GIRLS WITH GUNS.
And grenades, and mortars, and bazookas, and anti-tank weapons, and other fancy stuff.
An Improbably Interesting Improfanfic Introspection.
Or something else as equally grammatically incorrect.
Written by Arthur Monteath-Carr.
Part 3: Do I Want To Be David Lynch? _________________________________________________________________________
Aika and Becky sat down at the table and ordered a drink. The stranger sat there, smiling.
Getting a closer look, he appeared to be wearing a nice blue suit, and his glasses hid his eyes from view.
"Do you know what Cthulhu looks like?"
He held my in his arms and told me he loved me, and fool that I was I believed him.
Aika shook her head. Becky answered the man.
"Big, green, octopus-like..."
"No." He smiled, and in the dimmed lights his face looked like the face of an angel.
"But, I've seen him, Dammit. These own two eyes."
Becky took a sip of the weird blue liquid that was only just failing to eat at the glass in front of her.
He gave me a gun and told me to stay put, and naive as I was I loved him.
Aika blinked.
When a young life is sucked into the maelstrom of lunacy, guns, and kawaii and doesn't let go, who is left to pick up the pieces?
"Excuse me," she said, and left.
----
Becky and the man got talking. He turned out to be a major talent scout for Universal Studios, looking for talent for John Woo's next movie, "Excellent Gunplay with Symbolic and Moral Undertones," working title only. His name was Jim.
Becky, on the outside of four purple drinks, half a bottle of something yellow, and a bucket of cleaning fluid, thought that Jim couldn’t do worse than to look at her and... and... wossshname, fingy, wid thee kewl... kewl... fuku thing. Aika, or shomething. Yesh. Thassit. Yeah.
Jim thought otherwise.
----
The face in the mirror is not the same face as yesterday, or the day before or the day before that. It will not be the same tonight and will probably not be the same tomorrow.
Entropy must increase.
Original reality.
Image is thirst, everything is nothing.
He lusted after an interdimensional creature and told me he loved me, and idiot I was I did not doubt him.
----
Becky, with elaborate hand gestures and flourishes, was showing Jim just how good at acting she and Aika could be.
Not that, prior to the other day, she had ever met Aika. But the third elephant on the left was looking pretty hot by now.
Jim just wanted to go back to his place.
Preferably with company.
----
The sense of danger, the satisfaction of making a difference, of being somebody.
A stack of smut films next to her VCR
The end of an era, a legend.
Why the fuck am I talking in italics all the time?
-Hey, are you alright?
-Rents, leave the wee bairn alone, ken? She dinnae want our help, likes.
-Shut up, Si. She's sick, likes.
He pointed a gun at me and asked me why I was here, and desperate as I was I loved him.
-Hey, kid? Said the one named Rents. - You OK?
"Yeah. I'm fine, thanks."
Aika looked once more at the window, adjusted her hair, and walked out, leaving the two heroin junkies in the room.
When she arrived back in the bar, she was hit by a flying table.
----
What had happened was this.
Becky, drunk off her nut, was just getting to the part where she, the Do-Gooders, and their lovable robot combination megasaur named Boppy were just getting ready to stop the evil supervillian Dark Undies from annihilating the universe by using his Surre- susrarara- something gadget, and were proceeding to unleash some heroic smack down on their roody-poo candy-asses (the fact that none of this happened didn't stop her. She was on a roll bigger than Roll, which wasn’t hard,) when Jim asked her if she'd like to audition for the movie.
She accepted.
Jim pointed out that it would be a private audition back at his flat. To emphasize his point, he touched her shoulder.
Jim wasn’t in very many pieces.
As happens in these things, the rest of the bar thought that a little bit of violence never hurt. Anyone important, that is.
Becky was giving the local funeral industry a big boost by shooting pretty much indiscriminately into the brawling crowd, when a big boozer leaped up and tackled her.
Rolling out of the way, she lept back onto her table and dared the goon to attack her. The thug motioned for a few of his buddies to back him up, then slowly advanced towards Becky, a menacing grin on his face. By this time, the effects of the booze had worn off a bit, and Becky realised that the situation didn’t look too good. Luckily for her, Agent BA-3 decided to take over a that moment. She found herself reflexively tripping the lead goon to the floor, even as the other henchmen encircled her. Seeing the man sprawled spread-eagle on the floor, Becky got an idea...
As the other goons closed in on her, Becky planted a hard, full-on stomp with her foot straight into the leader’s groin, and repeated the action twice for emphasis. It seemed to have the desired effect, as the man howled in obvious pain and every male in the bar grimaced sympathetically.
"Tell them to back off", Becky commanded the prone thug. When the man hesitated, she ground her foot further into his crotch and twisted. "Now!"
"O... okay, okay!" The man waved his helpers away. "Do what she says! I don't want to be tortured any longer!"
Aika thought that the time was ripe for her to act, before Becky got any more out of control. She wended her way through the stunned onlookers and drunken slobs, and pulled Becky away from the scene, but not before Becky managed to leap into the air and land on the man's groin with both feet, making fluffy, fluffy squishing noises.
"Wow, what was that for? You didn't need to do that, I saw the other people, they were so frightened of you! They wouldn't have done anything even if you..."
"Actually, Aika, I didn't need to do that! But I just think its so much fun to step on people!" Becky said, while grinning innocently. "You've got to try it some time, it's almost as fun as roasting people with Remington 22a prototypes loaded with Inferno rounds!"
A thin streak of saline wound its way down Aika's neck.
She felt her hand... twitch. Visions of Becky splattered all over the wall, with bits of ice-cream bobbing up and down in a sea of blood, like tattered reminders of innocence amidst the stark reality of her obsession.
"Come on. I don't think we'll see Cthulhu-"
"Ktulhu," interupted the pounced-on man.
"Whatever. Say... did you bring the nuke?"
"I thought you had it."
She held me in her arms and kissed me, and fool that I was I thought she loved me.
She dinnae want our help, likes.
Bollocks. Its just crap. So there.
"Never mind."
They left, their beliefs a victim to their own self-consciousness.
Authors Note:
A: No. I am NO WHERE NEAR good enough.
Mucho apologies for those wanting comedy. Although, a 90's high-school student trying to do Dada is pretty funny, I suppose.
Thanks to Burghy for writing... part of Becky's section. Acquaintances of Burghy will notice that his part is the better written and more coherent of the two.