(Untitled)

[ultra_ebola]

I've got a job. (And you can fuck off with your wageslave nine-to-five gripings before you even start, because it isn't, and I'm not.) I'm Dajve's new assistant. And before you all start thinking, 'ooh, Ultra is our very special pal, she'll get us autographs and photos and interviews', remember what happens when people ask me for favours, because

Comments

[bikinuswax]

You've got quite the different touch from Inga. I've never seen The Crunchy Cicadas answer questions so willingly, nor have I ever gotten in and out of a tacky club with so little hassle and headache.

[ultra_ebola]

I have my talents, you have yours. Everyone who's anyone knows that The Cicadas are a bunch of shitfaced wannabes who couldn't tell their arses from a split-eight chord, yeah?

You need me tonight?

[bikinuswax]

Course they are. The producers wanted them slotted in, not I - I, the mere shining face on the telly.

Come futures it will be this face doing the slotting.

The gig at Cargo was canceled but there's an in-store this eve. Should be fairly low-key, a few hours at most.

[ultra_ebola]

Give me a locked room and a few minutes peace, I could change their ways for you. Pregnancy is such a good excuse for extreme violence, sharpness.

I don't know what that is, but I'm game. I'll wear something bright and obscene.

[neon_anthrax]

An unspecified hiatus of your making, sweetness.

And awww, look: all this attention seeking and I hadn't even realised I was playing any game. Must be all them hormones swimming about your system (dipshit Djave knows you've got something of a sell-by date, don't she?)... They've given you paranoia. I'd be touched if I wasn't disgusted.

[ultra_ebola]

Hear me say otherwise? Only gripe is your need to disappear off the radar. Didn't realise I was the only reason you got up in the morning. Bet you're still eating, though - empty crisp packets piled high near your bed.

Paranoia get fucked, Ne. I haven't been this in demand since prison, yeah? Seems like there's plenty who want me when you don't. No itch goes without scratching.

[neon_anthrax]

You're one to talk, fatty, I saw you trying to get up from that bean bag this morning, and don't think I didn't: like a beached whale trying to disco dance.

Yeah, you heard me: DISCO.

You're right, actually. Don't really want damaged goods... And there's apparently plenty scrabbling for my leftovers. Interesting point, that.

[ultra_ebola]

Moved out, shithead, so guess again. That'll be whatever dyke castoff you picked up down the docks. Unless you're stalking me now? Spying through the windows?

Name three, cos I guarantee they're fucking fictional.

[clairesicle]

Why do you keep bringing me and my taste up? Is that all I was, then? Something to make Neon and Nathan jealous? Not that I would ever have taken it for a romance, but if you're trying to make Neon jealous...well, I doubt she is.

[ultra_ebola]

To drive you out of hiding, peaches and cream.

Figured you for a one-tumble girl. If I'm wrong, you know where I am. Remember: I scratch and bite.

[neon_anthrax]

The girl's hardly likely to forget, with you telling her every five seconds, is she?

Remember, Ultra: give away everything on a plate, no one'll want to come back for more. One of the first things I taught you, slutbags.

[ultra_ebola]

Jealous, my pet?

Straight girls fight harder than you. They have so much more to prove.