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A New Level of Hatred

Are you going for a shit or enjoying an orgasm?

We're talking sound effects here today, people, and what they actually mean.

Now, unless the author is very good at descriptions or is writing in a narrative way, you're going to have to fill in some blanks while the characters fit peg A into slot A (or B, whichever takes your fancy). We know the typical 'ahs and ohs' and, of course, the occasional 'God' gets thrown in for good measure, but what on earth in 'Ungh'?

I was sat reading in my window seat the other day. When this word came up, I had to read it a couple of times, sound it out, and then read it again.

Is anyone sitting around you now? Seriously, go on, have a peek? No? Then try it out. Sound out the word . . .

Now, does that sound like a sexual noise or one you make when you go for a shit or a rough guess, giving birth?

I know that it's really hard to put into a word/spelling, how or what the characters say when they're in the moment, but a little foresight is a wonderful thing. In a narrative story, you could easily describe the noises as 'light moans' or 'whimpers.'

Hell, even in a different style of writing you could put that you couldn't make out the words/noises of pleasure . . . but don't, for the love of God, write a word that sounds like you're having a bowel movement!

Another bugbear of mine is when the woman has to announce that she's coming. It sounds more like: Incoming train on platform three, please keep clear of the edge and mind the gap. It's always the same; I'm coming! Or worse, 'cumming.' Who even spells like that?!

If a writer, and the male character, are so good, the reader should be aware that the lady is fast approaching the glorious O. She shouldn't have to shout it out for the whole street to hear!

~Princess~

Prick-a-Doodle-Do was a first-class, Grade A, piece of shite that I wouldn't even trade for all the shit that Mac was spurting out right now. He basically called me a little girl, all because I asked if his Mom packed his lunch for him. That wasn't a bad question to ask, was it? Okay, so I didn't exactly ask him in a decent way, but we were all grown-ups, right? We could have a laugh and a joke in the workplace, surely?

"Gertrude, they were out of your beef and mustard bagel, so I got you barbecue pulled pork," I muttered and dumped the food on the table in front of her. Honestly, I didn't get this pair, either. They'd been so quick to hand in their notices, so why were they still here? And why was I still doing the lunch run? Why couldn't they just go instead of trying to make this week miserable for me?

"How on earth is beef and mustard similar to barbecued pork?" Gertrude asked, and I wanted to growl. I didn't, though, and was proud of myself for that. I couldn't wait until they left. Maybe I wouldn't be so stressed during the week then.

Going home for five minutes to check on Mac turned out to be the worst mistake ever. The first thing he'd wanted to do was jump up at me. Not good after he'd run around the kitchen floor if you know what I mean. So, after a rapid shower and a change of clothes, I'd managed to get to the store before they ran out of anything half-decent to eat.

"It's not, but maybe if you went yourself next time, you could choose something that was similar," I grouched and went to walk out of the room.

"She must be on her monthly," Nancy whispered loud enough for me to hear, obviously, and I had reached my bitch limit.

"I am not on my period, Nancy, and you have no right to talk about it at all! I'm pissed off because I've been shoveling shit since my eyes opened this morning, my favorite bracelet—which I'd been given as a gift—is now in several pieces, and my new boss is an asshole. On top of that, I've had to put up with your constant bitching and whining when it comes to anything to do with me or my life! You have no right to comment on my clothes, hair, and, least of all, my love life. Maybe if you were more content with your own lives, you wouldn't have to bitch about mine!" I shouted before walking out of the room toward the building exit.

I just needed five minutes to myself, five minutes to calm down before I plotted a murder or two.

"They only do it because they don't have children and no grandchildren, Isabella, and because they're old. They feel that they have an open ticket to put the world to rights," Aro muttered. His body was propped up against the wall by the front door to the office. He looked so glum, and I could understand why.

"How are you going to do it, Aro? You've been here for decades, built this magazine from scratch, how are you going to walk away from that?" I asked in a gentle tone. I needed a distraction; asking this seemed like a good idea. Aro was good at talking and talking and more talking.

"I have no idea. My niece thinks I'll get bored and start to waste away, but I know it's time. I'm just too damn exhausted to continue. Even my wife is bitching at me to slow down, in her own way. I think I might start a flower garden," Aro replied with a resigned sigh.

Okay then . . .

"Well, you know the door will always be open to you, here and at my house. You should pop over one Sunday for dinner, I'd like that," I offered and felt good about it. I'd miss him, I really would. "Just don't bring Nancy and Gertrude with you, okay?" I finished with a laugh and then headed back inside. We were due for another staff meeting with the boss, and as it would be the twin bitches' last meeting, it was looking to be a 'mark your calendar' event.

.

The meeting was not being held in the normal room because Mr. Bossman-Asshole wanted to meet with all the staff, and there was no way we could all fit in the box room. We were now in the freezing cold printing area out the back of the office, and I was glaring at the new boss while he glared at me. Aro was giving some speech about leaving and how much he would miss us all, but all I cared about at the moment was winning the staring competition with the asshole.

I couldn't let him win. I just couldn't. If he won, that would mean he would be able to control everything that I did here, just like the evil twins had. There was no way I would be doing his lunch run or making him cups of tea or coffee whenever he wanted it. No, I had to win.

"Thank you for that, Aro," Bossman said, and I fought to scream out 'I win' when he broke eye contact with me. I know it was childish, but he had accused me of being a little girl.

"Okay, I know this sounds like high school, but I'm going to call your name, and I want you to answer and then tell me a little about yourself. Maybe you could tell me how long you've been working here, what you like about the job, et cetera . . ."

I became excited, waiting for one little thing. The thing I knew he was going to slip up on. He might be the big boss who'd gone to a top university, but I knew I'd score this round. I just had to be patient and bide my time.

Going through the twelve members of the printing team was long and boring, most of them had been working here with Aro since he started it all, but then it was us ladies' turn.

"My name is Nancy, and I've been working here since Aro founded the company. I write the food and home section of the magazine, giving quality recipes, repair tips, and hints to the stay-at-home mothers in our area," Nancy said proudly. I wanted to roll my eyes at her. Yes, her recipes looked good, but no one wanted to know the best way to darn socks or what herbs to use when cooking tripe for dinner. Have you ever opened a can of tripe dog food? I rest my case.

"I'm Gertrude, and like everyone else here, I have been working with Aro from the beginning. I mainly cover gardening in the magazine, but I also help Aro out in the offices and make sure everything is sent to the editor in good time," Gertrude said, puffing her chest out a little.

"Well, thank-you, ladies. I know that you will be leaving at the end of the week, but I would just like to say that I am positive that it has been your hard work, along with the others, that has helped immensely when it has come to keeping this business going." Get me a bucket, Bossman; you're making me feel sick.

"So, you must be Nia-him?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Nee-ah-mmh? Nee-am-her?"

I shook my head again, finding it hilarious that he couldn't pronounce my name. It's not my name, obviously. It's my middle name and since I was about twelve, I've used it more than Isabella, or worse, Bella. Dad wanted my middle name to be Marie after his mother, but mom had a right fit over that one. She hated the woman and wouldn't dream of giving me her name. Then I got landed with Isabella as a first name. Urgh! Do you know how tiring and sickening it gets when people hear that your name is Bella? 'Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful little lady.' 'Did you know what Bella means beauty?' Blah, blah, blah. I'd heard it all over the years and I hated it. So creepy to have grown-ass men cooing over your name.

Legally, I was still Isabella Niamh Swan and most of my friends and family knew me as Bella, but everyone else… No, I made them use my middle name. Well, except for Aro. I just couldn't put the old guy through it.

"Okay, you're going to have to tell me," he said, finally giving in with an aggravated sigh.

"It's Neev. Like knee with a v." I giggled when his eyes went a little wide. Poor sod.

"Then why the hell did you spell it like that?" he asked with a glare, and it just made me laugh harder.

"Why do you take a piss standing up?"

"Because I can," he answered quickly, a confused look on his face.

"My point exactly, Mr. Bossman. If you're nice to me, I'll tell you my first name, but until then, this is it," I stood up, ready to walk out of the room, and get back to the minor warmth of the offices.

"Real name? Fine, whatever. Niamh, it is. Will you tell me what you do for your job here?" Mr. Bossman asked, and I knew for a fact that he was forcing his smile. How did I know this? He looked like he'd just stubbed his toe on the radiator.

"I'm the general dog's body around here. I pretty much do everything that the others can't or won't do, really," I answered with a shrug. We all knew that I didn't have to be here if I didn't want to be.

"So, you don't actually help with the magazine, then?"

"Nope, I'm just the gopher," I replied with a sweet grin.

"Gopher?"

"Yeah, you know, go-for this, go-for that. Gopher," I answered.

"Niamh, quit winding the poor man up, he's only trying to be nice, and you're coming across as some petulant teenager," Gertrude said, and I rolled my eyes once more.

"I'm making up for lost time, Gerty. Besides, where's the fun in being serious all the time?"

"There's no fun when it comes to work and earning money, Princess." Mr. Bossman's fake smile turned to a frown.

"So, you're telling me that you don't have fun and never let your hair down, so to speak? You've never had a few wild moments in your youth, rebelled a little?"

"No, and especially not at work," he replied, and his tone clearly told me that he was getting pissed off with me. For some reason, though, I enjoyed knowing that I was getting under his skin.

"Well, maybe when the blue rinse brigade leaves, I can show you how to loosen up a bit and enjoy life," I said with a wicked grin. "I'm off to do some filing."

.

It was Friday. Now my least favorite day of the week. Most people, normal people, hated Mondays, but I didn't mind them. Fridays, though? No, I hated them with a passion now, and that was all because of my new boss. He thought, bless his little cotton socks, that I would be the best person to set up a going away party for Aro, Gertrude, and Nancy. While I can organize a party as good as the next person, I swear he did it on purpose.

Gertrude had decided to try and 'help' me and had provided me with many mixtapes—and yes, I do mean tapes—of their favorite music to dance to. I ended up driving over two hours to pick up an old boom box thing that played tapes, which I'd bought off eBay! I wouldn't have bothered with hunting the antique thing down, but she wouldn't tell me what was on the tapes so I could go find digital versions of the songs. Hence I needed a damn tape player.

Not only did I have to do that, but I had to design the flyers, invite people, arrange for the food to be made, and find a damn costume. A fancy-dress party as a leaving party? Urgh. If I'd hated my boss before this bloody party, it was nothing compared to how I felt about him now.

But what made it all worse is that I couldn't stop thinking about the prick.

I've never been the 'swoony' type. No, I'm not one of those girls who lusts after a man, following him and giggling over every little thing he does. But I'm different with Bossman. I love the way his dark hair flops a little over his brown eyes. You see, he has the type of haircut that could either be gelled back or naturally fall into curtains. It's dark brown, almost black, but it looks like it has slight red highlights to it. And it looks thick, too. It's the type of hair I wanted to run my fingers through and possibly pull a little. Christ, I am turning into one of those girls!

Honestly, I went home, and he was in my head. I woke up in the morning, and he was there again. Even Mom pulled me up one night because I was a little quiet on the phone. It wasn't my fault I had seen him that morning jogging to work.

What man jogs to work?

He was so hot and sweaty, and his tight, heather-grey tee and sweatpants left nothing to the imagination if you wanted to know whether he worked out or not. Oh, he worked out alright, and even though I couldn't see his nether region perfectly, I had an active imagination.

Not that I wanted to think about his cock. No, not at all. Not even a little bit…

Fine, I was thinking about it. I couldn't help it. When he jogged, I ended up having visions of Olympic runners. You know, when their junk bobs side-to-side when they run. Then I thought about his junk: Did it bob or swing? God, I was so screwed!

So anyway, back to this party shit. The shindig was booked at the town hall for tomorrow night, and I had nearly everything arranged, which I was thankful for because now I was having to catch up on all the work that Mr. Bossman wanted me to do.

He'd already explained that next Friday, we would be shutting down for three weeks while he updated everything. Thank God. It was lucky for me that I hadn't let out a squeal at the staff meeting. Anyhoo, work would be closed for those weeks, and we weren't required to come in, although we could if we wanted to. No thanks!

While we were off, Mr. Bossman wanted me to start researching online websites for women, and I could have swung for him. Just because I have a vagina doesn't mean I visit those sites. I don't give two donkey balls what celebrity is doing what with whom, and I certainly don't give a rat's ass about what wrinkle cream works best. We'd already covered that I wear what I want to in the clothing department, not what society deems I should wear. So, why me?

I asked him that exact question, too. His reply? "Because I was a woman." And his point was? Well, you'll have to tell me because he asked me to leave his office at that point since I may or may not have threatened to staple his scrotum to his desk.

Safe to say, I went home before lunch that day. I did promise Aro that I wouldn't do anything involving blood or the police until he had left the building and couldn't be called in as a witness. I didn't want to make the promise, because I don't like breaking them, but Aro's pleading face made me cave quicker than a kid in a candy store.

Yes, I changed Bella's middle name. I hate my own name. It's Tammy-Jo, and I grew up being called TJ Hooker and Tammy the Tampon. I bloody hated it! And think of it this way, if you despised your mother-in-law, would you really give your daughter her middle name? I sure as hell wouldn't.

Just to answer a few questions. This is set in Forks. Bella doesn't have to work because she was gifted a large amount of money when she turned 18 by her parents and the house she lives in was willed to her by her grandmother. Mac is an amazing dog who has a personality of his own and you will LOVE him when you get to know him.

The next teaser:

Of course, being the dick that he was, he spoke sweetly to Mom, gave her a jaw-dropping smile, and even kissed the back of her hand when he reached us. Smarmy git.

"Mrs. Swan, it's a pleasure to meet you," he crooned, making me want to gag again.

"I would say the pleasure was all mine, but you've been an asshole to my daughter, so I'll pass on the sentiments. Now, Bella, I have to go and find your brother. I don't want to be a grandmother before he's old enough to drive. I'll catch up with you in a little while."

I was so struck dumb by her comments; I just stood there in awe. Go, Mommy!

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