Shock Therapy

City on Fire! is updating which means quick_defeat now owes her money :O

You know, it’s not every day I get mauled just for stepping outside of my car. I must remember to write this down in some sort of diary or something.

“V! V! V! V! V!” Shae chanted as she proceeded to pin me to the hood of my car in a glomp. Only Shae doesn’t breath when she’s excited, so it came out more like “Veeveeveeveeveeveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“Get OFF me, Skittlebrain!” I shrieked at her.

She smirked. “Taste my rainbow, ho.”

I debated whether or not licking her face was the correct response to this, but knowing Shae she’d probably be more turned on than grossed out and then I’d spend even MORE time pinned to the hood of the car.

“Oh hey, crazy hobo chick’s here,” Frank, who was somewhere to Shae’s left, remarked casually.

Shae’s grinned widened. “DID YOU KNOW YOUR GRANDFATHER WAS A SERIAL KILLER?!”

Cackling with glee, I finished. “AND YOUR GRANDMOTHER WAS A HOBO?!!”

This made her laugh so hard she let go of me and I sunk to the ground, laughing so hard tears were leaking out of my eyelids by the time Holly got out of the car.

“Do I want to know?” she asked Frank.

“Probably not,” he replied.

“WHY YOU HATIN’ON MAH HOBO LOVIN’???” Shae demanded. She blinked. “Hey wait a minute, V, aren’t you supposed to be about a gazillon miles away from here getting slashed in the throat?”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeah about that,” I said. Fortunately Melody came out of the bus right then, because we are Brain Twins and therefore she has excellent timing.

“IT IS MAH LUCY!” she declared, hurling herself at me. Oh will the Les Yay never cease…

“OOOF!” I said as I was once again hurled to the windshield of my vehicle. I had a feeling “ooof” was going to wind up being my word of the day at the rate I was getting hurled against stuff.

“Okay, seriously,” Frankie said as Melody proceeded to huggle me until I was certain my scrawny little ribcage would break, “I am all for this random not-quite girl-on-girl PDA; I would just like to get one thing straight here. They call you Lucy, V, Bubbles, Champegene, Broadway Geek, and several other stuffs. Just what exactly is your real name, woman?”

“It keeps changing!” I tried to say; Mel was still cutting off oxygen to your wind pipe.

“Okay, but what do people CALL you?” he demanded.

I shrugged, trying to squirm my way out of Melody’s clutches. “Whatever they call me,” I explained. “Some people call me one thing, other’s another. It sounds weird whenever somebody uses someone else’s name for me, so I just let them call me whatever they want. Or feel like. Or something. It’s just always been that way.”

Clearly weirded out but not altogether squicked, Frankie inspected me closely. Or as closely as he could with a faux-emo chick currently hugging me senselessly and therefore obscuring most of my body from view. “So I can call you…anything I want?” he asked slowly.

I narrowed my eyes. “Within reason,” I growled. Shae, for her part, smacked him on the arm.

“Bad Frankie,” she scolded. “Stop trying to understand V’s quirks and start paying more attention to important things, like me.”

Which is how, in the end, Shae and Frankie ended up on the hood of my car, their tongues presumably entangled in each other’s mouths. Joy.