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31_days2006-06-10 02:02 pm
toxictattoo.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-06-10 02:02 pm
[06/10] [Clue] You Kill Me
Title: You Kill Me
Day/Theme: 6/10. love until it hurts
SeriesMovie: Clue
Character/Pairing: Mr. Boddy (deceased)/Mrs. White
Rating: R, for adult themes.
Word Count: 463
You Kill Me
*~*~*
Sha-boom sha-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da
Sha-boom sha-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da
Mr. Boddy’s body hadn’t really been dead, at first. Well, it was dead now. And laying on her rather heavily, too.
This was the tramp’s idea and of course she would get Professor Plum with his filthy hands touching her all over while Mrs. White was stuck…with the body.
Mr. Boddy’s body.
Was it mentioned he was dead?
Quite reminiscent of sex with her late husbands, as a matter of fact. Not the dead part, even if they did act like it, lying there while she did all the work.
It didn’t work then and it wasn’t working now. With a heave and a shove, she managed to get him on his back. She didn’t mean for his head to hit the loveseat arm so hard and his arm flopped off the seat at an awkward angle. At least it was still attached to his body. Now it was simply a matter of finding where to put her knees so she didn’t rest on anything…inconvenient, which could have easily removed it but there wasn’t time.
She snorted in a rather undignified manner when she realized what she was doing. Love hurts. Except when you’re dead, so what did it matter? There were appearances to keep up, however.
Unresponsive and stiff in the wrong places, this was getting much closer to her previous marriages than she liked to admit. There was a reason she changed husbands as often as her shoes. Predictability.
They had just met and Mr. Boddy was already growing predictable, which, if she stopped to think about that, should have been a dead giveaway.
Mrs. White could hear the police officer coming down the hall, certainly didn’t need Miss Scarlet (the trollop) to tell her that on her dash by to readily leap into the professor’s arms. The cop moved like a yak in heat, which she only had antidotal evidence of. Hearing him stomp around like that, he came close.
The door banged open and the cop stormed in the room with a nervous Wadsworth in tow.
Then her lips were on Mr. Boddy’s, cool and indifferent. His were, too, bringing home to her thoughts of her five failed marriages. Could have been six if Mr. Boddy had stayed alive long enough.
Just like all men, finished before she had a chance to get started. Shame, that.
The gramophone droned on while policeman ‘inspected’ the room and once he left and the door shut, she slumped back against the far arm of the loveseat. That kiss hadn’t been near as unfulfilling as her entire third marriage…
… Hey nonny ding dong, alang alang alang
Boom ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle-ay
Oh, life could be a dream (sha-boom) …
*~*~*~*~*
Day/Theme: 6/10. love until it hurts
Rating: R, for adult themes.
Word Count: 463
You Kill Me
*~*~*
Sha-boom sha-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da
Sha-boom sha-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da
Mr. Boddy’s body hadn’t really been dead, at first. Well, it was dead now. And laying on her rather heavily, too.
This was the tramp’s idea and of course she would get Professor Plum with his filthy hands touching her all over while Mrs. White was stuck…with the body.
Mr. Boddy’s body.
Was it mentioned he was dead?
Quite reminiscent of sex with her late husbands, as a matter of fact. Not the dead part, even if they did act like it, lying there while she did all the work.
It didn’t work then and it wasn’t working now. With a heave and a shove, she managed to get him on his back. She didn’t mean for his head to hit the loveseat arm so hard and his arm flopped off the seat at an awkward angle. At least it was still attached to his body. Now it was simply a matter of finding where to put her knees so she didn’t rest on anything…inconvenient, which could have easily removed it but there wasn’t time.
She snorted in a rather undignified manner when she realized what she was doing. Love hurts. Except when you’re dead, so what did it matter? There were appearances to keep up, however.
Unresponsive and stiff in the wrong places, this was getting much closer to her previous marriages than she liked to admit. There was a reason she changed husbands as often as her shoes. Predictability.
They had just met and Mr. Boddy was already growing predictable, which, if she stopped to think about that, should have been a dead giveaway.
Mrs. White could hear the police officer coming down the hall, certainly didn’t need Miss Scarlet (the trollop) to tell her that on her dash by to readily leap into the professor’s arms. The cop moved like a yak in heat, which she only had antidotal evidence of. Hearing him stomp around like that, he came close.
The door banged open and the cop stormed in the room with a nervous Wadsworth in tow.
Then her lips were on Mr. Boddy’s, cool and indifferent. His were, too, bringing home to her thoughts of her five failed marriages. Could have been six if Mr. Boddy had stayed alive long enough.
Just like all men, finished before she had a chance to get started. Shame, that.
The gramophone droned on while policeman ‘inspected’ the room and once he left and the door shut, she slumped back against the far arm of the loveseat. That kiss hadn’t been near as unfulfilling as her entire third marriage…
… Hey nonny ding dong, alang alang alang
Boom ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle-ay
Oh, life could be a dream (sha-boom) …
*~*~*~*~*