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YouI curl up beside you on the bed that is a student's sofa, and laugh as you perform your eternal comedy act to the group. You leap across unexpected connections, bringing the absurd to the forefront in witty wordplay, and as your humour tickles my mind, your hair tickles my ear, and the heat of your body warms my side.You by k-d-t
I fall against you, and we wiggle and hop our way through a hilarious mockery of cookie-cutter dance moves. The bass of the club mix throbs in the tiny, crowded room, and the crowd thumps up and down, almost in time with it. A drunken rower showers the people around him with cheap beer, but we are out of range and so the cries of soggy outrage pass us by, and we tipsily stumble through another cheesy 90s pop song, grins so wide our faces ache.
We fight our way up the steps of the bar, through the crowd that doesn't want to leave. Better than last time, the ground is slush-free and we can actually walk across the paving slabs outside. We leave the mass of totally-plastered
Of Buses and FridgesEddy stepped nervously onto the bus, eyed its length with a nervous glance to match. It was near-empty, just a handful of other people on it: a perfect little-old-lady stereotype in the front seat, a man in a suit with greying dark hair a little further back, and, at the very back, a teenage boy in a violently purple tracksuit. Eddy twitched slightly. At least there weren't too many of them.Of Buses and Fridges by k-d-t
"You getting on or what?"
Eddy flinched at the sudden gruff voice by his ear. The bus driver was giving him a most offensive glare, with eyebrows raised. He cleared his throat, dug his wallet out of his jacket pocket.
"Uh... One ticket, please."
Eddy glanced frantically around, as though the interior of the bus would help him with the answer. It did not. A large neon sign with his destination on completely failed to leap out of the walls.
The bus driver tapped on the wheel impatiently. Eddy's mind scrabbled for an answer.
"Uh, the Randolph, please."
"Right, Beaumont Street."
"-" Eddy op
Janus She drove the switchbacks with joy and ferocity. It usually took an hour to reach the hovel after work, but she made it in half the time... If you're gonna quit, do it in style ...she thought, and opened the three locks at her small studio. The hovel was illegal because it had no shower, no tub, no heat, no closet and not even those locks protected her. But it was cheap. Ellen had books and clothes piled on wood-and-brick shelves, a futon, a few more items and a fat Siamese, Horace, to keep her warm.Janus by xlntwtch
Ellen tore open the carton of Marlboros she bought... Shit, I forgot to get a lighter ...and used a box of wooden matches brought there long ago. It was the first cigarette she had in three years. The very first puff made her cough, but soon they were old buddies again. One pack equaled twenty little friends, important when alone a lot. She tickled Horace when he demanded it and thought about her last day at the store
I'm that crazy kid who always had her nose in a book, the kid who spent her lessons drawing, eating, writing or sleeping.
I listen to music 24/7. Except when I'm forced to turn it off.
I'm a little bit crazy, a little (big?) bit bi, a little bit neatfreak and a little bit lazy
Oh, and I have the attention span of a gnat
Current Residence: England, UK
Favourite genre of music: 80s pop. Heavy Metal. J-Pop. 80s Rock. Ok, anything except Capital-Raido-style
Favourite style of art: *shrug* whatever's fun ^^
Operating System: Vistaaaa
MP3 player of choice: iPod - mini! if only it were more than 4Gb...
Shell of choice: uh, turtle?
Skin of choice: yours *creepy grin*
Personal Quote: poke.