Sunday 30 December 2012

One last post for the year.

Okay, lol, so Imma end this year of blogger with a story I wrote quite a long time ago. It's just stupid silly and lol, just the right amount of strangeness. Anyways, it's about a little thing called love (awwww,pls.stopskjakldklfakl) and it's between a nomadic lover and a magician. LOL try to enjoy it because it's my last post lololol, au revoir, guys and have a lovely new year. OH AND I NEED TO FIND A SONG ABOUT MAKING GOOD DECISIONS PRESTO LOL Okay, the story is called 'Flargendargenflorf'.



Eyes wider than the sky, pupils dilated to the full extent and fingers clenching tightly onto the receipt, she stared at it so intensely that her eyes almost burned through.

“What is it, baby?” asked Kangaroo Jack.

“We…” Unsure whether she should just take the money or run, she hesitated. “It’s nothing, babydoll. Go back to your hula-hoopin’.”

It wasn’t like Darla and Jack were a supposed thing. They weren’t anything special. Just a lonely boy and a lonely girl who got together and had fun. That was all. She folded the receipt and placed it slowly and inconspicuously into her cleavage and retreated to the bedroom - her mind exploding and imploding with endless possibilities of what she could possibly do with all that glorious money.

She stepped into the room and there he was. To her slight surprise, Jack was buck-naked and waiting in bed for a little bit of southern sugar. Of course, he had teleported into the room, vanquished away all his clothes and cast the echo of a vintage love-making song with his signature sex spells.

“These are the consequences of dating a magician,” she thought. “Great in bed, but they get to your head.”

“Did I show you my wand? It’s limited edition and made entirely of only the best oak,” he grinned, eyes glaring at Darla’s bosom.

And then he had noticed it.

“What’s that in your bra, dear?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Let’s have sex.”

“Is it dirty? What is it? FLARGENDARGENFLORF.”

Again – dating a magician does have its downfalls. The receipt floated right into his hand, quickspeed – too quick for Darla’s snapping hands.

“Ooh, lotto, mate. Did we get anything?” he asked anticipating absolutely nothing – knowing the chances were a quadrillion to nothing.

“Wanna play basketball naked? I know you like that,” whispered Darla promiscuously, trying to seduce him into distraction. 

But he could always see through her. He knew there was something up. And then he figured it out.

Gasping – “We… We won?”

“Or you could shove it up my-"

“SWEET MARY LORD OF JESUS CHRISTCHURCH. Wait. You didn’t tell me.”

She wasn’t very good at relationships. They never really lasted long for her. She had always ruined every little thing she had with a man, and of course, here it was again. But it wasn’t a big deal. It’s just one guy. Nothing more. She stepped out of the room, completely ignoring Jack’s drooping eyebrows. She slowly and lightly kneeled on the living room carpet and traced crop circles with her fingers. Jack sat, still naked, on the side of the bed, staring at the small piece of paper. 

He muttered a spell, and right at that moment, Darla was hit with a frenzy of memories. Splintered remains of what they had, all the things she left unnoticed, were striking her – the sweet refrains, the reasonless running, the steaks wrapped up into bouquets, the midnight wonders, the magic love tricks, the large straw hat for two, the daisy diary, the dreams, the lavenders he placed one by one along her ditsy, frayed braid. Memories scattered across the carpet, memories made in wine, memories setting like dust on old bookshelves, memories from nowhere and yet from every being of her. He had brought them all up to the surface and she took them all in. She ran to the bedroom door, an inkling of a tear forming at the crevice of the corner of her eye.

“Ja-“

He was gone. Just… gone. The heartbreak of dating a magician. The horrible outcome of falling in love with a magician. The torture of falling in love without even knowing it. In her soft, trickling gown, she stood motionless and stuck-still at the door. He was gone, and yet, his memories – their memories - had been burned into her mind, and they were laid everywhere, setting like dust, shattered and spread out like pieces of a broken mirror, like nothingness condensed.
And then she remembered the money.

“THAT RAT-BASTARD-“

 LOL yeah, I don't know either. Bye, guys :)

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