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Indulge me, if you will.


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hahahaha come on, it wasn't THAT bad... okay, it was but i just couldn't let the opportunity just pass by like that, that joke was necess-ear-y 


okay, i'll stop now...

 

Soooo... I would love to have the blond girl named after me, I don't know how it would work, tho.



Also, here's some cute Illya so that you can forget my awful jokes: http://www.zerochan.net/874219

P.S.: Zerochan sucks

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So here's the scene. It's only half-way edited. I haven't finished editing the scene because it needs to be rewritten for the novella and therefore motivation to edit and polish is low. Still not happy with my prose. Especially my second paragraph. And the third. And the rest of it.

 

Try not to expect too much. Charm completely over-hyped it. It's not that good.

 

That's actually worth repeating. DON'T expect too much, it's just a gag scene and Charm COMPLETELY over-hyped the thing.

 

It's a story vaguely related to ear hygiene, which were the exact words Charm used when I accepted the topic. So it is very vaguely related to ear hygiene. Oh, and the scene was only half-way done.

 

‘So, Ms Sue, what seems to be the problem?’

 

I felt myself go lightheaded when Dr. Klein entered his office, my eyes following his every movement as he closed the door and walked in a slow, rolling gait, across the room. The minutes ticked slowly by as he shuffled forward, reached his desk, placed both hands upon the surface, edged himself carefully sideways, then collapsed exhausted into his chair.  Dr. Klein is a world famous diagnostician. Once the personal doctor to the Queen of England, he now travels the world as part of his reality TV show, seeking out cases that have stumped the medical world and solving them on camera. Renown for telling St Gregory “you aren’t dying, but you’ll wish you were,’ Prince Frederick’s chief eunuch “You aren’t fat. You’re a woman, and five months pregnant”, and Jacki the Stripper “You’re dead, and have been for months.” Devilishly handsome, brilliant, altruistic, single, the James Bond of the medical profession. He was perfect husband material.

 

So who the hell was this shaking, sweating, bald, fat man sitting opposite me? A quick glance around the room told me he was a learned man. Every inch of every wall was covered with qualifications. He graduated from medicine with honours, alternative medicine with honours, veterinary studies, which will prove useful if he ever needs to treat himself. Nursing, plumbing, and automotive maintenance. I raised my eyebrow toward the sweating, wheezing butterball after I saw his masters in acrobatics. The only way this man was getting in the air was by stepping out a window and letting gravity do the work.

 

I looked down at his desk and re-read his name plate. “Doktor Klein, Emmdee, As seen on teevee!” Call me cynical, but I do believe “Dr. Klein’s one and only tour of American suburbia, giving ordinary folk the chance to be treated by someone who’s had his hands inside real famous people” wasn’t on the up and up. I tried to think of an escape plan, but my brain was too busy convulsing with laughter. At my naivety.

 

I looked up at the doctor, who was still waiting patiently for my reply. He was amusing himself while he waited by staring wide-eyed at my breasts and wheezing in that creepy, sickly way of his. Rivers of sweat were pouring down his face, and his hands were shaking. I waved my hand at the Q-tip impaled through my upper ear. ‘I was cleaning my ear when my hand slipped,’ I told him, swiping a biro from his desk. ‘And if you don’t raise your head my hand will slip again, accidentally impaling something tiny yet sensitive—

 

‘Right,’ he said, jerking his head upward to meet my eyes. ‘Ms Sue, nice to meet you. What seems to be the problem?’

 

I slapped my hand on his desk and pushed myself up.

 

‘Bah!’ He performed a rapid sweep of my body with his eyes, eventually spotted the large patch of blood on the shoulder of my shirt, and followed the trail back to its source. ‘Ear troubles! Whoa, how the hell did you do that?’ He peered at my ear in fascination. ‘Doesn’t matter, easily cured, easily cured. Just wait till it stops bleeding, and say it’s a fashion statement.’

 

I narrowed my eyes and made a couple of stabbing motions with his biro. Which was now mine.

 

‘Or I could remove it for you,’ he said, sighing like I was a great inconvenience.

 

'Thank you, Doctor.'

 

‘Once it’s out, you’ll need to give the wound a good scrub, and take a tonic that I’ll provide you.’

 

‘Scrub?’

 

‘Yes, a good, vigorous scrub. I've always found a stiff brush is best for the job. If you walk out of this office and turn right, you’ll find something suitable next door. Then we’ll cover your wound with something. Some people recommend gauze, but I say using your hand will do just fine. HAHA!'

 

I remembered the route I took when the nurse guided me to this room, face full of pity, which I thought odd at the time. ‘Next door’s the toilet, doctor. The only brush in there is the toilet-brush.’

 

‘Yes, that’s right. Then take a cup of this once a day, for one day. Best to take your first and only dose now. Here. In this office.’ He reached under the table and slammed a large, plastic bottle on the surface. The bottle was full of a lumpy, viscous green liquid, and every so often a large green bubble of goo would form on the surface, pop, release some steam, then sink back into the sludge. The living, demonic sludge this doctor probably spawned from.

 

‘Any side effects?’

 

‘Agonising deat— no.’

 

‘I’m sorry, doctor but I've made a mistake. Did I say my ear was impaled, what I meant to say was I have a headache.’

 

‘Just scrub your head with a brush and take a cup of this once a day for a day, and you should be fine,' he said, wiggling the bottle with a cheery smile.

 

‘It’s my right breast. I accidentally sliced it off with my tongue. It’s rolling around underneath my kitchen table, while I raced over here bleeding horribly. Help me, I’m going to die!’

 

‘Just scrub the wound with a brush—’

 

‘—and take a cup once a day for today only. You know, I’ve always wanted a really easy way of making tons of money. What’s stopping me from stabbing you to death with this biro, and taking your job?’

 

The door to the office slammed open and a tall, blonde girl wearing a cheerleader’s outfit, staggered into the room, hunched over and in obvious pain. Tears were running down her cheeks and she was waving a piece of sandpaper in front of her, well used and covered in blood.

 

‘Doctor, I don’t think this is doing anything for my gonorrhea. And it really hurts.’

 

On the one hand, nobody could possibly be that stupid. On the other, that’s some fairly damning evidence she was holding in her hand. I should probably help her before she ingests that sludge and mutates into the living embodiment of VD.

 

‘Oh my God!’ She said as she straightened and looked at me, then turned back to cousin Igor’s uglier twin behind the desk.

 

‘I’m having real problems here, real medical problems that I could die from. And while I’m doing everything I can to stay alive, you’re closeted in here with’ she waved her arm in my direction ‘some hideous creature from the deep, dishing out fashion tips! I think my case is a little bit more urgent than hers!’

 

She turned to me, hand on hip, attitude and VD exuding from every pore. I took a tiny step back. You can never be too safe.

 

‘This isn’t the Flintstones, okay, nobody’s put bones in their ears since the Inca people. So take your fashion disaster problems to Ellen and let the doctor treat people with real problems. Like me!’

 

Nup. She can suffer. ‘Well, it seems I owe you an apology, doctor. All this time I thought you were a fake, out to scam poor, rural folk out of their hard earned money. But you really are Dr.Klein, the chosen diagnostician of the celebrities, because lo and behold, you are treating Sally Salisbury here right before my  eyes.’

 

I turned and walked to the door, but the cheerleader’s voice stopped me.

 

‘You’re not brave, you know, just stupid. It’s stupid to mock him.’

 

I turned back to her.

 

‘What’s he going to do? Wheeze on me?’

 

She scoffed, and looked around, as if sharing a joke with her imaginary posse of brain-dead friends.

 

‘Not him.’ She said flinging her arm back at the doctor. ‘Him? Everybody knows him?

 

I pursed my mouth and shook my head.

 

‘No? Honestly, buy a clue!’ She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands to her chest. She then started to sing a rhythmic, sing-song chant you usually only found in children’s songs. Or coming out of damaged people

 

Lock your doors

Don’t go out

None will hear your

Dying shouts

 

Hallows eve

All alone

With an ear that’s

Pierced with bone

 

Sisters we

Stained with sin

Stained with blood seeped

Into skin

 

We’ve been judged

We are low

We must fight to

Save our souls

 

He will come

Calling you

Luring, pleading

None is true

 

Stay inside

Stay alive

Go outside and

You will die

 

She ended her song with a finger thrust at me. I stared at it, wondering what she wanted me to do with it. Obviously the wrong reaction because then the finger started to dance, then wave in the air, before she thrust it repeatedly at the Q-tip impaled through my ear.

 

‘What the hell was that? I ain’t 6, this isn’t your Mum’s house, and I’m not here for a sleepover, so you can knock it off.’

 

‘It’s called the ‘Prophecy of Bone!’

 

‘It should be called ‘Prophecy of Stone – erville.’

 

‘Girls who are especially sinful are used as sacrifices to appease… him! They wake up with a piece of bone in their ear which they find themselves unable to remove. Then, on All Hallow’s Eve, they are lured out of their house never to be seen from again!’

 

I pointed at the Q-Tip. ‘This isn’t even bone, okay?’

 

‘Looks like bone.’

 

‘Well, you’re an idiot. And I ain’t stained with sin. You’re stained with sin.’ I pointed at the bloody sandpaper, ‘and blood. The song's talking about you, not me!

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I didn't "over-hyped" it. I gave it the hype it deserved, because, even tho you say it's still not good, i think it's fantastic and I'm sure our comrades agree with me.

Also, still in love with that song.

 

Thanks for the compliments guys. I still think you're being too generous with your praise, though. And sorry Charmed, I went a little bit too far with that accusation.

 

Oh, and regarding the song, I can guarantee you'll like the version which is revealed later on even better ;)

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So I've been thinking today, what consoles do you guys have, if any? We should try to play some stuff together, it could be fun.

 

Consoles aren't the problem. Internet's expensive in Australia, and I connect with a wireless dongle which means it's really expensive. So I don't play games on line.

 

You guys have fun, but I won't be able to join.

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Consoles aren't the problem. Internet's expensive in Australia, and I connect with a wireless dongle which means it's really expensive. So I don't play games on line.

 

You guys have fun, but I won't be able to join.

Can you play pc games online?

 

Edit: currently talking to myself on IRC. I'am lonely o_0

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Can you play pc games online?

 

Edit: currently talking to myself on IRC. I'am lonely o_0

 

Internet is expensive, so no. With the wireless dongle I'm using, it works out to about $8 per gig.

 

Ack, I forgot about IRC. I'm not usually a talkative person, though, so if I sign in it's just going to be long periods of silence interspersed with moments of awkward conversation.

 

You really need to conscript more people. Kidnap them, if you have to. You may get arrested but at least you'll have people to talk with online when you're in prison.

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