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    Broken Girls with Strange Frames (Ch. 8)

    Story written on July 26, 2005 by rachel_raj.
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    20 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 520 votes, average: 3.30 out of 5 (20 votes, average: 3.30 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 11
    Words: 5312
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=55635
    Author Notes:

    Alice moves in.

     

    She found this very funny, but I didn’t, and managed to glower behind her back the whole way out of The Planet.

     

     

     

    The time that I moved in with Bette Porter, I learned that she’s very good at lifting stuff, and furthermore, that I like watching her lift stuff. This is an aside and has no bearing on the plot of this story whatsoever. I’m just saying-Bette in a wifebeater carrying boxes of my stuff into her guest room? You understand my predicament, right?

     

    Spencer and Kyle came as well, to help me move in and to see me off. “This is only temporary, right?” Kyle kept asking. “You’ll move back in with us when everything’s better?” I’d like to think he was already missing me, but I think he was actually just having second thoughts about Bobby what’s-his-face moving in with him, owing to the fact that we’d visited the cornerstore the other day and Bobby had ***** shortchanged us and then decided not to own up to it. I mean, who does that?

     

    Bette and Spencer talked about art the whole time, which made for a very annoying afternoon, since Spencer would stop and examine every single piece of art as he walked past it-which, I don’t know if I mentioned this, but Bette has fifty-billion pieces of art in her house, so this was fifty-billion times that Spencer stopped short, set the box he was carrying down and said, “Now, what is this?” And Bette would stop as well, put her box down and say, “Blah blah blah, I’m boring and talk about art all day, blah blah blah,” or something to that effect and it was seriously the most annoying thing ever. After awhile, Kyle and I started feeling like we’d carried as many boxes as we should have and the Boring Twins could take care of the rest, while we retreated into the living room to watch television.  There was a Fantasy Island marathon on, which was all kinds of awesome.

     

    “So,” Kyle said at a commercial, “is she gonna like, make you wear a business suit or something?”

     

    “Gross. I don’t think so.”

     

    “Well, I mean, you’re like… a businesswoman now. Right?”

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    Comments

    1. eeeeeeexcellent (mr burns voice) …how long is your entire story anyway? I’m loving the frequent posts, the only other story I read on a regular basis is updated once a WEEK! (dont get any ideas)

    2. Love the quick posts too. This story , and the telling of it, are “all kinds of awesome”. Alice narrating an episode of the show could be hilarious – that’s if any of the TLW writers could remember that she actually used to be funny!

    6. OMG are you sure your not Alice P from an alternate dimension where Alice P really exists, who has gained access to this universe and thought it would be cool to tell her story cause you have her down cold……

    7. This will never be classified as spam, if so it’s the first time I’d be happy for it. I can just imagine Bette holding that pen! I am out of words to describe this story other than awesome. Keep up the good work.

    9. I have a thought, and it might be crazy: this died-in-the-wool Tibetter is not ready for Tina to enter the story yet. Go figure!
      The Catherine Opie show is two months away – TDay, TDay!!! I’m loving this Alice and Bette story so much I don’t want to advance to the day they inevitably meet. Please, put Tina back in the closet! I love this story. It’s so unique, well-written, better than fine!

    10. “nd when I tried to take a break halfway through and see what she was up to, she was hunched over a ridiculous stack of papers with her glasses on and greeted me with, “I thought you were working.”

      I had this instant image of Ebenezer Scrooge browbeating Bob Crachit as hunches over his desk, trying to get heat from that lonely candlestick and the one coal ember dying in the stove across the room.
      Poor Alice. Never f**k your friends. Never work for them, either.
      Ha!

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