I am about to test my strength against OCD. I am going to post writing experiment #4, totally bypassing #3. This has not been done on purpose, but I have two Google accounts and am now signed out of the one that holds the key to Three. So I will need to post out of order (deep breaths...).
For this one we chose Rodrigo Y Gabriela - Diablo Rojo. What a great piece of music.
The Last One
After clicking the toaster handle down, Elsie jogged upstairs and tore off her sneakers, grabbing her high heeled leather boots. They were worn and came just below the knee. Elsie had been meaning for the last two years to get some really mean thigh highs that she could roll down a little for the Corporate Tame Factor. Throwing them on she ducked quickly as a book came flying toward her head. Seeing that he missed, Dominic stormed out of the room in his raging frustration.
Elsie moved quickly. Shit, of course it was her Diane DiPrima book. Damn! Signed too. Any book but that one. Or those other thirty books. She didn’t discriminate. You just didn’t fuck with books. She ran past, swooping it up deftly and tossing it on the nightstand. Then looked down to see her Anne Rice, Witching Hour book on the floor. Gah! She was definitely going to dye his prided red dog black after this act of blasphemy. As she lifted it off the floor she felt the air condense around her and immediately stuck the book in front of her face. Dominic’s saliva sprayed all over the cover, grossing her out and at the same time making her thankful that this was a pretty good sized book. Too good. She smashed him in the face with it without letting go of it and tore off to the car outside to throw it in the backseat to bring to the coffee shop later.
Efficiently, Elsie opened the back door to her Saturn and tossed the book in. Her OCD got the best of her as she picked it back up and wiped the spit off onto the grey interior. Before she could turn around, there was a hand in her hair. She took a deep breath, elbowing Dominic in his six pack, despite the nightly twelve packs. His long fingers felt tangled in her hair and he yanked her head back once just before ramming it into the door frame. Elsie slumped obediently.
Dominic reached down to collect her body in his arms. Elsie’s eyes jerked open, and she palmed him up-nosed, flustering him with an unforeseen injury. She jumped up and slammed her heel into the side of his shoulder, sending his crouch into a roll over, like a dumb animal. Running back into the kitchen, she heard the door slam against the side of the house and turned around as Dominic leapt toward her. His shirt rose and Elsie felt a mild satisfaction at the healing bite mark on his side that she had put there recently. She grabbed a frying pan off the wall and swung it like a tennis racket toward his solar plexus. Dominic dropped to the floor heaving and gasping. Elsie stepped over him, opening the refrigerator door. Gathering the maple syrup from the inside of the door, she licked a drop off her finger and stood over him.
“Next time let go of my fucking Eggo. Bitch.”
After clicking the toaster handle down, Elsie jogged upstairs and tore off her sneakers, grabbing her high heeled leather boots. They were worn and came just below the knee. Elsie had been meaning for the last two years to get some really mean thigh highs that she could roll down a little for the Corporate Tame Factor. Throwing them on she ducked quickly as a book came flying toward her head. Seeing that he missed, Dominic stormed out of the room in his raging frustration.
Elsie moved quickly. Shit, of course it was her Diane DiPrima book. Damn! Signed too. Any book but that one. Or those other thirty books. She didn’t discriminate. You just didn’t fuck with books. She ran past, swooping it up deftly and tossing it on the nightstand. Then looked down to see her Anne Rice, Witching Hour book on the floor. Gah! She was definitely going to dye his prided red dog black after this act of blasphemy. As she lifted it off the floor she felt the air condense around her and immediately stuck the book in front of her face. Dominic’s saliva sprayed all over the cover, grossing her out and at the same time making her thankful that this was a pretty good sized book. Too good. She smashed him in the face with it without letting go of it and tore off to the car outside to throw it in the backseat to bring to the coffee shop later.
Efficiently, Elsie opened the back door to her Saturn and tossed the book in. Her OCD got the best of her as she picked it back up and wiped the spit off onto the grey interior. Before she could turn around, there was a hand in her hair. She took a deep breath, elbowing Dominic in his six pack, despite the nightly twelve packs. His long fingers felt tangled in her hair and he yanked her head back once just before ramming it into the door frame. Elsie slumped obediently.
Dominic reached down to collect her body in his arms. Elsie’s eyes jerked open, and she palmed him up-nosed, flustering him with an unforeseen injury. She jumped up and slammed her heel into the side of his shoulder, sending his crouch into a roll over, like a dumb animal. Running back into the kitchen, she heard the door slam against the side of the house and turned around as Dominic leapt toward her. His shirt rose and Elsie felt a mild satisfaction at the healing bite mark on his side that she had put there recently. She grabbed a frying pan off the wall and swung it like a tennis racket toward his solar plexus. Dominic dropped to the floor heaving and gasping. Elsie stepped over him, opening the refrigerator door. Gathering the maple syrup from the inside of the door, she licked a drop off her finger and stood over him.
“Next time let go of my fucking Eggo. Bitch.”
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