This Is Our Sweet Blasphemy: An Ashley Purdy Love Story

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I woke up the next morning in a hotel. I had absolutely no idea where I was, probably because I had a chance to drink last night, and that usually didn't ever end well for me. I was hungover and tired. When I trudged into the kitchen, Andy cheerfully handed me a few pancakes smeared with Skippy's peanut butter, along with some tylenol and a bottle of water.

"Thanks, wifey." I remarked sarcastically, sitting on the couch and turning on the TV.

 The news was on.  Uninterested, I almost changed the channel. Almost. I saw a picture of the band and froze. "That's us!" I said, patting Andy repeatedly on the head.

"Ow, ow, ow! I'm sitting right here, you know! I can see the TV!" he cried, trying to get me to stop.

I smiled. We turned up the TV. "There's a newer band taking the world by storm. There is a huge crowd outside of the Bushwell Hotel Plaza all chanting, 'Black Veil Brides.' I take you live to the scene to investigate and interview some Black Veil Bride...Army members?" the blonde woman on the TV reported.

The video cut to a crowd of people in BVB band tees with braceletes and signs. One girl they interviewed held up a picture of me. "If I could just get Ash to sign this and hug me, I would be eternally grateful. He's about the sexiest man I have ever seen. No offense to Andy. I just find Ash as more of my kinda guy, if you know what I mean. Ashley Purdy forever!"

--

"Looks like you've got a fan there, kiddo." Andy said, patting my head.

I laughed. "Mhm, and for once, she's not drooling over Mister Uber Skinny Pale Sexy Man. Andy, why the hell does everyone LOVE YOU?! I think I deserve a little love. I mean, look at this sexiness." I said, motioning to my body.

Andy choked on his water. "You? Sexy? Please, Purdy. You're nothing compared to this sexiness!" he protested, taking off his shirt and flexing.

I jabbed him in the ribs and he doubled over. "OW!"

I laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought, Andrew." I said, helping him up and helping him sit on the couch.

He glared at me and rubbed his ribs where I'd poked him. "Don't do that!" he yelled, throwing a peanut butter smothered pancake at me.

I ducked, sending the pancake projectile hurdling at the wall behind me. I turned to see the golden brown disc flattened against the wall. I laughed. It was even funnier when Andy tried to throw another one at me, and it hit the TV. I laughed harder.

"Andy, you realize that those aren't frisbees. They're your damn Skippy's on pancakes. Now clean up!" Christian yawned, dodging another flying disc.

--

I watched Andy clean his food fight mess. It was fun. After that, I fell asleep.