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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 21 2005, 11:35 AM (70 Views) | |
| Minister Wighty | Jan 21 2005, 11:35 AM Post #1 |
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Opossum Queen of FIW
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BK: Your friend? He was weird. The scene opens up with one of them fancy vertical wipes Star Wars used eleventy billion times. Bill and Sam are hanging out in a gym, Sam pumping her legs on an exercise bike and Bill standing by, hydrating himself. Sam: Yeeaahh… he is a little… off. BK: You could say that. Quiznos was good though. As it always is. Sam nods, a bit distracted by her biking. Hey, you would be, too. BK: Saw you have another match this week. How’s it that Torrie managed to get a title shot out of Maddy-san? Sam: Madison probably just got sick of hearing Torrie bitch. She was REALLY pissed after I dropped off last week. Sam smiles, very proud of her misdeeds. Bill nods, with a mouthful of water, swallows, and speaks. BK: Yeah, best idea I ever had. He looks sideways toward Sam, waiting for her to acknowledge that she caught that. Sam points at Bill authoritatively. Sam: DON’T give Kevin any more ideas. BK: Yeah, because everything I say is passed down from angels on high. I invented the internet, y’know that? Sam gives Bill a dirty look and attempts to steal Bill’s water bottle. He narrows his eyes and moves it away from her. Sam maintains the look and sips from her own bottle, continuing her pedaling. Sam: I just don’t want to argue with him about it again. BK: Don’t blame you. His voice gets on my nerves. Sam: I figured it would. It’s why I didn’t introduce you two sooner. BK: He wasn’t that bad. Just… not that good. I’m sure you two have lots of fun together. Watching your movies about flowers and whatnot. Sam chuckles a bit, almost to herself. Sam: I don’t have any girl friends and he’s a good substitute. BK: Hm. Wonder if that’s how the whole gay thing started in the first place? Bill smiles, his sentence a joke. Not the “Hm.” That was dead fucking serious. Sam: I’m pretty sure it has something to do with a guy and a butt fetish. BK: That would make ninety percent of guys gay. Sam: Fine. A guy with… a butt fetish… of other men? Butts of other men. Bill just shakes his head, nothing really appropriate coming to mind. Sam: So… what’re you gonna do this week? BK: Same thing I do every week, Sammie. Try to take over the world. Sam: Really? I hadn’t noticed you’d been trying that. BK: Eh, it’s been more of a passive hobby. Bill finishes his water and makes a basket with the bottle and the garbage can. BK: Seriously, though, it’ll just be like the last week I had off. And the week before that. I’ve got no competition. I’m the undisputed freakin’ Fighting Spirit Champion. Sam finally stops pedaling, towels off, and grins at him. Sam: I’ll fight you for it! We could trade titles! BK: If I wanted to beat up Torrie every week I’d do it the right way; with a balaclava over my face and a tire iron in my hand. Sam slaps her hands together as if in prayer. Sam: Pleeeeeeease? Bill chuckles. BK: Not really gonna do it. Like my wrestling career. Almost all I’ve got. Sam: Eh, I could take her out with some poppets. BK: Yeah, just do me a favor and don’t go pullin’ out her short hairs. Most guys dream about that, it gives Bill Kuriyama the chilly willies. Sam: Eugh. BK: Yeah, Bill Kuriyama says “eugh” too. No tellin’ how many ballas been in and out of her “goodies”. She makes another ewy face and laughs. Sam: OK, where do we go next? BK: You done workin’ out? Sam: I could keep going. It’s really up to you. BK: Ah, no, witchy, it’s up to you. You’re the one with a match this week. Pushover or not, you don’t wanna pull a Lita out there. Sam looks at Bill. Sam: Really. I could do more. Or I could eat. Or we could leave! I don’t care. Bill smiles and shakes his head. BK: You’re cute when you’re shirking decision-making. Sam: Yeah, I try to be. She smiles simply at him and hops off the bike. Sam: So… BK: So. Hit the showers, and I’ll take you out. How do you feel about Olive Garden? Sam: I like their breadsticks. And the salads! BK: Good stuff. See you outside. Sam trots off toward the shower area, and Bill… well, Bill watches her. He turns to the cameraman. BK: You wanna switch that thing off, or did you want a look at the croissant while Bill Kuriyama takes a shower? The camera promptly switches off. We wait, which is the hardest part, but the wait isn’t long. The screen cuts back to color and images and motion and stuff. Cameraman is in the back of a hot little Corvette. Black, of course. Sam: I feel weird going out with you in… my normal clothes. I haven’t done that yet. BK: It’s nice. All I ever see you in is your pajamas and whatever the queer guy sets his eye on. Man, everyone makes jokes about that show. I’m such a whore. Sam: But you have to admit, the pajamas are nice. Bill grins. BK: Especially when you “lose” the pants. He turns to her and winks. Sam: And the shirt. She arches her eyebrows mischievously and Bill laughs. Sam: I can’t sleep in clothes. Haven’t been able to since college. There’s a very short silence, in which Bill shrugs. BK: I’m pretty sure I can’t sleep in a dress, if it makes you feel any better. Sam: I’d like to see you try. It’d be funny. BK: Probably not as funny as you’d hope. I bet Bill Kuriyama’d look good in a little black number. Sam nods and smiles as Bill turns into the parking spot and an available parking space. Sam: You have a point. Everyone gets out of the car which is highly uninteresting. Plus, people usually skim over the non-dialogue parts of roleplays anyway, so we’ll just move onto some more conversation right quick. The two enter the restaurant, get a seat in non-smoking, and are served their breadsticks after ordering. Sam takes a bite out of one, and grabs two more from the basket. BK: Whoa! Slow down there, girlfriend. Sam smiles. Sam: Girlfriend! Bill would blush, but I’m still convinced that dark-skinned people can’t blush. BK: Figure of speech. … sorta. He takes a breadstick himself and stuffs part of it into his mouth, as he can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks whether or not Sam can see the side-effects. Sam reaches across the table and pats him on the arm. Sam: It’s OK. I AM your girlfriend. BK: Huh. Yeah, yeah I guess you are. Sam shakes her head and smiles. BK: Hey, Bill Kuriyama’s not used to the idea of womenfolk stickin’ around. I like it. Don’t get me wrong. Just… takes some getting used to. Sam slides her fingers through his, pulling his hand up. Sam: Iff okah, Iurrfannow. Breadsticks make for hard talking. Bill seems to understand what she said, and laughs softly. The waiter comes by with the salad, grinds pepper over it, and cheese, and… god dammit, now I want an Olive Garden salad. Thanks a lot, roleplay. He leaves. They dish it out and snarf it up. Sam: So! Did you have underwear on today while we were working out? BK: Is that your question, or is it “do you STILL not have underwear on”? Sam: How is it you always know what I REALLY want to know? BK: Magic powers. Kuriyama powers. You’re not the only one with ‘em. Sam: OK. DO you have underwear on? Bill grins after swallowing a mouthful of delicious, scrumptious, green, cheesy, peppery good salad. BK: How bad do you want to find out? Sam: Don’t tempt me. Not here. BK: Is that a threat? Sam: Maaaaybe a threat. Maaaybe a promise. BK: Maaaaybe I’m tempting you, then. Sam smiles, shrugs, then places her fork on the table. She wipes her mouth with the fancy cloth napkin, then starts to sink under the table. Bill just shakes his head, chuckling. Sam shuffles around down under the table, as we can hear from some bonking. We hear a sigh. Sam: You’re not gonna stop me, are you? BK: You’re not gonna keep going. No need to stop you. Sam: Oh? Are you sure? Bill raises his arms as if stretching and takes a “secret sniff”. BK: Yep. Sure as… eh, somethin’ that’s sure. Bill Kuriyama’s not on the ball all the time. Sam sighs again, crawls out from under the table and sits down again. Sam: Fine, you win. BK: Hot girl leaves from under the table after only putting her head on my thigh and I win? Victory must be pretty boring back in Elk City. Sam: I didn’t wanna get kicked out of the restaurant before we get to eat. BK: Ahhhhhh. Well that makes sense. He spears a small pile of lettuce and eats it. Man, as soon as I get some money, I’m totally hitting the ‘Garden. Sam: I’ll get you later. Just… don’t change. She smiles wickedly and Bill smiles right back. Who wouldn’t smile at that? Maybe someone with some weird penis disease, but the croissant is not moldy. Sam: It’s been awhile since I’ve seen such nice bread. BK: Yeah, the breadsticks are good. Sam gets that look. You know the one. The one girls get when they’re being cute and sexy at the same time. The dangerous one. Oh yeah. Sam: I was talking about the croissant. Bill double-blinks and puts some more salad in his mouth to give him an excuse to not speak for a moment. Sam takes a bite as well, a larger one since she’s had less time to work on her salad. Heh. That was innuendo. The waiter comes and serves the food. Isn’t that always the way? Nowhere near done with your salad, they give you food, and it’s cold by the time you get to it. Bloody restaurants. BK: So, how long’d you say it’s been? Sam chokes a bit on her salad, swallows and speaks. Sam: Wouldn’t you know that better than me? Bill looks confused, and then gets it. He smiles and shakes his head. BK: I mean for you. … with the sex. You having it. Don’t misconstrue my words, witchy. He smiles and points at her with his fork. Sam: Three years. BK: … how do you live? You must service yourself, like, five times a day! Sam gives him a look, Bill realizes she hasn’t seen Zoolander, and covers quickly. BK: It was a joke… sorta. Sam laughs. Just… laughs. She takes a drink to help wash down all the salad she’s been choking on. Sam: I manage. How ‘bout you? How long has it been? Bill thinks. BK: Month or two. Can’t remember real well. Sam chuckles and lays her hands flat against each other, pointing toward Bill. Sam: No no no. How… loooong. She spreads her hands apart and it’s Bill’s turn to choke. Soda almost comes out of his nose. He picks up his napkin off his lap and puts it to his face, laughing that quiet laugh that’s harder than any other laugh. Bill finishes and smiles into the napkin. He sets it down, and picks up his silverware, starting in on his linguine. Sam: You’re not gonna answer me? BK: Wouldn’t you rather find out for yourself? Sam: Well, I’d like to see what I’m getting myself into. Or, what’s g-- … nevermind. Bill chuckles and wonders how many people around them they’re annoying with their conversation. BK: Guess you’ve never really heard the hype, eh? Sam: You told me once you could hold open doors with it. BK: Hold ‘em open, push ‘em open, drill a new hole for a new doorhandle. It’s pneumatic, I tell ya. He smiles at his own joke, taking another bite. Sam nods. Sam: Do you have any Tylenol with you? BK: Right now? Sam: No… no, later. I have a feeling I might need it later. BK: Err… yeah. I mean, not Tylenol, but painkillers. Sam: Painkillers will work. It’s been three years, after all. BK: Heh. I’ll be gentle. Hm. Funny. Bill doesn’t recall ever saying that in his young life. Ah well. Sam takes a bite of her food and gets a bit of a faraway look in her eyes, thinking. Bill brings her back to earth with a question she didn’t even hear. Sam: Huh? BK: How’s your food. Sam: Um… s’good. BK: You back with us now? Looked like you drifted, there. Sam shakes the lingering thoughts out of her head. Sam: Yeah, yeah. I’m back. Sorry about that. BK: Forget about it. He waves it away dismissively. Sam: Already forgotten. Bill looks at her with a mild curiosity, but he says nothing, having no desire to be a dead cat, satisfied or not. Sam gives Bill an equally curious look to match his, but he doesn’t notice, taking a bite of food and all. Sam: So, how’s yours? BK: Smoov. Creamy. He pokes it with his fork. BK: Chickeny. Conversation gets thin as the two of them peck away at their meals. Bill finishes early, so he gnaws a bit on a breadstick, waiting for Sam. Sam: I didn’t realize I was so hungry! Bill smiles, but says nothing. Sam: You’re giving me a lot of weird looks and saying nothing. She taps her temple. Sam: What’s going on up there? BK: Nothin’ special. Not too much on my mind these days. I mean, nothin’ serious. He shrugs. BK: I run out of things to say, still. Sam: I have a question! BK: Shoot. Sam: Why did you keep my bra? We’ve established that you had it… why did you hang on to it? Bill doesn’t miss a step. He swallows his bit of stick-bread and replies. BK: Bill Kuriyama thought you were cute. … and your perfume smells pretty. Sam puts down her fork, again, and stares at him for a minute. Sam: That was easy! You usually don’t answer me so quickly. BK: Don’t always know the answers you want. This time I did. Sam half-shrugs and finishes eating, chasing that last bite of bowtie pasta around her plate until she manages to wrangle it. BK: Ready to go? Sam nods. Sam: Ah, yeah. We just gonna go to the hotel, now? Bill shrugs. BK: Don’t see why not. That’s where the bed is, right? He winks and smiles before setting a tip on the table. Sam: You have a point. I’m dying to know about the underwear… I don’t know why. Bill chuckles, Sam chuckles, the German guy chuckles. All is good, and fades to black. |
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