Last Action Girlfriend
Dedicated to: Brigette Wilson,
the actress who played Whitney Slater.
I was absolutely bowled over by Ms Wilson's appearance in Last Action Hero. She was electrifying during her too few minutes onscreen, not only by being jaw-droppingly gorgeous but also by doing her own stunts, in which she kicked major butt.
This Fanfic story is about how our first date turned into a search of tens of millions of dollars in buried gold and gems . . . with bad guys trying to kill us all along the way.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Last Action Hero.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Whitney
Chapter 2: Coffee with All of Its Ramifications
Chapter 3: Obituary
Chapter 4: Car Chase
Chapter 5: Wolfe Burgers
Chapter 6: Ambush in the Huntington Library
Chapter 7: Shootout in the Sculpture Garden
Chapter 8: The Cursed Treasure of Cahuenga Pass
Chapter 9: Treasure Map
Chapter 10: The House on Los Tilos Road
Chapter 11: Land of Dreams
Chapter 1: Whitney
Yeah, I broke the arm of my martial arts instructor. This was bad news, and it was good news.
The bad news was that now the other kids in class thought I was psychotically dangerous, and they wouldn't have anything to do with me. (But I swear, it was an accident!) The worse news was that the university dean thought I might be totally deranged and was making me undergo psychological evaluation. (It was a flippin' accident!) The worse news of all was that, without an instructor, I would be left one unit short and wouldn't graduate in June. (It wasn't my fault!)
The good news was Whitney Slater.
Okay, I need to first point out that I do hate beautiful girls. I hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em! They are vain, self-centered, capricious, selfish, egocentrical, philandering, fickle and extremely high maintenance. On the other hand, I adore ugly girls. They know they can't compete with their looks and so they develop their personalities. They are loud, crazy, attentive, loving and most of all wonderfully unpredictable. The only thing better than having one ugly girlfriend is having more than one ugly girlfriend.
Then came the day that Whitney Slater showed up, standing beside our short, fat, bald athletic director. No one could deny that Whitney was drop-dead gorgeous. You know the type: blond hair, soft brown eyes, face by Botticelli, baby-pink lip-glossed lips, a pert athletic body, and dressed in a white T-shirt with regulation blue-and-gold shorty shorts and pink tennis shoes. Her breath-taking boobs bulged her T-shirt out all the way to Pacoima.
Insane lust seized my body and soul. If I hadn't been wearing an athletic cup, I would have embarrassed myself.
"I'm glad I caught you people before you left for your next classes," our athletic director was saying, "but I've managed to find you a replacement martial arts instructor. May I introduce Whitney Slater?"
She glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm sorry it's so late in the day, but I just wanted a chance to meet you and have you meet me. Is there a Theodore Gifford here?"
Uh oh. My hand reluctantly trickled upwards.
"Fine. Stay after class, will you Mr. Gifford? The rest of you can hit the showers. See you at the next class."
"You think you're some kind of super-tough guy, don't you Mr. Gifford!" She was pink and soft and sugar and spice, and she was scaring the bejeezus out of me.
"It was an accident, I swear! I didn't mean to break anyone's arm!"
"You're saying you broke your martial arts instructor's arm without even trying?"
My mouth opened, but my mind slammed an emergency shut down on my vocal cords. Either way I answered that, I was going to be in trouble.
"Do you think you can take me?" she snarled.
"I don't want to fight you!"
"Tough!" she side-kicked my belly.
I stumbled backwards onto the mat, let myself do a backwards somersault, bounced back up onto may feet and, with my left foot, swung a reverse roundhouse at the side of her face as she came charging after me. She ducked, and balancing on one foot, swung the other over her head and came down on the back of my skull. Then she reverse-roundhouse kicked me. But I was already cartwheeling when the blow landed, and I revolved over and dropped into the mantis stance.
Her charge feinted left, came right, then she dropped and her leg swept me off my feet. I hit the mat, rolling away, and leapt back up to my feet.
She threw a jab. I dodged, caught her, and kissed her.
Whitney hissed in anger, jerked away, spun and elbowed me in the ribs. That twisted me around her, and I kissed her again.
She squealed and gasped, "What are you doing?"
She kicked me in the athletic cup. "Stop it!"
I caught her ankle and lifted it up even higher. She went with the force by turning a back flip, landed catlike on her feet, and threw a punch at my belly. I flung her on passed me, pounced on her as she stumbled, and kissed her again as we fell to the mat."
"Dammit, I'm an instructor! Don't you dare kiss me!"
I kissed her again.
She slammed her forearm into my throat.
I rolled away, gagging, tears streaming from my eyes. Stumbled back up to my feet, I backed away.
She charged in, throwing blows. I managed to block them as I continued to back and tried to catch my breath.
One of her feet came swinging at the side of my head. I caught it, and lifted it high. Her other foot came off the ground, and she used the opportunity to slam her foot into my crotch. I purposely collapsed on top of her, wrapping my arms around her curled up body, holding her in a tight ball. I sought out her lips and kissed her again.
"I don't want you kissing me!"
"Oh." I released her, and sat back on my haunches, motionless.
"Just like that?" she asked. "The fight's over?"
"You don't want me kissing you."
"What have I been saying for the past five minutes?"
"You said I shouldn't kiss you. You said that I dare not kiss you. But you never said you didn't want me to kiss you. Not until just now." I shrugged helplessly.
"If you want me to kiss you, then nothing on Earth can stop me, not the fact that you're my instructor, not anything. But if you don't want me to kiss you then . . ." I shrugged again. After a moment, I got up and headed off for the showers.
There was puzzlement and distain in her voice, "Did I hurt your feelings?"
I turned around but kept walking backwards. "Yeah."
"Sorry. I didn't know you were so damned sensitive."
I turned back around and kept heading for the showers. I turned around and came back towards her, then turned and headed for the showers, and then turned and came back. "You want to go for coffee?"