Friday Flash – Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Blog Hop

Today’s the “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Blog Hop” hosted by Jaycee DeLorenzo and Victoria Smith! Let’s just cut right into the meat of things: 

Here are the details:

  • Interview a heroine of your manuscript, novel, or WIP by a fellow female counterpart also from your written work.  Your featured heroine can be interviewed by her best friend, a heroine from another one of your written works, a sister, the opportunities are endless!
  • Have your heroine answer at least 3 of the questions recommended below or make up your own!
  • Post a picture of your heroine, the interviewer, or both!
  • Post a song for the theme of the interview or a song that reflects your featured heroine’s personality

Well, I ended up writing a 2k short story. Oops? Heh heh. It works though. I had a lot of fun writing it in about 2 hours about…an hour ago. I’ve only edited it once since then so sorry for any typos.

Today’s story features, of course, Danielle Cromwell and Miranda Hotler of CROSS// fame. You’ve seen them interacting before.

Of course, the usual warnings: Swearing, naughty talk, and the usual crap that  falls out of their mouths. And alcohol, apparently.

And here’s your obligatory picture. I went hunting through my Sims 3 screenshots folder and found this random one of them hanging out in a club at the bar. The clothes are wrong, the scenery is wrong, but hey, the intent is the same and I don’t have to go taking new screenshots! Also, just like in the story, there’s a Devon cameo.

“The bartender” may or may not have weaseled her way into the story. Also, I have no idea why Devon is fuming at Danielle.

You still with me? We still gonna do this? Great. Because here we go in all it’s 2k short story glory.


               The bar door slammed open to admit Danielle in all her embittered glory while she whipped off her jacket with a snarl. A few other bar patrons glanced up and noted her furrowed brows and decided it best to ignore the stomping monster en route to the bar.
               “Bad day?”
               Danielle slumped onto a stool and flung her jacket onto the bar. Beside her sat Miranda, legs crossed and fingers flipping through a fashion magazine. Danielle wanted to vomit at the stench of her musky perfume – her senses were heightened to the point she thought she could also smell Miranda’s dark eye shadow. Crushed up Crayons, maybe? Or maybe that’s just how it looked on her.
               “Bad day.”
               “Aw, what happened?” Miranda lowered her magazine and pursed her lips in Danielle’s direction. “Childhood get ruined by the Internet?”
               “No.” Danielle saw the bartender, a young woman with her hair high in a ponytail and a dress made for dancing in, come over and nod her head at her. “Highball. On lots of rocks.”
               The bartender chuckled and wandered off to get Danielle her coveted whiskey. Miranda averted her eyes from the bartender’s bouncing locks to Danielle’s limp blond hair. “Going straight for the hard stuff, I see.”
               “Yeah, so? I ain’t driving tonight. What’s that there, a martini?”
               Miranda checked her empty martini glass, the green olive left for better individuals who could enjoy them. “My, you’re astute today. What’s wrong with you?”
               Danielle laid her head on the counter and stared sideways at Miranda around the corner. From that angle she could see Miranda’s manicured nails scratch against the glossy magazine cover of a starlet promising to make men’s genitals harder. “You ever just had a bad day? I am having a bad day. By the way, it’s a bad day.” Danielle watched Miranda roll her eyes and then continue perusing her magazine. “Why are you reading that trash? Since when do you care about getting dicks off?”
               Miranda flipped the magazine closed over her thumb and peered at the cover – she chuckled at the outlandish promises nobody in that bar probably cared about. “It amuses me. The shit in here is so ridiculous. And the quizzes are fun, because I love knowing how I really feel about my man.”
               The bartender returned, dropping a napkin before placing Danielle’s drink on top of it. Danielle gave guttural thanks and hocked back a drink large enough to burn both her trachea and stomach. She placed the glass onto the counter and considered the bubbles in her drink. “And how do you really feel about your man?”
               “Well let’s see, there’s this quiz in here. Want to do it?” Miranda’s smile was priceless in its goading.
               Danielle shrunk further into her seat. “Just a second.” She slammed back another drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Okay, hit me.”
               “Okay then.” Giving an imbibing Danielle a sex quiz about men should be worth the vomiting and hangovers Miranda would have to see later. “Question One:  boxers or briefs?”
               “Boxers. Soooo much more comfortable. Especially flannel ones in the winter when I can’t find my sweats and…”
               “They mean on men, Danielle.”
               “Oh. Why the hell do I care? I ain’t lookin’. Gross. Next.”
               “Uh huh. Are you sure you want to do this? Or should I just let you get drunk?”
               “I ain’t drunk. Yet.”
               “That…that was what I was getting at.” Miranda sighed and looked at the magazine again. “Alright, well, next is…’How would you describe your hero?’ Oh, that’s fun.”
               Danielle reached out and took Miranda’s empty martini glass and brought it over to her lolling head. She picked out the olive and stared through its eye as if it were a kaleidoscope. “A hero? I need a hero? I could be your hero? It’s raining heroes?”
               The bartender appeared again and bent down to see what Miranda read. “Oh my God, is that the quiz about what you like about men or some shit? My girlfriend totally made me do that one just to haze me the other day. I told her I like my heroes to have long hair and wield golden lassos.” She took the martini glass and slunk away again.
               “Was she talking about Wonder Woman?”
               “Yes, Danielle. Do you want your hero to be Wonder Woman?”
               “Yessssss. I want her to tie me up and make me tell the truth.”
               “Fine. Next question is, ‘What’s your biggest dating horror story?’ And it better not include me.”
               Danielle stared at the spot where the martini glass once was and blinked water back into her eyes. “Oh, that’s easy.” She sat up straight and looked at Miranda as if she were as clear-headed as the day of a big test. “It was here in this bar, actually. Yeah, some girl named Amy. We were gonna go back to my place to hump like monkeys when I went into the bathroom and saw blood all over the place. It was great. Guess what I didn’t get to do that night.”
               “When you say ‘blood all over the place’…”
               “I mean my period, genius.”
               “Of course you do. Have another drink, Danielle.”
               Complying, Danielle picked up her highball and slurped another drink down. “What’s next? What’s my favorite penile position? Because…dicks…”
               “You have such an elegant way with words.” Miranda turned the page and giggled. “’What turns you off from a guy the most?’” she asked with a smile.
               “Penis. Semen. Semen makes babies.” Danielle drank again, her limbs growing numb and her brain far from lucid. “Babies bad. Babies tear your taint, and your wallet.”
               “Lovely!” Miranda signaled the bartender for another martini. “I think they meant personality wise. Or something physical, beyond the penis. They aren’t thinking of child-hating dykes when they make these things.”
               “Oh, fine. I don’t like…” Danielle paused, distracted by her fascinating fingers. “Huh? I don’t like…oh my God, did I ever tell you about Seth? The guy who I once tried to do but bailed because we didn’t have condoms and he was too chicken-shit to walk across the street with me to buy some? I hate that guy. Yeah, I hate that.”
               “Careful, the other dykes might hear you talking about you and penis.”
               “It was a long time ago!” Danielle flung her arms up in the air and looked over her shoulder at the other women in the bar. Most were either in couples or small groups, chatting about their lives while pushing back tamer stuff than what Danielle had. Yeah, they didn’t care. Danielle would bet half of them were bisexual like her anyway. “Come on, give me another one. This is getting fun.” She saw her half-drunk highball. “Or I’m getting drunker. Either way.”
               Miranda peered at her over the magazine just as the bartender brought her a new margarita. She clamped her hand over the top before Danielle could dive in an attempt to steal the olive. The previous one still rolled around on the counter from where Danielle dropped it earlier. “Okay, ‘What is the best date you’ve ever had?’ Do tell me more about your period, while you’re at it.”
               “Any date I get laid.” Danielle then remembered the last part. “Oh, and no blood. Since you asked.”
               “Wonderful. Well, at least you seem easy enough to please.” Miranda sipped her margarita and then read, “’Kiss on the first date?’”
               “Sweetie, I will fuck your brains out on the first date.”
               “With men?”
               “Oh. Maybe. Does he have a condom? Am I on my period?” Danielle opened her arms and looked towards the shadowy ceiling.
               Miranda gaped at her before saying, “I don’t think you need condoms for a kiss, Danielle.”
               “Then you don’t know how I kiss!” Danielle slammed her fist onto the counter. “I kiss good.”
               “Do you even know what you’re talking about anymore?”
               “Not really.” Danielle finished off her highball in one swallow. She burped, folded her arms on the counter, and shoved her head into her own embrace. “Go on. Tell me more about how much I love me some dick. While you’re at it turn to page thirty-two and tell me how to give great head.” She poked an eye above her arm and stared at Miranda. “You wouldknow about that, I hear.”
               Miranda did not entertain her beyond what the next question said. “’What gets you a second date?’”
               “Your beautiful face.”
               “Ah, how sweet! Are you drunk?”
               Danielle admittedly could not see two inches past her own nose. How could she know if Miranda’s face was beautiful? It could have changed in the past two minutes. “Yes. It’s wonderful. Bad day is going away.”
               “You’re so sweet when you’re drunk. That tells me a lot about you, so you should tell me ‘What one thing tells you a lot about a person’.”
               “Their reaction to me saying ‘Roe vs. Wade’.”
               “I like it. Political with sexual implications.”
               “Nothing we women do is not political.” Danielle coughed into her arm, unaware of the approaching bartender.
               “Do you want another?”
               When Danielle didn’t answer, Miranda shook her head on her behalf. The bartender took the highball glass before Danielle could try to eat it. “Okay, Danielle, before you die there’s one more question. Do you want to hear it? Danielle?”
               Danielle banged her head against the counter; clearly, a nod.
               “’What do you find most attractive in a man?’”
               The chatter around them grew quiet – Danielle’s vibrant shout continued to echo within the bar wall. The bartender stifled a giggle and the nearest pair of dating dykes pointed before busting out laughing. “Fuck yeah, vaginas!” a woman called from the gallery.
               “I love vaginas!”
               “Me too!”
               “Baby, I love your vagina.”
               “Oh, yay!”
               While the lesbian love fest got underway in the peanut gallery, Miranda nudged Danielle’s arm and then pricked a finger through her unresponsive short hair. When she didn’t respond, Miranda leaned back and, with a sigh the size of the room, closed her fashion magazine and shrugged at the bartender. Danielle began to snore.
               A few minutes later the bar door opened, and an awkward hush fell over the room. Miranda craned her neck around to see a short dark figure wade its way through the throng of women all looking at it suspiciously. She held up her hand so the figure could see her.
               When Devon reached the counter he yanked Danielle’s head back and clicked his tongue against the back of his throat. “Drunk? Or dead?”
               “Drunk. Highball in less than ten minutes. Do you expect less?” Miranda crossed her arms and shook her head at the lingering bartender. “We were discussing the finer points of boxers, periods, and vaginas.”
               “Yeah, well, she’s out. When she left us earlier she had already had like five beers so I’m not surprised.” Devon tugged Danielle’s body out of the stool and lifted her into his arms. “I’ll take her home.” He turned and saw the dozens of eyes staring at him with contempt. “Um…”
               “You’re in a lesbian bar, by the way.”
               “Of course I am. Of. Course. I. Am.” Devon shifted Danielle’s weight until he knew he could carry her out of the bar without hitting her head against a chair, a table, or a lesbian. “Night.”
               Miranda leaned her head against her hand and watched him maneuver Danielle through the crowd and out the door held by a woman looking at him as if he were a caveman. It made Miranda smile.
               “Who was that?” the bartender asked.
               “Some guy she knows. He’s harmless.”
               “You just gonna let him make off with your drunk woman like that?”
               Miranda laughed. “My woman? What makes you think that?”
               “Well, just the way you two were…I mean…” The bartender blushed. “Never mind. Vaginas.”
               Miranda lifted her martini glass up. “Vaginas!”
               “Vaginas!” came another chorus.
               “Yeah, sorry.” The bartender stepped away.
               After another second Miranda lowered her arm and asked, “Is it that obvious?”
               “What? That you’re in love with her? Just a little.”
               Watching the bartender walk away, Miranda fingered the glossy cover of the magazine and sniffed at her margarita. She looked at the magazine and read the headline, “Let’s talk about men!” through narrowed eyes. She finished off her margarita and tossed the magazine into the nearest trashcan. 
Yay! For your listening pleasure, here’s the fierce and flawless Kumi Koda telling us about dem menz in the clubz. I think it’s fairly obvious when you watch it while it’s included here as the soundtrack piece.