I recently came across an old spiral bound notebook that I hadn't looked through in years (I'm guessing 2004/2005). In the beginning few pages I was pleased/horrified to find some fan fiction I had written. Actually, I guess it's not fan fiction so much as a 14-year-old's fantasies during a Gerard Butler obsession time of her life. But lezzbehonest - can you blame me?
No. No, you cannot.
FYI, every year at my family reunion, my cousin and best friend, Sarah, and I would write stories for each other intended to make the other swoon. So they're all written TO her.
As mortifying as these are, I feel that it's for the greater good to share these two stories with the world (or at least the 6 people who read my blog). They're good for a laugh. Personally, I LOL'd several times while typing them up for this post.
So here they are for you to enjoy with only minimal editing (don't worry - it's only spelling errors I changed. You best believe I left the run-on sentences unadulterated). Personal commentary follows.
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No. No, you cannot.
FYI, every year at my family reunion, my cousin and best friend, Sarah, and I would write stories for each other intended to make the other swoon. So they're all written TO her.
As mortifying as these are, I feel that it's for the greater good to share these two stories with the world (or at least the 6 people who read my blog). They're good for a laugh. Personally, I LOL'd several times while typing them up for this post.
So here they are for you to enjoy with only minimal editing (don't worry - it's only spelling errors I changed. You best believe I left the run-on sentences unadulterated). Personal commentary follows.
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The Hot Scotsman
Imagine coming home after babysitting late, and you walk down into your room, and it looks the same as it did when you left: there are clothes in a heap on the floor, your make up is still all over the vanity counter. The only difference is that your bed is made, and at a second glance, you notice that there’s something resting on one of your pillows. You rush over and discover that it’s a blood-red rose, with a thick black ribbon deliberately, yet delicately, tied around the thornless stem. You lift it up to your nose - and the smell is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced - it’s as though you’d never truly smelled before this moment - as though a whole new sense has been opened unto you - it’s INCREDIBLE. When your lungs cannot hold anymore, you reluctantly exhale, and gasp in another batch of glorious air. During this experience you notice a different smell. It’s not just the heaven-on-earth smell of the rose, there’s also something very masculine and sexy - you sniff frantically to find the source of this new-found joy, and quickly discover that it’s the RIBBON! You take a few more soft whiffs of the ribbon and realize that it’s the new scent from Calvin Klein! You were so enveloped in the discovery of the rose that you didn’t see the note that had been under it! You want desperately to reach for it, but your senses are still over-loaded so your movements are quick and jerky - like you’re not in control. When, at last, you win this struggle between your arms and your brain, you successfully grab the note. You have to bring it close to your eyes (even though you have your contacts in) to make out the over-embellished, perfect cursive written on the outside of the envelop. When it does become clear to you, you’re delighted to discover that it reads "Sarah, my love~”. You hurriedly turn it over and open it (careful to not damage the crimson red wax seal) and pull out an old looking piece of parchment. In the same perfect handwriting (though not as elaborate as before) it says:
My Dearest Sarah,
As I’m sure you’ve realized, being the extremetly intelligent girl that you are - I have been in your room. Now, before you get alarmed, please know that all I did was make your bed, and give you the rose which I hope you enjoyed.
I am waiting outside right now. Call my cell (801)756-1122, and I’ll pull into your driveway to pick you up. We can go wherever you want: Olive Garden or Johnny Carino’s. WHATEVER - all I want is to make you happy. I’ve already talked to your parents so don’t worry about that - I’ll have you back before midnight. I hope this will be only the 1st of many encounters.
I will always be yours,
Gerard Butler
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(Unnamed)
“Sarah!” yelled Scott, your manager, “I need you to come to my office for a minute!”
You set down the tampons you’ve been restocking and run to his office. Upon arrival you notice a hot man. Not just an ordinary hot man that you see on the street everyday and think, “Oh, that’s a hot man!” No, no, no - THIS man was unearthly good looking, and made your locked knees weaken and shake. It was as though his face was the last face carved by a a practiced and accomplished sculptor - as though all of the thousands of hours of practice put in by said sculptor had all come down and accumulated to this one PERFECT face. Each bold, STRIKING feature was chiseled into perfection. He was sure easy on the eyes!
You quickly regain composure (including tactfully wiping the drool off your smiling face by pretending to scratch your nose) and proceed to introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Sarah, and I can give you everything you’d ever want!” Ashamed, your whole face turns a pale pink as you attempt to salvage yourself, “No, I didn’t mean THAT… I.. I just, well, you see, I, um - I’m junior manager in charge of merchandise and hiring - so I could get you anything you wanted from the warehouse, and-” (you’re now a medium coral), “ - well, it’s nice to meet you.”
Mortified, you turn away and decide to retract your hand from the handshake-ready position you had put it in before your faux pas - but before you get a chance to, your hand is met warmly with a firm, yet gentle handshake.
You look up and see that you are now face-to-face with the hot man. After a hearty, but not over-done, chuckle, you hear (in a a moderately strong Scottish accent), “Well - Sarah, junior manager in charge of merchandise and hiring, I suppose it is because of you that I’m here at Happy-Mart. It’s my first day on the job.” He concludes with a broad grin, and another sincere chuckle as well as, “I’m Gerry.”
Flabberghasted, you rack your brain for a witty, yet non-cheesy response. At last, you decide on, “Well, I’ve always had a way of picking the best employees.” Wondering if that had sounded as good aloud as it had in your head, you are relieved when Scott breaks the silence with, “Well, now that we’re all acquainted, I’ll proceed with your initiation, Gerry.”
You can’t hear everything Scott’s telling Gerry, but you do manage to catch that the other junior manager, Trent, was going to be training Gerry. “Oh boy,” you think , “Gerry’s gonna wonder what he’s gotten himself into!” You smile to yourself as your return to your lonely, boring tampons.
You are soon enveloped again in the exciting world of tampons and are startled when you hear a hurried whisper, “I thought I’d never get away!” You turn around, tampon-in-hand, and see a relieved-looking Gerry, trying to hide from an unknown assailant. “What is it!?” you ask, fully aware that Trent was the culprit. “Oh, it’s just that TRENT! He’s been driving me mad! Are all American men this way? I mean, no one’s even greeted you properly yet this morning!” He flashes a sly, innocent grin as you attempt to suppress a snorting laugh. Before you can ask, “And what’s the ‘proper’ way of greeting a woman?” Gerry leans down and kisses you lightly - first on the left, then on the right cheek. Normally this would have startled you, but somehow Gerry had a way of making it feel nonchalant, but not like it was insignificant - you still felt special. “That’s how we do it in Scotland!” he informs you proudly!
“Well I think I’M the one who should be greeting YOU - though I’m not sure that my American greeting will suffice!” You’re trying to resist the urge to return his Scottish-style greeting, “Welcome to Happy mart!” You lift up his hand and shake it, still smiling.
“I can’t believe Trent is junior manager like you! He’s rubbish at it! Where’s he from, anyway? I’ve never even heard an accent like his!” It’s true that Trent was annoying! Even you - normally tolerant - sometimes couldn’t stand him! He spoke in a high, nasally voice and seemed to be constantly battling gravity because he was always pushing up his thick-rimmed glasses. He whined about EVERYTHING and never let you get a word in. You let out a sympathetic laugh, “Oh, he’s not bad, he just takes some getting used to! I know EXACTLY what you mean, though.” He smiles, and looks relieved that he hasn’t offended you by talking about how annoying Trent is. He is suddenly reminded that he should be hiding when Trent’s nasally complaint is heard bounding down the feminine products aisle, “Uh - why did you leave, Gerry? We haven’t even finished talking about fish oil and its many healthy benefits!”
“Good NIGHT” you hear Gerry whisper, “It may be my first day, but I don’t think I need a 25 minute lecture/demonstration on how to wash your hands after taking a leak!”
Trying not to laugh, you yell in Trent’s direction, “I think I saw him heading toward the bathroom a few minutes ago!” After being reassured that Trent was gone by an excited scuttle toward the restrooms, Gerry stands up and says, “Thanks for that,” and kisses you again this time on the lips, “I was thinking he might be trying to find me to show me how to use of THESE!” he motions down to the box of tampons in your hands. Embarrassed, you set the box on the shelf and continue to empty the rest of the boxes, carefully avoiding his gaze.
*** The rest is edited for content. Yikes!
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Now let's talk about a few things (in no particular order).
1) Apparently Happy-mart (THAT'S the best name you could come up with, Melissa?) is not only a convenience store, but also a cult. Why does Gerry need to be "initiated" rather than just trained? It's pretty suspicious if you ask me.
2) Let's all take a moment to appreciate that the fanciest place I could picture for Gerard Butler to take Sarah to dinner was the OLIVE GARDEN. I'm so classy.
3) I like that "hot" was the best (only?) adjective I could use to describe our protagonist.
4) Calvin Klein cologne?? Really? In one of the paragraphs I edited out I made references to Axe body spray as well. So I guess you can say I'm pretty good at knowing what men do to smell good.
5) The award for funniest line goes to.... "an excited scuttle toward the restrooms"
6) So much talk about tampons. I'm sure I was just trying to be funny and make my cousin laugh, but seriously - have you ever read a story with so many uses of the word "tampons"?
7) SO MANY EXCLAMATION POINTS. SO MANY COMMAS. SO MANY EM-DASHES. SO MANY PARENTHETICAL STATEMENTS. Actually, that's not that weird. I guess some things never change.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go ahead an send these pages down the garbage disposal. PEACE.
