November 05, 2003

Helen Gets Her Revenge

Having already had Volvo-Man skewered, tarred, feathered, summarily dismissed from Company X and changed into a woman since she volunteered him for the "Sex Change for Meal Coupons at Chick-Fil-A" competition, Helen set her sights on the next two targets.

Don and Jim.

Knowing that both Don and Jim had been playing for her affections for some time, in a battle of wits which left other bloggers bleeding in a ditch by the wayside, she knew that he would never rest until she met with the winner and satisfied his...curiousity (as they call it in Sweden).

Moving up the hallway, she rubs one hand down her thigh, feeling the lace of the stocking beneath the shiny black sheath of a dress. She struts-well, as well as one can strut in flats, since her winner is only one inch taller than her-down the tiled hallway floor, headed to the elegant hotel room overlooking the Champs Elysees.

(Hey-it's my revenge story. I'm going to set it where I want to!)

She knows this was a battle to There can be only one.

Suddenly, she wants to shag Christopher Lambert, but then dismisses it, since he's icky.

She reaches the hotel room door. She places a delicate lily-white hand on the door and pushes it open. She looks up. The room is awash with candles and lilies (her favorite). She sees the figure of a man, dashing in a three-piece suit (come on now, isn't every man dashing in a three-piece suit?) rise and reach out a hand.

She meets his eyes. They feel a burst of electricity. And at that moment, Don and Helen are in love.

A voice whispers in her ear: You have chosen...wisely.
Helen (confused): God? Sean Connery?
An arm reaches behind her and spins her around, forcing her to miss Don's outstretched arm that would take her into his embrace and make wild passionate love all night (as well as fuck a bit while trying to watch 30 second intervals of free pay-per-view porn). She whirls, and is confronted with...


Helen: Um, Jim? Why are you wearing a bellboy outfit?
Jim: I had to do something to cover my horns, Helen.
Don (screaming): Damn you Jim! Damn you to hell!

Helen and Jim stare at Don.

Don (embarrassed): Sorry, I thought the three-piece suit called for some old-fashioned cursing. Sorry, my bad.
Helen: Jim, what are you doing here?
Jim: I had to prevent you from being swept away by Don. I had to have a chance with you.
Don (scratching his head): Am I being punk'd?

Helen reaches for Don's hand and holds him close.

Helen (passionately, swooning in his arms): I can't, Jim. My heart belongs to another! DOn't make me choose, I can never stand the pain. Never!
Jim (looking a bit confused): Er, ok, Harlequin Romance girl. You may like Don, but does he have a white creamy dip?
Don (embarrassed): I did once in high school, but I took some antibiotics. It cleared it all up.
Jim: No man, I mean I brought some artichoke dip. Helen is a veggie, after all. She loves rabbit food like that.
Helen: What?
Jim: What?
Helen: What?
Jim: Here, try this.

He reaches behind him and swipes a dainty finger into a silver pot of creamy white artichoke dip, and brings it to Helen's mouth. Don dives forward, trying to prevent this from happening. He grabs Jim's arm and shakes it, forcing the dip onto Helen's dress. In a continual slow motion move, he dives, screaming, and grabs Jim's other arm, forcing the silver dip bowl to go diving and splatters all over Jim's bellboy trousers and Don's head. Jim protectively covers his crotch, worried Don is going for a racking. He stays, panting and angry at Jim's feet.

A screeching voice is heard from the hallway.

"What the HELL is going on here?"

All three of them look up and see Simon, standing at the door. He is shaking and terrified, holding a Marmite sandwich. They look at each other and realize how they look.

Helen has a white stain down the front of her dress.
Jim is holding onto his crotch.
Don is between them, covered in a thick white cream.
Helen feels like an idiot and briefly debates going gay.

Don and Jim immediately decide they don't care how they look, since Jim is out of the closet anyway. Winning Helen is more important than looking like a tag team of whip me/beat me gay men (hey-it's MY revenge fantasy!).

Don and Jim stand up and circle Simon, worried about yet another contender for Helen's affections.

Simon (screaming in serious distress): Good God, good God! I'm just here for the BEAR!

They all sigh, and Don, in one motion, grabs Luuk, hurling him into the hallway. Jim, ever the demonic gentleman, goes running to catch Luuk to make sure he isn't injured. Don, seizing the moment, shoves Jim out the door and latches it behind him.

Don (putting his lips on her neck): Gentlemen always lose, Kitten.
Helen: Oh Don! Talk dirty to me!
Don: One hundred white horses fell in the mud.
Helen: Good enough!

And she kisses him deeply.

And Don took the whole night to prove to Helen the term: Winner takes all.

She in term taught him the term: multiple orgams.


PS-I have been nominated as a Hot Blogging Chick. Cool.

Posted by Everydaystranger at November 5, 2003 10:40 PM | TrackBack

We will never give up hope Don ::watches from the shadows waiting to trick up Don::

Posted by: drew at November 7, 2003 03:10 AM

Don't worry's that I won so much as you all lost. Looooossssers!!! Heh.

Posted by: Don at November 6, 2003 04:17 PM

And had your comments allowed image source code, this would have popped up.

Popped up indeed!

Posted by: Sassy McSmartpants at November 6, 2003 03:46 PM

Dear Helen,
Should you again find yourself considering going gay, please keep this in mind:

The key is under the mat.

Posted by: Sassy McSmartpants at November 6, 2003 03:45 PM

Vegemite will conquer Marmite anytime. Bow down to the V.

Posted by: Jamie at November 6, 2003 01:03 PM

God, what have I done? I've upset Drew and Howard, two of my dearies?

Sorry, lovelies. You know I love you both. I would love anonymous too, but have no idea who they are.

Posted by: Helen at November 6, 2003 07:52 AM

LOL. That was just so damn funny. I really shouldnt read you at work.

Posted by: Melodrama at November 6, 2003 06:26 AM

Not feeling much love on this side of the atlantic. Seems us "fringe" candidates have been left in the dust...:::puts head on keyboard::

Damn you transplanted hot young American woman..

Posted by: Drew at November 6, 2003 04:14 AM

You prefer vegemite to marmite?


Posted by: Pixy Misa at November 6, 2003 04:09 AM

But don't you think having Volvo Man changed to a woman is rewarding him? It's a promotion, you know.

Posted by: LeeAnn at November 6, 2003 02:38 AM

Hey, what about all us others who are smitten with Helen??? Just because I have never had a lesbian relationship doesn't mean I am too old to learn!!!!

Posted by: anonymous at November 6, 2003 02:04 AM

Vegemite, not Marmite. But pretty close.

Thank God Luuk was saved. I couldn't have lived without knowing Luuk was safe. He's too young to see things like this.

Posted by: Simon at November 6, 2003 01:51 AM

Can't be that, Howard. I've got one of the one and three of the other.

But Helen, there's a glaring error in there. Luuk would have done like a triple back somersault ninja move and vaulted right back into the room.

Unless he was secretly in cahoots with Don?

Luuk? Luuk? How could you?!

Posted by: Jim at November 6, 2003 12:07 AM

Don't fret.. she didn't talk about our *secret* relationship. Shhh.. don't tell Don...

Posted by: pylorns at November 5, 2003 11:57 PM

I'm crushed. Crushed. I'm so far back in the running, I didn't even rate a mention. It's the wife, isn't it? Or the kids? Other than that, I mean, I'd be right in there? Right? Hello?

Posted by: Howard at November 5, 2003 11:49 PM
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