Trisher Nicole Married Who

By:

LiL Pippin Padfoot

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Disclaimer: How does a little 5 chapter story escalate to 61 chapters!

"You smile like such a lady, innocent and sweet. You drive the menfolk crazy, yeah, but any girl can see..." - Homewrecker, Gretchen Wilson

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Chapter 61

Miss Priss, I am Not

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This 'school' was a school for prisses.

I walked in, Legolas had left, saying something about not wanting to go to a girl's school. I thought he was crazy. When I walked in, I was met face to face with a room full of girls.

Barbie was there.

"Girls, I would like you to meet your project. Paige here, is a Princess, but doesn't look nor act like one. Let's see what we can do."

I turned to walk out, but I was met by Eowyn.

"Ah, ah, ah." she said. "Wouldn't want you to throw your marriage out the window, do we? If so, I have the papers."

She held out a few papers and a quill.

"Never." I said. "Faramir's mine, deal with it. Biotch." I said

She sniffed and went to walk out, but she stopped and turned. "I'll be waiting, Biotch."

"Bring it on!" I said "Gimme your best shot."

Eowyn walked out.

The girls were giving me looks of pure terror and horrification. I felt I had done something wrong. Then, I figured it out. It was like a social ladder. These girls ( and Aragorn, Arwen, and Boromir) were at the top. The jocks and the cheerleaders. The people that did all their shopping at places like Abercrombie&Fitch. While, Faramir and I tended to be on the lower end of the Middle, the outcast drama clubers and the people that had garage bands likely to never make it out of the garage, and tend to shop at Hot Topic and Goodwill. Trisher may have been further down, along with the smart people, who didn't have the cool factor to be with the drama club and band people, most likely shop at wannabe cool places, like Aeropostle.

"She started it." I said

Barbie sighed. "You must not let your temper get the best of you."

"My temper is controlled. Most of the time."

"Well, let's get it to all the time. Now, your first task is to have a civilized conversation."

I nodded, and sat down amongst the other girls, who were staring at me.

"Um, so, did anyone happen to get the new Avril CD?" That was suitable conversation, unless I was around MeLisa. Then I remembered they don't have CD's, I'd have to revise my tatics. "Um, how about Faramir, oh yeah, he's a hottie." That was another thing all of my old friends could agree on. David Wenham, oh yeah.

"Hottie?" repeated one girl "What kind of strange language you speak."

"It's called Chesabonics." I said, in mock seriousness, any of my friends would have laughed at it. "A mixture of redneck/gansta/ and proper English."

She rolled her eyes. "We do not speak this 'Chesabonics' so you must conform, speak like we do."

I bit my lip. Faramir. Do this. Faramir. Trisher. Faramir. Must not kill. Faramir

I bit my lip, and nodded.

Barbie smiled, and walked out.

The girl that had told me to conform, apparently was the next Barbie.

"Ladies, have you seen the new dresses?"

They started to talk, not interupting each other of course, about the new dresses. I felt my eyes glaze over.

"What do you think?"

I very inteligently said "Huh?"

"You're shoes, they are the newest fashion, how are they?"

"They suck." I said

"Could you elaborate?" she asked

"They really suck." I tried, adding in an adverb.

She gave me a half smile, that was somewhere between pity and amusement.

"We do not speak like that. We say they are dreadful, or horrorific. Why don't you try to use those words in a sentance?"

I grinned. "This is horrorfic. You girls are dreadfully boring, and I am afraid that I will soon become overcome with weariness from this talk of fashion, and will collapse in a most unladylike way on the floor."

Her smile twisted, and became a forced smile. "Very nice." she said. "It's tea-time girls!" she said.

They all stood up to leave, and I made to follow.

"Wait a moment, will you, Paige?"

I stopped, and she got in my face. "I will make sure you become a princess if it kills me." she said "I will get you to be a lady."

I didn't say anything, but resisted the urge to punch her.

I decided that Barbie Jr. could be Skipper. I could call her something worse, but I won't. I followed the rest of the girls.

Oh joy, tea time.

&&On the Other Side&&

Trisher didn't have much expierence being stuck with the guys, likewise, Boromir and Faramir had never been stuck with a girl before. It was rather awkward to say the least.

"So..." said Faramir. "Having fun?"

Trisher looked at him. "I'd have more fun if I was dead."

&&Tea Time, And I HATE Tea&

"Tea?" Skipper offered me a cup.

"No thank you." I said, proud of myself for adding 'Thank you'.

"Let's try this again." said Skipper. "By trial and error we learn. Would you like tea?"

"Sure. Thank you." I said.

She smiled sweetly, and handed me some tea. The talk was so boring.

Skipper sat there at the head of the table. "Shall we endulge in a little gossip?" she asked

I set my cup down. I had been staring into space, (very ladylike, I know), and had lost track of the conversation.

"Did you hear about the Steward's wife?"

My ears pricked at this. They were so not going to talk about Trisher. They would be goners. I didn't protest, but listened, wanting to know her thoughts on Trisher.

"I hear that she is rather on the crazy side."

Well, that wasn't so bad, to Trisher, that's stating facts. Now, if they said she was crazier than me, that was an insult.

"She is a good person," said another. "She isn't like the Prince's wife."

That girl was shushed by Skipper, as I stood up.

"If you have an insult," I said, "I will be happy to take it. Then, I will be forced to hurt you."

Skipper stood up. "Come with me." she said sharply.

I followed her. "I didn't want to do this," she said "I hoped that the other girls' influence would help, apparently not."

I was following her deep inside the school. "I didn't want to resort to this. But I shall have to."

She opened a door, and motioned for me to follow her inside.

That was last anyone saw of me for a week.

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That's allright, That's okay, you're gonna pump my gas someday!

If Abercrombie & Fitch decided that breathing wasn't cool; half of my class would be dead.

P.S. Trisher, no offense to your Aeropostle sweatshirts. They are cool...but are no match for my Goodwill hoodie.