Yay, second chapter of Half Kittykat and Half Laugh!!

Ok, so far, children wise (there are a few peoples whose parents I don't want to reveal just yet, i.e. it is the shock value of finding out on some peoples, hehe)

Sophie: Jas and Tom

Fiona: Nauseating P Green and Phil the Nerd. Maybe. Or Spotty Norman, haven't decided. Yes, I know, she wouldn't have the surname Green but hey ho, what to do,

Vicky: Ellen…and Declan perhaps?

Lucy Matthews: Jackie (half of the bummer twins) and I don't know. Mystery man, probably. One nighter.

Luke Knightly: The Dame (Damion Knightly) and ???

That's it so far, I think.


The Flab Dance

Boxing Day

11.00am

Sophie called. Apparently one of the boys from last night (Jack) seemed to rate her and asked her out to a date. She was all feverish and high pitched and excited. I asked her where, because the way she was talking you would think they were going to the bloody Ritz or something. She said that they were off to McDonalds. Honestly. Trés Romantico. Not.

I asked her whether her parents would approve; it is not like they do organic free range cheese burger at Mackey-D's. She said she doesn't care. I think she thinks she's a rebel.

1 minute later

Someone should tell her she isn't. She was the one that scored top marks in the last French test. That is not what I call a rebel.

Sophie's House

I found myself at Sophie's house helping her choose outfits for her gobsmackingly romantic date at Mackey-D's. Her Elderly Insane were downstairs working in the grocery shop. It smells divine down there, like an orchard…or a farm field just without the manure.

Our house always smells of what ever Mum decided to burn.

3 minutes later

Not to say she's a pyromaniac. She can't cook. Neither can dad for that matter.

1 minute later

Sophie was trying on a skirt about half an inch long. I asked her whether she stole it from a two year old. She got all huffy and puffy and red and ludicrous. I put my arm around her and I said, "Aw, don't be mad, Soph, I was only saying that, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like a prostitute in that skirt,"

That is when she stamped on my toes.

1 minute later

Note to self. Keep away from Sophie when she is wearing shoes. Owwwww.

Midday

Sophie's Mum came up from the shop downstairs. She's all smiley and normal but she has got an alarming fringe. She had left over mince pies from yesterday. Which she had made. Not Supermarket crap like we get at home. Which taste like socks.

Well, actually I wouldn't know because Harry ate the whole lot. He always eats everything. Even my dinner if a) Mum managed to cook and b) I didn't get downstairs in time to claim it. I am surprised I haven't died of malnutrition. I tried complaining about him to Mum and Dad but they always say he is a 'growing boy and needs his food'.

I wonder whether anyone ever said that Beth is a growing girl and needs her food.

2 minutes later

Probably not. And that will be why I am so short.

1 minute later

Still discussing Skirt Antics.

10 minutes later

We decided on a white off-the-shoulder top with ballet style pumps. I lost skirt-antics-wise. I tried to tell Sophie that no boy who would want her to look like she was fresh from a Brothel but there was no avail. She said, "Au contraire, petite chumlette, I think that is exactly what boys like,"

I scoffed bitterly.

She said, "Exactly how many boyfriends have you had Beth?"

I said, "Um…er," She had me there.

She said, "Exactly, boys like the more feminine look in a girl,"

I felt like I was going to explode, "What are you implying Sophie Jennings-if-that-is-your-real-name??-

"Yes, that is my real name,"

I ignored her. I said, "I can't believe you are saying I am masculine!"

She said, "I am not saying that. I am just saying that maybe you should wear skirts more often,"

I said 'Hmp'. I would have stormed out. But there was still some mince pies left and they were going eat me! eat me!

Yum, yum.

15 minutes later

Sophie made me put on one of her skirts and we sat on the wall outside the groceries. She was trying to prove her point that boys prefer girls in skirts to girls in jeans i.e. see how many lads would beep at us in their cars and such forth. More likely they will offer us money. And I don't mean the charitable sort.

I said that to her, I said, "People will start offering us money,"

She said, "I could do with a new pair of shoes,"

I looked at her in disbelief.

She said, "I am only joking, Beth,"

I said, "How can your parents let you out like that? They seem decent enough folk at least compared to mine. Surely they wouldn't want you wondering the streets as a tart,"

She said, "Oh, they don't have a problem with it. Mum said I can wear what I want skirt-wise, as long as I am wearing big knickers,"

I just looked at her.

She said, "I don't though,"

I was shocked in the most shocked way possible. I said, "You don't wear knickers?!"

She said, "Don't be dim, Beth, I mean I wear little knickers. Would you like to see?"

"No thanks, you Lez-"

Too late. Far too late.

1 minute later

Sophie keeps going on and on and on and on and on about her date tonight.

She said, "Jack was talking to me for ages. Did you see him? He was the one with the dark messy hair, the good looking one. Oh, come on, Beth! You must have seen him. He was really good looking, he was quite literally the best looking boy there,"

Au contraire. I beg to differ. I cannot imagine anyone better looking than Mr. Gorgeous but I didn't say this.

She carried on, "Anyway, Jack was dancing with me too, and he is a marvy dancer. We swapped numbers at the end of the night. He wanted to walk me home but I pretended I was getting picked up because I didn't want him to see I lived above a veggie shop. You don't think he'd go off me if he knew, would you?"

I mumbled something about it being who you are that counts. I should be a philosopher I am that deep.

She didn't notice my sudden philosophical-ness and carried on, "No, you are quite right aren't you? He likes me because I am me and it is because I am me he likes me, isn't that right?"

I just nodded even though I haven't got the faintest idea what she is talking about.

She carried on, "There was also this other lad Gary or Gareth or something that seemed to like me but he wasn't as good looking as Jack. You know, I think I am quite literally a babe magnet,"

I said, "Well, boys like me too,"

She wasn't listening. I could tell. Because I am bat woman.

I said, looking for a reaction, "There was this boy called Luke who snogged me under some mistletoe,"

She came out of Sophie-land and said, "Are you sure you didn't imagine it? I can't think why any boy in his right mind would kiss you,"

Home

I am not talking to Sophie.

She is very mean and so I stormed off. To let her contemplate her misdeeds. I can only be pushed so far. As Buddha said, "An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind' she has wounded my mind and must go and be attacked by wildebeest or something- god, I am getting far too philosophical today. I must have a mad dance to calm down.

10 minutes later

I CANNOT BLOODY BELIEVE IT!!! IT IS UNBELIVABLE THAT IS WHY!!

I am going to KILL Harry.

20 minutes later

Typico. Flipp-dipping Typico. I only pushed Harry down the stairs yet you would think by the way Mum and Dad reacted I'd attempted murder on him. They went ballistic. Even Dad. Which is rather like watching a cat not land on four feet i.e. it doesn't happen very often but it is hilarious to watch- mostly because he is not very good at it. Mum is though. I thought she was going to have to be taken to a secure unit.

I think pushing Harry down the stairs is perfectly acceptable pay-back for playing football with his mates in my bedroom but no one really cares about that. They are all too busy fussing over Harry. It is not like he has hurt himself. All the times I have forced to get violent with him has toughened him up. But of course he had to play it up for all he was worth and he was going, "Owww, I think I might have brain damage, where am I? Where am I? I can't walk, owwww, I think I may have broken my neck,"

But Mum and Dad didn't say 'stop pretending you silly moose'. Instead they were going, "Aaaaw, are you ok, love, come on, it's ok," and Dad picked him up to take him into the living room so they can put the pwecious invalid on the sofa. Harry stuck his tongue out at me from over Dad's shoulder.

I hate him so much.

2 minutes later

The short and short but also the long of it is that I am grounded.

Not that it matters, it is not that I have a life. Or anywhere to be. My best friend is a wannabe prostitute who is also a wildebeest(…or something) and my other so called mates may as well be dead to me because I have not be rung and apart from one tragic mishap I am invisible to the eyes of boys. And Harry's football has knocked my curtain pole down onto my bed but I am too depressed to move it.

Is there point in being alive?

5.50pm

Yessssss! I have just got a phone call from Vicky and she says that she and Fiona are going to the Christmas Fair thing that was set up on the park and would I like to go?

Er, YES.

2 minutes later

Now to persuade the Guard Dogs (Mum and Dad) that I must go out tomorrow…

6.00pm

But not quite yet. I went downstairs to have words but they were all over each other like a rash. It was extremely disgusting. It is the sort of things that I am going to have to have some sort of Brain Transplant in later life for.

I still feel sick about finding out about 'Kittykat'.

7.00pm

Put my curtain pole back up. I am literally Mrs. McFix-it. Which is probably a good job because knowing my luck I will never end up married and I will have to do all the DIY. Or I will be married to a lazy sod who just lies on the sofa and burps and farts.

8.30pm

In order to soften Mum up for tomorrow, I sat with her downstairs and watched X Factor with her. I like it because of the singing. She likes it because she reckons one of the boy singers are groovy bananas. It is appalling. Good job Dad isn't in here with us.

We have banned him from watching it with us because he only watches the auditions so he can laugh at the people who can't sing then gets bored and talks over the good bits.

Or tries to sing along which is horrific.

I can hear him and Harry (who, incidentally, has obviously forgotten he was on the verge of death) in the kitchen trying to do their idea of singing. It is awful. But so is Mum's if you get her going.

It is certainly not them I get my talents from. I reckon I am a changeling child.

2 minutes later

I have decided that I am going to audition for the X Factor when I am old enough. I am sure I will get through. Although knowing my luck I will end up in Louis' group. I would rather end up in Simon's Group. There is something quite Phooooar about him.

Even if he is about a hundred. And is quite mean.

5 minutes later

I told Mum that I would audition and she just laughed at me and got up. Which, personally, I find trés laughable indeed considering the sized of her breasts-nunga nungas as I supposed she fondly calls them. But I didn't say anything because I do like living.

Sunday 27th December

11.00am

Operation: Soften-Mum-and-Dad-up-so-I-can-go-out commences!

I got up at the crack of dawn for my day of good doing and brownie-point-earning and so forth. And also forth so.

15 minutes later

Went up to Mum first. She was ironing. Well 'ironing' i.e. she moans that she is slavey-girl and makes everything more creased than it already is.

I let her moan on at me for a bit and then I said, "Mum, I think you are a little too hard on yourself, why not have a bit of a sit down, put your feet up and I'll do the ironing,"

She said, "You will ruin it, Beth, and that is le fact,"

I looked at the shirt she was ironing. It had a big burn hole in the back. I don't think I could quite frankly ruin it more than she has but I didn't say this. I smiled a big smiley smile like a sweet smiling innocent daughter who doesn't want anything or isn't trying to soften up her parents. Then I said, "Oh, mum, you are such a teaser! How about you sit down and I'll make you a nice cup of coffee, instead, people as old and senile as you shouldn't work themselves too hard,"

She said, "Oh, yes, please, I am vair vair tired, that will be trés nice Beth," and she went to sit down.

Then, just as I turned the kettle on she came back in saying, "What do you mean someone as old and senile as me???"

Ooops.

3 minutes later

Jesusss, Mum can get so ratty it is unbelievable like the most unbelievable thing possible. Over the smallest thing. I said to calm her down, "Mum, I don't think it is wise for a woman of your age to get so mad. It may be bad blood pressure wise,"

And she hit the roof.

(Not literally).

Midday

Will try the coffee-trick on Dad. He is probably a softer target than mum. I can usually more or less bully him into what I want.

Ho hum, ho hum, I am quite literally angel girl, boily water, stirry coffee, putty milky in, nicey nicey.

6 minutes later

Gave Dad the coffee. He said, "Alright, what do you want?"

Am I that transparent?

I decided to play it coolio, "Oh, Dad, you cheeky thing. Of course I'm not after anything. I'm just being nice and making you a cof-"

"What do you want?"

"To be let out tonight!!! Pllllleeeeaaaassseee, I'll be grounded an extra day in return! Please??"

He didn't say anything but just looked at the ceiling. I thought he was thinking so I kept quiet. And then he went over to the window and looked out.

I said, "Um? Dad?"

He kept looking out. Like he was looking for something. So I went and had a look too. Then he went outside. And started looking at the sky like a loon. I hovered at the door for a bit then went outside. It was bloody freezing!!

I said, "Dad, what are you looking for?"

He carried on looking for a bit and then said, "Flying Pigs,"

I said, "I hate you,"

6.00pm

Since the selfish oldies that are sadly my parents are too downright and darn rootlin' tootlin' mean to let me go out and have what I fondly call a life I am just going to go out and NOT TELL THEM!!!

I am a genius!!

7.00pm

Getty ready Getty ready.

I am wearing my jeans and red tshirt. And a hoodie. And a coat. And scarf. And gloves. And a hat. Because it is cold and that is a fact.

I mean it. I think I may have a touch of pneumonia coming after following Dad outside after the flying pigs HILARIOUS (not) gimmick.

I bet Miss. Wannabe Prostitute will wear one of her ridiculous skirts. I bet she will freeze to death. And everyone will see her tiny knickers on the rides.

I dithered a little bit whether to wear the make up I got for Christmas. I mean, as much as I don't like it I might bump into Mr. Gorgeous again.

But then I thought what is the point?? It is dark and stuff and knowing me I will get it smudged all over my face. And then tomorrow I will be a lurker farm.

8.30pm

I have my bribe money that I got off Dad for spendies on tickets and such.

I waited until Mum and Dad were too busy erm, you know, snogging and stuff (Erlack, you'd have thought they'd grown out of it by now) and slunk out the house. Yesssssssssssss, I am ninja girl of the night.

14 minutes later

Met Fiona and Vicky outside Fiona's. Fiona said her mum might have one of those bands put in her stomach to stop her eating because she is bordering on morbidly obese. Although Fiona can talk; she's a little podgy herself. I told her that. She said she's just cuddly and did a dance called the Flab Dance which made me laugh like mad even if it was a little disgusting.

But then Vicky started talking about her hypochondriac-y mum and they both spoke health and medicine and so forth and forth so and I felt a little left out. In fact, I was nearly glad to see Miss. Prozzie Knickers.

Almost.

She was with that Jack who took her own the romantic date of the century for a burger and fries. He was kind of good looking, if you like the dishy dark sort.

I like the moppy brown hair mysterious stranger sort.

The Fair

We got to the fair. There were quite a few of those spinny rides that go ready fast with flashing lights and loads of those stalls like hook-a-duck and fling-a-frog and stuff.

I wanted to go on the rides but Vicky wanted to go on Hook-a-Duck (because she wanted an inflatable hammer) and Sophie and Jack wanted to get candyfloss and giant lollies and stuff. Fiona wasn't talking to anyone, she was just Flab Dancing to the music of one of the rides.

4 minutes later

Sophie won and we got candyfloss. I can't stand candyfloss, it is like eating sticky cotton wool but everyone likes it so it's hard to say no.

Sophie and Jack were sharing theirs. It was so sad.

9.15pm

I was still nagging to go on a ride. I mean, what is the point of coming here if you aren't going to go on the rides? You might as well go to a candyfloss shop. Or stay at home.

I risked life and limb to be here and I am probably going to be slaughtered when I get back home so I must enjoy my last taste of freedom.

1 minute later

Why will no one go on a ride??

I asked Fiona and she said she didn't like fast rides so I asked Vicky but she says that her Hypochondriac Mother says that rides can cause Brain Damage or something.

There was no point asking Sophie. She was all girly and drooly over Jack. If you say anything to her she just smiles at you stupidly. It is sooo obvious that she hadn't heard a word.

3 minutes later

Stuff it. I am going to go on a ride on my owny if my so called mates don't want to have fun.

They hung around outside the ride and I queued up. It was one of those that swing you around really really fast in little pod things. I did start to feel a little sick when I was getting on but I wasn't going to let them see. I was doing the waving and you-are-missing-out type thing. That is why I didn't bother turning around when this lad said, "There's no other seats, can I sit by you?"

I just said, "Yeah," and carried on sticking my tongue out and so forth and forth so at the others.

Then the lad said, "Hey, don't I know you??"

I turned around. Oh buggeration.

It was whosit…my-name-is-Luke-Knightly. Mistletoe boy.

Grrrrrrrrrrrreat.

Getting off the ride.

4 minutes later

God, I think I may have brain damage. I couldn't walk in a straight line.

Literally. But of course Luke of the Mistletoe decided it was his duty as my pod-partner to hold my elbow to stop me from falling over. I wasn't that dizzy but I let him even though he did have the most crappest shaven hair.

I thought he might do the wise thing and bugger off when we got off the ride but he decided to follow us. Well, me. He just kept trying to talk to me. I tried telling him politely to get lost but he just laughed and linked arms.

What does he want??

2 minutes later

Candyfloss, that is what.

We all brought seconds of candyfloss even though I can't stand it. Luke of the Mistletoe brought mine.

Why?

11.00pm

Sophie and Jack sloped off.

The rest of us went on some more rides now my so called mates have livened up. Luke will NOT leave me alone. My mates keep raising their eyebrows. Shut up raising your eyebrows.

5 minutes later

Went on the stalls for a bit. There was a dart stall and Luke wanted a go. I bet he's crap.

3 minutes later

Oh blimey! As much as I hate to admit it, Luke is good at darts. Very good. Bordering on Very Very Very good.

1 minute later

Oh my Giddy God!! Luke has scored Top Prize!! You know, the huge teddies and stuff.

Vicky was hinting like mad for an inflatable rubber hammer (God knows why she'll need one) but Luke asked for this huge pink teddy. And gave it to me (!)

Although, I actually wanted the giant SpongeBob Square pants.

11.30pm

Vicky said, "I have to be somewhere, if you know what I mean," and she and Fiona went off. But they were looking between me and Luke like mad llamas so I knew exactly what they mean.

And that is not going to happen.

I have my giant teddy to defend myself if it does.

Midnight

Oh my Godddd! I can't believe it! It is unbelievable in the most unbelievable way that is why!!

I saw Mr. Gorgeous!!

Me and Luke of the Mistletoe were walking, and I had the giant teddy firmly between us and then he was just there, in a rides queue. God he is even more groovy close up.

He said, "Alright, Luke?"

Luke said, "Fine, thanks, how you, Ryan?"

Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryanny Ryanny Ryan. R. Y. A. N.

Ryan said, "Great thanks. How about you?"

He was talking to me. He is really quite fit looking. He had fab brown eyes and quite a big mouth. The more the merrier. I bet he is an excellent snogger. He was smoking a fag. I don't think that smoking is that nice but somehow he made it look coolio.

Then I realised about five centuries had gone past and I was just staring at him like an idiot.

I managed to get a grip (ish) and I said, "Yup, yup, finey and dandy, yes, yep,"

Everyone just looked at me.

What was I on about?

Then Ryan said, "Hey, Luke, I'm throwing a party at mine, New Year's Eve, fancy coming? You too," and he winked at me. Ohmygod, he was winking at me.

Then this pretty girl came up behind him. She is in 6th Form and she's half something or rather. And I can't remember her name. But it didn't matter!! Because I was in the presence of Mr. Gorg-

Then something terrible happened. Ryan put his arm around the girl and she was all giggly and I realised with a stab (a stab at something I think may have been my heart. Or my pancreas) that they were together.

Then Luke said, "Come on, Beth, I'll walk you home,"

I was too depressed to say no.

Walking Home

Luke kept trying to talk to me on the way back. Asking whether we should go out sometime. He is unbelievably keen. I wasn't really listening so I just said yes to shut him up. I think I may have ended up with a date on Tuesday but it can't be helped.

And what's more I don't care. My life is over.

We got to mine and he stopped and turned me so I was facing him. But I was armed with my teddy bear to stop any canoodling.

But he took the teddy off me (oi!) and put it on the wall.

Oh god, he's going to try and snog me again. And probably miss like last time.

Do I want to snog him?

No I do not. He is not Mr. Gorgeous. He is a twit, twit, twit, twit. A twit with crap shaven hair. Why does he have it like that? Does he think it's cool? It's not. It makes him look like he's been attacked by a lawn mower and-

Crap, he snogged me.

5 minutes later

I suppose it was ok. But how am I supposed to know? It was sort of my first proper snog. It's not like I know what the standard is.

Yet, I'd much rather it was Mr. Gorgeous' mouth I was attached to.

10 minutes later

I went inside my house after Luke had buggered off. It was hard to get the teddy through the door. I had to dump it in the kitchen because it was too hefty to carry through. And I was starting to feel a little sick because of all the candyfloss.

I thought I was going to suffer the Spanish Inquisition getting in but all was silent.

It makes you wonder.

3 minutes later

My supposed-to-be-guard-dogs had fallen asleep on the sofa watching TV. That is why there was no Spanish Inquisition. Dad had his head resting on mum's 'nunga-nungas'. Like they were a pillow. He ought to watch it, they are huge and his head could sink down and he could lose it in the voluminous volume of them and-

Urgh, I really do feel sick.


Lol, so there is chapter 2! I can't wait for my main plot twist to come in!!!!!!!

If you haven't read the abovey authors note, it has a list of some of the characters parents. But bear with, some I am not revealing yet. Although you may have guessed.