Again, sorry for the long wait. Things get a little weird as we begin the first of three dream sequences. First up is Amy: Her role in this thing has become more intense then I originally envisioned. The dream picks up the girls' argument before Sheldon interrupted. Sort of. Anyway, I own none of the artists, songs, or characters that appear in this chapter, and I can't tell you how hard it was to sit through Britney's video in preparation for this chapter. But at least you know why it took so long to write it...
"Tack nobelkomittens medlemmar för denna prestigefyllda utmärkelse..."
Amy drew in a breath and released it slowly as she watched Sheldon begin his acceptance speech in the native Swedish tongue. From her location off of the stage in the Stockholm City Hall, she could see him, resplendent and regal in his custom-tailored tuxedo, his hair combed to the side in that adorable yet fashionable way, and the crisp, confident gestures that always indicated that he was in his element. Her breath quivered when she considered the broad shoulders and the large, articulate hands that now gestured some deep scientific truth to the attentive crowd. They're really eating this up, she thought to herself, and realized that she too was enjoying the abundant repast that was Dr. Sheldon Cooper, PhD, Nobel Laureate. Like an all-you-can-eat Scientific Genius Buffet, she mused, licking her sable lips.
She shifted her weight in her six-inch platforms, their black diamond studs reflecting the dim light of the room adjoining the main hall. She had went with her one-strap little black dress with the crimson sequins for this evening, as she wanted to make a grand impression without being gaudy or overly ostentatious. She tugged lightly at her platinum wig for the hundredth time, careful not to loosen the pins holding the five-spiked crown that seemed to be protruding out of her cranium. She hoped that the LCD lights that illuminated the spikes would work, as they had been a last-minute change from the live raven she had planned coming out with. Oh my God, she started, batting her long false eyelashes with the heavy red eye shadow. Am I too dark? Too funereal?, she fretted, her stoic chin not betraying her internal terror. Of course, this could be our funeral, she mused, looking out of the cracked door to the crowd.
The crowd snickered with polite laughter as Sheldon told one of his patented cornball physics jokes, rendered even more banal when translated into the local dialect. It's too late, he's bombing, I need to make my entrance now. She nodded to the lighting director she'd bribed with 10,000 Euros, who cut the house lights and turned the spotlight to stage right.
Sheldon jerked his head in that awkward way he always did when caught off guard, and creased his forehead as he tried to see who was interrupting his grand moment. Amy crossed the threshold of the doorway, and his mouth formed a terrified "O" as she stared brazenly into his eyes and sang,
"Rah rah ah-ah-ah!
Ro-mahro-mah-mah!
Gaga ooh-la-la!
Want your BAD ROMANCE!"
She strutted like a panther into the light, followed closely by six large backup dancers, all of them dressed like birds of prey. The crowd gasped, but the sound was drowned out by the backup track that was booming from the antiquated PA system. She continued, locked in on his face, staring unblinkingly into his eyes through white contact lenses she had donned in lieu of her usual spectacles. He began twitching and grimacing, his shock turning into anger as she neared him.
"I want your ugly, I want your disease," She sang to him, stopping inches in front of him. Her high heels enabled her to look him straight in the eyes, which were wild with panic and rage.
"I want your love," she continued. "Love, love, love, I want your love!" With the last word she threw her hand up and stopped the music, her dancers freezing in various positions.
"Sheldon," she said, her face still with smoldering eyes. "For ten years I've waited for your romance. Any romance—good, bad, or otherwise. And now that you've achieved your life's goal, I want to lay claim to my prize—your body."
With that, she wrapped her arm around his neck, pulled him aggressively down from the dais and engulfed his mouth with her lips, thrusting her tongue into his gaping orifice. For ten long seconds, she tasted the warm wetness therein, entwining her mouth with his until she pulled out, making his lips smack. She gasped, then let her face slowly curl into a satisfied grin. "Mmmm," she purred, licking her chops. "Mommy like, Doctor…"
She was about to jump back into the chorus when an antiquated telephone rang in her ear. She reached up to wireless mic that doubled as a Bluetooth and tapped the side. "Hello?" she snapped, annoyed with the interruption.
The voice on the other end crackled, "It's Penny, Bitch."
The main doors in the back of the hall burst open, and the PA roared to life with the distorted bass notes of a techno beat as the crowd divided. The spotlight shifted to the figure of a blonde girl in what looked like black lace underwear, strutting down the center of the room, followed by a compliment of leather-clad hip-hop dancers. Her eyes locked in on the stage, honing in on the Nobel Prize-winning scientist.
"Every time they turn the lights down, just wanna go that extra mile for you," Penny rapped, slowing her strut as she approached the platform. "You got my display of affection, feels like no else in the room but you." She stopped, and began shaking her hips and grinding two of the dancers.
"Whore!" Amy shouted, but her words were drowned out by the deafening track. Sheldon squirmed free from her grasp and back away from the podium and toward the back wall. She tried to follow him but her feet got twisted and she fell down, sequins and lights flying in all directions, taking the dancer dressed like a vulture to the ground with her.
Now Penny moved toward Sheldon as she purred in her raunchiest tone, "Gimme, Gimme More, Gimme, Gimme More!" Amy's dancers helped her back on her feet, as Sheldon screamed and backed away from the two women, his face twisted in horror. Penny continued swaying suggestively toward the physicist, and Amy suddenly felt frozen as Penny reached out and grabbed Sheldon, pushing her body into his and onto the wall.
"The center of attention, even when we're up against the wall," Penny rasped, shoving him hard with her hands, her leg pinned against his thigh. "You got me in a crazy position. If you're on a mission you got my permission…"
The music stopped, and Penny licked her lips and moaned, "I see you…and I just can't control myself." She devoured his face with hers, caressing, nibbling, burying him with passionate kisses, holding his head in her hands even as she pressed the full weight of her figure against him.
Amy growled under breath and rushed up to the couple, grabbing the blonde by the shoulder and whipping her around. "Get your skanky ass off of my man!" she bellowed, then pushed Penny to the floor, shocking the crowd.
Sheldon took the opportunity for freedom and ran crying out of the other side of room. "You women are insane! Where's Meemaw? MEEMAW!" He disappeared into the hallway on the opposite side of Amy's entrance.
Amy stood over Penny, her fists clenched and teeth bared. Already, the room was building with noise as the two dance crews started slapping and kicking each other. Penny looked up, and through gritted teeth hissed, "He doesn't want you, Amy. He wants a real woman who knows how to take a man and please him. He wants ME!" She sprang up and grabbed Amy's wig, ripping it off with the crown. The crowd gasped as Amy's graying tresses were now exposed.
Amy reached out and grabbed Penny at her side, pulling what appeared to be her tight abdomen, but with a ripping sound her belly expanded with a grotesque flop. Amy smiled as she held the flesh-colored girdle high in the air.
"We've both gotten older waiting for him," Amy sneered. "But how can an old bimbo like you love the Nobel prize winner?"
"My eating and drinking might have caught up with me," Penny laughed, shifting heavily on her feet. "But I know the quickest way to a man's heart is his crotch. And no matter how big my butt gets," she said, her rear end blowing its restraints and suddenly doubling in size. "I can still rock any man's world. Even Dr. Whack-A-Doodle!"
"HE'S MINE!" Amy bellowed, throwing herself at Penny in a rage. The two women grabbed each other's arms and started slapping each other, grabbing and pulling each other, ripping fabric, pulling hair, and snagging flesh. The crowd began to rumble and cheer as someone shouted, "Tjejslagsmål!"
Suddenly, Amy felt something small and hard splash against her cheek. She thought it was blood, but then she looked at Penny and saw a purple trickle down the side of her face. Then two more hard drops of fluid, and the two of them stopped their struggle. Penny reached into her torn hair and pulled out a small blue ball. She looked at it oddly, then popped it in her mouth.
"A blueberry?" Penny scoffed, still chewing. "What the—"
Suddenly, a groaning sound could be heard from the ceiling. More berries dropped in a steady shower. Amy and Penny looked up and had just enough time to scream "Oh Sh—" before the giant wave of blueberries crashed down on them, burying them alive…
Amy flailed her arms awkwardly as her eyes cracked open to see the darkness of Penny's room, illuminated by the digital clock which said 3:35. Her arms were moving in space, which told her she was alone in the bed. She groaned, half-conscious and hung over, wondering where Penny was. It was just as well. She'd just had a mash-up war with her best friend over her boyfriend's tentative affections, culminating in a blueberry avalanche. Groaning again, she closed her eyes and pulled the pillow over her head.
No Bestie Slumber Party after all, she thought to herself as she tried to shut out the pain in her head.