Was hashing out the cat puke short story my brother sent me, the one featured at Bathrobes R Us. You know, the 400 word tribute to bad writing that I commented upon. The one titled Let's Go, You and I, and so I sat down and thought of what would be a cool thing to write about that had something to do with PJ's incredible fixation with THE-INTERNET, and bad short stories, so here goes nothin'. (Took longer to spell check than to write, and sorry, no cat puke.)
SPECIAL ORDERS DON'T UPSET US
Cathy grumped to herself as she pulled the covers over her head but whoever was at the door kept knocking, and it'd be better to send them on their way then try and sleep through such a racket.
She yawned even wider after seeing the clock's glowing announcement that it was only 7:00 AM, and threw on a bathrobe to toss the bloody bastard down the steps for awakening her so early. If it was Jim he was a dead man and nothing would stop her from throwing her brother out a window because if she'd told him once she'd told him a thousand times...never before noon on a Sunday, and to hell with what the rents said about spending the day together.
God, but the apartment was a mess, and she promised herself she'd take the time to tidy up but last night was so weird...what was the name of that website again? Dark Tidings, Bidding's, something like that. But it was Goth, TRUE Goth and not something by some middle aged poser trying to get in chicks pants by pretending he knew what the Goth experience was really all about. There was one dude who obviously had no clue, there always is, somebody calling himself Prince something or Lord Somebody, and it was always a dead giveaway because the true Goths stopped using such lame titles years ago.
She finally shut him up by telling him it'd be cool for them to hookup sometime but like she'd give some weird old dude her digits or god-forbid, the address.
Even on her tiptoes it was hard to see through the peephole and when she did all that was visible was a...bowtie? Some tuxedo looking tie or whatever and the guy had to be tall and holy shit, was Robin coming over today with her fiance? They were supposed to be looking for Tux's for the guys in the wedding party but that was next weekend wasn't it and why would...oh hell...
"Hi." Cathy said as she peeked past the security chain at the tall dark-haired man standing outside her door. "Can I help you?"
"Cathy? How wonderful you look even newly awakened." The man said, and in one of those voices that reminded her of people trying to imitate whoever that old actor was that did the voice for Darth Vader.
"May I come in?"
"Ah, look, mister," Cathy replied, "it's early and I don't know you and you're obviously at the wrong apartment...how'd you know my name..."
"We met online, Cathy. Goth Tidings, don't you remember?" The tall man asked.
"I talked to a lot of people, " Cathy answered, growing truly angry now that she was finally waking up "And even if I did say hi or something it doesn't give you the right to stalk me and come to my apartment."
"Oh but it does, my dear it does," the man replied as he tore the chain from it's moorings with a casual flick of his long fingers.
"You invited me in." he continued as she backed away in horror, "And while it was a chilly night for flying it was invigorating as well."
"And I usually take a day of respite myself, but you were so very wishing to meet a true creature of the night and sounded so charming that I could not resist.
"Most so-called modern conveniences I can easily dismiss, but this Internet is quite amazing, is it not?"
No comments:
Post a Comment