Written by Falconempress. Posted on Jun 3, 02:54 PM.

"You Slay Me" Spork - Chapter 12 Part 2

Ow, my head. Why do I feel like something small and furry crawled into my mouth while I was passed out and died there? Where were we? Oh, right coughs Assling. So, she and Jim get rid of Bafamal, the biggest pussy of a demon in the world. Seriously, if you get your ass pwned by the dynamic duo consisting of a lobotomized retard that is Assling and walking, slobbering, annoying as fuck sex offender demon in the form of a wisecracking Newfoundland dog, you officially have no balls.

NO BALLS

coughs

rasps I may need a bucket

No, no I’m fine, I’m fine.

Five minutes later I opened the windows to let out the last whiffs of demon smoke. “That was close,” I croaked, rubbing my throat.

Not close enough. You are still alive.

‘Too close. You really do need to find yourself a mentor, someone to show you the Guardian ropes. There are binding wards you can use to keep from being throttled while you’re conducting the ritual.”

You know, I am really surprised Assling does not know these things. I know I keep going on and on about how she should know these things, given her interests and everything, but her learning and remembering abilities are all over the place also. She only needs to watch a few documentaries on the “Detection channel” and that’s more than enough for her to be able to determine the time of death by merely touching the body. Yet she cannot remember anything – ANYTHING – that could be of any use when it comes to those demonology scriptures she loves to read so much. Just sayin’.

Assling is now convinces that it was Drake who killed the Dead Woman From Chapter One and the Venediger and decides to run off to investigate and look for a proof. She calls Rene to give her a lift:

“Rene? Hi, it’s Aisling. Are you free in about half an hour? Jim and I are going to need a ride. We’re making an escape.”

Yes, say that out loud and into a phone. Drake is the kind of guy who has cameras all over his own house. I would suspect the phone is tapped. But then again, maybe you can disable the “record every call” option on the intercom console just by the door.

I am so not getting over that.

“An escape? Yes, yes, I can pick you up.” Rene promised to be outside Drake’s house at the appointed time. “Has he hurt you? Should I bring my revolver?”

“Do you want me to partake in your illegal activities? Sure, lemme bring my le gun so we can shoot ze police officers who come shasing us! I am quirky like zat because I am French”

The plan is to hide out at Amelie’s, so she packs her stuff in a plastic bag which she throws out the window and then decides to go have breakfast with the man she believes has murdered two people. Because you can’t really start a day without proper breakfast, much less so when you are about to run off.

“Good morning. You look lovely. Pal has a good eye,” he said, looking me over, flashing me a sexy smile.

You can’t knock it off, not even when you believe the guy is a killer? You have less of a survival instinct than a lemming.

You are making this look like an evolutionary success. You have no right to be alive.

My fingernails bit into my palms as I tried to keep from throwing myself on him.

Subtle AND elegant – these would be the words I’d use if somebody asked me to describe the works of Katie MacAlister in only two words.

I know that does not sound very smart, but there is a shrapnel in my head and I am so very thirsty, where is some clean water?

drinks

Crap, that’s the booze! Ugh! I’m not going to be sick, I’m not going to be sick, I’m not going to be sick…

drinks water

That’s better.

Can somebody please turn off the sun? Ow.

Assling actually does admit she should not be feeling these things, but her body is out of control.

He had lied to me! He had stolen from me! He was amusing himself with me at my expense, and still I wanted him.

It’s not your fault you were written this way Assling – it was your author who made you the way you are. But I still want to murder you brutally.

“Oh really?” I turned and walked with him toward the kitchen, Jim trailing behind us. “What would that be? Cyanide? Strychnine? Hemlock?”

Ooooh, sarcasm… this doesn’t work. Just stop it, please.

“Nothing so exotic,” he said, holding the door open for me. I stepped into the sunny, cheerful kitchen

“I bought you this kitchen, woman! So that you can make me sammiches until the end of the time! HAHAHAHA!”

How is a kitchen “cheerful”?

and mused on how a man could have such a black heart and yet appear so utterly droolworthy at the same time. But then, he wasn’t really a man, was he? He was a dragon, and dragons loved treasure above all else.

Please, do go on. Elaborate further upon your disturbing relationship. It’s not like my stomach is momentarily unstable due to consumption of excess amounts of illegal distillates or anything.

With a flourish, Drake pulled a small container out of a paper bag. I blinked in surprise at the sight of it. “Lemon yogurt. I had an idea you might like it.”

This… no.

My cheeks burned with a blush at the flames of desire visible in his eyes. He had invaded my dream, the erotic dream I was having about him just an hour ago. The beastly man! “Thank you,” I said thickly, taking the yogurt and claiming a seat.

God-

sounds of violent vomiting

Why – does – this – exist?

eyes the floor mournfully

On second though, I guess I should have brought that bucket.

And why is it black?

They have breakfast and decide they should find the witness of the murders – the demon that was summoned by the person behind the murders. But before that, they should talk to Therese, Venediger’s mistress. I guess that’s the dominatrix. Heh, Venediger was kinky.

hiccups

Nope, way too soon for this kind of jokes.

Oh and Drake admits he was at Venediger’s the day he was killed, which unsurprisingly makes Assling only more suspicious of him.

Assling then excuses herself by telling Drake she needs to walk Jim and the two go outside.

“Go out to the side of the house and get my bag of clothes,” I instructed Jim quietly at the bottom of the staircase. “Take it around front, to the street. I’ll meet you there.” I glanced at my watch. “Rene should be there in a couple of minutes.”

“Where are you going?” Jim asked. “You’re not going to let loose that dragon fire all over Drake’s house, are you?”

“What do you take me for, an arsonist?”

No, I take you for something else:

But arsonist works too, seeing as you have recently been more than trigger – happy when it comes to setting things on fire.

She then runs up to leave Drake a note that she is leaving to investigate on her own and hopes that gives her a few hours head start.

Let me get this straight – you are running away to hide from the man you suspect of no less than two murders and you leave him a note? Is it just me not being fully recovered from drinking so much or does that really make no sense?

The taxi arrives and they head for Amelie’s.

“Drake? He is a thief, yes, but a murderer, too? And who is this Venediger?” Rene asked, peering over his shoulder at me.

Aw, whatever happened to “he is not a murdered because he does not look/sound like one” and “he is not a murderer because he says he isn’t”? What is this world coming to?

“Eeek!” I screamed, pointing at the parked car he was about to plow us into. “Eyes forward and I’ll tell you.”

You see, it’s funny because he’s French.

FUCK YOU, MacAlister.

Blah blah blah, Rene has five kids, he teaches Assling a few more ridiculous phrases and again – she memorizes them instantly. This chick is a veritable reneissance woman. Interesting she should forget everything the author feels needs an exposition.

“Thanks,“ I gave in to impulse and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “You’re a doll.”

Rene looked embarrassed by the gesture.

Aw, isn’t her homey, spontaneous personality simply adorable? Awww, look how she threw the uptight, remote European off her guard with her American charm.

Ahem.

“She’s not gettin’ any from Drake,” Jim explained in an annoyingly confidential tone. “She’s kissing everyone. You should have seen her this morning, she was all over me“

SONUVABITCH!

I was careful first to make sure there were no lounging policeman on surveillance. My Uncle Damian’s warning rang in my head: Security every place, everywhere, all the time.

Oh, hello there. Remember Uncle Damian? Your employer? You know, as in “the man whom you work for as your job and whose invaluable asset you managed to lose and hasn’t bothered to so much as contact since”? Remember having a job, for that matter? Seriously, how did she pay for the taxi? In a few chapters back she has to cash in her plane ticket, just to get some money in her hand. Or is Rene driving her around for free? Oh well. Looks like his five kids are going to go to sleep with empty bellies. Look:

This is what you caused, Assling, it’s all your fault. For that matter, you make puppies sad as well:

There. I hope you are happy.

Amelie’s clean – windowed occult store does not open for another hour, so the two figure they could drop by Amelie’s apartment and talk to her there. Her place is right above the shop, so Assling and Jim run upstairs.

“What a lovely apartment,” I said, looking around. It was lovely, although surprisingly modern. I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect her apartment to be filled with pop-art, fiber-optic lights, neo-Baroque furniture in primary colors, and very pricey designer chairs that looked extremely uncomfortable.

“I am on the run from the authorities and a dragon whom I suspect of multiple murders, but I can still stop and admire the décor of the room and comment on the style and worth of furniture.”

Seriously, who even thinks like that?

Amelie waved my compliments away. “What are you doing here? No, you do not need to answer that—I can guess. You are seeking shelter, yes?”

“Yes, but—”

“You cannot stay here,” she interrupted. “You must leave immediately. I cannot have you here!”

BAHAHAHAHA! In your face! This is by far the funniest line of the chapter. The sad thing is, it’s funny because it’s the only line that makes sense.

My shoulders sagged in disappointment. This wasn’t quite the welcome I had expected.

What DID you expect, you moron? That Amelie would jump at the prospect of harboring a fugitive from the law? Come to think about it – the magic – folk of Paris, nay, of all of France, think you killed their boss. How do you think they feel about the whole state of things? My guess is they are not really happy. So you are disappointed when Amelie tried to protect her hide from not one, but TWO instances of official authority? You, Assling Gray, are a selfish bitch. I hope you burn in hell.

Thank you, Mr. Hat.

Thank you for reading,

falconempress

Tagged as Falconempress, Paranormal Romance, Spork, You Slay Me.

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