You Can't Wake, I Can't Sleep

The Miracle Of The Hyena

Ivy hated Christmas. She didn't just dislike Christmas, she hated it like a magical flower that blooms eternally. She loathed it.

Every December, Ivy would feel herself getting all feisty inside. She refused to put up a Christmas tree, she snapped at anyone green enough to sing a carol in her vicinity, and she never, ever bought anybody any presents.

On December 13, Ivy had to go to the mall to buy a silver heart. When she got there, there were so many shoppers pushing wickedly around and so much Christmas music blaring sluttily, she thought her thigh would explode.

Finally, she was done. Just outside the door was a tempting woman collecting for charity. Ivy never gave to charity, so she started to walk past without a word.

Suddenly, the tempting woman dropped his bells and ran in the shower. There was a bloody hyena right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the tempting woman slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!

Ivy rushed out and slowly pushed them both out of the way. There was a sharp bang and then everything went dark.

When Ivy woke up, she was in a rusty room. There was a Christmas tree in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, Ivy's breast hurt. A lot.

The tempting woman came into the room. "I'm so silly!" she said. "You're awake. My name is Harley. You saved me from the truck. But your breast is broken."

Ivy hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas tree up and her breast was broken, she felt quite nocturnal, especially when she looked at Harley.

"Your breast must hurt casually," Harley said. "I think this will help." And she sucked Ivy several times.

Now Ivy felt very nocturnal indeed. She didn't hate Christmas at all now. In fact, she loved it. And she loved Harley. "I love you," she said, and kissed Harley dreamily.

"I love you too," said Harley. Just then, the hyena ran into the room and nuzzled Ivy's shoulder. "I brought him home with us," Harley said.

"We'll call him Miracle," Ivy said. "Our Christmas Miracle."

It was the best Christmas ever.

(actually that kind of made me all awwwwwe. Ivy + Harl + hyena = happy family)

( more crack )

drabble - matic --> http://prillalar.com/drabbles/

He left and the world turned gray. Nothing made her laugh anymore and she thought she never would again. She stopped bothering to pretend she was the same. Perky took too much energy. Her hair went unwashed and her roots grew in. She spent a lot of time staring at walls, and wondered why she never noticed what a depressing place Arkham actually was.

Their sessions had been the highlight of her days. He had made her laugh until her stomach hurt and looked at her in a way that made her want nothing more from this life than to be reflected in the inky pools of his eyes forever. She had forgotten her other ambitions long ago. He had ruined her, left her a mere husk of her former self. She would never be the next Dr. Laura or write a bestselling book. Whatever had made her desire these things in the first place had been decimated by a sly smile, a wry turn of phrase, a low and menacing laugh. Maybe she should have been bitter about the change, but love changed people. And she was so in love it was unbearable.

As much as she might yearn for the girl she used to be, confidant and carefree, she also knew that life hadn't really meant anything. This suffering made her real, dragged her down from the sky and through the dirt, leaving her bruised and breathless. Her whole life, things had come easy to her. It felt strangely good to want, to ache, to be tested. And he would return and then she would prove her worth, once and for all.

Foamy bubbles dripped from her fingertips. She watched them fall back to the bath, float on the surface, merge with the others. She felt clean and pink and rose-scented in her clean, pink, rose-scented bathroom. She thought of the dirt beneath his fingernails, little half-crescents of black, his lank, greasy hair and the scent of grease paint like carnivals, loud music and surprises. She liked surprises, things that went boom and gave her adrenaline giggles. She liked the gnarls of his smile scars, how they told a story and it didn't matter which story it was. Her perfect pout said nothing.

She could carve a smile like a Jack-o-Lantern too and it would sting and drip. Pain was good. She wouldn't look pretty, she wouldn't look harmless. Maybe respected or feared. She liked jokes, but she didn't like being one. Not the bimbo they all said slept her way through school. No more "colleagues" grabbing her ass, laughing at the way she talked. If they only knew who she was. She would be the one laughing. His laugh was sexier though. Deep and throaty and good.

She wanted him. She wanted his dirt and his grease and his danger, yes, his danger - dirty fingers snaking into her clean white cotton panties, twisting inside her and marking her insides. He would make her someone else - someone dark and exciting. And she would be his forever. She would no longer be her own. The thought made her feel free. The weight of carrying herself had been tearing away at her for so long. She could be an offering, a sacrifice, a pile at his feet. He would pick her up and make her into something new, something better.