Yuku free message boards

Time for a ride?! A ride she said! Well, what fun was a ride when your face was bandaged up like good old Pharaoh McGhee or the winner of the burn ward's beauty contest. Nonetheless, it was ride time. Make that, rave time! Oh hells yeah! This was a rave you didn't even need eyes to see. This was a like neon bouncy castle of doom on acid. Which the writer did note that she was going to try this shit out. Who needed spice when they had Anesia Jy Fucking Vun?! The must have fucked up mellowed out ride of your life. Quentin Tarintino gave it five stars!

Sadly, Miss Zenima couldn't actually see the room being described by our darling Remix. Mostly, because there was a bandage plastered around her face. It did inhibit vision slightly.

What ho!? The bandages were coming off you say?! What malarkey was this?! A magical one no doubt, the question still remained however. What had this mental maiden actually done to the woman's visage. That was the million pound question. That's right, pound! NOT DOLLAR. Although, come to think of it, I really should have used the term credit, but shut up, yo!

At least she got a good look at the trippy room of doom. Perfect for all your gothic needs. Not Steph's style however. She was more into…well she wasn't into design at all this was fucking Steph after all! Duh! So she didn't really appreciate the whole mystic dark sexy magic of it all. In fact, she was actually wondering more along the lines if the shit this woman was spreading on her face was that new anti-aging miracle cream with bio fibres pulled from the arse of a rancor! Well, it probably wasn't. The mirror. She needed to see who would be on the other side.

A complete stranger.

How do you react when staring upon your own face, only to recognise this person staring back. A strange feeling, it moves when you do. Smiles, frowns and cries. It's all the same anyway. She was still searching for a reaction, but…it was…well I'm no wizard with words, but picture you've just gone to the toilet, and you've take a dump, and you go look at your poop before you flush and it turns out to be a human foot! It's something along the lines of that expression. Yeah, THAT DO IT FOR YOU!?

Your eyes are purple, Stephanie! I lol'd.

Funnily enough, Miss Zenima didn't spazz out at all. Although, she was on the verge. Prancing upon a wire five hundred feet in there air. It was a whisper, a rage whisper, naturally, Yes! You did get angry whispers, but don't get me wrong, it wasn't a hiss! Ah, now you cannot define it! "What…what have you done to me?!"

What you do. What you plan to do. What you ate yesterday for breakfast. In the great scheme of things, it was all the same. But in the real world, none of them were related in any way. At all. Well, really it was just the whole breakfast part that had no relation. Except a good breakfast of toast will give you the energy for the rest of your plans! For doing and otherwise.

However, the problem here was what this woman was planning on doing. As if open ovary surgery and a face sculpting session wasn't enough. There was more? Maybe the rest was perhaps on a less physical basis. She had lost herself, her image so to speak. The first thing you thought of, when you thought of Miss Zenima, was that poof of white hair, those ruby eyes and that smirk, yeah, you know the one, the one you wanted to wipe off her face more than anything. Where was that now?

So then what was there left to soil? She didn't dare contemplate it.

Mostly because pain. Oh yes, as if it was going to end now, as if they were now friend after this whole affair. Cruelty was rife, but who says she didn't deserve it. Nobody was arguing against it. Naturally the bandage was peeled off akin to a mother slowly peeling that first plaster from a child's skin, except multiply the pain y'know by….I don't know. A lot. It called for gritted teeth and one long inhale. Oh, go easy? The other leg too? Oh, cruel mistress of Loch Bondage. So it wasn't so much as a scream that the woman let out, but more of a shout. A kind of RAH! Or maybe a touch towards AAAH! But with a little grr in there so it was more ARRGH! Steph, she wished nothing more to tear the woman's throat out with her teeth.

Oh, dear Stephanie.

She's the kind of girl who gets her slings and arrows from the dumpster. The kind who tells you she's bipolar just to make you trust her. She's the kind of girl who leaves out condoms on the bedroom dresser, just to make you jealous of the men she fucked before you met her

"Fuck it. Kill me," she said so casually before falling into a rather uncouth screech. "JUST FUCKING DO IT!"

PS. Please don't.