Disclaimer: Oh, do I have to? Does anyone actually think I believe I own any of this? Honestly! Oh, all right, suitable credit to the actual persons where appropriate. Happy now?
Taken Far Too Literally
It was the stench that finally woke her. The smells assailing her nose were NOT the normal post-party odors of stale beer and lingering weed. No, the reek was much, much worse, strong enough to penetrate the drunken stupor and drive her into unwilling consciousness. At least, she thought she was conscious. As she pried her sticky eyes open and blearily took in her surroundings, she wasn't so sure.
She was lying on stony ground in what looked for all the world like a Ridley Scott version of "The Wasteland". Desolation lay all around, broken rocks, parched ground, dark sky, the works. The place bore a suspicious resemblance to nuclear winter horror pictures.
"If I have to dream T.S. Elliot, why can't it be Jellicle Cats?" she moaned. As she sat up, it occurred to her that the place had a solidity that dreams normally lacked. So she pinched herself in the age old manner of determining wakefulness. Not only did it hurt like hell, the damned pinch left a nasty bruise. So much for that theory.
"Maybe I'm still buzzed?" was her next logical explanation. However, the aches and pains as she moved, the pounding in her head and the nasty taste in her dry mouth all screamed "hangover". If she was hungover, she couldn't still be buzzed. Theory Number Two shot all to hell.
"So, not buzzed, not dreaming, then what?" she asked the broken rocks. Predictably enough, the rocks had no helpful suggestions. She forced her brain through the fog of last night's excess, thinking hard. No ideas presented themselves. She stood up. Maybe a better look around would provide some clues. The place was definitely the proverbial hell-hole, as ugly as it was smelly. A huge solitary volcano could be seen smoking in the distance.
"Oh no," she gasped as a horrible thought occurred to her. "No no no no no no no no no no!" She shook her head in denial. "This can NOT be happening. I am way too old for this shit. I thought I was safe from this once I passed my teens!" She sat back down, holding her head in despair. "I should have known better than to see that damned movie so many times! Then reread the books, listen to the radio drama, and I was even stupid enough to get into the fanfic! I'm screwed! If I ever get out of this, I am going to kill my mother for naming me Mary Sue!"
*Well, that's your lot. Cheesy take on the classic Mary Sue. Whaddya think...waste of space or halfway decent? Future chapters depend on interest or lack thereof, so please R/R. Flames welcome only if they're excessively vulgar and heavy on obscenities.
Taken Far Too Literally
It was the stench that finally woke her. The smells assailing her nose were NOT the normal post-party odors of stale beer and lingering weed. No, the reek was much, much worse, strong enough to penetrate the drunken stupor and drive her into unwilling consciousness. At least, she thought she was conscious. As she pried her sticky eyes open and blearily took in her surroundings, she wasn't so sure.
She was lying on stony ground in what looked for all the world like a Ridley Scott version of "The Wasteland". Desolation lay all around, broken rocks, parched ground, dark sky, the works. The place bore a suspicious resemblance to nuclear winter horror pictures.
"If I have to dream T.S. Elliot, why can't it be Jellicle Cats?" she moaned. As she sat up, it occurred to her that the place had a solidity that dreams normally lacked. So she pinched herself in the age old manner of determining wakefulness. Not only did it hurt like hell, the damned pinch left a nasty bruise. So much for that theory.
"Maybe I'm still buzzed?" was her next logical explanation. However, the aches and pains as she moved, the pounding in her head and the nasty taste in her dry mouth all screamed "hangover". If she was hungover, she couldn't still be buzzed. Theory Number Two shot all to hell.
"So, not buzzed, not dreaming, then what?" she asked the broken rocks. Predictably enough, the rocks had no helpful suggestions. She forced her brain through the fog of last night's excess, thinking hard. No ideas presented themselves. She stood up. Maybe a better look around would provide some clues. The place was definitely the proverbial hell-hole, as ugly as it was smelly. A huge solitary volcano could be seen smoking in the distance.
"Oh no," she gasped as a horrible thought occurred to her. "No no no no no no no no no no!" She shook her head in denial. "This can NOT be happening. I am way too old for this shit. I thought I was safe from this once I passed my teens!" She sat back down, holding her head in despair. "I should have known better than to see that damned movie so many times! Then reread the books, listen to the radio drama, and I was even stupid enough to get into the fanfic! I'm screwed! If I ever get out of this, I am going to kill my mother for naming me Mary Sue!"
*Well, that's your lot. Cheesy take on the classic Mary Sue. Whaddya think...waste of space or halfway decent? Future chapters depend on interest or lack thereof, so please R/R. Flames welcome only if they're excessively vulgar and heavy on obscenities.