Saturday, February 5, 2011

TwiCarol Brings You Some Light In The Dark

Up To Scratch by Vican

Summary - Originally a o/s for the FML-Contest: Mischievous alarm clocks, inappropriate Christmas gifts and slippery ice - Bella's day just keeps going from bad to worse. While thoroughly pissed off at the world, she finds her salvation in the unlikeliest of places.
I found this fic last week & could not stop reading it! It's a WIP that is 14 chapters in. I laughed out loud so many times during this story that people thought I had completely lost the plot... a word of advice... don't read this on your cell phone like I did. It will get you strange looks while standing in line at the shops, at work during lunch, or even in your own home! But who cares anyway? Let 'em look! I had a blast reading this & I'm sure you will too. The first chapter (the original o/s that HunterHunting chose as her Judges Pick in the FML contest) is absolute gem & will have you hooked right away. Here's a little taste for you...

Today, I received an early Christmas gift from my boyfriend of ten months. It was soap. In a few days he will be receiving his very expensive specialized car horn he has wanted for years, while I will be enjoying my new bar of Walmart brand soap, which has already begun to give me a rash. FML

This day can just go suck Hitler's balls.

"And his dick," I conclude out loud in a snarl, not feeling that having only his balls in its mouth would be sufficient punishment for this day. After the hell it's put me through, it deserves the whole fucking package.

I glare out the windshield of my car, feeling just generally pissed off at everything, such as the streetlight 20 feet up the road and that particular shade of neon blue in the lower right corner of the billboard I just passed.

I squirm against my seat for like the gazillionth fucking time, growling with how utterly useless my squirming is proving to be. How could nothing help with this shit? It wasn't like I was wearing silk or cashmere, or some other really soft fabric that Alice would know the name and price per yard of. It's a normal fucking long sleeved shirt – can't it at least give me the decency of being slightly scratchy?

The shirt can just go lick Hitler's fuzzy ass cheeks.

As all fucking hellish days usually do, the whole mess started with my alarm clock; it decided it didn't like me anymore and that going off 30 minutes after I had set it would be really funny.

Since when do alarm clocks have minds of their own anyway?

This fic is well-written & hilarious, my favorite kind. I could tell you more about it, but I really feel that you should discover it's awesomeness for yourselves. Go read it, you won't be sorry. Who doesn't love to laugh?

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