When Mary Met Billy
by Carene
Billy leaned against the chain-link fence and tapped a Marlboro out of the pack. He took a long drag and squinted through the smoke at the drowsy summer street, casting a gloomy eye over the people walking by. He'd been having one of those buzzy feelings, but whenever he stopped to look back, it faded out.
So he figured he'd just stand here and wait for the bastard. Nobody was gonna get whacked right out here in broad daylight, so he'd at least find out who was following him. Probably a friend of that sissy boy.
The buzzing got strong, all of a sudden, and at the same time, a woman sashayed around the corner, her entrance into Billy's consciousness spoiled only by a slight wobble when her spiked heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Billy's mouth dropped open and his cigarette fell down his shirt. He stifled a yelp. Hitting his chest all over, he kept his eyes on the chick. She had red hair that went up to here, tits that went out to there, and legs that went all the way up. As she got closer, he noticed her eyes -- screwing up to look at him suspiciously -- they were some kind of purple color. No, green. No, amber. What the hell?
Forget the eyes, dude, he told himself. Look at them hooters. They'd give a guy a buzzy feeling, even without that, you know, other thing. And what she was wearing didn't hide much of 'em, either. That skirt, the old aunty that brought him up would have called it no bigger than a hanky.
He stood at attention (in more ways than one) as she sauntered up to him. Cool, he thought. I can do cool. He hooked his hands over his belt, leaning back on his boots. He caught himself before he tipped over. Cool, dammit.
The babe-arition was almost on him now (and wouldn't he like her to be on him now!). She stopped just outside of sword's reach, he noticed.
He also noticed the sword she held close to her soft, slinky thigh.
"My name is Mary Sue," she said, with a bob of her red-headed head. "How do you do?"
Billy tried to think of a snappy comeback. But all he could think of to say was, "Where'd that sword come from?"
Billy leaned against the chain-link fence and tapped a Marlboro out of the pack. He took a long drag and squinted through the smoke at the drowsy summer street, casting a gloomy eye over the people walking by. He'd been having one of those buzzy feelings, but whenever he stopped to look back, it faded out.
So he figured he'd just stand here and wait for the bastard. Nobody was gonna get whacked right out here in broad daylight, so he'd at least find out who was following him. Probably a friend of that sissy boy.
The buzzing got strong, all of a sudden, and at the same time, a woman sashayed around the corner, her entrance into Billy's consciousness spoiled only by a slight wobble when her spiked heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Billy's mouth dropped open and his cigarette fell down his shirt. He stifled a yelp. Hitting his chest all over, he kept his eyes on the chick. She had red hair that went up to here, tits that went out to there, and legs that went all the way up. As she got closer, he noticed her eyes -- screwing up to look at him suspiciously -- they were some kind of purple color. No, green. No, amber. What the hell?
Forget the eyes, dude, he told himself. Look at them hooters. They'd give a guy a buzzy feeling, even without that, you know, other thing. And what she was wearing didn't hide much of 'em, either. That skirt, the old aunty that brought him up would have called it no bigger than a hanky.
He stood at attention (in more ways than one) as she sauntered up to him. Cool, he thought. I can do cool. He hooked his hands over his belt, leaning back on his boots. He caught himself before he tipped over. Cool, dammit.
The babe-arition was almost on him now (and wouldn't he like her to be on him now!). She stopped just outside of sword's reach, he noticed.
He also noticed the sword she held close to her soft, slinky thigh.
"My name is Mary Sue," she said, with a bob of her red-headed head. "How do you do?"
Billy tried to think of a snappy comeback. But all he could think of to say was, "Where'd that sword come from?"