OW OW OW!
She was! She was lurking right around the corner! Literally!
I remember making a joke the other day, with a friend of mine, that if someone were to die in their cars it would be three days before any of our wonderful campus security noticed, and only then they'd do it because the smell of the rotting corpse would be overpowering the smell of their donuts. Fortunately for me, they proved me wrong, by about 300%. If they hadn't, they'd have proven me right in oh-so many ways.
When I was leaving the library, (I mean for good, not just to jog across the street to Wendy's for substanence), it was about 5:30 or so, and thus was quite dark. Perhaps I should have called the security blokes for an escort, but I was male, and I was parked not even two minutes away. Besides, the area is reasonably well lit and I'm okay when it comes to hand to hand combat. (As in, grab the nearest blunt, heavy object you can and beat the shi-well, never mind that...) Or so I thought anyway...
I hadn't even founded the corner after coming down the short fight of steps leading down from the library you the sidewalk near the parking lot when I see two slight, feminine hands grab me and force me up against the wall. I hit my head, and my vision blurs, but from the frumious hiss in the voice I know who it is.
"So! Finally figured it out did you!" She kneed me in the groin, and I cried out in pain. Cheating hoochy!
"OW! Yes! How did you know?"
"You insatiable TWIT! Who do you think changed your log on Friday?! Who has been following you everywhere and anywhere? I warn you Red Fox, Zorro Rojo, whatever the hell it is I'm suppose to call you after titling the project of your demise that: few survive after tangling with a Bandersnatch, and those that do go insane!" She smacked me around a bit, and I still can't help but feel it was almost reminicint of what Tanya did to all those people in the clubs. (She must have been there then as well, lurking in the shadows.) Only, this time, there was no love, no lusting want in the battery. Only hatred, malice, and perhaps envy.
She raised her hand again, her dark curls bouncing all the while. Only this time it was balled up into a fist, as she held me tight with her left. I spat in her face, and was instantly bombarded by...damn it! I can't remember now! It was a quick flash from the "For the love of god not again!" sense, one that at least tore me away from concious feeling whilest the pumbled me in the face, my head smacking against the wall behind me. As I slowly sank to the ground, time ceased to stretch about me, and all I can remember (besides the aching, warm, oozing throb in the back of my head), was the clicking of her three inch heels as she walked away into the night, perhaps leaving me for dead or possibly duely warned.
So when was I discovered? Not long after 11 or so, not quite making it twenty four hours, but close enough. (Ok, more like 18, but still!) Fact remains that I sat there where I was, lying unconcious with red hair matted with brown, dried blood, and no one noticed until halfway through the next day. Oh sure, there was a whole bru-ha-ha wen they found out, and my mother was absolutely furious when she was being called to come down to the hospital where her son was being treated for substantial injuries to the head and- well...
They suspected rape...merr... I got them straightened out about the whole assault, describing it as part of my businessness, and I then faced another slew of questioning, which made me dizzy and uncomfortable. Was I with the mob? No! Was I a fighting Irishman? No. Was I a enigma chaser? Close, but no. Was I a conspiracy hunter? Yes! Big-Brother conspirist, or world-terrorist variety? The latter. Good! I laid down, grumbling about feeling dizzy, and as it turns out one of my eardrums was busted from the impact. Small wonder.
I lay there- well, here I suppose, considering I'm writing this in the hospital bed,; am just stuck in the former tense somewhat- for a long time wondering what had truly gone down. Hadn't I managed to best the Bandersnatch once prior? Ah, but that was different. That was me actively projecting unspeakable horrors (we're all thinking The Wiggles, aren't we?) at her mind then, but last time... I had had a vision, and it still bothers me. Perhaps I should try and reclaim it in my quickly-degrading memory. That or get some sleep...or call Lara... or......ddlg;
I remember making a joke the other day, with a friend of mine, that if someone were to die in their cars it would be three days before any of our wonderful campus security noticed, and only then they'd do it because the smell of the rotting corpse would be overpowering the smell of their donuts. Fortunately for me, they proved me wrong, by about 300%. If they hadn't, they'd have proven me right in oh-so many ways.
When I was leaving the library, (I mean for good, not just to jog across the street to Wendy's for substanence), it was about 5:30 or so, and thus was quite dark. Perhaps I should have called the security blokes for an escort, but I was male, and I was parked not even two minutes away. Besides, the area is reasonably well lit and I'm okay when it comes to hand to hand combat. (As in, grab the nearest blunt, heavy object you can and beat the shi-well, never mind that...) Or so I thought anyway...
I hadn't even founded the corner after coming down the short fight of steps leading down from the library you the sidewalk near the parking lot when I see two slight, feminine hands grab me and force me up against the wall. I hit my head, and my vision blurs, but from the frumious hiss in the voice I know who it is.
"So! Finally figured it out did you!" She kneed me in the groin, and I cried out in pain. Cheating hoochy!
"OW! Yes! How did you know?"
"You insatiable TWIT! Who do you think changed your log on Friday?! Who has been following you everywhere and anywhere? I warn you Red Fox, Zorro Rojo, whatever the hell it is I'm suppose to call you after titling the project of your demise that: few survive after tangling with a Bandersnatch, and those that do go insane!" She smacked me around a bit, and I still can't help but feel it was almost reminicint of what Tanya did to all those people in the clubs. (She must have been there then as well, lurking in the shadows.) Only, this time, there was no love, no lusting want in the battery. Only hatred, malice, and perhaps envy.
She raised her hand again, her dark curls bouncing all the while. Only this time it was balled up into a fist, as she held me tight with her left. I spat in her face, and was instantly bombarded by...damn it! I can't remember now! It was a quick flash from the "For the love of god not again!" sense, one that at least tore me away from concious feeling whilest the pumbled me in the face, my head smacking against the wall behind me. As I slowly sank to the ground, time ceased to stretch about me, and all I can remember (besides the aching, warm, oozing throb in the back of my head), was the clicking of her three inch heels as she walked away into the night, perhaps leaving me for dead or possibly duely warned.
So when was I discovered? Not long after 11 or so, not quite making it twenty four hours, but close enough. (Ok, more like 18, but still!) Fact remains that I sat there where I was, lying unconcious with red hair matted with brown, dried blood, and no one noticed until halfway through the next day. Oh sure, there was a whole bru-ha-ha wen they found out, and my mother was absolutely furious when she was being called to come down to the hospital where her son was being treated for substantial injuries to the head and- well...
They suspected rape...merr... I got them straightened out about the whole assault, describing it as part of my businessness, and I then faced another slew of questioning, which made me dizzy and uncomfortable. Was I with the mob? No! Was I a fighting Irishman? No. Was I a enigma chaser? Close, but no. Was I a conspiracy hunter? Yes! Big-Brother conspirist, or world-terrorist variety? The latter. Good! I laid down, grumbling about feeling dizzy, and as it turns out one of my eardrums was busted from the impact. Small wonder.
I lay there- well, here I suppose, considering I'm writing this in the hospital bed,; am just stuck in the former tense somewhat- for a long time wondering what had truly gone down. Hadn't I managed to best the Bandersnatch once prior? Ah, but that was different. That was me actively projecting unspeakable horrors (we're all thinking The Wiggles, aren't we?) at her mind then, but last time... I had had a vision, and it still bothers me. Perhaps I should try and reclaim it in my quickly-degrading memory. That or get some sleep...or call Lara... or......ddlg;