|A story written about Ash and Paul [Smith] and the magical car that eats purses.
||[Jul. 27th, 2007|12:39 am]
|[||Tags|||||ash, ew, paul smith||]|
|||||The Pipettes - Your Guitars Are Wasted On Me||]|
Once upon a tïme there was a gïrl named Ash. Ash lïved ïn a lïttle vïllage called "P-Town", where she lïved happïly with her homïes, whom she chïlled wït on teh hïllsïde.
One day, her and her homïes were chïllïn' on the hïll, and they heard a strange grumbly sort of noise...
"grumble grumble...grumble grumble..."
"...WTF was that?" whïspered Ash.
"I dunno!" crïed Homïe #2, jumpïng off the front of the car where she had been sïttïng.
"Grumble! Rawr! Imunnaeatchoo!!!"
All of the gïrls jumped at the noïse, and turned 360-degrees to try and fïnd the source of the noïse, but they saw nothïng, except for each other and the car. Then, they realïzed, the car had changed: the sïdes of the bumper had turned slïghtly upwards, and the headlïghts had narrowed, lïke they were eyes belonging to someone who felt awfully cross at the moment.
"Wha's goïn' on wït muh car, bïtches?!?!?" crïed Ash, very confuzzled at thïs poïnt. Then, somethïng that made them all the more cunfuzzled: the car smïrked at them, and started roarïng wïth laughter! It opened ït's bumper-mouth wïde open, and started suckïng.
"WTF!? OMG!! WTF!? OMG!!" the four gïrls crïed ïn unïson. They obvïously had no ïdea what the hell was goïn' on. Whïle the car was suckïng, they felt a tuggïng on theïr purses, lïke the car was suckïng them ïnsïde! Uh-oh...Now they were srsly confuzzled.
"HAHAHA!!!" roared the car, suckïng to ït's ïckle heart's content. That car sucked, and sucked, and sucked some more, tïll all theïr purses were ïn ït's gïnormous mouth.
"Aw, shïïte." sighed Homïe #3, "wat r we 2 doo now???"
"Never fear, PAUL SMÏTH ÏS HERE!!!" crïed a not-so-dïstant voice, then all of a sudden, a man jumped from out of the bushes and tackled Ash's car. The strange man from behïnd the bushes beat that car, he beat ït lïke there was no tomorrow. He kïcked ït, punched ït, and screamed at ït lïke ït was hïs own naughty lïttle chïld. He beat ït tïll ït crïed, and spït out the young gïrl's purses. Then he kïcked ït down the hïll, and ït dïed. Then essploded. Then a dove flew out of the bloody carnage. The bïrdïe flew to Paul, Paul held out hïs fïnger, and the bïrdïe landed on hïs fïnger. The bïrdïe gave Paul a lïttle peck on the cheek, and ït seemed as ïf the evil car was tryïng to say "So sorry to trouble you, won't happen agaïn." Ash and her homïes aw'd at the adorable sïght, and Paul smïled at the bïrd, then crushed ït between hïs palms.
He wïped hïs hands on a leaf, and left Ash and her homïes on the hïll, shocked and horrïfïed. They never returned to that hïll, and never saw Paul Smïth agaïn.