A.N.: Okay, so this is just the prologue, but I can tell you now that it won't make any sense. At all. It's weird and confusing, but don't let it scare you away, because the rest of the story is not going to be like this.

I hope.

Anyway, review, please! I tend to get depressed and refuse to write if I don't get reviews, you see.

"My Stalker's Name is Bubba"


"I should probably warn you," a rather pretty girl reluctantly said, "that I'm in a bad mood. And don't bother getting on my case about it," she suddenly added, "because I think I'm kind of justified. I mean, honestly, if you'd been pushed into an open sewer by an invisible man, don't you think you'd be a bit grouchy, too?"

The girl's companion didn't answer, but she must not have expected a reply, because she only rolled irritated hazel eyes and turned to stare at the nearest wall. "No," she muttered after another moment of silence, "you probably wouldn't. For one thing, you're insane, and for another…well, you're a potted plant."

She started to sigh, then considered her own words and turned to glare at her companion instead. "Why are you a plant, anyway?" she asked, some of her anger suddenly muted by curiosity.

The potted fern on the chair beside her didn't answer.

The girl rolled her eyes again. "Oh, fine," she huffed, letting her slender body slouch down in her own hideously orange and hideously plastic chair. "Don't tell me. I don't care anyway."

It wasn't true, of course, but the fern didn't need to know that.

The conversation more or less died under the plant's stubborn refusal to contribute, and the girl seemed to have run out of words herself. She fell silent, but as the minutes passed, some of the anger slowly left her expression. A shadow crossed her face, and her lips bent in a wistful frown. "I'm not mad at him, you know," she eventually admitted, her voice almost too quiet to be heard. "I know he was only doing his job, and I don't blame him for it. I just…"

She trailed off, looked sadly down at the delicate hands she'd folded in her lap. "I wasn't ready. I know most people aren't and I'm just being selfish, but after everything we went through…I trusted him, you know? Maybe that was selfish, too, but I…"

She trailed off yet again as unshed tears choked off her words, and the potted fern looked as alarmed as a potted fern could look. It just wasn't like the girl to have such trouble expressing her thoughts, and it certainly wasn't like her to cry.

The girl must have realized how oddly she was acting, though, because she abruptly glanced over at the plant, and then, purely for its benefit, forced a weak smile to her lips. "I'm okay," she lied, reaching up with one hand to dash the tears from her eyes. "I always get emotional over things like this, and it doesn't even matter that I'm the one who…"

She almost viciously cut herself off, refusing to say the words. She wasn't exactly in denial, but even so…some things are just impossible to express, even to a plant.

Especially to a plant.

The fern quivered in sympathy anyway, though the girl was too busy moping to notice. She was lost in her own thoughts, her expression heavy and tired even if she no longer seemed close to tears. If anything, the anger was growing in her eyes once more.

"This really sucks," the girl suddenly snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest, turned to glare at the fern. "Did he think he was being funny? I mean, Geez, couldn't he have come up with something…I don't know, less embarrassing? More conventional, at least? I just know I'm never going to live this down."

The fern quivered again, and the girl's glare deepened. "Oh, hardy har har," she all but snarled at it. "I'm so glad you can find amusement in my pain. That just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside."

If ferns could laugh, this one would have been positively chortling. As it was, the plant only quivered again.

The girl made an effort to calm herself and tone down the sarcasm, knowing that she'd already embarrassed herself enough for one lifetime. "It's all Shin's fault," she eventually continued, managing to keep her voice steady even if she still looked like she wanted to bite someone. "He lied to me and broke his promises, and if he thinks I'm going to forgive him for what he did, he's got another thing coming."

She scowled yet again, and for just a minute, she seemed to forget the fact that she was talking to a potted fern or even the fact that she'd been pushed into a sewer and murdered by her invisible best friend only a few hours before.

"Stupid death god," she muttered.