The Fuck Journal

Chapter Thirteen

Duff

Hey, Slash! Why don't you ever say hi to the journal anymore? You can say bye, but ya can't say hello? Just slammin' out shit on the page... No, "Dear Diary," or, "Hey, it's been a while!" Nothin'! Get it together, man. Be nice to the Journal! Alright, rant over! I had to give ya shit, baby!

At the risk of sounding like a hypocritical jackass, what's up, Journal! So, uh, neat little story here. Kinda...kinda weird and awkward, but it ended well when it could've really went downhill. Let's get started!

So, Slash and I had our great fuckin' night at the bar, right? We found our way back to the hotel probably around two-thirty in the morning, happy as hell to be outta the cold and a lot more shitfaced than we anticipated. We immediately got a hot shower, wanting to shake the chills from walking back half naked, and I was lying in bed propped up against the headboard, pillows stacked behind my head and back (my neck still fuckin' hurt!), legs stretched in front of me and ankles crossed with just the thin bottom sheet covering my naked lap. I was reading a National Geographic magazine I'd snatched from the lobby in the dim light from a single bedside lamp, perusing a rather cool article on Arctic foxes, waiting for Slash to get back from getting ice downstairs.

"Oh, wow, that's pretty neat," I mumbled quietly to myself as I read a little fact bubble next to a photo that showed one of the fluffy white foxes pounding face first into a snow drift. "Just fuckin' dive bombin' the snow to find prey... They mate for life and turn brown in the summer to blend in to their changing environment...killer!"

I turned the page eagerly and was greeted with a photo of a litter of pups, and I felt myself swoon like an idiot at their pure adorableness, smiling to myself with a little chuckle. "Aww, how fuckin' cute! Look at 'em! All fuzzy and tiny! I wonder if you can buy one... I bet Slash already knows how to take care of them, animal freak that he is...maybe we should get one..."

My body jolted in violent surprise as the door flew open and Slash came bursting inside like a fuckin' tornado, clad only in a clean pair of jeans, throwing the over full ice bucket on a table by the door and practically hopping over to the bed. Ice cubes scattered all over the place, crunching under his bare feet, but he didn't seem to notice. I winced at the sound, thinking that it had to fuckin' hurt, then slammed the magazine shut but made sure to keep one finger on the page I was reading. There was quite a bit of embarrassed heat on my face as I busted out, "I--I wasn't just freakin' out over cute baby foxes!"

Slash appeared as excited as he had when he charged through the door, then completely puzzled and taken aback by my words as he stood by the side of the bed, cocking his head to the side and scrunching his face together. "What?"

I opened the magazine to the page and showed the babies to him, grinning goofily, "Look! Aren't they cute? Little tiny fluffballs...kinda like you!"

"Shut up, goober!" He smacked me lightly on the arm with a little smile, then leaned closer to study the photo. "Aww, yeah, they are cute! But I have a surprise for you, baby! Guess what! Guess what!"

I dropped the open magazine on my thighs, tilting my head back against the pillows and crossing my arms, bouncing my feet a little as I peered up at him, giving up my happy little fantasy of having an Artic fox of our own. I felt my face twist into an expression of confusion, "Surprise? What? What's goin' on?"

"Don't look so worried!" he said as he sat down beside me on the bed, placing his palm gently on my knee, then suddenly patting it really excitedly as he gushed, "So, I ran into Izzy and Axl downstairs, right? And we got talking...and they'll be here soon! Remember what you said in our Journal the other day...or week...whatever, about Izzy and still being curious? Well, we kinda got talkin' about it and--"