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Chapter 3

The Story The Authors

For once, Vashondra had nothing to say. She stared blankly at the ranting little man in front of her. She glanced over at her best friend and sidekick Bitzy Bootleg, who was biting her lip nervously. "I MARRY YOU.I CAN SKIP.I CAN JOP." the little man grunted, skipping and jopping. Vashondra du Lunchenette decided it was time to vacate this freak circus. She scooped up her poodle and signaling to Bitzy, she slowly turned and inched her way towards her convertible mustang. The little freakman followed her. "MY BORTHER RAHIM." he shouted and waved his fist. "I LOVE YOU.I HAVE A YO-YO." "Back off, Yo-yo boy!" Vashondra shouted and made a fast break for the car, as fast as her high-healed mules would allow her. Bitzy had already made it to the car. She jumped into the driver's seat and hot wired it to life. "Mace!" Vashondra screamed at her. "Get the mace!" Bitzy pulled the tiny spray can out of the glove compartment and tossed it to Vashondra. "I FEEL HAPPY.I HAVE A PET RABBIT." the freakman sounded agitated. Vashondra caught the mace can and whirled around to face her pursuer. "Go flock your rabbit!" she said as she maced him in the eyes. The man grabbed his face and fell to the ground writhing in agony. "I CAN KILL YOU.I LOVE YOU.MY BORTHER RAHIM.I CAN KILL YOU." Vashondra jumped into the passenger seat of the mustang and Bitzy floored it. The tires spit gravel on the man as they sped away. When they were a safe distance away, Vashondra looked at Bitzy. "I'm keeping this with me from now on." she said as she tucked the little mace can into her 3 foot high strawberry blond beehive hairdo. cuddles

Then all of a sudden she sat upright in bed. What, a bad dream, of course. No one would ever have hair that looked like that. But none the less, it was disturbing, and was sure that she had woke herself up by screaming. She looked around, her bed was in normal condition, room normal,but the door was wide open. She panicked, she never left the door open, even in her own home, the bed room door was always kept closed, espically at night. She recalled the night in a few short moments. She had closed the door, because she had remembered it because it had stuck for a moment, and she thought of how she was going ot have to call a repairman replace the frame around the door, although it was tight, it still moved, closed, and even locked. She definately remembered it locking. *mango*

although this is a stupid story asteriod

she continued it anyway and even if it was stupid, she decided she wouldn't break character anymore. So the bedroom door was open and she was obsessing about it. She looked around the room to see if anything was missing but all of her belongings were precisely where she left them. So why was the door open? She felt a panic attack coming on. She suddenly realized there was something on her head. She went to the mirror and screamed in horror when she saw her reflection. Some one had snuck into her bedroom in the middle of the night and transformed her long strawberry blond hair into an incredible 3 foot high beehive. Vashondra stared incredulously at the gravity defying do on her head. Soon the initial shock wore off and eventually she began to like her new unsolicited image. She decided to throw a cocktail party to unveil her new look to all her friends. cuddles

Your porgy and bess itchy head. Stick your third leg up my second mouth baby! UUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! You horse. C'Mone hor. Take your condo off. Frooooooooock it. Slurp it. Thank you Joshwa Weller

And so poor Joshwa was again reduced to whacking himself off at the computer as he lacked a living, warm-blooded girlfriend. After wiping his 3 incher off, he went to the bathroom to contemplate what he had done. He gave himself a good look in the mirror. Broken front teeth, bad acne, horn-rimmed glasses with Coke bottle lenses. Why didn't the girls like him? He sat back down again at his computer and lay his head down on his grimy, unusually slimy keyboard. Saliva began to trickle out of the crack of his chapped lips, and his juvenile mind slowly drifted off to sleep. Joshwa=loser

The Story	The Authors
For once, Vashondra had nothing to say. She stared blankly at the ranting little man in front of her. She glanced over at her best friend and sidekick Bitzy Bootleg, who was biting her lip nervously. "I MARRY YOU.I CAN SKIP.I CAN JOP." the little man grunted, skipping and jopping. Vashondra du Lunchenette decided it was time to vacate this freak circus. She scooped up her poodle and signaling to Bitzy, she slowly turned and inched her way towards her convertible mustang. The little freakman followed her. "MY BORTHER RAHIM." he shouted and waved his fist. "I LOVE YOU.I HAVE A YO-YO." "Back off, Yo-yo boy!" Vashondra shouted and made a fast break for the car, as fast as her high-healed mules would allow her. Bitzy had already made it to the car. She jumped into the driver's seat and hot wired it to life. "Mace!" Vashondra screamed at her. "Get the mace!" Bitzy pulled the tiny spray can out of the glove compartment and tossed it to Vashondra. "I FEEL HAPPY.I HAVE A PET RABBIT." the freakman sounded agitated. Vashondra caught the mace can and whirled around to face her pursuer. "Go flock your rabbit!" she said as she maced him in the eyes. The man grabbed his face and fell to the ground writhing in agony. "I CAN KILL YOU.I LOVE YOU.MY BORTHER RAHIM.I CAN KILL YOU." Vashondra jumped into the passenger seat of the mustang and Bitzy floored it. The tires spit gravel on the man as they sped away. When they were a safe distance away, Vashondra looked at Bitzy. "I'm keeping this with me from now on." she said as she tucked the little mace can into her 3 foot high strawberry blond beehive hairdo.	cuddles
Then all of a sudden she sat upright in bed. What, a bad dream, of course. No one would ever have hair that looked like that. But none the less, it was disturbing, and was sure that she had woke herself up by screaming. She looked around, her bed was in normal condition, room normal,but the door was wide open. She panicked, she never left the door open, even in her own home, the bed room door was always kept closed, espically at night. She recalled the night in a few short moments. She had closed the door, because she had remembered it because it had stuck for a moment, and she thought of how she was going ot have to call a repairman replace the frame around the door, although it was tight, it still moved, closed, and even locked. She definately remembered it locking.	mango
although this is a stupid story	asteriod
she continued it anyway and even if it was stupid, she decided she wouldn't break character anymore. So the bedroom door was open and she was obsessing about it. She looked around the room to see if anything was missing but all of her belongings were precisely where she left them. So why was the door open? She felt a panic attack coming on. She suddenly realized there was something on her head. She went to the mirror and screamed in horror when she saw her reflection. Some one had snuck into her bedroom in the middle of the night and transformed her long strawberry blond hair into an incredible 3 foot high beehive. Vashondra stared incredulously at the gravity defying do on her head. Soon the initial shock wore off and eventually she began to like her new unsolicited image. She decided to throw a cocktail party to unveil her new look to all her friends.	cuddles
Your porgy and bess itchy head. Stick your third leg up my second mouth baby! UUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! You horse. C'Mone hor. Take your condo off. Frooooooooock it. Slurp it. Thank you	Joshwa Weller
And so poor Joshwa was again reduced to whacking himself off at the computer as he lacked a living, warm-blooded girlfriend. After wiping his 3 incher off, he went to the bathroom to contemplate what he had done. He gave himself a good look in the mirror. Broken front teeth, bad acne, horn-rimmed glasses with Coke bottle lenses. Why didn't the girls like him? He sat back down again at his computer and lay his head down on his grimy, unusually slimy keyboard. Saliva began to trickle out of the crack of his chapped lips, and his juvenile mind slowly drifted off to sleep.	Joshwa=loser

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