AN: Heh… don’t plan on taking this story seriously. And holy hell… a story by me that’s not SLASH… I think I may pass out. This is a show of the type of humor I have, and why all my english teachers tell me I have a dark sense of humor.

Rated R for excessive violence, sperm whale bashing, and halibut hating; and don’t forget the all around craziness that some people can just NOT handle.

This is not a story for amusement, myself, or for any of the wonderful people that I call my friends. Instead this is a story written purely for the entertainment of an inanimate object. Although if you were to call her that, she would be most cross with you and most likely break down while you are working on your homework.

Or decide to open or close something without your consent.

Because she’s just great like that.

Now I should introduce her, and tell her story for her, but right now I need to get the preliminaries out of the way. This story should be fun for all you flamers (tee hee) out there, go ahead flame this story all you want. I’m sure she will enjoy it. In fact please flame this story; it may make her run even better.

Because this story that you are going to read in a bout 5 or 10 seconds is for my computer, Steve.

First of all what you should know is that she never liked the rain, and wanted nothing to do with it whatsoever. Also she hated it when cats persisted in sitting or clawing on her tower to get attention (yes Jubilee, this means you!).

Yet at the moment, Steve found herself immersed in all of those at this moment in time. How she ever survived the rain we will never know, the only details she’ll give out is that it involved a blind man, old blue suede shoes, and a rather long piece of rope.

After that particular incident, Steve became quite bitter, and for some reason also had a portion of halibut stuck in her floppy drive (don’t ask, she won’t say, and I really don’t want to have to find out.).

It was at that point in time that I found Steve, alone, a little wet, and under the roof of Hungry Howie’s where I had been recently hired. She looked a little forlorn and as if someone had just ran over her cat (that was actually true, she had at one point a little gray tabby named Lucy, but he went outside… we’ll get to that later.).

Anyone that knows me knows that I have quite a soft heart and would take in anything that gives me those huge puppy dog eyes and acts distressed. Well, Steve had a very large reason to be distressed, after all she was a computer with no owner, and at the time, no name.

For myself, at the time I had a very slow and crappy computer at home named Louis Bobby Farbanks IX, it was like having no computer. So I did what any computer-less high school student would do, I took her home with me and threw old Louie Bob out a window (Actually he survived the fall, and trained many laptops how to attack, but we’ll come to that later as well.).

The first of our relationship was very rocky, she would never work for me and I was always yelling. I guess she didn’t feel loved enough, and I really don’t blame her now, although I did then.

Now, you may be laughing at that right there, but I’m of the opinion that everything has emotions, and acts according to their will; it’s just the way I think. And that’s why I name things all the time, and I never use one name twice (there was only one Louis Bobby Fairbanks, but doesn’t it sound better with the IX… go ahead compare them by saying them both aloud. I’m right, aren’t I?)

After the first nine months of owning Steve, I was almost ready to throw her on the street, but something made me stop, perhaps it was my humane side, or it may have been the fact that she actually started speaking to me…

The very first thing that she said, I don’t think I should really record at the moment, I mean, it might offend some people (and sperm whales) out there.

But the second thing she said was a bit more polite than the first thing she said, "If you throw me out on the street, you bastard, I’ll make sure you never live past your eighteenth birthday."

I wanted to live, so of course, Steve stayed. After that happened, I was a little worried about my mental stability, but no one believed me when I said the computer had spoken. My family would just look at me and calmly tell me to stop taking drugs, and my friends would laugh and make me show them the computer. So I had no help from anyone else, Steve wouldn’t talk in front of anyone else, and for days after anyone came to see her, she would cuss me out then break down after I tried to start my homework.

It wasn’t really a very happy relationship.

Now many of you may be wondering what the hell I did after that, I mean, here I was with a stubborn, pig-headed, mean, and cranky computer. Not to mention the rainbow like colorful use of words she had mastered.

When I asked her where she learned them, she laughed.

When I asked who her last owner had been, she broke down. She wouldn’t start back up, I think she may have been crying, so ever since then, I don’t ask and she doesn’t tell. It’s a wonderful thing to have worked out.

The day that Steve and I resolved our problems was a beautiful day indeed, despite the fact that it was raining.

It all started with three ghosts… a little girl, a small gray tabby kitten, and a malicious demon…

AN: And there’s the first chapter of Steve’s story, and if you’re expecting this to be a serious story, or predictable, you are WRONG. This story is for pure fun for Steve and I. The next chapter may seem like it’s out of place, but just follow it, and don’t ask questions.

Like I said earlier, go ahead and FLAME… I think it’ll be amusing to see Steve’s reaction…