Destined Fur More

What Made Me Think I Was Half-Way Capable of THAT?

Alright, so do not even tell me that you're first reaction to a discover like a sixty year-old man wielding a fucking blood-stained AXE would be to give him a spinning back kick that throws him fifty feet into the air after he breaks through a wall of this damn cabin. I'm not a fucking vampire, people, so don't even give me that shit about 'protecting myself'. I can hardly kick a soccer ball, let alone actually hit someone in the face with my foot.

What else would I do besides scream bloody-murder and stand there like all those dumb-ass blondes in the movies (who are really only there to give the male audience satisfaction when they wear those 'whoa, I didn't even know she had clothes on' bikinis) as my killer swoops in and makes a gory puddle of guts and intestines that no one was meant to see? Well, of course I would do the whole screaming thing, but I consider myself an intelligent blond, so my next reflex would be to run like all of fucking Hell was chasing me down.

And damn, it was the one thing I did quite well at.

I shot through the cabin in such a fashion that I could have earned on spot on the track team. Well, I'm sure I could have gone much faster if my lungs weren't currently blaring like sirens and if my coordination went passed running straight into the back wall of the cabin that totally looked like a door.

I flew back to the floor, hearing Schneague and Graham burst out into the most obnoxious laughter I've ever heard. And that, my dear friends, is saying something, as I am the Queen of Annoyingly Loud Laughter.

After another moment of disorientation, I realized that Graham was in fact, not trying to kill me, but merely fucking with my heightened emotions. My temper flared passed the boiling point as I stood, turned around, and glared with such a seething hate that they should have ran away just as I had five seconds ago. Instead, they howled in even more girly shrieks. Schneague was rolling around on the floor, probably giving his gorgeous abs a damn good workout by giggling so hard and Graham Cracker was silent as he choked on his own spout of inappropriate guffaws.

"It's not funny!" I growled, but it only made them cackle with more enthusiasm. "FINE!" I bellowed, "BE THAT WAY, YOU IMMATURE BOOBS!"

Breathing so heavily that it came out as a hiss, I snatched the axe from a currently crippled elderly man with the name of a children's snack and stomped outside barefoot. They both tried to get a quick recovery so they could stop me from what I was about to do, but neither could. And upon further inspection of the axe, I found the 'blood stains' was simply rusted metal. Either way, this puppy was gone.

Quickly but safely, I trotted a good fifteen feet into the woods and prepared for the throw. In my head, I'd seen the axe sailing through the woods, never to be seen by or scaring me again. But the more I looked at in retrospect that was an image blown way out of proportion. In reality, heaving with all my power and letting the axe 'sail' through the trees landed it a staggering ten feet away.

Whatever.

Still fuming, I killed any living thing within reach –by that, I mean ripping leaves off trees and stomping on already dead twigs –as I stormed out of the shrubs and greenery. The boobs had stopped laughing, but were now both giving me a look that involved standing with their arms crossed and eyebrows near their hairline.

Bah. I showed them. They'll never find that axe, even if it's planted in the ground twenty-five feet into the trees. With an expression of disdain, I flounced happily into the cabin, carrying a cloud of victory with me as I passed them. I sat cross-legged on the couch, until I realized I wasn't that flexible and put my feet safely on the ground.

"Teague, go get Bertha." I heard Boob #1 say.

"Why me?" Boob #2 complained, giving off more boob rays than I thought possible.