The Belongings of Darcy Lynn Delonorie [Short Story]

The Belongings of Darcy Lynn Delonorie

Darcy Lynn Delonorie, is a 26 year old woman. She cooks, cleans, and showers daily. If you wish to marry Darcy Lynn Delonorie, please send us an email and your C.V. All applicants must be above the ages of 32. All applicants must be religious, conservative, persistent, ambitious, and open minded. All applicants send an official medical report signed by the Ministry of Health. The report must include: blood type, any medical history in both sides of his family. In addition, all applicants must attend an interview and they are preferred to be: polished, cleaned, bathed, representable, good instinct, interesting portfolio.

Well done Darcy, I just had to talk to that dump reporter. And the best part is that I actually thought he was genuine in what I was saying. Oh who am I kidding, it was my first time to go and talk to a guy ever, and he was that hot looking. Now what do I do? Every guy in the neighborhood is catcalling me, the church wont admit me for being the sinful woman, or murderous of men, or slut, or a mans thief, and even horny that does sinful things at night. The neighborhood I felt safe at, is now scary. What was home, is now just another poetic catastrophe.

How should I have known he was a journalist? And not any journalist, The Journalist. Newspapers talk about him, politicians fear him, people praise him for the truths they think he reveals. His name is forbidden to talk about, we are condemned to hell if we know his name. Our souls are not permitted to seek forgiveness from Him. Oh help me God! What have I done Darcy.

Well Darcy, you know what you must do. You must take your potato legs and go pull that Journalist from his ears and remind him some manners. Yes I will indeed. I am not afraid of him. I have nothing to hide, and I will not accept to be treated below my standards. Who does this idiotic nonsensical Journalist think his highness buttocks his? Id normally go to the police station, but the last time I went they put me to stay in jail for a whole shivering night.

Knock.

Knock.

'Mister Journalist! Come out Right this instant. I will pull your ears if you do not dare bring back my dignity, my honor. What ridiculous words have you written about me!'

Knock.

'Mister Journalist!' Darcy banged so harshly that Mr. Journalist can hear the teardrops of the tortured wood being demolished by her greasy hands.

For Mr. Journalist does not see why this petty woman is mad? She should be proud of what he has written. She was another Masterpiece. No, the only Masterpiece. She is his Masterpiece. Mr. Journalist could not resist raising his bushy eyebrows with astonishment and disbelief. How can she say she will pull my ear? Though I must admit most of my astonishment goes to the name Mister Journalist. I thought that name was extinct. I definitely know Mordon, the Terror, Politicians Doom, but I kind of miss the Journalist.

After half an hour of persistence, finally, Mr. Journalist opens his doors. Not to stop the babbling of her squeaky voice, or eye roll on how pathetic this womans grammar is. Like seriously how did she graduate high school? Mr. Journalist opened the doors knowing what was about to happen, the consequences, the headaches, but its all worth it. What Darcy doesnt know is that she stole his heart during that fruitful conversation. He was genuine, it everything he told her. He is still genuine; that is why he wrote that regretful article. He saw it in her spirit, she is a fearless one. A woman not to dare to challenge, and those who dare lose.

Mr. Journalist was brought back to his reality when Ms. Darcy Lynn Delonorie almost pushed his eye ball to the back of his throat.

'You Sir, will kindly report your apologizes and plead for my forgives. You will stop writing about me. That is the second article this week. You have destroyed my honor, and I will not get into details to what happened about my dignity.' But Mr. Journalist was too focused on her features that he so much missed, thinking if he had told not done what he has done would things have been different? Could he actually have a chance with the woman he loved since college? She just wouldnt remember me. I was different then. I am still different now. No I must contain myself, she cannot see through me. I have worked hard to be impenetrable and feared for this puny woman comes and steal something as subtle and nonsensical as my heart..

Say something stupid "Mr. Journalist", and make sure it hurts.

'Thing, you cannot deny that glory and fame I have given you. Women would have killed to have an interview with me, or better be in the front page two days in one week. So you good of a nothing being go now. You are ruining my schedule. I have a Spa appointment Ive been booking for two weeks now, and I wont lose it because of something like you,' condescended Mr. Journalist He knew he has crossed the line, but he didnt know how far it went until then....

For the first time since Mr. Journalists father severely broke Mr. Journalists jaw, beat him to death and had to be transported to the emergency room; it took them 17 hours to revive him, and 5 operations to fix was "seen as broken", and not as felt. Mr. Journalist felt her fingers and palm cross his face like Christmas train exploding in the shallow night.

Afterwards Mr. Journalist, and Ms. Darcy exchanged glimpses of their pasts through their tied-tongues, heavy fingers and shallow redemption of their contaminated souls. In those moments, Ms. Darcy Lynn Delonorie understood what she could not remember. Darcy understood what she has constantly forced herself to ignore.

He was that Goddamn douchebag who saved her from that fire when she was stuck inside the females laboratory.

A years and a half later.

Breaking News: The Terror and Ms. Darcy are engaged. I repeat they are engaged. Can someone please explain to me what in the name of Heavens is this? God save us, God bless us all. Politicians we recommend you do not leave your houses. Reporters you better start resigning, and People take care of your Goddamn children! God save us, God bless us all!

'Are you kidding me? Will-you-ever-stop-writing-about-me-in-those-hideous-ways-Mr. Journalist?' teased Darcy, while playfully stabbing him with her fluffy pillow.

'Oh come that was a comic one!' dodged Mr. Journalist the spoons aim with just a few inches.

'Okay I agree it might have went a little far?'

'Little? Oh you-unbelievable-no-good-heart-headed-insensible-man!' Darcy tripling her aim with the pillow, aiming for his head this time while he successfully missing each one of them.

'Darcy, honey, there is one thing the world should know about.'

'Oh really, and what may that be. I am exquisitely curious,' glared Darcy just the way Mr. Journalist trembles from. So he knew he had to choose his words carefully or there will be no plates to eat on for today.

So he playfully moved towards her, grabbing her by the waist and whispered 'No one will ever mess with Mrs. Terror, my lady.' Then he pecks her softly on her hands. 1985 style, just how she likes it.

'They better know do, cause no one muddles with the belongings of Darcy Lynn Delonorie, husband.'