Tonight, the cheerleaders practiced outside at the piers in Chelsea. We were practicing a part of the routine during which I go up in a half-extension; on one particular go-round, my group, thinking that we were only marking the stunt, failed to put it up, while the other two groups succeeded. We had gathered something of a crowd, and one more vocal member of our audience shouted to us, “Why didn’t he go up?” I foolishly attempted to explain that we hadn’t known I was supposed to, but she interrupted me and shouted, “Is he too big to go up?”
I can’t really remember a time when my desire to grow long sharp nails instantly, so as to be able to rake bloody gashes into somebody’s face, has been quite so burning and intense.
I hated having a crowd at practice. Feh.
awwwwwww. poor baby. well if it helps at all. i think you are perfect in size.
It’s sad that I always feel like growing those claws on an hourly basis.
Tell me. How big was the woman that made the comment?
Yep. Lady Deathstrike (seen Xmen2 yet?) – I have wanted to do that all the time.
Claw her, Faustus. Claw her!
Ah, if Faustus were Carrie, things might have ended . . . well, in exactly the same way.
i thought i was the only one who wanted to put gashes in someone’s face after comments like that
Scratch the bitch!
Four little words: Sack of Valencia oranges. All I’m saying.
Er, did you get her name? Dirty deeds done dirt cheap.