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» TMO Talk » The Dead » The OFFICIAL jonesy triple nine tribute 80s themed crazy arsed party thread. (Page 2)

 
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Author Topic: The OFFICIAL jonesy triple nine tribute 80s themed crazy arsed party thread.
Ringo

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yeah well it's 20 minutes till my friends get here and anything I would write in 20 minutes would be ultimately arse so it'll have to wait till this evening. Sorry.
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mart
Wearing nothing but a smile
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Jolly good show.
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London

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I'm impressed.
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Ringo

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really?
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Uber Trick
DANGER!
unexploded sex bomb
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Who's story's next Ringers? Keep it up!

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uberwench

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Dr. Benway

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Apologies, Ringers. I'd been writing for some time, and didn't see that way that the thread was going.

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: Dr. Benway ]

--------------------
I have shit on you, son


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Dr. Benway

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Introduction

I started writing this about two hours ago, having no knowledge that Ringo was embarking upon an epic and exciting "multi-angle" story. Upon posting, I realised that I had interrupted the flow and atmosphere of the thread. I don't want to ruin the 'vibe'. However, I now realise that removing this post' has caused even more trouble, so I can only think to put it back, and hope that it isn't too intrusive. So. Sorry everybody!

Enjoy!

Dr. Benway 16/07/03

****


Goooooooood Niiiiiiggghhht!

ppppPPPPPRUMP! PUM! PUM! PUM! pum pu-


Another curtain lowered, another oversized shoe ruined.

As the ringmaster flung the curtains aside and emerged into the sweaty backstage, a grateful applause broke from the hands of children and their pleased parents. Balloons popped, peanuts scattered across seats, and programs were hastily bent into handbags and coat pockets. The sound of feet rose up to silence the clapping, and the audience sighed and laughed their way from the tent. A recorded drum march flitted around the ropes, props and wires at the top of the main ring, and the eldest and youngest members of the troupe began the thankless task of picking up the deposited rubbish.

Jonesy stared at the end of his size thirty four shoe. More specifically, he stared at the hole that exposed nothing but hot odorous air. Wiggling his toes, he wondered how much the repairs were likely to cost. Fifty? A hundred? It would be a dry week.

"Good show - Jonesy - good show. You were really good tonight..really funny..I think that you may have found it again... Well done.."

A hand brushed his shoulder as Gemini limped past. The 'tail' of her outfit trailed in the sand, leaving an uneven snake etched behind her. Jonesy glumly watched her arse as it moved inside the electric blue polyester. There was sadness in those cheeks. The hours spent perched on a two foot long pole had driven any joy from them, and now they displayed only graft and cramps. Resisting the urge to make a derogatory comment, Jonesy grunted his thanks, and sucked hard on the crumpled cigarette.

She wanted him out. They all did.

Immanot was probably already in the 'van with Big Daz, drinking Imported vodka and being congratulated on a job well done. If Jonesy listened hard enough, he could almost hear his laughter cutting across the ambient drone of the never-ending marching band. A hand touched him on the head, but he didn't lift his gaze from the broken shoe. He knew what that touch meant. It meant "Sorry....". It meant "I don't know what to say....". It was the end of a clown.

Jonesy had been the best in the business. Having grown up amongst the animals and performers of the famous "Seth Rue Extravaganza", there had never been any question in his young mind about his destiny. Ever since he saw his first ladder/hooter/loose trousers skit, he knew that he wanted nothing more than to feel the unrestrained hollering of a joyful audience. It was what had first driven to him take a pie full to the face - he could still remember the first time he heard an audience being muted through a thick earful of shaving foam.

Only, it wasn't the same now. The audience no longer laughed with him. They pitied him. He could feel it in the air. The hysteria was poised on the promise of a broken bone or a cut face. Falling over wasn't good enough anymore; now, you had to fall twenty feet and get trampled by a horse upon landing. It wasn't the meticulous choreography that they were watching; it was the humiliation and debasing of a failing man. The shoe was a sign. It was unlikely to get fixed.

Ringo poked his head around the corner of the backstage exit. His white and green hair was glowing under the light of the bulbs lining the tent, and hanging lamps threw macabre shadows across his painted face. Hey Jonesy, how are ya? That was pretty good tonight. Fancy a drink? There's some people here who want to meet you. Audience members. One of them is quite famous! Come on - meet your public!

Jonesy threw the cigarette butt down and ground it under the broken shoe. Before he had time to think, he went to wipe away the tears and smudged his makeup across his face, turning the cheerful smile into a blurred leer, spreading with malice across his stinging cheek. Some eager faces appeared below Ringo's, searching the backstage for evidence of props that could have been used in "Kovacs the Implausible??s tired trickery.

"Hey kids, wanna see something funny? BEEP BEEP!"

The children glowered at Jonesy as he lifted himself to his feet. As he did so, his trousers gracefully slipped to the floor in concert with a meagre squirt from the plastic flower on his forehead. A rage flashed through his muscles. That was Funny! You like that? Hey - he's Jonesy The Clown! He's ALWAYS funny. The Best Clown in North London. Go on Jonesy - take a fall! HAHAHAH!
A sob fought in his throat with a cry of anger, making his eyes well up. Immanot roared in the nearby caravan. Hey, Jonesy, there's somebody famous here to see you. From the Tele'! Does "National Lottery Jetset" mean anything to you? Huh? Can you guess who?

"Ah - is this the fellow? Jonesy, a wonderful show - simply marvellous. The kids and I loved it. I'm Eammon Holmes. I'm from the Tele'. How are you?"

It wasn't the only person that Jonesy had met from the Tele'. He had performed on the small screen himself some years ago, as a clown in a children's drama about a circus runaway. It had been a non-speaking role, and his tour of duty was cut short by a shattered jaw, but it would have been something to tell the grandkids about.

As the fat man waddled in the dim light across the backstage, Jonesy felt the last of his love fly away. Like an insect finally gaining freedom from a nostril, the tiny love briefly buzzed around his painted head, before zipping off and burning to death against a lamp. Its tiny heart sizzled instantly. Jonesy panicked - how was he to function without love? How could he have been so stupid as to let it go like that? The damn thing was so small; he hadn't even felt it burrowing up from the centre of his body. Nevertheless, it was gone. The red and white stripes of the tent seem to shine with a greater intensity, as if trying to peel away and fill the tiny space that had been left within him.

"Yes yes, you've probably seen me on GMTV, or the Lottery show? I'm very popular with kids, much like yourself!"

Nobody else had seen it leave. They didn't know. Well! I'll leave you two together then, shall I? Mr. Holmes - your kids will be waiting outside the tent for you - we don't let them backstage as they might get hurt! Jonesy - see you in Londie's 'van for a nightcap after you've done here? Remember as well that Big Daz wanted a word with you? Bye!

"So, Jonesy, I was wondering if you've ever done kids TV? I was really impressed with your show out there, and-


****************************

Ladiiiiiies aaaaaaaaand Geeeentlemeeeeeen! We are very proud.....and very sad! Yes - that's right Immanot - we're all crying buckets!

(Immanot throws a bucket of water over Ringo, who returns it with a fake-jab in the guts. The crowd love it)

Because, ladies and gentlemen, tonight is a very special night. A very special night for one of oure most treasured performers. He's been entertaining you kids, and you adults for over twenty years! Can you imagine that, Immanot?

(Immanot scratches the top of his tiny hat in mock contemplation, then proceeds to slap Ringo in the face twenty times. Again, the audience go wild, and they fail to see the tiny tears that have risen in Ringo's bloodshot eyes)

Thaaaaat's right! TWENTY YEARS!, and tonight, ladies and gentleman, is his last night! Isn't that soooo soooo sad? So - he's going to do a special trick for us tonight - something first attempted by the great "Po-po the Clown" in Louisana at the turn of the century. Yes - you heard me right. So.... Without further ado, let me be the first to welcome, ON HIS LAST PERFORMANCE EVER - JONESY - THE CLOWN.....IN A CANNON!

(Immanot and Ringo both applaud and circle the ring. Whilst doing so, Immanot whispers to Ringo, informing him that he fucked his wife in the ass moments before they came on stage. Ringo goes to punch Immanot, who deftly dodges the blow and smacks Ringo around the head with the empty bucket. Ringo is out cold, and Immanot makes it appear as if he is waving his hand. Immanot drags him out of the ring, to the delight of the audience)

*Drum Roll*


Ladies and Gentleman! Hello! I am Jonesy the Clown! And tonight I will be attempting a trick that has not been seen on these shores for a loooong loooong time. It is my present to all of you for your support over the years! Remember- don't let that smile die!

Jonesy's voice booms around the speakers at the top of the giant tent. Gemini and Octavia, dressed in matching black and sequined leotards wheel out a huge prop cannon onto the ring. The audience gasp, and the children grab excitedly onto the coats of their parents. The anticipation is tinted with fear. Spotlights mounted on the rig to the side of the ring are darting around the audience, causing eyes and teeth to flash like cameras before the eyes of the Ringmaster. The Ringmaster holds his arms outwards in a theatrical manner, and then lets them drop, lowering his head and moving away from the centre of the ring at the same time. With the cannon in place, the spotlights fall onto a far wall of the tent, and onto the contraption itself.

*Drum Roll*

The audience hold a collective "ooh!" as a sheet of material unfurls against the wall. The spotlight is now clearly showing a red and white target, some forty feet from the ground.

"And now - I will fly! Ladies! LIGHT! THE! FUSE!"

There is a deathly silence. Parents hope that their children are going to be safe. They begin wishing that they had gone with their better judgement, and shunned the circus in place of a pizza buffet and action film at the local multiplex. In the backstage, a horse is stamping it's feet. A tiny voice can be heard "woah there...woah there lad...". The pause is sickening.

FLASH!

A great light emits from the cannon, and the ridiculously long and thick prop fuse begins sparkling. The glamorous ladies move away from the cannon, keeping their arms high and their smiles wide. Children place their fingers in their ears, parents notice the face of ringmaster appearing from the shadows as the fuse flickers towards it's inevitable conclusion. There is a fear on his face. And a mighty boom.


******************************

In their recollections, the parents and children were very sure about a number of details. A clown was seen leaving the cannon at alarming velocity. The figure must have crossed the tent in less than a second, and soared like an arrow towards the target. The glitter explosions from around the ring made it possible for those sitting directly under the target to be able to make out the screaming face of the clown. After the brief flight, the speeding body hit the target with a noise like a cane upon wood. It was a quick cracking sound, and it echoed around the tent for what seemed like hours.

As the large heavy body dangled from what appeared to be a pole jutting out from the frame of the tent, the first sobs broke the silence. As the pole began to slowly turn on its axis, and the round pig-like body began sliding off on a film of slick blood, there were screams. Few people mentioned the pounding of freshly shoed hooves upon the hard baked ground of the recreational park.
Certainly, nobody recalled a cold and loveless laugh, drifting into the warm night air.

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: Dr. Benway ]

--------------------
I have shit on you, son


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Louche
Carved TMO on her clit just to make you feel bad
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Well, glad I managed to read that. Sorry I didn't quote it somewhere.
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London

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quote:
Originally posted by Ringo:
really?

Well, yeah. I like the way you've got all the little bits of plot and stuff coming together.


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not...
You reached over with your hand and knocked my Jap over
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ok

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: I am not... ]


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Dr. Benway

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sh-ssh! It was an accident! G'wan Ringers!

--------------------
I have shit on you, son

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Sidney
Her Glorious Reneging Brumness
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Benwaydood -

Don't do that 'x' thing. Please.

Agh! Too late - next time, I'll fucking quote you.

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: Sidney ]

--------------------
They give you a pen as fat as a modest cock and you're expected to dab it on the page, as though you were mopping the dregs of an afternoon Tommy.


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herbs

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quote:
Originally posted by Sidney:
Benwaydood -

Don't do that 'x' thing. Please.

Agh! Too late - next time, I'll fucking quote you.

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: Sidney ]


YES. Stop it. NOW. It's really fucking irritating. Surely if something's worth quoting - which it always is when by Forum Stalwarts Benway and Jonesy - it's worth leaving there. Is it so only people who look at TMO every second of the day can read them? Bloody morons.


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not...
You reached over with your hand and knocked my Jap over
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Somewhere this little bulb became lit.

And then Dr. Benway cackled to himself and pressed the edit button once more. Re-pasting his original post into a post that he had created a few minutes previously having accidently pressed quote instead of edit in the first place, and thereby caused a few more counter edits by other posters further down the page, who were now furiously attempting to keep their posts relevent.

"What fun this is" he croaked and rubbed his tiny beadle-like hands together in unrestrained glee.

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: I am not... ]


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London

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[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: London ]


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Octavia
I hate Valentine's Day.
Stupid commercialised crap
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I want more Ringo-story. Especially as I couldn't go to the party.
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jonesy999

"Call me Snake"
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As always, a brilliant piece of writing, Benway, and Ringo's too.

I suppose I should bow out disgracefully now.

I just didn't realise.

Sorry.

[ 16 July 2003: Message edited by: jonesy999 ]


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StevieX
Gimmie the keys, I'll drive
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Hey - belated birthday wishes there Jonesy.

--------------------
i wrote for luck - they sent me you

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Ringo

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x

[ 25 July 2003: Message edited by: Ringo ]


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moggycookie
TMO Member
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You can't just stop there R!!! More please!!!
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Ringo

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Sorry I had to go and pick up my mum and nearly got hit by some fucker in a vectra who indicated one way and went another...

But anyway, yeah, I'll finish it


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moggycookie
TMO Member
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you're really not having much luck with the car are ya mate?

Maybe its cursed or something, like Stephen King's 'Christine'


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Amy
Transatlantic temptress
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x

[ 25 July 2003: Message edited by: Amy ]


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Ringo

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sorry, it wasn't very well written and I think i went a bit far

[ 25 July 2003: Message edited by: Ringo ]


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New Way Of Decay

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quote:
Originally posted by Ringo:
sorry, it wasn't very well written and I think i went a bit far

[ 25 July 2003: Message edited by: Ringo ]


Totally dude, it was something like this...let me recall

quote:
Benway was ironic. He didn't just act ironically, or speak with irony, nor did he ever even make a concious effort towards it. Irony seemed to hang off him like a heavy leather jacket. His every move sent irono-rays shooting out in every direction.

Once, he went into a small ironic cafe and asked for a cup of tea and a bacon roll. Rather than grunting, scribbling down his order and giving him a ticket, the fella behind the counter stood there with a stunned expression on his face. Benway had been slightly confused by this. A single tear ran from the corner of the luddites left eye.

You're right

you what?

You're so right. God I can't believe I never realised before.

I'm not sure what you're on about, I just want a bacon roll

Yes of course, my existence is so completely pointless. My god, I've never even realised. I could be out there doing so much with my life.

And with that, the man ripped off his stained apron and threw it to the floor.

Thank you. You've freed me from the oppression of my own self loathing

He kissed benway on the cheek and ran out of the shop.

This wasn't an isolated incident. It got to a point where he could no longer physically go to a shop and buy things for fear of liberating the clerk and failing to obtain his purchase. He'd never asked for this to happen to him, it just kinda grew, like pubic hair or BO.

He was currently reclining in an ironic position in a darkened bedroom at Jonesys house. He took an ironic drag on his cigarette, which, ironically, he wasn't enjoying very much.

The door burst open, breaking the blackness with a shaft of light. A silhuette appeared at the door and moved into the room, shutting the door behind it. A small pane of green light shone on the figures cheek picking out an elegant bone structure and sharp feminine lips that were moving fast. He could hear her low voice and picked out parts of her phone conversation, something about money, someone in trouble, how she'd help if she could. Even in a whisper, her thick middle american accent made him wince with agony.

*click*

The figure flicked on the light and physically jumped at the sight of Benways ironic recline.

Shit, did you hear what I was saying then?

I caught a few bits. What's the problem?

Oh Benway, I need your help. It's my partner back in the states, he's fucked up pretty badly and now some guys are looking to kill him or worse.

What's he done?

He borrowed a load of money off some sharks. Told them he was going to start a business or something and couldn't get a loan from the bank. They gave him the money and the stupid fuck went to Vegas for the weekend, thinking he could make it back. Thought it would be a nice little earner.

Let me guess, he blew it all, right?

Yeah. If he doesn't get it back to them in a couple of days, he's in some real shit. Once they're finished with him, they're gonna come after me too.

Amy was crying as she told Benway the details. How much he owed, how long they had, and how she'd do anything to get the money back. It wasn't a small amount either.

It had been about 3 months since Benways film about a guy going to an interview destroyed the box offices. Amy had been lucky to find him in the room as nobody else could possibly come up with that sort of money at such short notice. Her luck came at a price, though. Benway was far from normal. Few people knew about his dark past, except possibly Ringo, to whom he had some sort of tie. Both his parents had supposedly been murdered in front of him when he was younger and it had definitely had an effect on him. He spent his evenings watching bizarre snuff films and pornography, fantasizing about a world of pain and cruelty.

Benway saw his opportunity for inflicting misery and took full advantage of it.

Well, I can help you. But there's something I need you to do for me first.

Just say the word and it's done.

You see, in these situations, I often ask myself what would Takeshi Miike do. Now it's hardly a secret that you're a lady and I'm a man which opens up a whole world of mysoginy and exploitation. Obviously I'd like to fuck you, but that'd be far too easy and I'd hardly be making a point. No, Miike would have you do something far worse, showing people their deepest darkest emotions and exposing our male perversions. You know I changed a guys life once just by asking for a cup of tea. Well I'm gonna make an example of you.

Benway explained what he wanted her to do. Amy objected at first but faced with the prospect of ging home to a murdered husband with the fear of death hanging over her, she couldn't help but agree to it.

_______________________

The booming music that filled the living room flicked off suddenly. All eyes turned to the stereo, to see a small man standing ironically beside the speaker with a remote in his hands.

Right, I'm really sorry about this everyone but bear with me because I think you're all gonna like this. I've just been speaking to Amy upstairs and she's told me she wants to do a little party trick for us. Come on Amy, don't be shy, love. Lads, clear a space on the sofa there, yeah? Cheers.

Amy walked nervously in from the kitchen. Her eyes were bloodshot and it was clear she'd been crying. She shuffled over and stood in front of the sofa, facing her new audience. At the far end of the room, Benway nodded and gave her an evil look. Suddenly the silence was replaced with the high tempo strains of DJ Assault on the stereo. Amy closed her eyes and moved her hips, trying to get into what she was doing.

A few of the lads smiled expectantly, as if they knew what was coming. Little did they know that the finale would literally be in their faces.

Amy turned and put one leg up onto the sofa, stroking the length of her leg slowly upwards and sliding her skirt cheekily crotchwards. Benway was suddenly struck at how sexy he was finding it all and was grateful for his place behind everyone. Only Amy would notice what was happening in his trousers. He hoped she'd see it.

She was standing on the sofa now, girating frantically in time with the music. She held her eyes tightly closed and tried to ignore what was going on around her. She shut herself tightly into her world and let her body carry on through the motions, disassociated with her conciousness. It wasn't working, though and she kept coming back to reality sharply with every bar of booty shakin' bass. She'd never admit it to anyone, but in a small way she actually found it quite sexy to have so much attention. Only her and Benway had any idea what was coming, though, and there was no way she was going to be able to enjoy that.

Tears rolled down her face but nobody in the room noticed. All eyes were flicking wildly between her breasts and her hips, both moving in mesmerising co-ordination to the music, like some sort of sexual snake charmer. Indeed, there were more than a few 'snakes' feeling positively charmed by this unexpected spectacle.

There was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable happening. She'd reasoned it in her mind until it almost made a strange kind of sense but it was going to haunt her soul for years to come. She mustered the sexiest voice she could and just about managed to hold it steady.

Let me show you something you're really gonna like

Amy squatted down on the sofa, allowing her skirt to ride up her thighs. Eyebrows raised even higher at the sight of her white cotton panties making a little triangle under the darkness of her skirt.

I just can't help it, doing this get's me so hott

She pulled her skirt higher and tentatively slid her hand down into her panties.

mmm, I'm so wet. Who wants to see how wet I am?

Benways face lit up with glee. She really was putting on a good performance. The small 'audience' cheered excitedly in expectation.

She slid her panties to the side and exposed herself to the room. Tears were streaming down her face but nobody, not even Benway, was looking.

oh yeah, that's WET

In time with the word wet, Amy pushed down hard and squeezed on her bladder sending a jet of urine out in front of her. Almost instantly, excitement turned to disgust on the faces of everyone watching. Urine pooled and soaked into the beige upholstry of the sofa. She stood and held her skirt around her waist, holding her underwear to one side with the other hand. Still in time with the music, Amy thrust her hips hard, showering the closest spectators with hot piss. Disgust had turned into fear and now a near panic gripped everyone in the room as slowly a deep shame emerged.

Benway watched with intense glee, the reactions of his friends. Now they knew. He had made his point with irony once again. Not a single one of them would ever be able to look at porn in the same way after tonight.

Amy broke down on the sofa and sobbed loudly to herself. She felt ashamed and dirty. It would be a long time before she felt sexy again.


[ 25 July 2003: Message edited by: New Way Of Decay ]

--------------------
BUY A TICKET AND WATCH SOME METAL


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Sidney
Her Glorious Reneging Brumness
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Cold

--------------------
They give you a pen as fat as a modest cock and you're expected to dab it on the page, as though you were mopping the dregs of an afternoon Tommy.

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Dr. Benway

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harsh. Sorry Amy. I'm a bad man.

--------------------
I have shit on you, son

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not...
You reached over with your hand and knocked my Jap over
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Ooof!
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