okay as suggested by the who have you met thread :Hot DaDaist action

She looked out the window. It was now dawn. She positioned her head until the reflection of her bedmate in the window superimposed on the sun outside. She looked into the kitchen, and opened one of the cabinets. The jar of Folger's was a quarter-full. From the other room she could hear him rising...

Chicago, Art Institute, Folgers... Folgers... shit!

"CUT cut cut. 'You want some coffee honey?' That is the line. That has been the line for three weeks now. It will continue to be the line." Maxine had her hands on the counter, head down. "Maxine? Oh fuck it, take a break. A long one. Don't come back." Vince Vaughn padded in naked. Everyone was used to it by now. He argued with the director for awhile, told him that Maxine was perfect, told him everything she knew wasn't true, trying to keep her here until the end of the shoot, another two days, another night. Fuck Vince fucking Vaughan she thought. Fuck this Folger's ad, fuck this shit. She looked up dramatically, her painstakingly tangled hair falling away from her face. No one noticed; the crew was loafing; Vince was still arguing but charming and conciliatory now, getting back on Jean's good side. So Maxine just up and left, and no one noticed. Not Jean or Vince or her makeup artist, not anybody - she walked straight out of the North Side warehouse, into the cold sun of Chicago and that day started her very own rock band called

Sheesh

Suddenly...

...you gave me an answer..."A band named after the famous Cliff Richard/Olivia Neutron Bomb duet! Cool!" Don't stand up in the boat, she had been told, but the water looked cool and inviting, and for a moment she wished she hadn't evolved all the way. Proto-amphibians didn't need to worry about how the hell such a long band name was going to fit on the marquee.

until someone could rescue her from academia in a cheap Japanese car. So this was a definite rarity. The face without a name curved towards her in the bed, leaning up on one arm and smiling. He smelled of sweat and he looked too comfortable, like he already owned the space he occupied. Instantly very scared, she smiled back, planning an escape route.

[Continued from Christopher's post]
At that instant her thoughts converged on just one thing - her utility belt! Leaping from between the slightly damp sheets like an amphetamine-crazed frog, she snapped the belt around her un-naturally attractive hips. Before her unfamiliar bedfellow (who bore a passing resemblance to Les Dennis) could react - BOOM! - the grappling hook was fired and she was away, up through the skylight and into the glorious summer morning beyond. It was then she realised she had escaped from her own house, and had left her door keys on the bedside table.

Locked out, in her bathrobe, with only her utility belt, her wits, and her visa gold, she did the only thing she could...

After her fifth shot of Jack at the Irish bar on West Fourth, it was beginning to near noon.

she drank a high noon

a silhoutetted figure appeared at the door. when suddenly at the apex of her despair "Fortesque!" she shouted, mind hovering upon the vapour of the falls. The tragedy of an accident destined to leave shoulders with anxiety. The More she drank, the higher she got. "Ma'am ?" quizzed the letcherous imp back at her, lover dead and her butler frozen in her Recognising for the first time in five years the butler she thought had been killed in her, srewing up his face and hunching his ...

His what? His fist? His life, falling away like sand through a hole in the toe end of an old shoe? Like the table aches lonliness when her first love, the chair, is not safely tucked benath her? Fie. "Enough", she cried sowing seven skeleton seeds in the mud beside the corn field where their last embrace had broken. "You do not know nor expect to understand me any longer," her voice was cracked and amphetamin. He looked back at her steady as a Stepford wife. "And you my dear," he whispered, "have no shinpads strong enough to guard you from my Roy Keane like-two footed lunge." And with that he slid into the dirt. But wait. What? As his feet came within inches of her precious ankles, the warriors she had created not moments ago leapt forth from the red earth. Knashing and scaley, their swords barred his path. Ah, the bloody sunset drenched a scene like no other...