I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand

NOTE TO CHADLEY

Well, Chadley, I hope you're happy with yourself. You made Christian cry. Now, I'd rather have sex with Jon Voight (who is like Angelina Jolie with saggy old man boobs) than see you. That's how much I hate you now. You left a really mean "Annonymous" message to me and Christian. I know it was you because it was signed B-rad. The only person who calls you B-rad is yourself. You can say all the shit you want about me but not to Christian. You know as well as I do that she's infatuated with you. Just because she really likes you doesn't mean you have the right to trample all over her feelings. You know she'll never get mad at you or want revenge so you use her to vent. Look, you asshole, Christian puts her whole heart in to everything; and she does it for you and you have the nerve to tell her she's ugly. You tell her she's stupid; that she doesn't have the right to exist. But you know what? Christian is the sexiest beast this side of sexy beast land. Christian is smarter than you'll ever be. Why do you hate her so, much anyway? She hasn't done anything to you besides worship the freaking ground you walk on. Is it because she won't dress like a skank or wear make-up that makes her look like Bozo-the-fucking clown like almost every girl you've dated? Maybe you hate her because she's too good for you. Because if you hate her because of this reason, for once you're almost right. She does deserve better. Or maybe you hate her because she knows she doesn't have to change the way she is for some stupid kid. She knows that there is more to beauty than looks. But Christian, she's beautiful in her own way. In fact, in every way. If I were a lesbian I'd want to date her. And FYI, Christian can be so pretty. But she chooses not to. She's happy being her. And thanks, to you you've destroyed that. Happy, now asshole? You've made her misreable. Fuck you.

Sorry guys, this needed to be said. A certian bitch named Bradley(AKA Chadley)sent a really horrible message to us. It hurt Christian so much. I love Christian like a sister and I hate to see her sad. So if you would be so kind and review this chapter with something nice to say about Christian that'd be too cool. I know there isn't a lot you know about her but I just want to tell you she really is the backbone of this fic. The king sized bottle of lube? Christian's idea. Naruto in jail? Also her idea Sakura's drunken speech? I think you know who thought of that one. She is really bummed about that message so just write a few nice things about her. Thanks for understanding-Lauren

Dear Johnny Depp,

Sasuke was in my bed. Sasuke was in my bed. Sasuke was in my bed. Sasuke was in my bed. Sasuke was in my bed. And finally, Sasuke was in my bed. Sasuke also ate all the filling out of my oreos and left all the cookies scattered around the kitchen table. Not good. Not good at all. I kissed Sasuke. I kissed Sasuke. I did. I liked it more than I realized at first. Not good. Not good at all. I tried to tell him off, Johnny, I really did. I tried to get my angry face, and be in take-no-prisoners mode because he invaded my space. But I couldn't. I wanted to say:

"GET YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS OUT OF MY BED!" but I pronounced some things wrong and it ended up sounding like: "Willyougooutwithmesometime?Like,sayNOW!"

As it turned out, he was drunk and he said Yes, I'd love strippers. So I somehow got drunk too. I don't know what happened after that, really. I just remember the cops, Eddie Murphy, and a very bad joke on a piece of Laffy Taffy. So, I'm writing this to you on a Kleenex from jail while the bearded lesbian in Birkenstocks who I'm sharing a cell with tries to eat my shoe. I'm hoping it will hold her off long enough so I can figure out a plan that involves me not getting raped and having ten million of Sasuke's children. Oh, my hung-over mind! She's devoured both my shoes and is moving on to my socks! When will the torture end! All my dreams of the perfect plan, all the mini-Sasuke's, the Sasuke planet, the army of little Sasuke's. It all breaks in to a billion fruity pebble sized pieces. I expected that, though. Dreams don't exactly have a reputation of coming true. I have a feeling that if they did, we would live under the rule of Oprah, worship Tom Cruise, and Conan O'brien would have hair. I'm afraid I don't have much time to live as a straight person anymore. The bearded lady ate my left sock and is still deciding whether to eat the other sock or my tube of lip gloss. That bitch better not choose the lip gloss. That shit is expensive. Johnny, I'm afraid our time is going to be cut short; the lesbian is approaching the lip gloss. I just want you to know, my last request as a straight woman. It is to find someone who knows me to read this. And if I'm a hippie-lesbian who doesn't shave and sports hiking boots and gardening gloves, while selling organic smoothies out of a flower clad mini van, polluted in that incense crap to cover up the smell of all the weed me and my dyke-a-delic girlfriend have been smoking, while fighting for the rights of trees, tell them password is: Wendy's. Just say it and I'll be back to normal.

Thanks for reading. RR please! Review whore alert!