well, this is yet another one shot centering around a llama. it was actually started for the same contest as Catalyst, but was never completed. until now.

i got help with this one, from meh, only she's never gotten to read the last half. so yeah...i did this for you, mya. (please ease up the choke hold on me now)

it's random, and makes absolutely no sense. written for amusement purposes only. hmmm...what warnings should i put on this? there's profanity (a lot of it), and references to a bit of s&m. (just a little, yeah) there's no actual sex in this, but it's definately (and crudely, i might add) mentioned. so yeah...the main thing is the cursing. with some original curses that are purely all mine.

well, that's it for the beginning ramble. hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Friday, 7 October, 2005 1:30 pm

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'Rii-ing'

A hand reaches out; groping, scrabbling…finding no purchase upon the offending object.

'Rii-ing'

"Mrgh…stoo-pit…low down…sunova bobby pin…."

My fingers latch onto and close around a rectangular object, proceeding to drag it towards my face, only to metaphorically bash my eye out with the fucking remote.

"Mother knuckering ass pimples!"

The remote sails across the room and crashes into the stand housing the set that it belongs to. The duct tape pathetically covering the loose battery clip…thingy…tears off and the batteries scatter off into opposite directions.

If more awake, I'd find something irritating in that regard, but as my mind is still functioning on the level of a three-year old on opium, I don't find it all that important at the moment. What was important was the drilling cacophony of the fucking phone into my ears. Or rather, my ear, as the other was smooshed into my memory-foam pillow. Hey, so I prefer to live neck-ache free, doesn't everybody?

'Rii-ing'

"Mrgh…where the buttne is the damn phone?" (a/n: think acne, but...yeah)

Bleary eyes stupidly blink at the night table only to observe that the wireless cradle is empty. Of course.

'Rii-ing'

My brain and body automatically seek out the source of this annoyance…causing me to roll off the bed and hit the carpeted floor with a teeth-rattling crunch. I think I shook a filling out with that one. And since when do I have birds circling my head…?

'Rii-ing'

A hand shoots out and pulls out the purple-plastic phone from beneath the bed…don't look at me like that! The phone was a going away present from…someone. I have no fucking clue who gave it to me, but do you really think I'd buy such a thing for myself? Do you? Ok, so maybe I did…but that's no reason to look at me that way! I happen to like the color purple, thank you very much. (Insert indignant sniff)

'Rii-ing'

A silent battle ensues as I attempt to press the 'talk' button without damaging myself in some way, mildly cursing the fucker that's calling me when I should be sleeping.

'Rii-ing'

The button clicks just in time for me to yell out, "Shut the fuck up you plebian bastard!"

"Um…hello? This is 859-4287?" (a/n: made up number, i swear!)

The voice is annoying me…but I find myself answering, "Yeah, what of it?"

And a chipper voice rings out, "Congratulations, you've just won a handsome new llama!"

"Huh?" What the blue-balls is this really all about?

"You, sir, have just become the proud owner of a two-year old llama, and just need to come collect it at your leisure!" The chipper voice is still talking to me?

"I ain't picking up anything I didn't enter some fucking contest for." I stated flatly, rubbing at a bruise that appears to be developing from my earlier crash landing on the floor.

"Ah…let me check something then…you're at number 224, Jackson Apartments, Wiltshire Drive?"

"Uh-huh…wait…how do you…."

"Ah, okey-dokey then. I'll just drop it off later; the fee will be about two hundred fifty, sir. Have a good day!"

"No-no-no…ARRRGH!" The dial tone greets me with its ingratiating static-ness.

"What the fuck was that all about? What's up with the fucking llama? And…who the fuck calls at 6 fucking in the morning?!!"

My ranting vent did help me feel just a bit better, and I flopped onto my back and stared up at the cracked ceiling. Oh look, that one appears to be a four-legged camel-y animal. Oh. A llama. Fate must hate me.

As I was still tired, and extremely lazy, I stubbornly yanked my blankets off my bed, piling them about my body and curling up in their comfy warmth. Thus, it was no surprise that I fell asleep within minutes.

---

An annoying buzz woke me from my slumber, and my mind absently identified the sound with the doorbell. I really should have that thing disconnected. Grumbling darkly, I stumbled to my feet and hobbled through my apartment, my legs and feet stiff from sleeping upon the floor and eight hours of standing on my feet at work. The buzzing wouldn't quit, and I threw open the door with a vicious snarl at the blinking young man just on the other side.

"Will you fucking let go of the fucking button?" I screeched, and he blinked again, saying, "I'm not doing anything wrong."

My palm reached out and slapped at his outstretched hand, the one with the extended finger pressing the button and causing the incessant buzzing.

He seemed shocked at my violent temperament, pulling his wounded hand to his chest with a pout. "No need to be mean." He stated sorrowfully, eyes turning towards me with a soulfully despondent expression.

"It's…" a glance at the clock hanging up on my living room wall, "…Only 7:30 in the morning, and I work the night shift until 5 am, asshole. So unless you're here to give me money, I suggest you get yer fucking ass out of my doorway!" I snarled this, and made to slam the door shut in his face. Only, his palms came up and prevented me…he's surprising strong, for a vile little asshole of a twerp.

"But your llama! I have to deliver it, sir!" he cried, panicked.

"I don't want any fucking llama!" I roared, and pushed against the door once more.

"But…!" he protested, and I shouted, "You're not getting yer ass through this door, not to mention some fucking ass llama!"

---

My alarm blaring a radio station into my ear snapped me from sleep, my arm flailing out and shutting it off with a small click. Yawning wide enough to stretch the corners of my mouth and making me lose my balance as I sat up, I proceeded to become more awake. I managed to propel myself to my feet, shuffling over to the adjacent bathroom and emptying my full bladder with a sleepy grunt. I then shuffled out of the bedroom, the kitchen being the ultimate destination in my mind.

I had to pass through the living room first; past a disheveled couch strewn with various articles of clothing, including an odd pair of purple socks, past a llama standing before the static-y screen of the television, past a nude male form lying beneath the coffee table, past an empty pot of soil…wait a minute.

What the fuck happened to my fern?!

God damn it, Ren bought me that just a month ago. This is not good. I've killed it. Shit, I've reduced it back into the bare pot of soil in which the plant had grown so doggedly. (Insert Taps into the background) It was such a good hardy fern, cut down in its youth by a foul-mouthed asshole too good to take care of its basic needs. Yeah, that's me all right. Oh well.

I just could have sworn that I watered the damn thing just the other day….

---

I was already halfway through a soggy bowl of Smacks, when something else occurred to me.

"Where the hell did I get a pair of purple socks?" I mused a-loud, and a tired voice answered, "They're mine." I watched as a nude young man walked into the kitchen and plopped his naked ass into one of my pristine kitchen chairs, his head falling to the table with an audible thump.

"Who're you?" I questioned finally, and he lifted his head and glared at me, obviously hurt.

"You only tied me to the table for over three hours of kinky sex yesterday morning, and you don't know who I am?" he demanded, and I glanced at the table surface. Which was streaked with some questionable substances, making me glad that my spoon hadn't touched its surface this morning.

"Ren isn't going to be happy with this." I stated mildly, tapping my cheek with the smooth and rounded back of the spoon, and noticing him rub at one of the whiter streaks with a fingertip.

"I'm not either…my mother is going to kill me for not coming home last night." (Insert his melodramatic sigh) "But I'm not upset, as she made tuna casserole again, for my stupid ass of a cousin. She knows that I hate tuna." I blocked out his unimportant rambling, not giving a shit either way.

"I'm hungry." He stated finally, and I pushed the box of cereal his way.

"I'm lactose-intolerant." He whined, and I shrugged indifferently.

With a pout, he got to his feet and ambled towards the cupboards, in search of food, I guess. Too bad for him that I'm broke until next week, when I get paid again. As it is…all I have in this house is old milk and stale Smacks. And, "Fucking tuna." He snarled out disgustedly, coming and collapsing upon one of the chairs once more.

"Who's Ren?" he finally asked, sounding bored that I was silently chewing and not paying him any attention.

"Boyfriend." I stated absently, and he muttered, "Not anymore."

I looked at him then, and asked, "Why's that?"

His gaze skittered away from me as he stated, "He came over late last night, remember? When you were force-feeding me your dick on the recliner? He seemed more upset that you let the llama eat your fern, though. Said something along the lines of, 'if you can't take care of my gifts to you, then you're not even worth giving them to in the first place'. He also said that you could forget the silk teddy he'd bought for your anniversary next week…as he said that you'd have nothing to celebrate anyway."

Oh yeah, I do remember that. Hmm…well, damn. And Ren had been such a likable fellow, I hadn't minded the year of our relationship in the least.

"Suppose you'll do, then." I commented, and his head whipped over to stare at me.

"What?" he squeaked, and I repeated, "You'll do, in his stead."

"Nuh-uh, I ain't gonna have no tuna-loving kinky-ass boyfriend! 'Specially not one that doesn't even remember who I am in the morning."

"Then why have sex with me in the first place?" I reasoned instead, and he seemed stumped upon that one.

"I don't know, it had seemed logical at the time." He finally admitted, shrugging. "Well, ok then."

Silence fell after that, and I continued to eat my cereal.

"I'm 17, by the way." He suddenly remarked, and I replied, "Lovely."

There was a pause, and he finally pressed, "How old are you?"

"67."

"Fucking liar. Your ID says you're 22." He protested, and I indifferently stated, "Then don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

He snorted, but quieted down after that. I got up after finishing my bowl of cereal, freezing with one hand upon the warm water tap, the bowl only halfway under the spray.

"Wait one god damned minute…since when do I have a llama?"

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A/N: there now, see what i mean? it makes no sense, but it's pretty amusing, if you ask me. and yes, there are several curses that i take credit for creating myself. such as, "mother knuckering ass pimples" (mine, mine, mine to the core!) "sunova bobby pin" and "buttne"

oh yeah, "plebian bastard" not exactly mine, but i use it quite extensively in real life. as well as the mother knuckering ass pimples. that's so fun to say. especially with a straight face to someone who's never heard it before.

thanks for reading my nonsense! please, drop me a line and let me know that i am, indeed, as insane as everyone tells me i am.