Self-imposed drabble
Oct. 19th, 2006 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
opera142Yeah, I’m sorry about this one. I don’t know where it came from, and I don’t fault anyone for avoiding it. I let my crude imagination fly. The subject is poopies. Just warning ya.
Title: Funhouse: Drabble, Oct 19th
Author: Opera
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned herein are property of WWE. No copyright infringement intended or profits made.
Characters: Mickie James (POV), mentions of other divas
Warnings: More badly-written, stream-of-conscience-type text dumping. Crude humor (attempt at, really). Scatty-a-tat-tatty.
Ya know, I thought getting into the WWE would put the brakes on me walking into a dressing room and getting greeted by a piece of lumpy shit floating in the john. Not that I had any Pollyanna notions of faerie-cleanliness and rainbow-scented Lysol—I just thought I’d be done sharing a changing space with scat-relishing frat boys. I’d be in a room full of girlie-girls.
And even if they foul-living hags who got off on poop-planting, how much waste could 5 chicks with eating disorders generate? Rabbit droppings at worse, right?
Wrong. Those bitches save up their lunkers. All of ‘em are too afraid to shit in front of their boyfriends. Might prove they eat or have bodily functions or something. They wait until they get to our locker room, then grind out bowling balls. And, it’s me who has to live with the gutter stench.
Title: Funhouse: Drabble, Oct 19th
Author: Opera
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned herein are property of WWE. No copyright infringement intended or profits made.
Characters: Mickie James (POV), mentions of other divas
Warnings: More badly-written, stream-of-conscience-type text dumping. Crude humor (attempt at, really). Scatty-a-tat-tatty.
Ya know, I thought getting into the WWE would put the brakes on me walking into a dressing room and getting greeted by a piece of lumpy shit floating in the john. Not that I had any Pollyanna notions of faerie-cleanliness and rainbow-scented Lysol—I just thought I’d be done sharing a changing space with scat-relishing frat boys. I’d be in a room full of girlie-girls.
And even if they foul-living hags who got off on poop-planting, how much waste could 5 chicks with eating disorders generate? Rabbit droppings at worse, right?
Wrong. Those bitches save up their lunkers. All of ‘em are too afraid to shit in front of their boyfriends. Might prove they eat or have bodily functions or something. They wait until they get to our locker room, then grind out bowling balls. And, it’s me who has to live with the gutter stench.
