| Satisfaction Can Be Hard To Come By.... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 9 2008, 08:50 PM (112 Views) | |
| Kathryn Velmont Thomas | Jul 9 2008, 08:50 PM Post #1 |
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Southern Belle Beauty - Kick Ass Attitude
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Ever heard the saying curiosity killed the cat? Bullshit. Curiosity doesn’t hurt. I should know. It’s a flaw of mine. And I don’t mean in the valley girl, cheerleader, and suburban housewife curiosity like why my neighbors were digging in their backyard at three o’clock in the morning or why Stu dumped Casey for Taytum or did Casey dump Stu for Steve. I’m talking psychological curiosity, for example why does somebody’s mind work the way that it does, more specifically I should say, I want to know why Henry Lee Lucas, Richard Speck, Albert DeSalvo, Jeffrey Dahmer and Gary Ridgeway did the things that they did. Unfortunately for me, I require more quote, un-quote ‘attention’ then that of a forensic psychologist, so there was no way I would ever pursue it as a career. But that does not stop me reading articles when I’m not on the bar or in the ring. But something compelled me to find out about serial killers and the psychology behind them. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t finish High School, I am certainly not the brightest spark from the torch. Hell I didn’t even know where Egypt was until a few months ago, but ask me about the behavioral measures of neurotoxicity and the environmental causes of neurodegenerative diseases or the differences between Rigor, Livor and Algor mortis and I can give you whatever you need. Had I been able to study this in High School, I probably still would’ve dropped out, but I might have been sad about it. And this is where my day starts. It’s coming up for 5am and I’ve just rolled into bed. Unlike your normal average person, my day begins as I get into bed. I’ve just worked a tiring shift at CU and now it’s time to wind down. So I slip into my comfy queen sized bed and pull out my bedtime reading. This morning it’s Criminal Psych & Forensic Tech. It’s the basics but I love it. Only this morning, my mind keeps wondering to a different place. I can’t seem to keep on track as the book talks about John Gacy and the secret life he led. I guess I should probably explain. Desire is desire no matter what you do or where you go. The sun will not bleach it and the tide will not wash it away. There is, or at least was this guy I liked. He’s a regular at Coyote. Tall, dark, brooding, insanely gorgeous and a body that is quite literally, walking porn. The problem. All men are beasts. Every guy from ‘manimal’ right down to Mr. <i>I Love The English Patient</i>, has a beast in him. And I don’t care how sensitive they act. They’re still in it for the chase. This particular guy however… wouldn’t initiate a chase. Why? He hates the fact that I could probably kick his ass within an inch of his life and then take that inch… You get the picture. So after my first match at sVo, and the loss I had to face, all of a sudden he starts to show an interest. Now let me get one thing straight. A long time ago I faced up to my destiny as a loser magnet. Ronnie. Deadbeat. Steve. Klepto. Kenny. DRUMMER... You can’t trust guys. So I was hesitant at first, this sudden change in his behavior came as a little surprise. Was it because I had lost? Only time would tell.... So anyways, we’re getting close. And I mean like really close. He would wait for me after my shift. Things would get a little hot and heavy in the back of my car. I didn’t open my legs for him. At least give me some credit... My name is not Samantha. (That is a story for another time) So anyway, come Friday night, I’m irritating myself at how smitten we are with each other. I was being such a cock tease it was astonishing that it didn’t interfere with my work behind or on the bar. He loved the attention and if I’m honest so was I. Friday was my last shift at Coyote before the next Showdown. So we said our see ya laters in the back of my car like we always did, except this time when his hand started creeping up my thigh. I didn’t stop him. It was so hot; I had to start rolling the windows down. He started to show me things I hadn’t seen before. And it was gooooooooood. The following Monday night, (yesterday, no, technically two days ago now) I was greeted in Tulsa with what could only be described as a heroes welcome. The party was incredible, the match constantly on replay on the big screen; my play list on the jukebox; Drinks named after me. I had honestly never felt that good about a win in my career. I knew that I was finally doing something worth while. As I walk around the party, greeting my friends, still working, serving drinks, I keep an eye out for him. To keep things simple; let’s call him X. I’m so not into that kiss and tell, he fucked up, so I’ll fuck his chances up of any future lays by slandering his name, so we’ll keep it as X. So I’m looking for X and you could probably see this a mile off, I probably should’ve, but guess who was not at MY celebration. X. I shrugged it off. Maybe he had work; something may have come up, whatever. I could give a flying back tuck. That’s a lie. I did care. The night goes on, I get very drunk and end spending yet another night in one of the booths in the back of the bar. I sober up. I go home. I go back to the bar to work another shift. That’s when it happened. The bar was pumping, I didn’t take four steps behind the bar when the first song hit. Cowboy – Kid Rock. One song, eight jugs of water and a lot of laughs later I stand at the end of the bar drying off when I see him. With her. Slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp, I watch like a hawk. I should’ve seen this coming but nope. I see her hand sliding down his back. Great, now she’s getting frisky. I can literally feel my blood boiling. As the song finishes they head towards the bar. Fantastic, every other girl is busy. So guess who has to serve him? BINGO. Me. I stay calm. I act like I’ve never met him before. He acts the exact same way, which angers me further. Looking back, I can’t remember what it was he ordered I was so furious, all I know was that it was some fruity cocktail because she was too priss to shoot the whiskey. I wanted to batter him. I wanted to show him what I could really do given a chance. But I’m better then that. I had to rise above it. Then it hit me. Well actually I can’t take the credit for it. Carrie Underwood should be doing that. You see, Before He Cheats began to play through the bar. I saw the Louisville slugger under the bar and I knew what I had to do. I informed the girls I was taking my break a little early. I grabbed my keys and the bat and headed out into the parking lot. <i><b>“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little supped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats... I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tires...</b></i> Needless to say… Lil suspended me for another three days. But man, it was worth it. I can see the sun rising in the east as his face flashes across my memory. I laugh. I wish I had a camera. It was truly priceless. My eyes are getting heavy. I roll over onto my side, getting into my sleepy time position as my mother would once call it and drift into a peaceful sleep, a broad smile across my face of sheer satisfaction. Edit note - had been reading a load of old RPs for inspiration - sorry for the slip up - if you don't know what Im talking about then never mind! Edited by Kathryn Velmont Thomas, Jul 9 2008, 09:23 PM.
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12:56 AM Jul 11