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Message-ID: <31297asstr$994439402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: writerzblocked@aol.com (Writerzblocked)
Subject: {ASSM} I FOUGHT THE LAW, AND... 6 (mc mf)
Date: Fri,  6 Jul 2001 13:10:02 -0400
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I FOUGHT THE LAW, AND...  6  (mc)

Copyright by Writerzblocked, 2001.  All rights, well, you know. Repost and
archive to your heart's content, just don't charge anyone for it or I'll have
to send Harry Long after you. You all know the rest of the drill by now.  I'm
not
big on headers and/or labels, so anyone reposting may feel free to add whatever
MF, MM, FF stuff they think is necessary.  

********************************************

 HAPPINESS (or Evil Mind Controllers Need Love Too)

{Author's Note:  Just the calm between storms, folks.  Back to our regularly
scheduled chaos next time.}







"Hey, silly, you, like, HAVE to eat something!"  

And she pouted.  I think it was genuine, but it was getting harder and harder
to tell.

Even for me.

"I WILL eat something eventually, just not THAT."  

"OK, then, like, Deevy got you a hamburger..."

"Too dry.  I HATE McDonald's."

"C'mon, silly, it's been, like, almost a WEEK."  She gave up on the pout now,
sighed, and started putting away what she said was a shrimp cocktail.  With a
fork.  I don't know where she got a shrimp cocktail at 10am in the morning and
I wasn't going to ask.  But bad as it looked and smelled, it was better than
gum.

"And I feel GREAT."  

Wasn't lying, either.  I DID feel great. Better than I have in my entire life. 
Amazing what a good rest and the world's greatest fuck will do for you.

About that time, the door flew open and Deevers came in with yet another bunch
of flowers.  Immediately, Bubbles jumped up, almost spilling that
tomato-and-seafood-and-whatever-else abomination in a glass all over my bed.
Good thing she didn't, 'cause I sure didn't want to find out what was in it.
Looked ugly enough from the outside. 

"DEEVY!!" she squeaked, as she shuffled across the hospital room floor in her
brand new Backstreet Boys Light-up Pumps.  Again, I wasn't going to ask.  It
was scary enough just to know that somewhere in the world, there's an outfit
that specializes in boy band stripper gear.  With any luck, it was a dot.com
and whoever came up with the idea is out on the streets with the rest of 'em.  


"Hey, hunny bunch," he belched as he bent over and gave her a peck when she
presented her cheek, "these just came and Gladys wanted me to rush 'em right
over."  

"More FLOWERS!!!!"  She had her mouth open impossibly wide and was rocking her
head and little pigtails back and forth and making a little "eeeeeeeeeee" noise
as she stomped her feet up and down and up and down.  It was almost enough to
make me want to slip back into another coma.  

Almost.

"So, let's see who THESE are from!" she smiled over at me as she tore the
attached card open.  Then her little face stretched north and south and east
and west all at the same time and her eyebrows shook hands with her bangs. 
"It's from MANDY!!!!"

Deevers was jumping up and down right along with the prom princess up until the
last.  Then he stood real still and his eyes shot sideways at me. 

I tell, ya, I love cops.  Always alert for any signs of trouble.  I thought
about glaring back at him just to see what he'd do, but decided not to. I
didn't know how strong his bladder was.

"Soooooo," I said slowly, solemnly, one eye on her and one eye on Deevers just
because I like the look on their faces when they don't know what the hell I'm
gonna do, "what's  - up  -  with  -  herrrrrr?"

"It says 'Thanks for everything, the director wants to start shooting tomorrow
morning and hopes to have things wrapped up by Thursday.  Say Hello to everyone
for me.  Love, Mandy.'"  She half-smiled and mumbled as she turned the card
over to read some writing on the back.  "I wish I could be in a commercial."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Women. Just can't please 'em all, no matter how
fucking much time you spend on 'em. 

"Wait," she continued, "there's, like, something on the back here. 'PS, the
director says I just OOZE sexuality.'"

I usually have better self-control, but even I had to chuckle at that one.  

"Well," she sighed as she tucked away the note and brought the flowers to her
nose, "at least she sounds happy."

"That's good," I added.  "She deserves it."

That brought her smile back and she took a long, loud snort.  "hehehe, she sure
does."  Then she looked towards the bathroom.  "You want me to..."

"Yeah." I resigned.  "See if they'll fit."

She walked past Deevers, who was now playing with his badge and pretending
(badly) not to notice her, to the bathroom and slowly opened the door.  "Geez,
it's like a conservatory in here," I could hear her say as she entered, then
came back out without the flowers.

"You know, you really ought to, like, open your presents at least."  She was
staring at the piles of colorful boxes and assorted ribbons and bows.  I guess
she got bored last night while I was sleeping.  They were all neatly arranged
in the corner from biggest to smallest in a huge rainbowed pyramid that reached
halfway to the ceiling.  I felt like the fucking Pharaoh of St. Mary's
Hospital.

The Pharaoh of St. Mary's.  Hmm, I remember I kinda liked that.  Except I
wasn't dead yet.  Not officially, anyway.  You have to be officially born
before you can officially die, I think.  You used to be a lawyer, what do you
think?  

Oh, never mind, keep doing what you're doing.  Weren't much of a lawyer anyway,
were you?  

"Hey, silly, I SAID you really ought to, like, open your presents."  She was
squinting at me really hard like she was trying to figure out what I was
thinking as I stared at the pile.  Pharaohs and pyramids.  

"I bet it looks like Christmas, right?"

Oh, well, I sighed to myself. Maybe someday, Bubbles. Maybe someday.  "Nah, not
now, maybe later."

"But, but..." she started on her fingers. "Sally, like, gave you two sweaters,
Bailey gave you a bunch of clothes 'cause she said you have NO taste in 'em,
the Sarge and Butch got you, like, two new pairs of treads, Gilbert and Denise
got you a new suit and a couple ties, Judge Meredith, like, got you a bunch of
cool of boxers with hearts all over 'em, and Deevy got you..."

"Shhh!" the officer hurried over to her and put his hand over her mouth.  "It's
supposed to be a surprise."

"OK, OK, enough already," I interrupted. I was getting another headache from
all the attention.  "I think I'd rather eat the damned shrimp cocktail," I
muttered under my breath.  Unfortunately, not far enough under...

"REALLY!" she squealed as she ripped Deever's hand from her mouth and snatched
the glass of obscene seafood from the table where she'd placed it.  Might not
be able to read minds, but there wasn't anything wrong with those cute little
ears.

"NO!" I grabbed the sheets and retreated further back in the bed for fear of my
life.  Well, for my stomach, anyway. "Put that away before I have to hurt
someone."  

Yeah, OK, there are still things even I have to work on.

Deevers cringed and took two steps towards the door, but I guess his bladder
was all right.  Maybe a cop thing. 

"snif." 

Never knew something so soft could be so damned loud.

Now, for the record, I've seen lots of women cry. Hell, I've MADE lots of women
cry.  On purpose, even.  For kicks.  Or because they wanted to, but couldn't on
their own.  Had lots of men that way in my time.  But this was...different.

This was Bubbles.  And it was real.

I drew a deep breath and sighed.  "OK, OK, I give.  One present."

She lowered the glass from hell, but the tears didn't stop.  

"OK, how about one of YOUR presents."

The glass hit the floor and shattered, spilling the vile red liquid anywhere
and everywhere.  The Backstreet Boys were all now bleeding shrimp and tomato
sauce from their pretty little faces.  It would have been really, really funny
if she weren't crying so damned hard.

"What the hell did I say NOW?" I threw the sheets back and put one leg out and
onto the floor.

She managed to lift one arm to glance through her tears at her GlamGirl Barbie
wristwatch.  "BUT IT ISN'T HERE YET!!!" She practically screamed the words out
like she was yelling into an industrial strength fan, her high, nasally pitched
voice breaking this way and that. I imagine everyone on the floor heard it. 
Luckily, by now, they all knew to stay away. 

This kind of thing is one of the reasons I've lived most of my life alone.  The
kind of thing that nice, normal people have to put up with.  Luckily for me,
I'm neither.

"OK, girlfriend, that's ENOUGH!"  I stared at her as the tears slowly dried up.
 "I can see there are some things here we clearly have to work on."

I glanced sideways at Deevers.  He was already next to the door, but I think it
took him all of a half second to phase through it.  I don't even remember
seeing it move.   

"But I just, like, want you to be happy, you know?"  She continued to sniffle. 
"Like you make everyone else happy."

"Look, if I'm not happy, you'll know it." I started to explain as I got back in
the bed and pulled the sheets back around me, "Unless that happens, just assume
I'm happy."

"snif. But, like, how will I know you're not happy if you don't, you know, SAY
you're not happy?"  

Sigh. You can put the kid back in the lawyer, but you can't take the lawyer out
of the kid.  "Believe me, you'll know."

"snif.  Are you happy now?"

"Yes."

"snif.  You don't LOOK happy." 

"I'm HAPPY, OK?!!!"  

"snif.  You don't SOUND happy." 

I threw the sheets over my head.  I bet Tut never went through this. I bet none
of the damned Ramses went through this.  I bet it was 'Off to the flesh-eating
beetles with you!"  Or whatever.  Maybe Dracula had it right.  Nothing but
drinking blood and sleeping.  I bet none of HIS girls gave him grief over
opening some silly presents.  Or would have if he were real.

As I was pondering over these and other finer points of the downside of total
world domination, I felt the sheets slowly but surely being lifted at the foot
of the bed. 

"I bet I know what would make you happier."  The whisper was low - well, as low
as she could get with that helium voice.  I felt a wetness on one of my toes,
then moving past my ankle and up to my knee...

Immediately, both of my hands snaked down under the sheets and each grabbed a
pigtail just as she reached Mr. Chuckles.  Kinda felt like steering a fucking
motorcycle. Or grabbing a bull by the horns.  A horny bull.  Or whatever.

The sniffling started again.

"Sorry, kiddo, but Mr. Chuckles is still a little tender right now." I said
softly, as I gently raised her head from underneath the sheets. "He doesn't
recover nearly so quickly as I do from these kinds of things." 

"snif." She bit her trembling lower lip as a lone tear escaped her right eye.
"But it's been almost a whole WEEK."

Damn, what a doll.  That line, along with the look on her face, was worth more
than every present in the room put together.  Suddenly, being a Pharaoh didn't
seem so bad after all.

I leaned closer and smiled.  "Hey, just because Mr. Chuckles can't be happy at
the moment, doesn't mean Bubbles can't be happy."

She hesitated for a mere second as her hand went up to wipe the tear away, then
she leaned forward with all her little, tiny, fiery body and planted the
firmest, wettest, longest kiss I've ever had the pleasure to have received. 

Well, OK, from HER, anyway.  But it was the best one I could remember at that
moment.  

Because it was Bubbles.  And it was real.

The kid was persistent, I'll give her that. It was a looooong fucking kiss.
She's also VERY good at breathing through her nose.  Better than me, anyway. 
The only way I could get her to give me a break was to move my hand down and
under her skirt and slip a couple of fingers under her t-back.  Turns out it
was one of those cool t-backs with a bow on the rear.  

One present I had no trouble at all deciding whether or not to open.

By the time I got it all the way down, she'd already moved her lips down my
neck and around to my ear. And kicked off her shoes.  No bleeding Backstreet
Boys in bed with me, damn it.  

And just to prove she WAS getting better at reading my mind when it mattered,
she slowly moved her legs up the sides of the bed and pulled her little tummy
up past my nose as I slid further down to get a better view of what she was
hiding underneath that red and green plaid miniskirt. 

You want to know what happy is?  I'll give you a hint.  It's got nothing to
fucking do with warm guns or puppies. 

Happiness is a warm Bubbles sliding her shaved pussy up and down on your tongue
while mewing and purring like a nursing kitten. Happiness is a warm Bubbles
bucking and squealing on your tongue like a freshly branded pig.  Happiness is
a warm Bubbles pressing herself hard and firm against your mouth and finally
screaming to the heavens in words and tones that would have St. Peter himself
covering his fucking ears. 

In short, happiness is just plain tongue fucking a warm Bubbles.  

And that's pretty much what I whispered in her ear as she laid down exhausted
next to me.  She just half-smiled, pulled a few stray hairs from between our
faces and whispered back.

"You know, I think Bandan the First sounds like a GREAT name for a Pharaoh."

Oooooh, let me tell you, she had to pry MY mouth off HERS after that one.  And
it wasn't easy considering the state she was in.  

But through it all, she kept looking at that damned Barbie watch like she was a
whore on a time limit and it was starting to tick me off.  Finally, she drew a
deep breath, pulled away and slid off the bed.

"Where the hell are you going?"  

"Nowhere, silly," she smiled as she started straightening out her blouse and
skirt. "It's just that..."

Suddenly we were interrupted by a knock on the door and Deevers' voice booming,
"Hey, you two."

"Go away!"  I yelled.  I could almost hear him turning white. 

"No!" Bubbles squeaked as she hurried to the door.  And it was a really FIRM
squeak.  Kinda like a cartoon mouse with Stallone's voice.  Well, OK, you know
what I mean.

I looked at her, surprised. 

It wasn't the GOOD kind of surprised, either.  So I was surprised again when
her reaction to my surprised reaction was to smile back at me.

"Surprise!" she mouthed silently to me as she opened the door. 

"Is this a bad time?"

The voice was low, but harsh.  And French.  Not VERY French, but French enough
to get my attention.  Didn't think it was possible for French to be low and
harsh at the same time.  But this one was.  Maybe it was because it was English
French, and not French French, if you know what I mean.  Don't speak or
understand French French, but I think you could probably swear like a sailor in
French French and have it sound like a fucking romance novel.  Or something. 

But this was English French and it was low and harsh.  But she wasn't.  Low,
that is. No, she was fucking tall.  About six feet tall by my guess.  And
skinny. Incredibly skinny. Impossibly skinny. Olive Oyl skinny. But that didn't
matter. 

"Ah, Barbara, it is so good to see you again," she said in that divine accent.

That's what mattered. 

"Call me Bubbles, Michelle," my little school yard lawyer replied as the large
woman put a hand on her shoulder.  "Everyone does."

"My, but what has happened to you, girl?  The French woman said as she looked
her up and down. "You are not dancing again, are you?"

And THAT'S what mattered.

"Uh, no." Bubbles looked a bit awkward, like a little girl standing underneath
a maple tree. "Just, like, really figured out who I am."

"Oh, Barbara, I think maybe you have some issues you need to work out," the
maple thundered and waved her limbs about.  "I know several good therapists I
could recommend."

And THAT'S what mattered.  

But as much as I liked to hear this loud , obnoxious woman talk in her loud,
obnoxious French accent, I HATE being ignored.  

"Ahem!" I said, rather loudly.  "Bubbles, aren't you going to introduce me to
your friend?"

Before Bubbles could answer, the French maple shuffled between us and extended
a branch. "Meechelle Deestario, Mr. Bandan."

I smiled broadly as I took her hand. It was bigger than mine, with longer
fingers. And a ring.  A gold ring.

"The Assistant District Attorney tells me that your lawyer is thinking about a
possible insanity defense."

I looked crossways at Bubbles, who had moved out from underneath the maple. 
She gave me one of the toothiest smiles I've EVER seen.  

Before I could say or do anything, Meechelle Deestario had already grabbed a
chair and was pulling it over to the side of the bed.  "So they have decided to
have ME do an evaluation."

"Michelle is, like, THE best psychiatrist in the whole state!"  Bubbles grinned
over at me.  "If anyone can solve your problems, SHE can."

"Well, I..." I started.

"I do not know if I would say THAT."  Meechelle smiled at Bubbles, though it
was obvious she was talking to the whole world.

"I don't know..."

"Though I DID graduate at the top of my class," she cocked her head slightly
with each word, as if addressing an invisible audience.

"That's all very nice, but..."

"And I HAVE received several awards from the District Attorney's office," and
her voice got suddenly all sickly and syrupy sweet.

"That's cool, but..."

"And I DO specialize in sexual deviations."

Sigh.  I looked over at Bubbles.  I didn't think she could keep a silly grin on
her rubber face for THAT long.  

"Oh, Darling, you shouldn't have!"  I mocked, finally, and held out my arms to
her.  "It's, like, the absolute BESTEST present any Pharaoh could ask for!"


{Next up: "Dr. Goodlove  - Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Drop the
Bomb"}


"Write what you want, how you want, and don't worry about the rest of the
world.  If you do it long enough, eventually they'll catch up."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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