The story so far: Virgina, the girl so universally vacant that literally anyone between the ages of 12 and 38 can relate to her, has fallen madly in love or something with the mysterious D. Where did he come from? Why is he so interested in her? What, if anything, is his obsession with smaller land mammals really about? The story continues today, although not much, and with minimum regard for an actual narrative. Read parts 1-3 here, here and here, and then come back over here for some more.
It’d been days since I’d seen him. Ever since the exquisite pain of him having that massive big shout in the hotel and then stomping off like some beautiful, tortured rhino-horse, he’d just disappeared. And still, I had so many questions. Why couldn’t D tell me what he feared most? Who was it who tried to break into our room? What was his connection to the fanciest hotel in town and why, oh why wouldn’t he let me have a go on his man bits? These thoughts slid around my mind like a drunk mop on a canal boat, squelching moistly into every barnacled corner of my brain so that I could barely hear Mrs Keyboard as she wanked on about science or books or our futures or whatever.
“Now Class,” she twatted, “It’s very important that we team up with our Lab Partners for this bit of the Class, so if we all just want to find our Lab Partners and do some of that lab work we do so often, that tandem lab work that’s so popular in Class these days”. The hazy room rabble began to groan, heave and reform under these new instructions, all of the room, that is, except the door. Which didn’t move. Because I was watching it, like a watched pot, shaped like door. A door that simply refused to boil. Dammit, where was he?
“Erm, hey, Virgina?”
I ripped my quivering sight-balls from the entrance and gazed over at my lab partner, Zach Steamy. Zach was OK, just one of those guys, you know, the track guys with arms and hair and really clean shirts all the time, a guy who smelt like recently enjoyed barbeques and dappled hope. I don’t think he’d ever really noticed someone as plain and uninteresting and totally gently glistening as me.
“Virgina, hey, I’ve been noticing you suddenly a lot recently, and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, you know – “
“Have you seen, D, Zach?”
His face dropped in the way that only someone totally disinterested in me’s face could.
“D? That… that miserable looking guy? The guy with the weird burns and the obsession with small land mammals?”
My heart was singing at the mere mention of him, at the use of the word “guy” and I was growing ever more turned on by the time he got to “with” and “mammals”. My crotch was pounding with the beat of silent sex drums.
“That’s him. D.”
Zach suddenly threw a basketball into a nearby hoop without it touching the sides or anything. “D? Virgina, I think you should stay away from that guy. Firstly, he’s, like, a total weirdo that spends all his time spending his money on booze and cigarettes and well-lit corners and stuff, and secondly, everyone knows he’s an orphan. And orphans are bullshit.”
“Only to you!” I sobbed, angrily, as was my custom. “They’re only bullshit to you, Zach”
Zach grabbed my trembling hands, and drew them up to his all-American face cheeks. “Virgina,” he said softly, “I’m just trying to help you. You’ve changed since you’ve started hanging around with him. You’re never here, you’re always in your own world, and you seem to spend a lot of time at the costume store requesting easily removable onesies.”
I tore my hands away with the dignified grace of a falcon committing suicide. “Where I spend my time is no concern of yours, Zach. And besides, shouldn’t you be concentrating on who you’re going to ask to Prom?” Prom was happening soon, which at least meant this story had to get wrapped up at some point.
By this stage we were filling test tubes with some sort of corrosive liquids and setting them on fire, because of science. Zach’s deep blue eyes flashed in the light, blue, eye-like, and very near the rest of his face.
“I am concentrating on that, Virgina. In fact, I’m concentrating on that… EXPLOSIVELY.” And with that, he threw his test tubes down to the ground in a perfect V formation, scoring him 15 points, and earning his scholarship to Letterman State. He looked down at his hands, blistered from the spill, and through the applause of our Class-mates he whispered
“This is what you like, right Virgina? This is what you want? Is this what I have to do?”
I had no time to join the rest of the school in Zach’s impressive chemistry home run, if he wasn’t going to show any interest in me, I knew someone who would. As soon as the bell rang I heaved my bag, filled with the promise of the evening, and headed out of Class, leaving Zach to wear his big jacket and make his Dad proud. His words fingers might have poked at my brain, but they could never stroke my loins.
D lived alone, as far as I could tell, in one of the most perpetually dark, mysterious and bramble covered parts of town. I’d never been to his house, of course, he’s never let me, but I’d followed him quite a lot, because that’s what love means. I knew he was in there, and I knew I’d have to do something pretty special to get him back to me, to fix whatever it was that meant he couldn’t face me. Luckily, I knew exactly what that was.
Trembling, I pulled the outfit from my bag, admired its simmering charms in the slowly dying light, then ducked into some nearby weeds and got totally nudebox. Gently tugging the outfit on, slipping it past my rosy thighs, my heaving knees and my breasts that were now being traversed by small beetles – I smiled. Soon it wouldn’t be beetles nuzzling there. Soon it would be a penis. Checking myself in a hand mirror, and then checking my other parts in a hand mirror, I grinned nervously at the vision before me, and made my way to the door, the paint peeling and nearby windows as broken as my hymen should be by now. This was it. I knocked at the door. And waited.
Almost instantly I heard his footsteps, impatient, sexy, the kind of footstep sound that you wanted to put on repeat and tap yourself off to, and I started from the door, panicked. Before I could smooth my hair back one last time, the door was flung open, and there he stood, in all his magnificence. And there I was. Just a girl in a zebra costume, hoping for an answer.
“V?” His eyes widened as he realised what was about to happen. “My God, V, how did you find me? And where did you… how did you?”
I grabbed my own tail, brazenly black and white, and beckoned towards him with it. “This, this is all for you, D. You don’t have to tell me why you left, you don’t have to tell me anything. Just want me, D. That’s all I ask, and all I will ever ask until those other questions become important to me again.”
His chest was heaving, and he gazed at my ears and mane with unflinching desire. “V. You can’t just… you don’t know how much I-“ He grabbed me to him forcibly, and I could feel his fingers grip the back of my neck like a crab would grip a different crab it really wanted to have sex with. Harder, harder, until his grip became painful. “D,” I moaned, “I, please be careful with me, I”
“Oh God,” he yelled, and ripped himself away, “I can’t, Virgina, you have no idea, you have no idea what you… what you…”
He ran from the door, into the house, leaving me warm and toasty inside my zebra suit, but cold and bread-like in my heart. Before I could even start crying properly, there was an almighty crash from inside the house, a sound of brick on brick, of mortar, of that bit of broken window I mentioned being a right little shit. I galloped into the darkness of the house, screaming, “D? D! Where are you? Please, just… just put it in? Just for a bit? Just for safe keeping?” And then I stopped as dead as someone can stop when they’re definitely still alive.
The entire back wall of the house was gone. How long it had been like this, I couldn’t say, but the dusty living room led straight onto the wild garden, filled with the light of the sky, as though it was a proscenium arch stage, ready and waiting for wankers who would describe things as a proscenium arch stage. I stepped from the wooden floor onto the grass, flecked with the remains of a stipple-effect wallpaper that was probably a bad decision to begin with, and looked about me, wordless. I lowered my hood with the built in ears. He was gone.
Posted by Natasha Hodgson