Here's something a little different from the usual fan-fic stories. I don't know if this is finished or not because when I write stories, I always forget about them and delete them in the end because I don't have any ideas for them. But I thought this is probably the greatest piece of writing I have done in such a long time, I had to post it.
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5th May 2007
Ah, my dearest Diary where I keep all deepest, most purple secrets. Things range from my daily adventures to why the heck Kate Moss is still in the ads of Rimmel and so forth. I never understood why she was on their ads. She didn’t have a great face. I mean someone like her, with a flat face. Besides, shouldn’t she be in rehab? I wouldn’t think she would last long.
Tony Stark is now mayor of New York for whatever reason. I don’t like to get into the politics news but my mother is always nagging me about Tony Stark. She’s always saying “Steve, why don’t you even try and meet Tony? He has made such a success of himself. It makes me wonder why you’re not his opposition!” She has a slight crush on him and thinks that she will get with him, but I truly doubt it. It may be because of my father’s and mother’s sex life. It has gone down the drain since last year, though my own sex life, not to mention my penis has been very dull lately.
I don’t like him that much, but it’s not the reason why I don’t like politics. I think anyone who has the guts to play dirty at the expense of other hapless souls should be respected. But the reason I don’t like Tony is because we had a long history when we were just conceived and were little dots. No, we were not gay with each other, but he was always the popular one.
This wasn’t one of the cliché he-was-popular-with-the-girls-and-the-car-while-I-was-a-nerd-type thing, but I always resented him because, well… okay, yes, it was one of the he-was-popular-with-the-girls-and-the-car-while-I-was-a-nerd-type cliché. He had never really bullied me, or anyone of that fact. I guess that’s why he’s president now. He has got this success behind him and has a seemingly flawless personality.
I hate to admit it, but I was always jealous of him, ever since I met him from kindergarten. I remember we were colouring a car and I decided to colour it red and make it bold. I then remember he not only coloured it, but even had some shading in it. It wasn’t the best but hey, we were all young. Who has co-ordination when they’re five?
Yet I still remained the best of friends with him then. In high school there wasn’t much competition but then something called puberty decided to come along and had all the girls swooning for him. For some reason, my hormones weren’t raging like the other guys, and many speculated I was gay. Even I speculated myself that I could have been gay. However, Tony protected me, attempting to get rid of the rumours by spreading more rumours.
When he told me I thought it was so stupid but it actually worked. He had spread “rumours” saying that I had slept with many girls before he did and that I was a tiger on wheels and that my pimp name was “Mr. Rogers”. I didn’t really enjoy roller-skating or skating or skateboarding so I wasn’t sure what kind of metaphor he was putting out there. Maybe he was referring to the California earthquakes where the buildings would have wheels so breakage would not happen.
Many girls had come up to me, but I wasn’t really interested in them, until Holly Robinson came up to me. I was very much in love with this girl because she looked decent unlike most girls, but boy, was I wrong. After our first date, which was during the day, mind you, she decided that we should make out in the park. And we did. I wasn’t too fond of making out in public, and I was right because a police officer came over and tapped me on the shoulder. He pointed to some tourists who were from Germany with huge backpacks and the police officer said, “Excuse me sir, could you please exchange saliva somewhere else because those two tourists are offended.”
I went up to them and apologised and told them that they shouldn’t stay in Manhattan unless they wanted to have themselves mugged by… rich people. Yes, rich people. They were offended because they thought I was referring to them as poor when really, I was giving them honest advice. God knows what they were doing in Manhattan.
Anyway, we had been dating for two years and into college as well until she told me she was a lesbian. I wasn’t so surprised though because she would never make out with me in public any more, though I did pinch her buttocks and I would get tapped on the back by a police officer that way. We broke up straight after she told me, though I know she still has a flame for deep down. I was her first love and always will be.
When I had my wedding with my now ex-wife, Emma Frost, Holly came up to me and said “Commiserations,” rather than a more pleasant message. She later apologised with a “Congratulations,” but it still had that steel and cold tone to it.
Many people had asked me how I had tamed Emma Frost, known for her vivaciousness in a really “You mess with me you get the chopping board” way which was pretty scary for me. To this day, I say that I asked her for directions and then gave her a lollipop so she would follow me, but she would always then show up and correct me in a very serious manner. How she does that, I don’t know how. It’s like she has telepathy or something.
People had also thought that our marriage was a strange combination. She was always seen as more successful than me, and I guess she was. She was headmistress of a school that she refused to disclose (even to this day) and she was obviously getting paid a lot to discipline some annoying kids. Maybe they were really annoying and that’s why she was getting paid so much? Who knows? She was also taller than me, but only slightly. I was around 5-foot-eleven and she was 6-foot-one.
I am not too sure what she is doing (or who she is doing) but I recently saw just her today and she gave me her number so we could catch up. Being the pathetic human being I am, I scrunched up the paper and threw it on the floor in front of her face only to pick to up again when she went into a building.
8th May 2007
I followed that two-day rule regarding dating and how you can’t call your date for two days. I followed that rule because she is my ex-wife and I didn’t want to seem like I was desperate for some human interaction and also the way I behaved a few days ago. But I called her, apologised for that day and she was willing to meet me for brunch.
I asked her why I should meet her for brunch when we could have lunch and she said, “Because darling, I have important business during lunch,” which was fair enough for me.
On the way to the restaurant, which was called The Grove, I pondered why she had said “darling” when I had spoken to her on the phone. On the way, I picked up some liquorice and a six-pack of beer for when I got home. However, I couldn’t resist and ate all the liquorice. I was now afraid that I couldn’t eat with Emma because of what I just ate. What was worse was when I showed up to the restaurant, I discovered that it was more sophisticated than just burgers.
I, wearing my tattered jeans and tattered AC/DC print on my tattered shirt walked in and the man behind that desk those people stand behind looked up and down at me and led me to Emma. It was hard to read her body language – whether she was repulsed or happy to see me was a mystery. I had wondered how she had kept her youth and I thought maybe she had Botox done on her and that could explain the other reason why she has no expression on her face.
I thought back to the good ol’ days and realised that she had lived a happier life than I, and maybe that is why she still looks so young. Instead of saying, “Hello,” I asked, “Are you happy to see me or not?” in a very weak tone.
She gestured me to sit in my seat and totally ignored my question asking me what was happening in my life at the moment. I told her that I was a writer for a column in an almost well known magazine called The Gloat and told her that this magazine had good circulation, so I was doing just fine in my New York City apartment which really looked like a house for a mouse.
She told me that she had already ordered brunch and I was scared what was coming my way. I didn’t like putting foreign things in my mouth like French snails. We were once was kicked out of a restaurant in Paris during our honeymoon because I apparently offended the chef so much that me sitting there, gnawing on breadsticks was enough to make him vomit into the Bouillabaisse so the both of us walked away from there.
What was put in front of me looked like an assortment of foods from different countries.
There was something that looked like chicken but I was afraid to grab it just in case the chef saw me and wanted to kick me out, so I refrained (they may have a blacklist, you know).
Then Emma began, “Steve... I have something to tell you.”
That was when my cheeks lost all their heat and what seemed like my blood stopping totally. I knew that she had something to tell me, but it was serious because whenever she wanted to have serious talks when we were married, she would begin the sentence from that. When she wanted to divorce me, that’s how she begun her sentence. I was scared.
She continued her sentence. “I have a child, and it may be yours.”
My eyes went into shock-horror as I replayed those words in slow motion in my head. Everything around me had dropped apart from Emma and the chair she was sitting on. I was now surrounded by a black void. But then my environment returned because the thought of her getting pregnant to someone else, who she was also married with was a possibility. I asked, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, but aren’t you married to that other dude? How can it be my child?”
There was a very long pause. I knew this wasn’t good.
“Well, that’s the crazy thing,” she replied.
The whole thing with the black void had begun again and with the addition of head spins. I fell to the floor, and it wasn’t so I could get out of a difficult situation (not that it wasn’t a difficult situation). I did it for real this time.
8:30pm I woke up to find silver railings on both of my sides and to find linoleum flooring that could burn someone’s eyes out because they were just so shiny and white. I then thought to how my mother would appreciate this seeing as she’s a cleaning freak. Once I saw some labourers working up on the roof and saw them sweeping off some debris and I asked my mum what they were doing.
She replied, “Maybe I should do that when I’m bored…” and continued driving the car in a state which was a bit scary because she could’ve crashed the car at any moment.
I woke up with Emma and my mother by my side. My father was probably out taking his long walks. I ask him why he takes those long walks but he says, “For exercise” which I truly doubt seeing as he eats takeaway four times a week. They both rushed up to me to probably see if my face was damaged in any way and asked me if I was okay. My mum stuck three fingers in front of my face and asked me how many fingers she was holding up.
And then it hit me: Emma Frost, with a child. Ha! Who would’ve thought that someone so successful and responsible like Emma would accidentally get pregnant?
Post Edited:2007-08-09 05:50:29
Post Edited:2007-08-21 05:54:10
Post Edited:2007-08-26 22:37:40
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