Saturday morning, Lincoln Loud grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat across from Lori at the dining room table; she scrolled through her phone with a distasteful frown, her thumb flicking up, up, ever up. It was early, and so far they were the only ones awake. Lincoln would still be asleep too, but he woke up when Lana slipped out of bed and went back to her own room at six, and though he tried, he just couldn't drop off. She only slept in his room on Fridays and Saturdays to cut on on the risk of being caught, but he'd grown accustomed to having her next to him; with her in his arms and his nose buried in her hair, he slept like a baby, but without her, he slept like shit...if he slept at all. Of course, sometimes when she slept over, they didn't sleep very much anyway - one thing about Lana, even though you might think she'd like it fast and rough, she liked it slow with lots of foreplay and build up. A few times, he spent literally the entire night bringing her to the edge, then drawing back, then again and again until she couldn't take it anymore: One thrust and she came so hard she shook like a holy roller in the throes of pentecost, trembling praises falling from her lips. Lincoln, God, Jesus, fuck!

Lincoln loved nights like those.

Presently, he skimmed his spoon across the surface of his cereal and collected a few fat puffs of processed sugar, his head turning when Lola swept into the room like a queen, her head tilted back and her nose held high. She wore a flowing pink dress, pink shoes, and a silver tiara situated exactingly on top of her blonde head; her hair spilled down her shoulders like strands of silk and she cast her soft brown eyes on him with a smirk. For some reason, Lincoln felt a rush of apprehension. "Morning, Lincy~" she purred.

"Morning," he said.

She stopped behind him, laid her hands on his shoulders, and bent, her hot breath puffing against his ear and sending goosebumps racing up his arms. "How did you sleep?" she asked, and even though it was a normal, inoffensive question - as common as what do you do for work? And Nice weather we're having, huh? Lincoln couldn't help but detect a hint of suggestion. Lori looked up from her phone, lifted a quizzical brow, then shook her head and went back to staring at the screen.

Wait. Was she subtly telling him that she knew about him and Lana?

His heart dropped into his stomach like a chunk of ice and he reflexively turned his head, his cheek brushing against her lips and making him wince. "G-Good, you?"

Lola's eyes glinted with a knowing light, and her pink lips turned sharply up. Oh, God, she must know. "Ummm, I was kind of lonely," she said and pulled back, those three words hitting Lincoln's heart like fifty thousand volts and frying his nervous system. Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man; Lola was one of the last people he and Lana wanted knowing about them - she'd either outright tattle or blackmail them both to kingdom come. He opened his mouth to speak, but his vocal cords were frozen. Sensing his distress, she giggled and ran her gloved fingers through his hair, then floated off into the kitchen, her sultry eyes watching him over her shoulder and her hips swishing back and forth. Lincoln gaped after her, too horrified to move. See how she was acting? She was playing with him like a cat with a mouse, batting and swatting before moving in for the kill.

This was not good.

He was shaking now, literally shaking, and his heart slammed so hard against his ribs he could hear it echoing in his skull. He tried to get up and flee, but his knees gave out and he dropped back to the chair. Lori looked at him and cocked her brow. "You alright, Linc?"

"Y-Yeah," he stammered, "just, uh, this cereal isn't agreeing with me." He flashed a wan smile and threw a nervous glance at the kitchen; Lola stood at the island pouring Sugar Bits into a bowl. Perhaps feeling his gaze on her back, she turned her head and smiled slyly. I know all your dirty little secrets, Lincy, it said, and I will use them against you.

Swallowing thickly, he pushed up from the table and kept his legs under him this time; his steps were shaky, though, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, out of sight, he leaned heavily against the newel post.

Alright. He didn't know for sure that she knew about him and Lana, he was just going off body language and innuendo. Lola had a way of acting sweet and almost flirty when she was up to something. She'd bat her eyelashes and speak in her most saccharine tone...then jam a freaking knife into your back. How she acted back there was alarming, but nothing more: She also did that when she wanted something, so maybe she was buttering him up. Or maybe his guilty concious was leading him to jump at shadows.

Yeah. That last one. Had to be it. God, he hoped it was, otherwise...oh, man, oh, man, Lola would turn him and Lana into her personal slaves for all eternity, or her pets, or make them do her evil bidding. He should tell Lana.

He started up the stairs, but stopped.

Actually, maybe he shouldn't. Again, he wasn't certain she knew, and he didn't want to freak Lana out for no reason.

He needed to talk to Lola, feel her out and see if she did, or if there was another reason for her being sweet.

He leaned over the bannister and peered into the the dining room just as Lola sat in the chair he so recently vacated, back straight, shoulders out, prim and proper, like a queen taking her throne. A ball of sudden and disconcerting anger formed in his chest, and his nails dug roughly into the wood rail - Lola was always doing this: Blackmailing people, threatening people, snitching on people, she could be such a monster. Normally he just took it, but this wasn't normally, Lana was on the line, and...and…

A vision flashed across his mind: Him punching Lola in the mouth. Her head whipped to one side and she stumbled back, spitting blood and bits of broken teeth onto the carpet. Tell on us and I'll kill you, he said, and that snapped him back to himself, cold, aching dread slithering through his something like a slimy abomination through the depths of a dark sea. The daydream horrified him...but also exhilarated him. Imagine how satisfying it would be to pop her in the face when she tried that I'm telling Dad unless…stuff.

God, she was his little sister though! She might be annoying, and she might even deserve it, but he could never hit her.

Could he?

Suddenly, he wasn't one hundred percent sure, and that disturbed him.

He…

...he needed to be alone.


After breakfast, Lana knelt in the middle of her bed and stared down at her new phone, a black and chrome Galaxy S9 with a screwdriver decal on the battery cover. Lola got one just like it, only hers was pink and girly, yuck. When she opened it yesterday at her party, she went through the roof - she begged and begged for this dumb thing and was almost certain she wouldn't get it because it was so expensive.

She wasn't into technology - unless it had to do with building stuff - she just wanted extra memory: She downloaded a lot of porn, and her last phone got so full she couldn't anymore, and that was a bummer. The S9 had so much more storage space, though, and right now she was breaking 'er in by downloading videos from her favorite site: Scatopia . com.

"Oooh, I love this one," she told Hopps, who sat perched on her shoulder. She tapped the PLAY symbol with her thumb, and the screen was filled with a woman's butt, her boyfriend's thing thrust back and forth, back and forth...wait for it, wait for it...BOOM, liquidy poop sprayed out around his shaft and dripped onto the floor like brown rain. He pulled out and shot his load onto her butt crack, his cum mixing with her poo and dribbling down between her cheeks. Lana's face burned and her heartbeat quickened. She turned to look at Hopps and grinned. "I really want Lincoln to do that to me." She hit SAVE with a sigh and added it to her secret, password protected folder - the one with all of her other dirty stuff, a vast Library of Congress sized collection of pics and vids depicting the most repulsive sex acts allowed by law. It was called STUFF I WANNA DO WITH MY BROTHER. She chose my brother rather than Lincoln because it sounded so, so much dirtier. She showed him most of it and told him how much she wanted to try some of them, and his mouth said maybe, but his nauseous green face said no. Sigh. She guessed they didn't have to, but she wanted to so bad it hurt - she was like a grody, disgusting flower, and instead of rain, she needed poop, pee, and puke to keep her from wilting. He did say he was willing to try it, so...where should she start? Sex in public was bust, and she had to ease him into it. Hmmm.

Exiting out of Scatopia, she typed gross sex acts into Google and clicked the first link, which lead to a list: THE TOP 5 GROSSEST SEX ACTS YOU AND YOUR PARTNER SHOULD (NOT) TRY. The first one was the good ole Kentucky Klondike Bar. She'd considered that - since that was one he could do to her - but she wasn't sure that was the best place to begin. Number 2 was the Panamanian Petting Zoo, which is often combined with the Kentucky Klondike Bar - it's where you take all the nuts and corn and stuff out of a bowl of poo, throw them onto the floor, and have your partner eat them like a zoo animal. That one really got her motor going, but for right now, she was going to go for something that didn't involve poo.

Ahhh, number three: The Cold Lunch.

There were more, but her core pinched and her stomach knotted - yep, she wanted to do this one. And while she would take no for an answer, he'd have to say it really loud.

Laying her phone on the nightstand, she got up and sat Hopps on the bed. "BRB, boy, I'm gonna go have me a cold lunch."

Hopps tilted his head quizzically. Say what, Lana?

She giggled. "I'll tell you all about it later." She patted his head then went into the hall, looking left and right - Luna was shredding her guitar in hers and Luan's room, Leni and Lori were at the mall, and Lynn was off playing football with some boy down the street (Lana wondered if they were playing other kinds of ball too, wink wink).

Coast clear, she scurried to Lincoln's door, threw one last look over her shoulder, then slipped inside, closing it behind her. Lincoln was sitting on the edge of his bed with a video game controller in his hands - on TV, a car lay on its hood and sirens blared. He glanced over and grinned. "Hey," he said in a bemused tone, "I thought you were playing with your phone."

Lana thumbed the lock and grinned devilishly. "I was. Now I wanna play with you."

A boyish grin touched Lincoln's lips and his cheeks turned a light shade of red. "Oh?"

Biting her bottom lip, Lana nodded.

Lincoln paused the game, tossed the controller on the floor, then started to lay back, but Lana stopped him. "Stay there. I, uh, I wanna try something." She rubbed her upper arm and darted her eyes to her feet - moment of truth, let's see if he goes for it.

"What?" he asked...kiiiind of sharply.

Lana took a deep, steadying breath through her nose and looked up at him. "It's called the Cold Lunch," she said.

Lincoln hung his head.

"It's not that bad," she hastened to add, "plus, you're doing it to me, so it's not like anything gross is gonna happen to you. Please, Linc? I really wanna do this."

He lifted his head - her eyes were big and shimmery with beseeching, like a kitten's; she stuck her bottom lip out, and that was it - his resolve crumbled. "Alright," he sighed, already knowing he was going to do whatever she asked of him...and probably regret it. "What does it involve?"

Lana's face lit up, and she bounced happily over; she dropped to her knees in front of him, whipped her hat off - freeing her messy blonde hair - and tossed it aside. "First," she explained, "you put your dick in my mouth."

Okay, he liked where this was going.

She reached for his crotch, found the zipper tab with expert precision, and pulled it down; he undid the button and pulled the flaps apart with shaky fingers, his dick already stirring.

Hooking her fingers into the waistband of his briefs, she tugged them down; his inflating member popped out, and a salacious smile crept across her lips. She wetted them, then placed a soft, fleeting kiss to the head that made it twitch. She rolled her dirty eyes up to him and drew a deep breath through her nose, savoring his musky scent. She did that every time she went down on him, and watching her relish it as though it were the best thing in the world was so arousing he could hardly stand it. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and stroked slowly up, then down. He threw his head back and fisted the blanket in his hands - his heart gently pounded and his hips squirmed as if on their own accord. The Lola-centered dread and worry he'd been nursing since that morning melted away and -

Wait a minute.

He looked down at her - she stared reverently at his cock, her fingers skimming its shape and her lips quivering in hungry passion. "What else?"

She glanced up, her eyes muddled - she was drunk on him, her mind addled, brain slow. "Huh?"

"What else does the C-Cold Lunch involve?" His voice hitched because, God, the name even sounded gross.

Lana flickered her eyes back to his dick and hesitated. "Lana?"

She scrunched her lips to the side as if debating whether she should tell him or not. He sighed deeply and bowed his head. When he and Lana...got together, he was in a really dark place: His heart was broken, his soul was crushed, and he kind of hated himself. Lana came to him in his hour of need like an angel, her hand out and her heart filled with love, love that she gave unconditionally. He appreciated that more than she would ever know, more than he could ever hope to express. Doing the stuff with her that she wanted was the least he could do - but come on, have you heard what's she into? Ugh.

Looking into her big, anxious eyes, though, he would do anything that it took to make her happy and to show her that he loved her with his entire heart, soul, and mind.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers through her hair and offered her a loving smile. "Just tell me. I promise I'll do it, Lana. Whatever it is."

Those words tasted bitter in his mouth, but his mind was made up - he'd do it. He might not like it, but as long as Lana was happy, he would be happy.

She broke out in a sunny, gap-toothed smile. "Okay," she chirped giddily, "I go down on you and you…" she trailed off, her eyes wide.

Lincoln gulped. "I what?"

"Puke on the back of my head."

Lincoln's face fell. "Really?"

She nodded eagerly.

Sigh. He did say anything, though the prospect of puking on the back of her head was somehow just as disturbing as the idea of punching Lola in the face. When you love someone - when they're beautiful and precious to you - there are certain things you just don't do to them, and intentionally throwing up on them is preeeeetty high on the list.

But it's what she wanted - from the look on her face, it's what she really wanted.

"Alright," he said, "I'll, uh, I'll puke on you."

She emitted a happy eeeee through her teeth and started to stroke him faster. "Thanks, Lincoln."

"You're welcome," he said.

She lifted up a little and pressed her soft, wet lips to his tip, then, looking him in the eyes, she bobbed down, taking him deep into her warm mouth. His breath caught and he clawed the blanket, his toes curling inside of his shoes. Lana laid her hands on his knees and worked her tongue along the underside of his shaft; she reached his base and pulled up, her lips molding tight to his aching flesh and hot saliva sliding down his length in burning trails. Lincoln threaded his fingers through her hair and gently guided her up and down, up and down, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Breaking away, she looked up at him, her cheeks blushing and her chest heaving; a silvery mix of drool and precum dripped down her chin and fell dropped onto the front of her overalls. "If you can, do it the same time you cum, okay?"

Huh?

Then he remembered, and his stomach panged with dread. Oh, yeah; I have to puke on her *shudder*

"Yeah," he nodded, "okay."

She took him in her mouth once more and kneaded his knees with her fingertips, her pace faster this time, her lips sliding up and down his rod, gripping it, stroking it, smearing their hot fluids along it. Lincoln stared down at her with a mixture of lust and foreboding - every fiber of his being screamed at him not to do this, but it's what Lana wanted, so…

Clamping down on his knees, she went faster still, and Lincoln could feel his orgasm beginning to well up from his depths. He grazed his nails over her scalp, which she loved, and her tiny frame trembled; she pulled to his head and went down, pulled back, then down, her tongue lapping and swirling around his tightening member. He was close, his climax swelling like a lead balloon in his stomach.

Alright. Uh...go time, I guess.

He leaned over and swallowed nervously. Lana's head bobbed up and down in a frenzied rhythm, her hands squeezing his kneecaps and her thumbs rubbing tender circles against his skin. Lincoln tentatively opened his mouth and contracted his chest muscles with a dry retch. Lana went faster still, humming in excited anticipation. Lincoln gagged again, trying to produce the vomit his little sister so desperately wanted but failing. He had to do something quick, because he was seconds away from cumming - so far gone that he couldn't stop it from happening but not so far gone that it was going to happen this second.

Her head: Up and down, up and down, her lips making sweet love to him, her tongue writing heartfelt epistles on his body - he even imagined he could make out words. I love you, Lincoln, you mean everything to me.

She meant everything to him too…

Which is why, just as his orgasm uncoiled and filled her mouth, he leaned over, jammed his fingers down his throat, and sprayed the back of her head with vomit, the hot, rank smell choking the air. It was white and thin, clogged with mushy, regurgitated bits of cereal, and splattered her hair with a wet plopping sound, soaking it and coursing down the back and sides of her neck in acidic rivulets. She stroked down to his base and held onto his knees as he pumped another wad against the back of her throat, then a third; instead of swallowing like she usually did, she pulled back, spat it into her hands, then rubbed it across her face ike thick, creamy lotion.

Spent and knees shaking, Lincoln held fast to the bed and watched in a mixture of horror and concupiscence as she threw her head back and massaged his sperm into her skin, her slitted eyes fixed on him and her lips parted lavisciously. She raked her fingers slowly through her sodden hair, pulling out the bands holding it up and freeing her pigtails - it spilled limply over her shoulders, and her bangs swept across her forehead, droplets of vomit dripping onto the tip of her nose and a piece of cereal sliding down her cheek. "Ummm," she purred. "It's so hot and gross."

Lincoln gaped - it was gross, but, God help him, he'd never seen her more alluring in his life, and if his sack hadn't just been emptied, he'd throw her onto the bed and do her.

She took a deep, contented breath and looked at him with sparkling eyes; her grin was slinky and sinister, her her front teeth clamping her bottom lip and her hands resting on her knees. "Did you like it?"

Yes. No. Maybe? He couldn't say he enjoyed the physical act of throwing up on her, but seeing how much she enjoyed it was endlessly gratifying. "Yeah," he said with a jerky nod.

"I liked it too," she said and swiped the tip of her tongue across her lips, catching stray and translucent beads of cum. She pushed herself up on his knees, leaned in, and pecked him on the cheek, a strand of puke-soaked hair brushing his chin and leaving a slimy snail-trail in its wake. Ew, gross; ew, gross. "Thank you," said whispered.

"You're welcome," he said,

She caressed the side of his face, then turned and left, poking her head out into the hall before disappearing and pulling the door closed behind her. For a moment Lincoln sat there, his flaccid dick lying limp against the waistband of his jeans, then he sighed.

Yeah, he couldn't lie, he did kind of like it.

He just hoped she didn't wanna do anything worse.


In her room, Lana kicked her shoes off, crossed to the bed, and flopped onto her back, her arms flying out and her toes wiggling happily in her socks; a blissful smile lay upon her lips, and her pussy tingled with warmth - she didn't realize it until she stood, but she leaked into her underwear a lot: The crotch was soaked and pinched between her folds, and with every step she took from Lincoln's room to here, they chafed and rubbed against her sticky thighs. She was really aroused, but she kind of liked denying herself release...and really liked it when Lincoln did it. UrbanDictionary called it "edging" because you come to the very edge of orgasm….then get pulled back; after doing it so many times, your orgasm, when it finally did come, was so intense it was like being cooked in the electric chair. Ummm.

RIbbt.

Lana glanced to her left: Hopps sat on the nightstand.

"It was awesome," she said dreamily. "See?" She tapped one tacky cheek with her index finger for emphasis: Lincoln's cum was starting to harden. When it was fully dry, she could give herself a Mexican Pancake; that's where you peel dried cum off your face and eat it.

Hopps leapt onto the bed and looked her up and down - her hair was undone and messy, her face glistened wetly in the warm autumn sunlight streaming through the window, and the stench of intestines wafted up from her in metaphorical green stink lines. She felt totally disgusting, and she loved it.

She lifted her shoulders, squeezed her eyes closed, and hummed happily. What should they try next? Something a little higher on the gross-o-meter, or on the same level? She really wanted to do something with poop, but it might be a little soon...though, he might go for giving her an Alabama Hot Pocket - when you poo in a girl's pussy and then stuff it deep into her with your dick. He didn't have to do that last part, though; she'd be happy with just him pooping on it. Loose and hot and watery and smelling like butt...oh, mama, that's sexy!

Oooh, oooh! What about wolfbagging? That's when you swallow a piece of bacon attached to a string then let the boy put his thing in your butt. Before he cums, he yanks the string and makes you puke, thereby causing your butt muscles to tighten around his dick which feels really good for both of you. Sharing said bacon afterwards was optional - she didn't think he'd want any, but she kind of hoped he did. After all, what's more intimate than eating something that's been in your lover's stomach?

Uh, nothing!

Hm, he'd probably be okay with doing that one, but now that she was thinking of it, she kinda wanted him to piss on her. And she wanted to piss on him too. She envisioned both of them in their underwear, her straddling his lap, their sexes grinding through the fabric, his bulge rubbng between her lower lips and stoking her fire, pushing her to the edge...then her bladder releases and warm, wet pee fills her panties. He pees too, and the heat of their combined wee knocks her into the biggest orgasm of her life - shaking, sputtering, eyes rolling back into her head…

She looked at Hopps and grinned. "There's so many gross sex acts, and so little time." She rolled onto her side, propped her face in her hand, and scrunched her lips to one side. "You think we can mix and match 'em?"

Ribbit.

Lana nodded. "Yeah, that would be hot." She stroked the tip of her index finger between his eyes. "That's why I like you, boy. You're like the gay best friend in one of those dumb Sex in the City shows Lori watches; I can talk to you about anything."

Hopps narrowed his eyes and ribbited indiganty.

Lana blinked. "I didn't mean to say you're gay, just that…"

Hopps croaked, turned, and jumped onto the floor. Lana sat up and watched him hop into the hall. "Hey! I didn't mean…" she trailed off when Lisa walked by the door and stopped. Uh-oh. Lisa hated incest, and she was really mad at her and Lincoln for being together - she wouldn't talk to them (except to be a bitch) and whenever she saw her and Lincoln together she clucked her tongue and stalked off. She hadn't told Mom and Dad, though. You two buffoons will slip up sooner and later, and I'd rather have the satisfaction of knowing that one of you brought about the apocalypse of your relationship than doing it myself. That way you'll have no one but yourself to blame. Lana didn't know why Lisa was so against it, but she was, and being around her was really uncomfortable these days.

Tensing, Lana darted her eyes away from her little sister's and found something else to look at - hey, dresser, you're looking buff today.

"Lana?" Lisa asked, and Lana reluctantly glanced at her. "What is on your face?"

Damn it. She was supposed to be nearsighted or something (which is basically blind, right?), but she was like one of those guys on CSI: She could spot a strand of hair across the room and instantly know it didn't belong. "Uhhh, nothing," Lana said, and fought the urge to rub the back of her neck - that'd make her look guilty.

Lisa crossed her arms sternly and furrowed her brows. "That's a goddamn lie. It's seminal fluid, isn't it?"

Lana's heart dropped. Wow, she's good. "Uh, w-well…"

The little genius drew a sharp, angry breath. "Lana, the fact that you are waltzing around the house covered in your brother's semen…" she trailed off, held up her hand, and shook her head. "You're disgusting, Lana, and I am ashamed of you. Lincoln as well; you carry on like two hillbillies in a bad erotica novel and actually have the audacity to call what you do love."

Lisa's words plunged deep into Lana's heart like the steely blade of a knife and twisted. She winced...then her face hardened as her chest clutched like an angry fist. It was one thing to call them hillbillies, but implying that she didn't really love Lincoln was going waaaaay too far. Lincoln was the most important thing in her world - he was the sunshine of her day, the air she breathed, and the blood in her veins. Lincoln meant everything to her - he was the first thing she thought about in the morning and the last thing she thought about before she went to sleep; being away from him was like suffocating, and when she saw his face, her heart beat real fast and her stomach did crazy backflips.

How dare this little bitch say that?

"It is love," Lana said tightly.

Lisa hissed through her teeth. "No it isn't - you're a sick and confused little girl and Lincoln is so desperate for romantic love and affection that he'd settle for getting it from his own sister. You are both mentally ill."

Rage swept through Lana like a wildfire, and her hands balled into fists - it all made her mad, but that thing about Lincoln…

"I'm about to knock you out," Lana growled, not realizing what she was saying until she heard them for herself. Lisa's eyes narrowed, and for a long moment they stared each other down like two outlaws in an old western. Lana had never once considered hitting her own little sister, but she was shocked to find that she meant it - she'd punch Lisa into next Tuesday if she ever said that stuff again.

Lisa opened her mouth as if to speak, and Lana came so close to jumping and going after her that every muscle in her body twitched, and she could literally feel herself doing it - storming across the room, drawing back her fist, hitting Lisa with a devastating haymaker. She didn't get the chance, though; instead of signing her own death warrant, the little bitch shook her head and walked away, mumbling under her breath.

"That's what I thought!" Lana called after her. When she was alone, she spun around and punched her pillow as hard as she could. Why was Lisa such a bitch? It wasn't any of her dumb business what she and Lincoln did, and she had no right to keep teasing them about it.

Restless energy surged through her and she punched the pillow again and again, her face hard. Hopps appeared on the nightstand, done with his hissy fit, and watched her curiously. "Sometimes I really hate her, boy," she said and jabbed the pillow one final time. She turned and crossed her arms, her eyes falling on Lola, who came in while Lana wasn't looking; she stood in the middle of the room with her head down and one brow arched like an impatient question mark.

"I know you're not talking about me," Lola said.

"No,' Lana replied sullenly, "Lisa."

Understanding dawned in Lola's eyes, and she nodded slowly...patronizingly. "Ah. What did Dr. Frankenbitch do this time?"

Lana opened her mouth but closed it again, She had a bad habit of letting things slip when she was in a state of high passion, and a couple times, angry from one of Lisa's barbs or because hers and Lola's Jeep was a Japanese made hunk of junk that broke down every time you looked at it, she almost said something about her and Lincoln. She always caught herself, though, because what she had with him with that important to her. "Just being a bitch," Lana said.

Humming her indifference, Lola flitted to the closet and opened it. "That's Lisa for you. She thinks she's better than everyone else because ohh, look at me, I have a lab." She threw her hands up and wiggled her fingers. "Humph. She's ugly and has the social skills of a wasp; she's in for a lot of lonely Saturday nights when she's in high school. Which is why I don't let her bother me." She leaned into the closet and rummaged around.

You know, she was actually right - Lisa was not popular in school and probably never would be. Hehehehe, the kids in her class called her poindexter, and it made her so mad she'd shake, tear up, and start cussing, which always got her sent to the principal's office.

Still, she was a fucking asshole and Lana was real sick of her shit.

Hopps jumped into her lap and looked up at her.

Ribbit?

Lana's stomach rumbled. "Yeah, I'm kind of hungry too."

She picked the frog up, tucked him into her chest pocket, and got to her feet. At the door, Lola stopped her. "Oh, Lana, dear, I have a question."

Lana stopped. "Yeah?"

Lola held up her hands. In one was a pink see through dress thing and in the other a purple half-dress something-of-other with black fringe. She batted her eyelashes. "Which do you think L...I mean, a boy would like better?" She smirked condesencindly, and Lana got the impression that her sister was somehow taunting her...but pushed it away. She was just pissed at Lisa, that was all.

"Uh...I dunno, the pink one. That's more your color." She chose it at random - she wasn't good with girly stuff. It all kinda looked the same to her: Dumb.

Lola looked from one to the other, hummed, then turned. "Alright. You're dismissed."

Oh, gee, thanks, your highness.

Hehehe. Your hindass.

She went out into the hall and down the stairs, turning around the newel post and freezing when someone knocked on the door. The living room stood empty as a tomb on judgement day - answering it fell to her then.

Turning, she went over, Hopps croaking indignantly. "Wait a minute, boy, sheesh. You act like I never feed you."

That was kind of an insult - she took very good care of Hopps, thank you very much. She fed him, played with him, watered him...she even found him a girl frog to do sex stuff with - she lived down the street at Jimmy Turner's house and belonged to his creepy older brother Arnold. Is that something a not-good-taker-care-of would do?

She unlocked the handle and turned it, pulling the door open and starting. A wall of suit filled the frame.

Dinosaur suit, blue with shiny scales and a big brown oval on its chest and stomach.

She craned her neck up, and Dino looked down at her.

Then her eyes…

Went to…

The suitcase in his hand.

"Just the lil blonde nigga I was lookin for," he said, "I need a favor."