X-Mas Challenge: Day 8
Title: Dairy Queen
Author: deceptivemirror
Rating: PG (for one f-bomb and barely described nudity)
Characters: Sam, Dean, and an OC with a joke for a name
Genre: crack, humor
Summary: the pursuit of beauty clearly was paved with good intentions...right?
Liz Bathory relaxed into her bathtub with a sigh. Very little beat a cool bath on a hot day like this, and she planned on making the most of it before she actually showered to get herself clean. She lifted a handful of her special bath and let it drain out of her cupped palm to splash neatly back down into the rest.
She leaned into the headrest she had specially built into the rim of the tub, glad that her upswept hair was acting as a cushion. She was in the process of settling in for a good long soak when the door to her bathroom was kicked in and two extremely tall men came in wielding guns and angry expressions.
Liz then did what most women would probably do in that situation; she screamed, sat up with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, and tried to push up against the opposite end of the tub as if it would help her get further away and still help her maintain some modesty.
The shorter one, who had eyelashes Liz spent ten minutes acquiring every morning before she went to work (and she could have killed him for that), gaped at her with an amazing mouth (that she spent twenty minutes drawing attention to, also in the morning) and demanded, “what the hell is in your tub?”
“What?” Liz gasped. Why the hell were these men in her apartment? In her bathroom?! While she was naked?
“In your tub, miss,” the taller one asked her, sounding considerably milder than the shorter one. He shook some of his smooth mahogany hair out of his face, and Liz found another reason to hate him. It took half a bottle of product to make her hair that perfect. “What is in your tub?”
Liz was beginning to wonder if she was about to be attacked by moronic lumberjacks at this point. They had even lowered the guns.
“Um, it's milk,” she explained, trying her best to not blush, and failing miserably.
“Milk,” the shorter guy said blankly, his arms going slack.
“Yeah,” she replied hesitantly. Maybe she wasn't about to be harmed by two lunatics. “You know, to make my skin healthier?”
“And all those women who come here and come out looking entirely different?” The taller man said, looking suspiciously amused.
“Have you seen the size of this tub?” Liz demanded, ducking lower into the milk and sweeping an arm around to demonstrate her point. The tub was her ultimate pride and joy in her house! It was big enough to fit several people of reasonable size and the water pressure was fantastic! Just because two blithering idiots came bursting into her home unannounced didn't mean they were allowed to go on as they were without acknowledging all the work she had put into making her bathroom a sanctuary!
“Those women are my friends,” she continued hotly. “We have primping parties! We spend hours or days just working on each other until we're better than how we started! That's why they look different when they leave my house!”
The taller one was looking convinced, but the shorter one was definitely looking more skeezed-out by the second. “And your house wouldn't be connected to some kind of Indian burial ground, or invaded by vengeful lust-spirits---”
“Oh my God,” Liz groaned, before covering her hands with her drenched hands. She sighed once, then looked up. She didn't know what kind of expression was on her face right then, but both men, even being half a foot bigger than she was at her tallest, backed up a step. “Get out.”
“Miss--” The taller one began to say, but Liz had had enough.
“Get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops!” She yelled, reaching for her baggied cellphone (so she could still text while enjoying her weekly soak).
They got out, but not before they reset her door back into its hinges and meekly apologized for the confusion.
Liz sank back into her bath with a sigh, trying to regain the mood of relaxation and beautification she had going before those idiots had shown up, but it was hopeless. The adrenaline was still coursing through her body, and she couldn't unwind. She kept seeing the perfect features of those two men who had broke in.
Perfect...features....
Liz sat bolt upright in the tub, milk forgotten. If those men lived some weird kind of life and still had the gorgeous attributes she aspired to herself, maybe if she started living a bit more similarly to them, it'd help her get the beauty she'd been after her entire life!
Before she did that, she took a second to ponder the shorter guy's words. What would Indian burial grounds or vengeful lust spirits have to do with achieving and keeping beauty?
Nodding her head, she pulled the plug on her tub and let the milk swirl down the drain, then stood up and turned on her shower. Obviously, it was time to do some research into the weird occult stuff. What could possibly go wrong?
The possibilities were dazzling.
Author: deceptivemirror
Rating: PG (for one f-bomb and barely described nudity)
Characters: Sam, Dean, and an OC with a joke for a name
Genre: crack, humor
Summary: the pursuit of beauty clearly was paved with good intentions...right?
Liz Bathory relaxed into her bathtub with a sigh. Very little beat a cool bath on a hot day like this, and she planned on making the most of it before she actually showered to get herself clean. She lifted a handful of her special bath and let it drain out of her cupped palm to splash neatly back down into the rest.
She leaned into the headrest she had specially built into the rim of the tub, glad that her upswept hair was acting as a cushion. She was in the process of settling in for a good long soak when the door to her bathroom was kicked in and two extremely tall men came in wielding guns and angry expressions.
Liz then did what most women would probably do in that situation; she screamed, sat up with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, and tried to push up against the opposite end of the tub as if it would help her get further away and still help her maintain some modesty.
The shorter one, who had eyelashes Liz spent ten minutes acquiring every morning before she went to work (and she could have killed him for that), gaped at her with an amazing mouth (that she spent twenty minutes drawing attention to, also in the morning) and demanded, “what the hell is in your tub?”
“What?” Liz gasped. Why the hell were these men in her apartment? In her bathroom?! While she was naked?
“In your tub, miss,” the taller one asked her, sounding considerably milder than the shorter one. He shook some of his smooth mahogany hair out of his face, and Liz found another reason to hate him. It took half a bottle of product to make her hair that perfect. “What is in your tub?”
Liz was beginning to wonder if she was about to be attacked by moronic lumberjacks at this point. They had even lowered the guns.
“Um, it's milk,” she explained, trying her best to not blush, and failing miserably.
“Milk,” the shorter guy said blankly, his arms going slack.
“Yeah,” she replied hesitantly. Maybe she wasn't about to be harmed by two lunatics. “You know, to make my skin healthier?”
“And all those women who come here and come out looking entirely different?” The taller man said, looking suspiciously amused.
“Have you seen the size of this tub?” Liz demanded, ducking lower into the milk and sweeping an arm around to demonstrate her point. The tub was her ultimate pride and joy in her house! It was big enough to fit several people of reasonable size and the water pressure was fantastic! Just because two blithering idiots came bursting into her home unannounced didn't mean they were allowed to go on as they were without acknowledging all the work she had put into making her bathroom a sanctuary!
“Those women are my friends,” she continued hotly. “We have primping parties! We spend hours or days just working on each other until we're better than how we started! That's why they look different when they leave my house!”
The taller one was looking convinced, but the shorter one was definitely looking more skeezed-out by the second. “And your house wouldn't be connected to some kind of Indian burial ground, or invaded by vengeful lust-spirits---”
“Oh my God,” Liz groaned, before covering her hands with her drenched hands. She sighed once, then looked up. She didn't know what kind of expression was on her face right then, but both men, even being half a foot bigger than she was at her tallest, backed up a step. “Get out.”
“Miss--” The taller one began to say, but Liz had had enough.
“Get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops!” She yelled, reaching for her baggied cellphone (so she could still text while enjoying her weekly soak).
They got out, but not before they reset her door back into its hinges and meekly apologized for the confusion.
Liz sank back into her bath with a sigh, trying to regain the mood of relaxation and beautification she had going before those idiots had shown up, but it was hopeless. The adrenaline was still coursing through her body, and she couldn't unwind. She kept seeing the perfect features of those two men who had broke in.
Perfect...features....
Liz sat bolt upright in the tub, milk forgotten. If those men lived some weird kind of life and still had the gorgeous attributes she aspired to herself, maybe if she started living a bit more similarly to them, it'd help her get the beauty she'd been after her entire life!
Before she did that, she took a second to ponder the shorter guy's words. What would Indian burial grounds or vengeful lust spirits have to do with achieving and keeping beauty?
Nodding her head, she pulled the plug on her tub and let the milk swirl down the drain, then stood up and turned on her shower. Obviously, it was time to do some research into the weird occult stuff. What could possibly go wrong?
The possibilities were dazzling.