(Untitled)

[ultra_ebola]

It's - fucking - gone.

All of it, everything. Not even any stretch marks left behind, no bleeding, nothing. Like the end of a fucking nightmare with no consequences. None of my clothes fit.

Did someone do something in my sleep, yeah? Is this magical bullshit, boy blue?

...Ne?

Comments

[well_bum]

Gone?

No baby?

That's that sorted, yeah? Excellent news.

[ultra_ebola]

Well

yeah?

I guess.

But WHERE, yeah? I don't like the idea of people fucking with me in my sleep, slitting open my whatever and taking shit. They could put anything in there if they wanted.

Did you have something to do with this, you cunt?

[well_bum]

Got a foetus running about naked in London, well not a good thought, yeah?

Yeah, sounds well odd.

And no, I fucking didn't have anything to do with it. What do you think I am, a gynaecologist? The Pied Piper?

[ultra_ebola]

WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, BARLEY.

[neon_anthrax]

What. So now you're saying it's the immaculate fucking miscarriage, yeah?

[ultra_ebola]

Come and look if you don't fucking believe me. Zip goes up all the way with only the slightest tug.

You can snap on a rubber glove and poke around, if that's what your twisted heart desires. It's all gone.

[neon_anthrax]

You all heroin-chic again, then? Without the middle-aged tum?

Dunno if I fancy a look: probably be all stretched and that. Plus what if it's lurking round your cervix, waiting to ambush me?

Plus, I'm not sure I'VE fucking forgiven you for pushing me out a window, yet.

You... alright and that, yeah?

[ultra_ebola]

Like I've gone back in time three months, yeah. I can't find line nor flab. You could use my stomach as a fucking ruler.

Pushing you out a window was the kindest thing anyone's ever fucking done for you, Ne, and that includes the time I gave you a pint of my blood cos you were sure it was the highest high possible. You should come round here and shake my hand. Or maybe I'll come round there and shake you.

Yeah whatever, fucking miracle, like you say. Couldn't be happier.

[clairesicle]

So someone 'round here got hit with the lucky stick. Think a magic abortion counts as that.

Quit calling me girl slave.

[ultra_ebola]

You know I love it when your claws come out, sugar and spice, but I'm not rightly in the mood now, yeah? Keep your sharp nose out of my business, dishwater.

You want to disagree? Point number one: doing Barley boy's laundry. Even Susan didn't do that, and she was twice the retard you are.

Hey, is this jealousy? Did your Stepford subroutines take over? Bagged boy blue's spellbook and cast a little baby-be-gone? You best worry, if that's the case, yeah. Just because I like doesn't mean I won't slice you. You should see what I do to the people I love.

[clairesicle]

You thought that was claws? It wasn't. Wanting to help someone out when they didn't ask for it doesn't make you a slave, it makes you a considerate person. I'd say the concept is lost on you but you were nice to me when my Dad died after I screamed at you anyway so I know that it's not.

Are you officially moving out and back in with Neon, then?

[ultra_ebola]

What other 'un-asked' household tasks did you perform? Washing up? Hoovering? Ironing his fucking underpants? You're probably still there now, scrubbing away at the last bit of dirt in the last ashtray, and congratulating yourself on a job well done for hubby. Know your type, yeah. My recommendation is to get yourself a girl and play on top, put a bit of backbone into you.

Her flat's filled with Jones' decks of death, so we'll be living round here for the duration. Consider the volume an education.

[bikinuswax]

Come bumping back to work when you're done bumping tacos?

[ultra_ebola]

Chance'd be fine - she's all over the shop with some kind of 'absence makes the heart grow desperate' plan. If you can divert me, I'll be over. Finally take advantage of that free booze and pills offer you're running, yeah?

[bikinuswax]

Thought your salary was diversion enough, but if you need more I've got plenty going on. Not just down below, either.

[ultra_ebola]

Money's good, work's better. Looking to prove I don't need hormones to start some trouble. Needing distractions, yeah. Let's go to a club and slice some fuckers.