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The first memory I have of Stacey is at the fancy-dress party, to which she went dressed as Lara Croft. She passed it off quite well, apart from the fact that she had strawberry-blonde hair and her breasts weren't big enough. But you know, nothing’s perfect.
The second memory I have of Stacey is when I saw her glugging back a bottle of cider in the kitchen. It was Christmas, so what the heck. I was kitted out as the Pope by the way, and Stacey (being a good Catholic girl) took an instant shine to me. What’s your name? she asked. John-Paul, I said. I think she actually believed me.
The third memory I have of Stacey is of her kneeling in the bathtub puking up. I held onto her ponytail as she retched up her tea. I bet this never happens to the real Miss Croft, I joked. By that point, I don’t think she even knew who I was.
The fourth memory I have of Stacey is in the crowded living room looking like a smudged mannequin. She was biting a red bauble she’d picked off the Christmas tree as if it were an apple. How are you feeling my child, I said (doing my Pope impression for the umpteenth time). Get lost, she blabbed, and threw the bauble at my head.
The fifth memory I have of Stacey is of her dancing on a table. Well it was more of a striptease in truth. The gun holsters went flying, followed by the plastic guns, followed by the turquoise top (raucous male cheers) -- and when she went for the button of her hotpants, two of her friends (Cinderella and a nun) pulled her down and led her away.
I never saw Stacey again after that. But it’s funny that every time I see a red bauble (the kind we hang on trees at Christmas), I think of her and play through my mind the five memories. I wonder where she is now …
The second memory I have of Stacey is when I saw her glugging back a bottle of cider in the kitchen. It was Christmas, so what the heck. I was kitted out as the Pope by the way, and Stacey (being a good Catholic girl) took an instant shine to me. What’s your name? she asked. John-Paul, I said. I think she actually believed me.
The third memory I have of Stacey is of her kneeling in the bathtub puking up. I held onto her ponytail as she retched up her tea. I bet this never happens to the real Miss Croft, I joked. By that point, I don’t think she even knew who I was.
The fourth memory I have of Stacey is in the crowded living room looking like a smudged mannequin. She was biting a red bauble she’d picked off the Christmas tree as if it were an apple. How are you feeling my child, I said (doing my Pope impression for the umpteenth time). Get lost, she blabbed, and threw the bauble at my head.
The fifth memory I have of Stacey is of her dancing on a table. Well it was more of a striptease in truth. The gun holsters went flying, followed by the plastic guns, followed by the turquoise top (raucous male cheers) -- and when she went for the button of her hotpants, two of her friends (Cinderella and a nun) pulled her down and led her away.
I never saw Stacey again after that. But it’s funny that every time I see a red bauble (the kind we hang on trees at Christmas), I think of her and play through my mind the five memories. I wonder where she is now …
I agree with Everpain - it sounds like a great party. I wish I'd been there :)
I like this one. It has a gentle flow and nice rhythm (sp) to it.
I like this one. It has a gentle flow and nice rhythm (sp) to it.
Quite funny, in a strange sort of way. It didn't go anywhere, true, but at the same time it was quite sweet...
I don't like it, in truth. Not really a story at all.
Sounds like a great party.
Nice story too. I love reminiscing.
Nice story too. I love reminiscing.
The first memory I have of Stacey is at the fancy-dress party, to which she went dressed as Lara Croft. She passed it off quite well, apart from the fact that she had strawberry-blonde hair and her breasts weren't big enough. But you know, nothing’s perfect.
The second memory I have of Stacey is when I saw her glugging back a bottle of cider in the kitchen. It was Christmas, so what the heck. I was kitted out as the Pope by the way, and Stacey (being a good Catholic girl) took an instant shine to me. What’s your name? she asked. John-Paul, I said. I think she actually believed me.
The third memory I have of Stacey is of her kneeling in the bathtub puking up. I held onto her ponytail as she retched up her tea. I bet this never happens to the real Miss Croft, I joked. By that point, I don’t think she even knew who I was.
The fourth memory I have of Stacey is in the crowded living room looking like a smudged mannequin. She was biting a red bauble she’d picked off the Christmas tree as if it were an apple. How are you feeling my child, I said (doing my Pope impression for the umpteenth time). Get lost, she blabbed, and threw the bauble at my head.
The fifth memory I have of Stacey is of her dancing on a table. Well it was more of a striptease in truth. The gun holsters went flying, followed by the plastic guns, followed by the turquoise top (raucous male cheers) -- and when she went for the button of her hotpants, two of her friends (Cinderella and a nun) pulled her down and led her away.
I never saw Stacey again after that. But it’s funny that every time I see a red bauble (the kind we hang on trees at Christmas), I think of her and play through my mind the five memories. I wonder where she is now …
The second memory I have of Stacey is when I saw her glugging back a bottle of cider in the kitchen. It was Christmas, so what the heck. I was kitted out as the Pope by the way, and Stacey (being a good Catholic girl) took an instant shine to me. What’s your name? she asked. John-Paul, I said. I think she actually believed me.
The third memory I have of Stacey is of her kneeling in the bathtub puking up. I held onto her ponytail as she retched up her tea. I bet this never happens to the real Miss Croft, I joked. By that point, I don’t think she even knew who I was.
The fourth memory I have of Stacey is in the crowded living room looking like a smudged mannequin. She was biting a red bauble she’d picked off the Christmas tree as if it were an apple. How are you feeling my child, I said (doing my Pope impression for the umpteenth time). Get lost, she blabbed, and threw the bauble at my head.
The fifth memory I have of Stacey is of her dancing on a table. Well it was more of a striptease in truth. The gun holsters went flying, followed by the plastic guns, followed by the turquoise top (raucous male cheers) -- and when she went for the button of her hotpants, two of her friends (Cinderella and a nun) pulled her down and led her away.
I never saw Stacey again after that. But it’s funny that every time I see a red bauble (the kind we hang on trees at Christmas), I think of her and play through my mind the five memories. I wonder where she is now …