in it. Getting angrier by the second, I tell whatever mystical force is creating this bad day that I better find my keys in the next five seconds or else. They listened. I pulled my keys triumphantly from my bag.
I inserted the key into the lock. I turned it half a turn to the right. Twisted the door knob and pushed the door open. The suitcase in my left hand falls forward, the backpack on my right shoulder slides down my arm and to the floor, along with my jaw. My apartment is a mess! No that doesn't even begin to describe what I'm looking at.
There is clothing everywhere! Not even my clothing! There are men's pants, and shirts. Men's socks and even boxers, gross. My eyes suddenly stop when I notice some of MY underwear on the floor. I'm going to slowly castrate Sammy with a dull spoon. Pizza boxes, Chinese food cartons, fast food wrappers, were all over the floor. You name the food and I'll point it out on my once clean floor.
My eyes slowly drift towards the sink where dishes are piling over. It was then I caught wind of what my apartment smelled like. Imagine the scent of rotting apples doused with cow manure and you might have just a slight idea of what I am smelling at the moment.
"Sammy you're dead." Brother or not there has to be consequences. I finally take note of the shower turning off. Preparing myself to scream at my brother, my eyes already in their deadly glare mode. I open my mouth, curse words just waiting to jump from my mouth. But it seems my voice has died in my throat when the completely nude man walks out of the bathroom with nothing but a small dishrag to dry his hair.
I know this is completely cliché but I swear I felt my knees go weak. The man was the epitome of sexy. His black hair matting to his forehead while his deep midnight blue eyes finally locked onto mine. His body was well muscled and, as my eyes go further down, he has the full package.
When the nude man cleared his throat, my eyes immediately shot up to his. The bastard! He was actually smirking at me! So being my usual self I picked up the nearest object and hurled it at him. Unfortunately, being my usual self also meant not using my brain. I apparently threw one of my throw pillows. I watched angrily as the pillow made a soft noise as it impaled his abdomen and slid to the ground. The man deems this moment to speak.
"Uh....who are you?" Damn. There goes that neck vain again. Before I can even utter a threat on his life, some girl comes out of the bathroom, stark naked! Her brown hair dripping water onto my tiled floors as she curls her arms around the black haired man. I see her green eyes looking me up and down, appraising me. Apparently she thought nothing of me because she just turned her head in the crook of this man's neck.
"Yo, Darien! You and Cindy need to leave. My sister will be......" Ah and there is the man of the hour. My soon to be baron brother Samuel. I see the fear in his eyes. Oh I am definitely going to enjoy this. But before I deal with him, I decide to wipe that smirk off "Darien's" face.
"I'm Serena Carter and this is my apartment. So I suggest you and your naked friend be on your way." Heh, I sound angry. Ok now I'm even starting to scare myself. But you understand don't you? Remember my day? Good. Keep remembering it.
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