I had left the parking lot of the autographing building, half expecting to be mauled in the parking lot by either the psycho fan or a bunch of fans wanting autographs. That was something I didn’t want to deal with. My cheek was still bleeding, though the cream that was plastered there kept it from oozing over my face and down my neck.
My week had been so stressful, what was one more thing? Fortunately, I had made my way back to my hotel without further incident. Demonica had called my cell phone to inform that she had returned home. Bitch.
I sat on the sofa in my hotel room. It looked more like a penthouse studio, but hey, I wasn’t complaining. There was no one there with me, nor did I want anyone there. I had to fight Ranma Saotome that night and I couldn’t afford distractions. There would be no lovers today. I hadn’t even eaten yet, which I would get to… eventually.
I had popped in a spliced tape that had all of Ranma’s slash Illumina’s matches on it. Strategizing? Me? That’s a first. I wasn’t afraid, but I knew what I was up against. An all-rounder, as it was. Swell. I could tell what he would do. He would try to keep me grounded, clip my wings and so on.
Let Gwen on the turnbuckle, and she’ll dominate. Attack after attack and it won’t stop. Start on the defence, end on the offence. I have no plan for my commencement of hostilities, but I’ll figure it out eventually. Fly by the seat of my pants and so forth.
What will become of the match with the man who has been climbing the N.E.W. ladder faster than the under-average man can ejaculate? Hard to say. I see blood and gore. And none of it being my own.
Ranma Saotome… Ran Ma Soap Time… Ramen Noodles… Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong…
Illumina Emotoas… Illuminating A Mote… I’ll Uma Thurman Them Asses…
There are few things that bother me these days. I can handle the odd stare, here and there. I can handle the psychotic fans scratching the fuck out of my face. I can handle being ‘healed’ by a sports medic. I can handle being attacked in a courtroom parking lot by a fanatical one-night-stand that just lost her case and has to pay. I can handle being spanked by my best friend.
But the one thing that I cannot stand, is when some guy, a man that apparently doesn’t know the very thin line between male and female, thinks he can dominate the rankings and N.E.W. in itself. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Time to come down off your pedestal. Take the stairs or jump. Really. I don’t care. I’m sure your cross-dressing ways will break the fall. Me? Intolerant? Hardly. I just feel like being immature and disrespectful.
Yeah sure, bring it on. Go ahead. Call me a lesbian. Call me a rapist. Call me a cheater. Call Seraph a cheater. Call me whatever the hell you want. I dare ya. I’ve heard it all before. We’re just a big bunch of cheaters. Gotta love being an elite member of Frost Inc.
Remember that chair? The one I used to knock you out and aid my friend? Yeah. I kept it as a souvenir. My good luck charm, if you will. Damn, I’ll probably still have that thing when I’m an old biddy with a million cats. I can see it now. I’ll be sitting on my front porch, watching my kitties running about freely on my front lawn. I’ll be perched on that chair, rocking back and forth with a twelve gauge shotgun, laughing maniacally. Now that makes me giggle.
So, you’re lonely, are you? That must suck. Ha ha. I can’t really relate. Though I have no one constant in my life, the occasional good fuck is all I need to go on until the next one comes along. Poor bastards don’t know what hit them. Out of all that I’ve slept with recently… Seraph has definitely been the best. He tamed the beast, as it were. I don’t feel that I’m the whore that everyone makes me out to be, nor am I a quote-unquote ‘nymphomaniac’. Sex is just a tool.
Relating, retaliating… it’s all the same. I relate to you, Ranma, as but a fellow athlete with a bitch streak. ‘Sticks and stones’ and all that. I relate to you by the mere wish to dominate and crawl my way through the mud to the main focus of every wrestler. My state it life is satiated. Sure, there are things I’ve wanted to change, crave to change and hope to change, but can’t be bothered to do so. I even toyed with the thought of quitting smoking. But then again, you only live once.
I’ve been told by a few of my confidants, that you’ve said I’ve been ducking you. Had you been paying attention to the world that I live in, you would have known the bull shit I’ve been through this week. I don’t care what you do. But do not try to get me to understand you, if you can’t understand me.
How can you possibly relate to someone if you don’t understand them? In order to duck you, I would have to care about coming in contact with you. And I don’t. I don’t really even need to justify myself to you. There’s no point. You’re just some guy who doesn’t know where the lines between gender are blurred.
Sure, you have a penis. Good for you. Must be nice to think with two heads instead of one. Y’know… one for sex and one for… more sex. Sweet. There’s only one problem with your hypothetical situation: I would not be in the sack with you in the first place. Even if you were in my bed, it wouldn’t last long. I sleep alone. I prefer it that way. But hell, if you please, sleep on the floor.
I have no use for penises. Even cut-off ones. Sure, I could put it into a vile, pickle it and carry it around as a good-luck charm, but where’s the fun in that? Hell, maybe I should put one on my keychain. Care to donate to the cause?
Do you seek acceptance? Acceptance from me? Why? Am I some all-powerful Goddess-type creature that you need approval from? You lust me. I can tell. You remind me of a submissive I had once. You say things but mean the opposite. Allow me to translate:
“I’m lonely” means: I want someone to hold and I think you should be it. True, it’s not the opposite but your loneliness makes me laugh and I just had to bring it up.
“I’m not asking for anything” means: that you are, but you’re just going for pity points. Word to the wise, I don’t pity.
Why you say these things in my general direction is beyond me. I have all I need on my plate. But hey, after our match, what do ya say to a congratulatory kiss?
