| Steven Vega wrote a story about me hahahhahahah..... |
[Nov. 20th, 2007|10:39 am] |
It was several weeks since Virgil induced, unknowingly of course, the suicide of Mrs. Contreras Cruz. And in said weeks, he had convinced a Christian he was gay, planted the seed for misogyny in a future lesbian, and manipulated a straight-laced straight-edge into a soon-to-be addiction to coke (and later speed-based ecstasy (though no one did care (and so, maybe in foresight, neither did he))). To Virgil, lies were like candy, and his sweet tooth proved insatiable, despite the damages caused. In most cases like Virgil's, he would have merely continued on, unabated in his destructive untruths until the path of dishonesty caught up with him. And maybe, playing into this logic, or maybe by a mere stroke of fate, or maybe due to the randomness of the universe, he was found at the mercy of one individual. Her name was Carly. And he was utterly taken in by the sights sounds and smells of said person. It was not these tangible or perceivable traits that lured him in so. No. That would be a simple conquest in which he would find himself satisfied through the simplest of machinations. It was more trying than that. There first conversation, sometime after they had graduated (they being of the same graduating class at the same pre-post-secondary-institutional-incarnation of learning) occurred when he had spotted her at an absolutley uninspiringly drab and bland coffee shop. She had always worn that dark lipstick that he was always so secretly fond of. He had gone in to try his hand, virginally, at conning a small business into a lawsuit that he would undoubtedly win. The coffee being "too hot" would scald him to the point of emotional complexity, on which he would base his lawsuit, and deter him completely from drinking coffee altogether. Had he stuck with this original plan, he might have ended up a thousandaire much sooner in life. But as it was, and as such is, he spotted Carly sipping from a dim and dank paper cup what appeared to be tea (but may as well have been mead considering what happened next). He knew her from awhile back. But he could not place her specifically. So, abandoning his course of legal calamity, he sat next to her. She looked up from her vacant stare previously fixed on the table in front of her and promptly returned to it without so much as a curious word as to why he had sat there.
The next few moments passed in ceremonious silence.
"Hi. I think we--" Virgil started.
"Say one more word and I'll have your balls for breakfast." the unknown beauty retorted. And though I'd like, as your kind narrator, to continue, I find it an appropriate time to comment on the physicality of the situation, if, for no other reason, to justify and explain the main character's sudden infatuation with a complete stranger. She was a fierce and lonely beauty. Clad in black; her blouse and pants both; both clinging strikingly to her finest features. Her full bodied figure, thighs, breast, and frame fleshed out in a polyester mold that left little to the imagination in way of seductive contours. Her face, fair complected, was adorned in oh-so-much unnecessary--but nonetheless complimentary--make up. Eyes shadowed and cheeks blushed to perfection. Her expression a staunch "fuck you" though hiding a secret "listen to me" attitude. Her lithe, yet proportionate arms crossed delicately--as if sculpted with the uttermost care--just underneath her bosom; one hand ambivalently cradling a cigarette.
"Listen, I'm sorry but, maybe if I--"
"What's your fucking problem? Did you hear me? I'll make you a woman, fuck you, and make you my bitch if you don't fucking step off right the fuck now." The indignant, yet undeniably lovely tart, retorted.
Virgil was posed with an indelibly, but infuriating crossroads. Either give up all attempts at wooing, or at least conniving this woman into conversation, or carry on with little to no results in any respect of the action of talking to a woman. Being a staunch believer in his abilities (at least ever since Mrs. Contreras-Cruz [see previous blogs for the reference]), he tarried forward.
"You're not as much a cunt as I think you want me to think you are." Virgil told the woman.
Carly, not so much taken aback as intrigued at the statement approached Virgil as he was leaving the coffee shop. She grabbed his arm, jerking him towards her, so that he would face her.
"What's your deal," Carly demanded.
"I just asked you a question. And then, I told you what I thought."
Carly considered this before smiling devilishly and spouting, "Okay. So why did you talk to me in the first place?"
Virgil, piqued, responded, "You looked interesting."
Carly punched Virgil in the kidneys as good as any prizefighter, kissed just below the ear and whispered, "So, tell me another lie." |
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