Greater Liberal Florida (standard:other, 5425 words)
Author: Violet	Added: Jul 04 2003	Views/Reads: 3308/2673	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Wal-Mart, Duct tape, transvestites, and love... this story has everything!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

are eight, though Marcus has the wisdom of a thirty four year old 
recluse who is at the brink of going mad and shooting everyone.  But 
Daniel can kick his arse at soccer, so it's okay. 

“Er...Lola.  Take your kids.  I have to take the third to therapy today,
remember.”  His ex says like if Barbie was fifty and could talk.  The 
third is Melvin, ruiner of guava fruits everywhere, pisser of hallways 
world wide.  I feel for poor Lola-not-Lole. 

“How goes the search for freedom kiddies?”  Delilah asks the twins,
though it is more directed at Marcus, I can tell, since Daniel has 
scrunched up his face in that ‘what the donkey?' sort of way. 

“Esta seguro,”  Marcus mumbles randomly.  Spanish.  I see.  Oh, for the
love of Cher... Dan has tripped in the disgusting mess.  “Melvin?”  
Marcus questions.   I nod.  He is not surprised. 

“Charley.  Clean.  It.  Up.”  Lola says, re-applying her lippy sticky. 
“What the name of arse were you waiting for?”  Little miss packaging 
tape to shut up, I think, but don't say. 

“Sorry, Lole.”  Glare.  “Lola, I mean.”  Lola was Lole when I was hired,
though on my first day in he was dressed as Cher. I didn't know what to 
make of it, and never processed it fully until a replacement whose tag 
said ‘hi! I'm Jennifer!' in red pen showed up, saying ‘Lola' was 
returning soon.  Lola.  Oh, I had thought.  I had not cared.  Sorry, 
feminism and Bush. 

I grab a mop and wipe up Melvin's mistake.  I pray for Lola's sake that
that thing that happened to the lead singer of ‘wham' will not happen 
to Mel in his later years.  There is little hope without help.  A 
display of duct tape knocks over at my feet.  Oh, for fuck's sake.  
There is only one roll left.  Thank you, o ‘dungeon of Laura'.  (Laura 
shops here as well, but she's just mad in general.) 

Sunday: Family therapist office.  His name is Dr. ‘call me Donald'
Rogers, and he is a donkey fuck to end all.  But mum seems to like him, 
so okay.  We press the green button and wait.  Donald emerges and takes 
us into his ‘office', some ugly green couches and a liquor cabinet. One 
of the ugly green couches has a gash covered by the aforementioned 
obsession worthy duct tape.  I see Laura's eyes roll round in their 
sockets.  Her brain whirrs  and hums.  The end result, I'd imagine, is 
‘Mmm, duct tape.”  Laura has little on her mind aside from the simple 
pleasures of taping people to chairs.  And there, she goes all out.  I 
can hear her from across the hall, trust me. 

“Hello, family!” 

“Hello, Don,”  the  parents say emphatically.   Laura and I wave lamely
and in exact synchronization.  Mum sighs ‘teenagers', and stares at Dr. 
Donald amorously.  Aaah, cause for divorce.  At least it's not dad 
making eyes at Donald (I am not a homophobe, I just have this weird 
image of him in Vegas, changing his name to ‘Lilith' and so on.) 

“Maria, lovely as always.  But I thought I told you...” 

“Oh, Donald, I know.  Jack and I were just discussing.” 

“Discussing we were, Maria,”  Dad says ala ‘Everybody loves Raymond'. 
Christ.  Laura is peeling tape.  I can almost here her thoughts.  I.e.: 
‘I can add this to my collection!  And tie up my boyfriend!  And get 
some money for the buying a ball gag fund if I work at Wal-Mart, too!'  
Don't you dare, I communicate telepathically.  The weird thing is she 
comprehends.  And retorts ‘just kidding, donkey fuck' in my general 
direction.  Not surprising.  Discussing what? 

“Glad to hear it, guys.  How are things at home?  Any sticky situations
with you and Laura?”  Hehe... that's so not funny it's almost 
hilarious.  The parents nod no slowly.  “How are you today, 
Char-o-lott-e?”  Shut up, Don, I think but don't say, before I am 
forced to use packaging tape. 

“k,”  is what I say.  Lo and behold, Laura is actually licking the tape.
 Oh, disgusting.  Adhesive poisoning: how Laura's one love put one over 
on her donkey hatin' ass.    It'll be a movie for the ages. I am 
considering who will help me make it out of my large pool of Laura 
hating friends when Dr. Don asks me what I plan to do over the summer. 

“Make a movie,”  I say.  Everyone but Laura seems interested.  D'oh. 

“What about?”  Mum asks as though it is the meaning of life. 

“Donkeys, mum,”  I say, glancing at Laura.  I add ‘and what my sister
does to them' mentally, but don't say it for fear of being responsible 
for the creation of the word ‘donkeyphile' in later years.  I'm 
innocent, damnation! 

“Oh, like the discovery channel?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wow,” Don says, “that sounds really productive, Char-o-lott-e”, even
though it does not. 

“I know.”  Laura is actually chewing the sticky bit now.  Lord. 

Leaving Doctor Don's office: we pass by my friend Davan, whose devout
catholic parents saw a Buddha statue in his room and thought he should 
be institutionalized right off the bat.   I tell him about my idea for 
a movie.  He is not impressed.  After all, he is the only one of my 
friends who on numerous occasions said ‘dude, I want to fuck your 
sister.'  He is older than Delilah or I with half the intellectual 
capacity.    Surprise, surprise, Laura hates him like poison.  Very, 
very much. 

“Is your little friend in your movie as well, dear?”  Dad asks with a
freakish amount of unbridled enthusiasm. 

“He... uh... thought it was demeaning to donkeys,”  I reply, though he
is suddenly noticing Laura's sticky little play-mate and is no longer 
paying attention.  Well, that's a bitch.  Or rather it would be if I 
gave a flying rat's arse.  As it is, I most certainly do not. 

We see Melvin and his mother approaching the building.  Except the rest
of the proverbial ‘we' are not paying attention, as two of the party 
are trying to convince the third loon to give up the tape.  Melvin  
looks exactly like his father did before the operation: tall, gangly 
and blonde. Lole had a bit of plastic surgery along with his other 
operation. ‘Lola' is Asian looking and speaks in this screwed-up high 
voice, not unlike Laura on helium.  “I saw you in the store yesterday, 
right?”  Mel's mother asks. 

“Yeah.  I was cleaning up...”  I look at Melvin, embarrassed,
“..something,”  I finish lamely.  Not that it matters, as no one in my 
company matters to me at all.  With the exception of the lunatics 
behind me, but they are  too busy talking down Laura, and don't care 
about my humiliating myself.  I don't even think they know what 
‘embarrassment' means.  Christ. 

School (the sort ‘challenged' kids go to during the summer):  Is it
really the middle of June?  Fuck.  This sucks the donkey out of doing 
the nothing I had planned to do this summer. I also really, really hate 
Delilah for understanding algebra.  Oh, well, at least I have a few of 
my friends in this class.  Most unfortunately, none of them moonlight 
as ‘mule whore'.  They are Davan and Meredith.  I should probably 
mention that they are both 16 and still do not understand the concept 
of y = mx + b.  And I have my suspicions that Meredith is a pot head.  
Don't even ask. 

“So... has Laura changed her mind yet?  Because you know, we are the
same age and all...”  she has not.  I'd best be blunt. 

“Okay, realize two things:  she is a moron and she hates you like
poison. You might want to dress as a piece of tape, though.  Or tape 
yourself up like a mummy and...” 

“Shut up!”  Meredith snaps, staring randomly into space.  I think maybe
she said it a bit too loud, but if she has no one has noticed.  Or if 
they have they don't care. 

“You really think it'll work?”  He whispers. 

“Yes...” Meredith kicks me under the table.  Monkey. 

Later:  After the teacher has droned on for about an hour on graphing
calculators and what to do with them, we get to go home.  Oh, wee.  I 
think Laura is going to start ‘experimenting' her duct-tape-related 
project on me today. 

“Want to get tied up by Laura?!”  I ask Meredith. 

“No, thanks.  But I know someone that might...”  she twitches in the
direction of Davan, the Laura-obsessed one.  That twitching can't be 
healthy. 

“Gee, thanks, merry.”  I head in the direction that she was epelepticly
twitching in only seconds earlier.  “Hey, for twenty bucks I'll let you 
have fun with Laura!” 

“Two words: hell yeah.”  Oh, okay. 

“It'll involve duct tape.” 

“Done and done.”  He hands over the twenty bucks.  “But I'd really
prefer packaging tape, so could you just ask...” 

“No.  Laura has a strong attraction to duct.” 

“I see.  Like your mother, right?”  I hope the infamous duct tape gene
won't show it's recessive head when I hit 16. 

“Exactly.  There have been incidents involving conflict of interest.” 

“Great... cat fight.”  O...Kay. 

“Donkey fuck!”  Someone says from behind me. 

“Oh, hey mule whore.”  Most unfortunately it is not the one we call mule
whore. It is Laura. 

“Okay, just for that, I'm gonna tape up your stupid little friend,
too...”  I think Davan's eyes actually roll backward in his head.  “The 
one that isn't in love with me.”  Goodbye, twenty bucks.  Parting is 
such sweet sorrow.  “Unless he want's to pay for my services, of 
course.  I charge 30 dollars to tie up people who are below me... 
please, don't think that.” 

“How did she know?”  He whispers. 

“Magic,”  Laura snickers.  “That's how I heard what you just said to
Donkey fuck over there.  It's too bad you're not related to me... you 
could get tied up for free.”   I have an adept ability for reading 
peoples thoughts, especially when they are ‘incest is highly 
over-rated'.  Excuse me while I vomit.  The image was vile as it was, 
thanks. 

“What do you think our kids would look like?”  He mutters
enthusiastically. 

“Don't go there.  Please, god, don't go there.” 

“Okay.  But I'm charging 10 bucks. Just for shutting up.  And I'm
keeping the twenty, too.”  For.  Fuck's.  sake. 

“No, Davan!  I am not paying you to not mention it.  And if you think I
am, you are sadly mistaken.  Sorry, gotta go.  I've got a date with 
some packaging tape and Laura... please. Don't. think. That.”  And I 
follow  Laura into the concrete jungle. 

Home, Monday afternoon.  And duct tape covered, no less: “Laura, why
don't you like him?” 

“He is below me, donkey fuck.  And no, not that way.  I am my own class
of people.  And I don't care what your little friend thinks about me.  
Get it.  Got it.  Good.”  With that she places a chunk of gray tape 
over my mouth. 

The phone is ringing.  Laura picks it up expectantly, though her face
suddenly falls.  “Oh, hi Davan. She's busy fucking a donkey right now.  
Call back later, cutie pants.”  She hangs up laughing hysterically.  
And I can hear his thoughts from across town, too.  ‘She called me 
cutie pants!  Gurgle'. 

“You're messing with my friend's mind, bitch!”  I say from under the
tape.  What comes out, though, is “mm mmff ftt bttch!” 

“I know, aren't I a ftt bttch, Charlotte?” 

“Laura Darcey!”  Mum yells from the other room, “Where is the tape?  In
heaven's name, where did you put it?” 

“Um...” RRRRIIIPPP.... “Here it is, mommy!”  She shoves the roll under
the door after ripping off a big honking third of it for later use. 

“Thank you,”  mum says grudgingly, unsuspecting of the foul play on the
other side of the wooden barrier.  AKA Laura ‘practicing' inappropriate 
tactics on a family member. 

Later:  After I am finally out of the clutches of ‘sir snidely Laura',
as Delilah has so keenly put it, the phone rings.  “Hullo?” 

“Laura?”  The expectant voice is none other than Davan. 

“Hey, cutie pants.”  Silence.  I am afraid he has fainted.  “Oh, you
wish, Davan!  It's Charley.” 

“Oh, hi donkey fuck.” I hate you for not being Laura, he thinks but does
not say. 

“Look, hate it all you want, but she doesn't like you like that.  She
doesn't like you at all.” 

“Yes, I know.  But I want, need and can not live without her.”  He
whimpers.  “I'll keep dreaming my big city dreams!” 

“Shut up, stupid.” 

“Put her on the phone?  Tell her it's cutie pants.” 

“Yeah, okay, Davan...  LAURA DARCEY BURKE!” 

“Mom, I don't even have the fucking tape!”  She yells back at me. 

“Dude.  Phone for you.” 

“Oh.  Gimme it.”  I do.  “Hello?”  Pause.  “Cutie... what?  Fuck off,
asshole!”  Slam.  “Don't let him call me, donkey fuck!  It's bad enough 
he visualizes me naked every time I see him, do I really want to...” 

“No.  You don't.  I'm sorry.”  I precede to call him back up and tell
him that she wants him too and is only playing hard to get as the 
angels sing heavenly choir in his Laura-centered brain.  Oh, goody.  
Payback time is now, bitch. 

Oh, shit, I need to go to work. 

Wal-Mart: “Cleanup in aisle ten!  Cleanup in aisle ten, Charley!”  I
saunter off to aisle ten, where Mrs.  Massconi has had an accident.  
Why, oh why do people use this store to satisfy their bodily functions? 
 That, my dear,  is why Sir Thomas Crapper invented the toilet. 

“Hi, Mrs.  Massconi.  What did Lola tell you about fluids after 4 PM?” 

“I made a messy.  I'm sorry, donkey.  Please, don't eat me.”   ARG! 
Mrs.  Massconi has a bit of a memory problem.  She somehow only 
remembers what Laura says about me.  Along the lines of:  “Charlotte is 
a donkey who escaped from the zoo.  She likes to eat people.” 

“Hey, donkey fuck.”  Davan is standing behind me.  Not noticing or
caring that he is in the presence of an old lady who will go on about 
kids today and or smack you every time you say a four letter word.  I 
once got a lecture for saying the word tree. 

“Hi, cutie pants.” 

“Hi, substitute Laura!”  Run....  “Oh, Come on now, donkey fuck. Just
kiddin'...” 

“Hehe... right. But if you were looking for Laura's bondage bitch,
you've come to the right...” smack.  Mrs. Massconi has reared her ugly 
hand.  Maybe it's just me she likes to slap. 

“Charlotte!  Did you just say the double b word in my presence?”  Laura
had a bit of a problem with this too, I recall. 

“No.  I said... Don has an itch...” 

“Oh, okay then, dear.  I thought you said... well, it's a good thing
kids aren't so fuckin' perverted today.”  She wipes off her skirt and 
walks away with a surprising and disturbingly large amount of dignity. 

“It's okay.  I still think you're perverted.” 

“Aw, thanks Davan!  You're so sweet...” 

“Gee, I know.  Okay, I gotta go.  The duct tape is where?” 

“Over there,”  point to a large display of gray, sticky rolls. 

“Fabulous.”  He grabs six and heads for the counter.  What have I done? 

Delilah's house:  “Wow, you were the one that planted the duct tape idea
in his head?” 

“Yeah, yeah.  How come this is always what we talk about?” 

“We live through the issues of Davan and Laura.  It is all we know.” 

“But we never go have fun or anything...” 

“What do you suggest?  Ballroom dancing?  Grabbing a joint in the
parking lot with Merry?  This is fun, my dear donkey fuck.” 

“Yeah.  I guess.” 

“Delilah!  Delilah Jane!  We need you to un-clog the toilet!”  Her mum
yells from across the hall. 

“Yes mother!  Okay, I see you point.  But what's fun?  Please don't say
ballroom dancing actually appeals to you.” 

“Oh,  but of course.  Dibs on dancing with someone who is not Laura!” 

“Please.  The joke is over.  You. Were. Joking... right?” 

“Yes, stupid.  Hey, looky there, you stopped boycotting expensive toilet
paper!”  By now we are in the bathroom, overused plungers in hand.  
“It's your turn to do it, Dee.” 

“Oh.  Fabulous...” 

Home again, home again, Whoop-dee-doo:  “Hey, Laura.”  Laura is standing
in the front hall, looking oddly jubilant. 

“Hi, Charley!”  That was weird... she didn't even accuse me of donkey
humor.  “Hey, when you go to work tomorrow, could you pick me up some 
packaging tape?”  Okay, something is definitely up. 

“Uhhh... sure, Lo.” I walk away, wracking my brain.  What happened? 
Still no donkey fuck comment and she's not after duct tape?  I might 
have stumbled into a parallel universe.  I better call Delilah. 

“Mule whore?” 

“Donkey fuck?” 

“hi.  Something totally freaky just happened.  Laura happiness.” 

“What?”  Delilah seems mildly alarmed. 

“Yeah.  She called me ‘Charley'!” 

“WHAT?!”    Dee flat-out screams.  Since either of us can remember, I
have been donkey fuck.  I mean, even in front of our parents, teachers, 
and other forms of authority.  Without Laura's bitterness, it's hard to 
tell who I am.  Wow.  I really should get a life.  “Oh, God, Donkey 
fuck, think of the children!” 

“Think of the toilet paper!” 

“The giant gorilla beings!  The cheese-whiz!  The monkey pants!”  Okay,
I admit, now we're just being idiots.  But there is genuine concern 
here.  Really. 

Wal-Mart:  I walk into work looking like shit.  I was up all night
considering the Laura situation.  Davan walks in.  “Hi, cutie pants,”  
I say.  “guess...”  but before I can finish the sentence, something 
really weird happens.  He starts skipping.  “Uh... Davan?  You okay?” 

“Fine. I'm fine.”  I highly doubt his fineness.  He is practically
break-dancing. Holy mother fucking Mary. 

“Okay, I don't really care if you're paying attention, I'm gonna tell
you anyway.  Laura was acting really weird yesterday.  Pleasant.  It's 
freaking me out.”  Of course, it's even scarier that he just did 
several cartwheels. 

“Hehe.  I know.  I also know why,”  he says mysteriously after finishing
his last cartwheel with a flourish. 

“Why?  Tell me!” 

“For twenty bucks.”  I reach into my pocket until I remember that I am
broke. 

“I don't have the twenty bucks... please tell me?” 

“Hmm... I will for twenty bucks worth of manual labor.” 

“Fine.  I can guess.” 

“No, you can't.  You'll never get it.  Ever.”  Davan, as a rule, is
really good at being menacing.  That's why he has so much money. 

“Urg.  Fine, what do I do?” 

“I don't know... I'll tell you when I figure it out.” 

“Shut up.  I hate you, you donkey hole.” 

“Riiight... I'm off.”  He grabs some packaging tape and puts it on the
counter.  “That'll be all, Lola.” 

Davan passes Delilah on his way out.  “So?”  She questions. 

“Davan knows, but he's not gonna tell me unless I do twenty dollars
worth of manual labor.  I don' even know what kind.  He's a 
condescending asshole boy bitch.  But oh well.”  Delilah laughs. 

“Charley, I know too. But I'm under strict orders not to tell you. 
Let's just say someone is very...uh... fulfilled.”  This is annoying 
me. 

“Just tell me.  We are best friends.” 

“But...” I growl, sounding disturbingly like a jungle cat.  “Fine, I'll
tell you.  They don't think you're ready to know, though.” 

“I couldn't be more ready.  Just tell me, Dee.” 

“I...uh... okay, so here it is...”  She suddenly gets a severe case of
the hiccups.  I've heard you get them from nervousness.  I wait until 
they're all gone.  “Let's just say that Davan's fantasy finally... came 
true.” 

“Oh.  My.  God.  Are you telling me that he and Laura...” 

“Yup.” 

“Fuck!  What the fuck?  Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Yeah, okay, that's what happened, obsessive one.  Davan didn't want to
tell you because he thought you'd freak.” 

“I so wouldn't! So, so, Fuck!  Fuck!  Fucking fuck!” 

“Um... Donkey—“ 

“Fuck!  Donkey fuck!  Holy fuck!  Hehe... okay, so I'm kinda freaking. 
But... FUCK!” Mrs. Massconi attacks from behind with a newspaper, just 
as I have gotten my bearings.  Unfortunately, the surprise attack 
brings on another bout of the word ‘fuck', which in turn brings on more 
newspaper slapping. Lola finally drags Mrs. Massconi off.  By this 
time, I have stopped hyperventilating.  “No, but seriously.  Fuck,” I 
say, seconds before I pass out. 

When I wake up, Delilah's disembodied head is floating over me.  “Hey,
donkey... er... Charlotte.  Are you okay?” 

“Well, except for the Laura/Davan fiasco, yeah, fine, just fine.” 

“Uh, Charley,”  comes Lola's voice, “You were spasming.  Should I call
the doctor?” 

“No. Sorry, this sometimes happens when I get... you know... shocking
news.” 

“Oh. I know it's none of my business, but...” 

“Um... I'd tell you, but I might have another fit.  Sorry.  I'm really
sorry, Lola.” 

“That's okay.  You can have the rest of today off,”  he/she says. 

“Thanks.” 

Fuck!... uh, I mean home:  “Laura!  Darcy!  Burke!!!” 

“Yes, mother,”  She says from upstairs. 

“I really hate you!  You really, REALLY are going to DIE!!!”  I honestly
don't know why this is upsetting me so much.  Maybe, really deep down, 
I like him.  Although the thought is making me kind of nauseous, so I 
highly doubt it. 

“You are so weird, donkey fuck.  Oh so very weird.  Maybe you should see
Dr. Duct tape.  Err.. Donald.” 

“Laura, I hate you.  I got sent home from work.  Because of you.  I know
that you DON'T CARE!!!”  Ah, so that's the problem.  Maybe I could go 
into psychology.  My method would be called ‘scream until you scream 
what's bothering you'.  That'd be a sweet way to make a buck. 

“I don't care, donkey fuck, that you've lost you're sanity.  Go tell mom
to get you committed.”  Isn't that horrible?  She doesn't even know 
what I'm talking about.  She probably forgot. 

“ I didn't get the packaging tape!”  I yell. 

“What?”  Okay, so I was wrong. “Eh, I'll get it myself.”  Okay, Laura
getting up off her lazy ass?  That means she does care, which means I'm 
back to my original theory.  Which is scary and nauseating... I think 
I'll go throw up. 

“Delilah?” 

“Don... Charley?” 

“You can say it now, I'm better.  From that, anyway.  I think I might've
stumbled into a teenage soap opera from New Zealand.” 

“New Zealand?” 

“They say arse there.  Anyway, you have to promise that you won't tell
anyone.  You also have to promise that you won't tell anyone that ‘m 
acting like a third grader.” 

“I solemnly swear on all that is good and pure.” 

“Okay.  I think I might like him too.”  She laughs. 

“You're right!  Say arse.” 

“You're an arse.” 

“Ha! Touché, I know.  So you like Stefeno, huh?” 

“Stefeno?” 

“Well, if we're going to act like soap opera characters, we might as
well have the right names.” 

“Oh, okay.  So I was wondering why I cared so much about Stefeno and...
Uhhh... Francesca, and I thought it was because she was going to break 
his heart or some crap, but then I realized it was because I like him 
too.” 

“I see.  Maybe you have a future as a shrink.”  Ha! 

“But maybe I don't, because as soon as I realized that, I threw up.” 

“Well, maybe Your conscious mind thinks it's disgusting to think of him
in that way, but your subconscious has different ideas.” 

“Hey, we could go into business together.  You know, I wish it was you
who had this soap opera.  You  already have a good name for it.” 

“Yeah, but I would never like Da... er... Stefeno.  Now the real
question is, do you want to wreck he and Francesca's happiness by 
admitting your true feelings?” 

“Easy, Delilah.   It's not as though I'm in love with him or anything. 
Okay, maybe a little.” 

“Wait, first you just liked him, now you're in love with him?” 

“Love is weird, Delilah.  Stefeno and I are meant to be!” 

“Dear God, let that have been sarcasm.” 

“Don't worry, it was.” 

“Well, Monique, if you like... er... love him so much, you better make
your move.” 

“Monique?  I like it.  But that's beside the point.  How do I even do
that?” 

“I don't know.  But, you know, there is a bright side here. At least we
have something to do.” 

Laura walks into the room with a thing of packaging tape.  “I hate you,
Francesca,”  I mutter. 

“What?” 

“She just walked in.  Sorry.  So, what do you propose I do?” 

“I don't know.  Let's meet at the abandoned train station tonight and
figure out a plan.” 

“Okay, where are we meeting really?” 

“Uh... Wal-Mart?” 

“No, that's not working for me.  Courtney's house?” 

“Courtney?” 

“Merry... if she's gonna be part of this, she needs a good name too...” 
Laura is looking at me weirdly.  “we're rehearsing for a play.” 

“That's a new low in transparent cover stories.  You're lucky I don't
give a fuck.”  Give a fuck.  Oh, Jesus, she had to go there. 

“Gah! You do!  I hate you, with your little packaging tape, and your,
you know... Francesca!” 

“Yeah, about that ‘getting you committed thing...” 

“Hehe.. right.  Bye.”  I slam the door in her face. 

“Courtney”'s house:  I catch up with Delilah  and Merry sitting in front
of the house.  Mary is smoking a joint.  Ha!  I knew it!  The first 
thing she says is: “You love him?” 

“Yes...” 

“I can't believe that.  You served him to Laura on a silver platter, and
you love him?  How could you love him?  He's a horrible person!  
He's... just horrible!  I don't see how Laura could want to... and, 
you... why'd you name me Courtney?” 

“Sorry, Merry.” 

“S'okay.”  She inhales deeply.  “Okay, what are we gonna do?  I am
getting paid for this, right, lover-girl?” 

“What?  Delilah...” 

“Sorry.  She wouldn't do it for free.” 

‘Okay, fine, whatever.  I can do this myself.  I'll just talk to her...
maybe yell and scream a little.  See you guys later.”  I hop back on my 
bike to go home, but change my mind and head for Davan's house instead. 
Oh, excuse me.  Stefeno. 

Casa de Stefeno:  “Mrs. Elms?” 

“Oh, hello, Charlotte.  You've come to get your sister, no?” 

“Wait... Laura's here?” 

“Yes.  She's upstairs.  You know the way.”  Mrs. Elms goes back into the
kitchen. Great.  Perfect.  So my moment of truth and Francesca's there 
to ruin it.  I go upstairs and open his door.  Oh, Fuck.  Laura is 
sitting there in a pair of skydancer panties. 

“Charley?  Oh my God... uh...” 

“Hi, everyone.  Well, you... go on back to that.  Hehe... I'm
gonna...just...leave.”  I run to the bathroom and toss my cookies over 
the issue once again.  And then I call Delilah. 

“Hullo?” 

“Dee?” 

“hi, Monique.  How goes the great quest?” 

“I found out something weird about my sister.” 

“Oh?” 

“She wears skydancer underpants.” 

“okay... Um, so, what happened?” 

“I went to Davan's house and...”  I suddenly feel another nausea attack
coming on. 

“and?” 

“And Laura was there too...” 

“And?” 

“And most of her clothes weren't.”  A gasp comes from the other end. 

“This soap opera's getting juicy.” 

“What?!” 

“Sorry... kidding.” 

“Okay, I gotta go home and lie down.  And wash my eyes.  See you later.”
 I hang up.  On my way out, I bump into the evil Stefeno.  What I want 
to say is something along the lines of ‘how could you?  I love you!'  
But all that comes out is “Eww.”    He doesn't even say anything at 
all.  It makes me want to cry. Instead, I throw up again. 

Home, hiding under the covers:  “Charlotte!  Phone for you.  It's one of
your friends.”  I pick it up, expecting Delilah. 

“You ruined my favorite tee-shirt.”  It's not Delilah. 

“You fucked my sister.” 

“Yeah.  So what?” 

“So what?  So this is a big deal!  And it was disgusting... I really
didn't need to know that Laura wears skydancer underwear!” 

“Well, when she is wearing... never mind.  Why is it such a big deal?” 

“Because it is, Stefeno!  I mean Davan!  Because you fucked my sister
even though I...” 

“Did you just call me Stefeno?” 

“Yeah.  I did.  Sorry.” 


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