Don't Threaten me with a Good Time

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story I thought up when listening to a Panic! At the Disco song with the same name. (Warning: strong language)

Submitted: April 07, 2017

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Submitted: April 07, 2017

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“First of all, you should have seen what I wore. I had a cane and a party hat. I looked the absolute shit. The club was packed with pre-meds and their rubber gloves. They know how to party, with all their designer drugs. I was by the bar at the speed of sound, downing whatever people were buying me.

It was a helluva night. I only remember it in fragments. At one point I was riding through the city in a shopping cart. Think the chick was with me then. Maybe she was pushing me. Next thing I knew we were by my neighbours pool, looking upsidedown at the perfect view of the sunrise. She was so hot. Like, smoking hot. Hottest thing at the bar, no doubt. And she came onto me. She was probably digging my pimp cane. Although, by the end of the night I was staggering around in heels. I’d lost a bet to a guy in a chiffon skirt. But I made the high heels work. I can pull off anything really. I mean, c’mon, look at me. Anyway, I’m getting side-tracked. The girl. Blonde, tall, like model material tall. So of course when she came onto me I was like, this night is ending at my place.

We danced all night. She could keep up with me and everything. Then I asked her if she wanted to carry on the fun back at mine. She said hell yes. Naturally.

So, we’re in the taxi, right, and then that’s when things start going a bit weird. Her legs. They were so long and so shiny and perfect and then… and then they weren’t. They were fucking tentacles! Like, octopus shit. It was only for a second and then they were back to normal so I just sort of shook it off. I mean, I’d snorted a lot of shit. Champagne, cocaine, gasoline, and most things in between. That’s my motto for a night out.

I’m walking her to mine and I see her footprints in the dirt. They don’t look very humanlike, I remember thinking. Though I can’t really remember what I saw. Again, I shake it off. I’m wasted at this point. I’m a scholar and a gentleman, I usually don't fall when I try to stand but this night, I think I was holding her not just because I wanted my hands on her, but because I needed her to stay up straight.

We’re in my place now. Picture it. I live in a shitty one bed apartment overlooking a sketchy looking carpark but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s just interested in getting me out of my pants. Which I gladly help her with. Well, until her arms start changing the way her legs had in the cab. Now they’re all slimy when she’s touching me and there’s suckers and she’s not human. Not. At. All. It’s like her sexy model body just fell away and what’s underneath is some tentacled freak of nature.

I’ve got my jeans wrapped round my ankles and this things is coming at me. I’m screaming the place down, I’m not even ashamed of it. The thing was terrifying. I couldn’t even tell if it was a dream or not. It definitely felt real enough, though.

So this fucker is still coming at me, teeth out ready to devour me. I’m just focused on making it out alive so I grab a lamp and throw it at the thing. It hits it and it cries out. Blood splatters up the wall. I hurt it! If I could hurt it, I could kill it! So I head to my wardrobe and grab my cricket bat. I used to play in high school. Was pretty good, too. Anyway, so I charge at the thing. I’m not being eaten in my own fucking house! So I’m whacking it and blood is splattering all up everything. It’s all over me. And I’m pretty much nude so it’s pretty gross. But the thing was weakening, curling up on my carpet. I keep beating it and I hear things cracking. Bone, I think. Maybe. If the things had bones. I see you all cringing but it was a helluva feeling, though.

So yeah, that’s the last thing I remember. Next I’m waking up to police sirens and I’m being dragged out of my bed in my underwear, still covered in blood. I’m hangover drunk but when I look to where I bludgeoned the tentacle creature, there’s a dead girl. My dead girl. The super hot model looking girl. Her head was caved in, I could see her brain and everything.

Yup, you pieced it together. I’d murdered that girl. In my head she was a monster trying to eat me but in reality, she was probably just really horny.

So, the moral of the story is…don’t do drugs kids!”

“Mr. Urie!” Mrs. Trager is still at her desk, her face blanched and hand on her heart.

“What?” I ask.

She stumbles on her words. “That – that was not an appropriate story!”

“Hey, I’m here to scare your kids away from drugs and they look pretty terrified to me.” I gesture to the rows of prepubescent kids before me. They’re all staring back at me, wide-eyed and shell shocked. Some of the girls are checking me out but I don’t blame them, I do look mighty fine in my jumpsuit.

Mrs. Trager bounces to action and starts ushering me out of the door. “Take him away. Get him out of here at once!”

I’m shackled in an instant and being carted back to my home in cell block E by my police escort.

I don’t know why she’s got her knickers all in a twist, I think I have a knack for storytelling.


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