Landmines Do Not Come in Different Flavours
By Nara Merald
Summary: Kill infidel sister. Wait, get job. THEN kill infidel sister. Convince the religious kid I am a prophet. Get it on with that Pizza guy, and maybe Sarah… yeah. My life's goals right there.
Disclaimers: This story will be rated for immature and overly mature situations. The M rating is there for a reason. This story is rated for sexual themes, language, violence if I can work it in, and everything else that's good like that. This story has both Het and Slash overtures, and will eventually be M/M/F or M/F/M or whatever combination I care to type it in. It is NOT the same as SITYWAT, because SITYWAT was told from Patrick and Heath's POV, and Nick is verrrry different. Oh, plus, it's mine bitches.
I do not own Road Trip or Mills and Boon novels (romantic/predictable/trashy/scandalous sex novels) or Harry Potter, I Killed the Prom Queen, or Star Wars (or the Darth Vader helmet) or anything else that it's painfully obvious I don't own.
Chapter One: Man Reasons
I run my fingers down your chest, grabbing your manly love handles and rubbing my own ample breasts against your chest… my nipples harden and I moan
Too Much For You To Handle:
I love it when you moan baby, I fondle your generous breasts-
"I'm thinking now we bring in the flab?" I query, turning away from the computer screen to my partner in crime. She's lying back on my bed like she owns it, snickering as she continues reading from a Mills and Boon book.
"Yeah…ooh, ten points to add in the words 'pulsating shaft'," she grins lecherously at me, and I turn back to the computer.
Too Much For You To Handle:
Baby, size is never an issue between us…
Only the size of your pulsating shaft as I grind against you, wanting so much more baby…
"Wow, you think some fat guy is really jerking himself off to this shit?" She asks me. I turn to look at my best friend of several years.
"Of course, he's all sweaty and ready for YOU babe," I wink cheesily.
"Says the guy who's doing all the typing," She sneers back, before pulling up a chair beside me, grabbing the keyboard.
Too Much For You To Handle:
Want you hard babe, wanting you hard…
"What the fuck is that supposed to be? Want you hard?" She snorts, before putting fingers to the keys.
The effort is immense and I pant as I sit up so I can tongue your hairy nipples. They taste like matted hairy sweat… I like it. I growl like a tiger.
At this point I explode into laughter, wondering what the hell the poor guy on the other end is making of this. I decide to lounge around on my bed again as she takes over the keyboard to type for a while, snorting every so often, before she gets bored and joins me, sitting at the foot of my bed facing me.
"How'd you end it?" I ask curiously, straining to see the small letters onscreen.
"I didn't, he'll be typing away still," she smirks.
"So what you want to do?" I poke her with my foot and she swats at it distractedly.
We've been friends since year 5, when we lead this war thing that divided the rest of the class into boy vs. girl…
After a week the school had used up so much of that glue paste (and by the school, I mean the warring students) and parents had complained to the extent that it spurred the teacher into action; next thing I knew, she and I spent lunchtime stuck in a room with the teacher watching through the door outside.
…It got boring really quickly. So quickly that she and I found a common goal… and it only took her sticking her hand down my pants to get us out of there, and fast.
Unfortunately (cue mental leer) that hand hasn't gone down there since, 'cept for a 'doctor' play in year 6, also a calculated move on her part.
Anyhow, we're possibly as close as friends could be, except the falling in love kind of part that happens in those "we played doctor" histories. (Road Trip! C'mon people!) We're both pretty practical in that sphere. She's bitched to me about how utterly lame her first boyfriend was in bed ("Was ONE orgasm too much to ask? I had to get myself off!") and far from feeling jealous I was more curious. My own (one) sexual experience was far from wondrous… I remember a lot of alcohol, a bush on a reserve and my random female partner making these weird huffing sounds…
The chick got pretty offended after I said she sounded hilarious… but she really did. Sarah, said best friend sitting across from me, laughed for about 2 minutes straight when I told her. We then made this pact- if we don't find decent partners by the time we turn 21, we're gettin' it awn. Yeah. (wink wink).
"What do I want to do? Make sweet, sweet love to you," Sarah answers matter-of-factly. We do this a lot; it staves off boredom and usually entertains us when other people splutter. On impulse, I pick up the Mills and Boon and throw it to her. With a wicked grin, she begins to read, deliberately lowering her voice to sound seductive.
"…backing against the wall, she gasped as his black eyes locked on hers mercilessly. He advanced, his lean sinuous body trapping hers as she squirmed…"
As she read, I took the chance to study her. Sarah Harvano, 18 to my 19 years old, oft called "Wench" by me when I get bored. She's slim, but not a pop stick, slightly curvy and has straight brown hair with blonde highlights. She's currently chopped it up a bit so it sticks out creatively in all directions- I told her she should have dyed it green. Sarah is possibly the only person in the world who is good at Math, although she sucks at English and hates dancing with a passion. She also hates Isaac Landorf, but who can blame her? The guy's a douche!
"You're not even listening!" Sarah sighs, before checking back to the computer.
Too Much For You To Handle:
I spread peanut butter all over you, proceeding to lick it off slowly, torturously…
Too Much For You To Handle:
You moan for me, but not as much as you moan when I slide the peanut butter between your legs and move down…
Too Much For You To Handle:
Too Much For You To Handle:
"What the fuck? Peanut butter?" Sarah is rather sceptical, and I simply shrug. You know, I realise now I forgot to introduce myself. Lying back down on my bed I proceed grin as Sarah predictably comes and attempts to give me one of her horrible (painful) massages.
The name's Nick… Nick Bandell.
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"
Oh the life I live, truly, some people just don't appreciate what you do for them. Nameless is screaming, staring at her newly redecorated room. I love it- it's really room à la Nick, which of course, she hates.
"What is it, nameless?" I ask, feigning boredom, but ducking quickly as a book thuds into the wall where my head was previously. Ooh, she's pissed. That book is fucking huge, what the hell does she study at uni?!
"MY ROOM!" Nameless hisses, and I think that the claws will be coming out soon. Nameless is actually a mutant robot from Mars, and she's vicious enough to prove it.
Luckily, I then hear the car pulling up in the driveway, and Nicoletta pokes her ash blonde head into the room.
"Cool it," Nicoletta says in her sub-zero-freeze-your-balls-off-in-disapproval voice, and Nameless stares at me, glaring.
"Sure Nicoletta, no probs," I say with an arrogant smirk, and see Nameless' fingers twitch as if she wants to gouge my face. Nicoletta walks off, ignoring my reply completely, as Nameless hisses "I'll get you back, just you wait…"
Oooh, sounds kind of creepy. She's probably going to shoot me in my sleep or something.
The front door opens, shuts, the bags set back down on the table.
Perhaps I should explain, eh? I am Nick no-middle-name Bandell, and I am 19 years old and the youngest in a family of eight. Eight sisters, that is… harsh, yes I know.
My family is better known for its insanity than my good friend Patrick, (though that's only a matter of time, truly). I'm a sexual beast, reasonably decent body without putting too much effort in, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Rawr, anyone? Truly, it's my attitude that really does wonders.
But introducing my family… let's see… where shall we start… One at a time?
"CHILDREN! YOUR MOTHER AND I HAVE RETURNED! COME FOURTH AND WELCOME US!" a booming male voice announces. That would be my dad. Nathan Bandell, aged 51, muscular build, youthful (excessively so) personality, and the trademark Bandell blue eyes that all his children have, even nameless.
"WHERE ARE YOU? IS THE HOUSE CLEAN?! DID YOU CLEAN YOUR ROOMS? THE HOUSE SHOULD BE CLEAN!" a rather alarmed female voice quickly yells out. My mother, Judith Bandell, aged 49, the light brown haired and blue eyed love of my father's life, frequently gets a little… worked up over various things, which is both humorous and frightening to witness, especially when dad gets involved.
"HAVE YOU NOT CLEANED THE HOUSE? WHY DO YOU NOT GREET US? IS THE HOUSE NOT CLEAN?" Dad yells again, his voice booming through the halls.
"The house is fine," my eldest sister says flatly, descending the stairs. We usually let her defuse their welcome home greetings, but it's become increasingly difficult as she's moved out. She only came back here because she promised to house sit for Mum and Dad (aka baby sit us all). Denise Bandell, aka Nicoletta, age 24, engaged to some loser called Frederick. ("Oh Freddy, take me now!"… seriously, what kind of a name is Fred?)
Denise/Nicolette unfortunately inherited the common sense and stick-up-ass-ness that my parents totally lack, so to put it bluntly, she's a total drag. She's even got no-nonsense short hair, which isn't dyed, so it's just a shade darker than my own
"MY ELDEST DAUGHTER! I HAVE MISSED YOU!" Dad shouts from the floor. That's another little thing about my dad, I never hear him say our names. I mean, he knows who we are (I'm easy to remember being the only "son") but I don't think I've heard him say my
actual name in about a year or longer. From my surveillance position, I see Nikki prepare to descend the stairs, giving in to the inevitable. The rest of us are still psyching ourselves up for the yelling, or in Naomi's case, probably waiting for her nails to dry.
"Denise!" My mother shouts, before I hear hurried murmurs about the sanitary state of the house.
"MY SECOND ELDEST DAUGHTER!" Dad shouts. See what I mean about the lack of names?
"Serena, come here!" My mother shouts, overjoyed (especially since she now realises the house is fine.)
Serena Bandell aka Nikki is 23 years old and my quietest sister unless you get her talking on Russian Opera or Freud. She's kind of boring to listen to, but a REALLY nice person. Cringe. That's like, a social death sentence, 'really nice person'. Oh well, that's what you've got to expect when you're a librarian! Nikki has the palest hair out of all us naturals (e.g. non-dyed) and it's long, kept back in a plait sweeping straight down her back. And yes, she wears glasses. Tis a sad case, truly.
Nelly and Nameless take the plunge together.
"MY TWINS! MY YOUNGEST DAUGHTER! MY SECOND YOUNGEST DAUGHTER! COME INTO THE CIRCLE OF YOUR FATHER'S ARMS!"
Dad's a weirdo, what can I say? Nelly and Nameless are twins, but where one is pure hellfire (and a downright ugly beast), the other is well, what a female mixture of Patrick and I might turn out like.
I hear a "Not the Chinese vase!" cry coming from Mum, then a resulting smash, and see Nelly looking horrified. Dear, uncoordinated Nelly who stalks her overly hairy college professor and breaks everything in sight. Born Susan Bandell, she and Nameless (aka Renee) are both 19, although Nelly's two minutes older.
Nameless just stands there looking awkward as Mum bursts into tears, her spiky dyed red-brown hair pointing out in all directions as usual.
"Chill mum, it was ugly anyway!" Naomi/Felicity muses coolly as she descends the stairs. (We've had a lot of homecomings to practice our descent. We used to play Rock Paper Scissors; whoever won got to descend the stairs last and suffer the least energetic greetings.)
"MY THIRD ELDEST DAUGHTER!"
"Felicity! Come here love!"
Naomi's the artificially pretty one in the family… her look does nothing for me. She gets her hair streaked blonde and always has immaculately polished fake nails. She can be a bit superficial personality wise too, but I guess her heart is in the right place when it matters.
Nessa and Nerida take the stairs together, "MY FOURTH ELDEST DAUGHTER! MY THIRD YOUNGEST DAUGHTER!", and simply smile somewhat serenely as Mum descends on them. Ness and Nerida are my favourite two sisters, Rebecca and Claire respectively. Ness can usually be counted on to either a) participate in our crazy schemes or b) cover our ass during our crazy schemes, while Nerida gives the best advice.
"WHERE ARE YOU MY SON! HAVE YOU GROWN INTO A MAN?!"
Oh, there's my cue.
"Nick?! NICK! WHY AREN'T YOU COMING? ARE YOU OK?! NICK?!" Mum panics. Honestly, she's a shocker. I jump down, missing every second step to land with a thud on the floor. Used to it by now, mum simply 'tsk-tsk's me.
"I've updated your subscription son!" Dad beams at me. We're a pretty well off family, despite the apparent insanity lurking within, and Dad thought it would be a good idea to get me a subscription… to a porn channel. Mum conveniently ignores it, Dad thinks it'll be a good influence for "man reasons" (incidentally the same reason my bedroom is in the shed) and Sarah and I think it's hilarious. Yeah, she watches porn with me sometimes. Most of it's pretty bad stuff… we watched some lesbian porn once, filled with fake angels and mirrors… there were feathers being spat out of mouths everywhere.
That actually pretty much sums up my family.
If you think my family is bad, my friends ain't all that normal either… let's see… they've pretty much gone and paired up (all lovey-dovey and that crap) so I might as well introduce them in twos.
Patrick and Heath first, I think. Patrick Shayne has been my friend since… well we've been friends a long time, ever since someone dumped chocolate pudding on his head in primary school and he started screaming. First time I've ever made a friend by slapping someone across the face, but hey, it had to be done. It was such a horrible screaming sound… it just wouldn't stop!
Patrick has this unruly mess of curly hair, brown eyes, slim figure and usually a dopey-slash-paranoid expression on his face (it alternates). He's probably an escaped mental patient (as guessed by his older brother Dan) and the amount of shit that comes out of his mouth (stupid half baked theories based on dancing Aliens and green snowmen and whatever) is unbelievable! (As well as unbelievably funny, trust me). He recently decided he was Gay (or came out? maybe he was Gay all along, I don't know) and found himself a boyfriend in the form of his next door neighbour Heath Phillips. Heath is one of those laidback, normal kind of guys (he'd have to be, to balance out Patrick), and physically is attractive I guess. He's got straight brown hair with white-blonde highlights (white! Why he couldn't have picked a cooler colour is beyond me) and brown eyes as well. Heath and Patrick together are both hilarious and occasionally sickeningly sweet. Luckily they're usually more awkward than romantic- Someone should write a TV show based on all the mistakes they make. Heath is due to fly back from Scotland soon, and I know this because Patrick only mentions it like, every 5 minutes of every hour of EVERY DAY. –Twitch-
Hmm, power couple number two… Warren and Harry! For those not in the know, Harry's actually a girl… Sarah Lawrence even. I/we call her Harry because she's like the female version of Harry Potter. Black hair, green eyes (like a fresh pickled toad… -snicker-), slender and fairly athletic. Sarah and I have known Harry for years, until the love of her life (psh) came along, we were practically a kinky threesome. Alas, now the two are inseparable. Harry's the goofy one, the nice one, the one that would always be talked into doing stupid shit with us and usually do it with a fake moustache on as she danced her victory dance. (Ok, usually we all wore fake moustaches. It was a phase- a wonderful phase). Despite the fact I believe not in young love, Warren is like her perfect counterpart- black hair, stormy blue grey eyes, athletic footballer build and a stoicism that would do him well by almost any Mills and Boon novel. As I last understood, Harry is trying to get Warren to reveal his feelings and open up to her. Good luck with that love, you can't have him silent and mysterious AND in touch with his feelings!
Ok, despite the fact that I said everyone had paired off, it's really only them. Oh, and Dan and Shannon, Patrick's older brother and his boyfriend. Dan Shayne is the man, the ultimate man. If I was into Men, which maybe I am, I'd be into Dan, hell, I AM into Dan. I want into Dan! Into Dan's pants! However, Shannon currently resides in Dan's pants, and he'll fight you for it, I warn you.
Shannon is this gender bending oddball who has this creepy way of being girlish and mannish at the same time. He has a bit of a penchant for cross-dressing, and from what I hear from poor Patrick, the couple like to experiment with food… in a sexual manner. I tell you, I will never look at caramel sauce the same way again.
Moving onto the singles, we already know about my partner-in-the-pants Sarah (H), but then there's Adam Seralakis, who, if Isaac wasn't clearly claiming the Emo post, might be on his way. He's one of those soulful guys just waiting for true love and all that shit. He's almost an identical twin of Warren with the Black hair and the Grey eyes, only unlike Warren being straight, Adam is gay, in a very soulful, waiting for my true love but denying that because it sounds sappy way. Both the Seralakis boys are athletic but not insanely muscled, I'm pretty sure they play football, however, hating football myself, I don't give a fuck. Adam and Warren are both Patrick and Dan's step brothers- there's a long and complex story… actually, it's not that complex… Pat's father remarried Stacey who'd already had Waz and Adamo. They used to hate Patrick and Dan for "stealing" Stacey; thankfully, they grew up and realised hey, she ain't a great catch! Two things I do get is that Adam truly resents Stacey… he's a lot more open with his emotion than Warren is, and also, the two are 100 loyal to each other, Vito, and I think… possibly also Patrick and Dan now.
Hmm, Isaac's not my friend, but he does deserve a dishonourable mention- the guy is the faggiest homophobe around. He dyes his hair black, though you can normally see the brown it actually is, loves his "I Killed the Prom Queen" t-shirts and get this: he wears red contacts. I swear, every time I see him, laughter ensues. I get hysterical! Sometimes when I'm in need of a pick me up, I go and see him. Instant hilarity.
Finally… my newest obsession… James, the pizza boy. Through my recent studies I have acquired his last name… Hinton. James Hinton… the name's a bit plain but the boy… oh he looks like all kinds of fun. Am I gay, you ask? I don't know… and I don't care. I can have my fun, and test my limits at the same time. Sarah always laughs and says the thought turns her on. Guess there's only one way to find out if it turns me on! He's wary of me now though; it might be the 3 pizzas I ordered with exactly 21 pieces of ham each. It might be that I ask for him specifically to deliver my pizza, or that I stole his phone number and occasionally just message him and invite him out. He's never once taken up my invitations, but I live in hope… and if hope fails, I'll send in Sarah.
I like to live so that when I look back, I'll be able to think "Hey, I was dumb, but I was awesome,"… if that means fucking someone's mum, dying my hair rainbow, sky diving… I want the memories, and I want to live.
Sometimes though, my life gets a little… boring. When the insanity stops, I feel… well, alone. I couldn't stand a clingy girlfriend or someone who told me they loved me every three seconds… but at the same time, when it's late at night and you're hearing "Oooh Freddy, FREDDY!", not only do you laugh your ass off and wait for your parents to get home so Denise and "Freddy" can leave, you also feel kind of… shitty.
(On a side note, I use "ne" all the time; it's Japanese. I don't actually know what it means, but that's ok, no one else I know does either.)
Usually, when I feel like crap, I come up with some way to pass the time… sometimes it's jerking off, more often it's having fun at another person's expense. Lately, that person has been Logan Smithfield, aka "religious extremist fuck". He was home schooled during primary school until his dad died, and pretty much has been indoctrinated via a steady supply of Jesus juice. The kid's a creep and he's gonna go nutso, but he's funny as until his personal implosion day.
Picking up the phone, I dial the code to ensure my number doesn't appear on his phone, then his number and wait for him to pick up.
"Hello, Smithfield household, Logan speaking," I hear, only slightly muffled as I place the Darth Vader helmet on my head. Yeah, my parents bought me that 99 Darth Vader voice-changing helmet. Not only can I prank call, I can look like an infamously cool bad guy while I do it!
"Logan… you are my son…" I breath into the phone, listening to the Darth-voice. Of course, Smithfield has never seen Star Wars; Sci-Fi is blasphemous… Hogwarts is blasphemous… Girls going to school are blasphemous… (Yeah, good old Logan senior was a bit of a freak.)
"Who… who is this?!" Logan demands angrily. In response, I simply breath in and out.
"The fourth key… you must find the fourth key…" I say, before waiting a second or two, and hanging up to his spluttering questions. Later on, I'll make up a prophesy or something, something solid he can go and search for… Sarah will love it.
Still, as I throw down the phone and put my Vader helmet aside, tonight is one of the nights I lie awake with a heavy heart.
I don't want everyone else's concept of love… but that doesn't mean I don't want love.
So I called my ex-manager tonight. He's about 20 years older than me, with a kind of frightening sexual-beast magnetism. I want in his pants, but I'm also kind of afraid to get in said pants.
I think I'd die content if I could kiss him- if I could get it on film I reckon I could get my other (current) manager to throw up, ha ha. Tomorrow is D-Day- if I can convince him to come out and see me, I have my one chance. If not he moves to another suburb that's like, ages away …and I ain't driving that far son.
Oh, right, the story? Yeah. It's a sequel! To SITYWAT! Yay? I make no promises about updating until this semester is over- but I am still working on editing the first story. Inspiration just happened to strike. Oh… and if anyone's wondering, the Lesbian porn thing was real… real lame. Girls spitting out feathers all over the place… did –nothing- for me. Eh, you can't win em all, right?
xoxo Nara Merald
Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter of SITYWAT, some I will make personal responses to… when I get a chance!