#deeandsean

It was more like a small mess, and a small mess can only create so much of a plot. But if you’re a graduating writer, you’ll earn how to bullshit some plot out. Writers are like witches. Give them the characters and a mess, they will create something for you. And it’s a bonus if the writer is a witch.

So yes, gather round the summoning circle and... the forgotten ship has retrieved the anchor.

ALL ABOARD!

“Wait!” and everyone’s attention was pulled to the matchmaker; the maker of the ship. “Look, I understand you both wants this ship to sail.” And ok, this doesn’t sound good. It sounded much like the “We need to talk” kinda talk and honestly, even as a witch, you still disliked it. “But I don’t wanna let this ship set sail.” She continued and everyone’s eyes widened. You were pretty sure that all she’s lacking was the word, “...yet.” but there wasn’t any.

She is the maker, so despite the pleasure and the long-ass groan coming from Sean, there wasn’t much anyone can do.

“It’s a nightmare!! WHAT A NIGHTMARE!” Dee exclaimed, reading the newest edition of the story. A nightmare but she still reads it anyway. It was the only entertainment onboard the whole ship right now. “But it’s a dream come true!” Sean exclaimed, gleefully.

You believed in the human saying; one man’s nightmare is another man’s dream.

Or something like that. Humans are weird. But you liked them, especially a particular tall human that you’ve noticed during Christmas. He was nice.

Sean gave you a thumbs up, mouthing “DAEBAK!” and you nodded in thanks.

“Keep on dreaming, Sean.” Dee said, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

“And if you need me, I’ll be somewhere on this ship, writing away.” You said, walking away to a corner of the ship. The ship ain’t big, but it was enough to support the people onboard when Colette does her summoning spell again.

Because first you were trash-talking (ok, giving updates on certain aspects of your seemingly mundane life) and the next thing you know this line that your oh so graceful friend of yours bellowed through the empty halls of “SEAN, YOUR WIFE MISSES YOU.”

You know three things for sure;

There is no ring on her finger. So she’s still single and the last you’ve heard, they were still confused as ever. So yes, you’re still confused.

Sean is not here.

Does she really miss Sean? Who ever knows?

“Awww~” a voice cooed. And you swear you nearly jumped out of your seat. Did Colette just do a summoning spell and summoned a friend of yours? “Leng?” She smiled and did a wave. “Hey, did I miss anything?” Ok, you were pretty sure she was caught up with whatever is going on now. You gave her a thumbs up, “You’re all good.”

The air stilled. You saw a well-known cheeky grin growing on Van’s face. You knew that face. Very familiar, in fact. “It’s here.” And the ever so confused female counterpart just asked, “What’s here?” At this point, you were pretty sure she as just feigning confusion. But that just adds more spices to this whole damn plot (which to be honest, bloomed out of nowhere).

You cracked your fingers as you leaned back against the chair you are sitting on. The same cheeky grin on your face, matching Van’s. Dee looked at you, “Is it time to get busy again?” Well, to be honest, if it’s a good enough mess, the mess will become the plot. You poked your direction to Van, “Depends on her.”

Suddenly, all of a you felt an additional presence.

Ah, he’s here.

“Oh, is it?” Yes, he’s here. “You know, she could have just come and find me anytime, ya know? I’ve got no objections to that.” Dee just gave a side eye to her male pair. 

“It’s your chance!” Colette squealed excitedly. An open invitation, there was no objections. A stronger side-eyed if that was humanly possible. Then, regained her composure. “‘Am I missing out on anything?” Dee asked. Ah, the feigning confused act is back. “Is the ship getting sailed, once again?” Dee asked.

It never sank. Just forgotten.

“You know where to find me.” And as quick as he appeared, he disappeared once again.

So yes, back to the question, you solemnly believe that you’re out of touch, summoning chants are the in-thing now and your dear friend has just summoned two at once.

You looked at the now very-confused Leng, and the remaining party.

“Now what?”

And a part fourteen. Because I am feeling productive today. Actually, no. I just needed a break from either writing

(a) 盛世男宠 (sheng shi nan chong) which is basically a game I’m into right now. I need help (b) 魔道祖师 (mo dao zu shi) or you guys can call it Master/God of Demonic Cultivation. and its a show so if you guys read this or seen this novel, please talk to me.

okay, so yes, I’m back with part fourteen before I float away.

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So you didn’t get fired. That’s good thing. You’re here for more shenanigans. More chaos. More confusion. Less rest.

Especially when it came to adulthood. Adulting is difficult. What is adulting even? What is an adult? Age is a fucked up thing. Actually, the concept of time is a fucked up thing. You have people your age getting married and having kids and here you are, pitifully (and very painfully single,) documenting your friend’s love life. Yes, it is indeed fucked up.

Same room. Same furniture. Same people.

“Still don’t understand how people my age have children.” Dee says, throwing her hands up in the air, exasperated. “I am children.” She adds, pointing to herself. You had to agree with her. You’ll never get it either, and you probably never will.

“She wants kids, Sean.” Keira concluded, looking at the man. How did she even come up with such a conclusion? Dee and you looked at her, confused. “How am I wanting kids when I myself am a child?” Dee asked. “So that you’ll have company, my dear.” Sean answers. Keira nodded in approval, this man catches on fast. Dee rolled her eyes at Sean’s answers.

You were amazed, actually. Dee’s umpteenth time of rolling her eyes in the (currently) fourteen parts you’ve written, it was a miracle you still could see her pupils. You were pretty sure you’d only see the whites of her eyes by now. You’re proud.

“Oh no worries, my dear. How our kids are going to be conceived will be chronicled in vivid detail by our writer here.” Sean says, pointing to you. Okay, first thing first. What kids? What babies? You’re the eternally confused writer of the eternally confused couple. Are you going to create some eternally confused child of the eternally confused couple in some eternally confused way? Dee laughed. You weren’t sure if she’ll be looking forward to how the fuck you’re even going to conjure this magical baby.

Sean looked like he was going to say something he’s going to regret later (or in the next few second, or maybe minutes) but he still said it anyway, “Your mouth is wide open from laughing now, but you know you’ll be screaming later...” Oh lord, Sean. “At me for involving you in this.” He added. Dee looked at the man, a blank look on her face. Was she impressed with the joke? You couldn’t tell. It was equivalent to a Kristen Stewart expressionless face in Twilight. “Kthxbye.”

You looked at the couple, “Don’t worry, I’ll pen it down for you guys.” You assured them, because haven’t you always? “You can not trust this psychotic writer.” You smiled, as you mumbled the negation. “We can trust you to be fully invested in this endeavour.” Sean confirms. Yeah, just as long as I don’t lose any more of my brain cells trying to un-confuse my brain, yeah sure. Trust me. Sean looked in front, imaging a great picture in front of him, “I foresee smut. Lots of smut.”

You hate the break the news to him but someone has to tell him. And that someone has to be you. The writer.

“No smut,” You told him. The last time you wrote smut was eons ago. Okay, you were exaggerating but still it was some time ago. Probably five to six years back? Your writing and imagination was ruining it. The outcome was terrible and you burnt it and never wrote it again. “I’m a PG romance writer, not Fifty Shades.” You claimed. Yes, a PG romance writer, usually a sucker for happy endings, maybe cheesy pickup lines along the way. But you usually write romances. Fluffy goodness. “You foresee wrong, my friend. I foresee shenanigans and burnt rooms.” You told him. You are no psychic but you can foresee that much. Because this couple is never fluff, you can bet that much.

“So you have proclaimed it. And so it shall be.” Sean announced. He then looked at Dee, “We await the results in earnest, don’t we, dear?” He says, batting his eyelids. Dee feigned annoyance, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time, “No, but happy waiting to you.”

You now have work to do; to conjure up a magical baby. Somehow. Somewhere. “I’ll keep you guys posted.” You told them.

Your thoughts going miles a minute. Magical baby for an eternally confused couple. Smut was out of the question so birth was definitely out of the question. Your brain has a drawer full of ways to conjure up a baby.

Pulling one out from Hell? Certainly, your King could spare a demon. Transform into a baby and you could just serve it up to them?

Or one from Heaven works? That is if Heaven could spare a soul.

Baby Machine and the Stock? Like how other people’s mama used to say, a stock came to deliver you.

From the trash? Picking up one always works the best. How my mama always says, “we picked you up from the trash”

Magic potions and spell? A dash of this and that and voila, you have a baby. Literally conjuring up a baby.

A shape-shifter baby?

Or the more logical way of finding a surrogate?

Either way, you need to find a way for that baby to arrive that suits this couple. And it’s not in a normal way.

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893 words.

And a part thirteen. I somehow lost count in the process. There is no part fourteen. My brain somehow made that up.

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Okay, it has been quiet. Far too quiet for your liking. And your brain had came up with two conclusions: (a) the couple is dead, or (b) you’re fired. The last you ever heard of the couple was when you gasolined the whole goddamn room. They keep on wanting to leave and to be really honest, you were really getting tired of that shit. So you had to superglue the door and set the whole place on fire.

You really didn’t know what happened to that place after you exited the area, unscathed of course. Did they survive? Did Dee really became Dobby and died? No. As much as you’re a psychotic writer, you didn’t like writing character deaths. You threaten, but you don’t kill.

So (a) was definitely out of the question. You accepted the fact that you’re now fired. Maybe they didn’t want a writer anymore? Or maybe they just wanted a new writer. One that was definitely more sane than you. That would be almost everyone and anyone. You’re not exactly the sanest person out there, but you’re sane enough to not get thrown into the mental asylum. You were close. Very close. This couple had nearly got you admitted there a few times.

You received a letter, much like how Harry Potter got his letter from his owl. Less chaotic for you and no owls. They are cute but damn the feathers. Familiar handwriting. Dee and Sean. And so you were summoned, again.

You surveyed your surroundings. New wallpapers. Furniture. Curtain. All look so flammable. But yes, where is that being that summoned your soul to such a place.

You continued walking, hearing the distant conversation of something like inner peace, introverts and extroverts. It sounded a lot like Dee. Leaning against the door frame, you noticed four familiar figures; Van, Keira, Dee and Sean. It felt like forever, the last time you saw them.

“Is it time for me to start dancing on the table top?” Dee asked, one of her feet already on the wooden chair. Have they noticed you? Maybe? Maybe not? “Do not make me show them a video of you dancing to Big Bang songs in my room.” Van threatened. Dee dancing to Big Bang would be a sight to see, you thought. Dee looks horrified, her mouth gaped open. “Oh shit, you still have that video?!” Van nodded, quite smug, “of course I still have that evidence. You were wild as fuck, that day.” Dee hurriedly came down from the chair, making her way to Van. “Hide it!!” She says. You laughed. Hide it? If you were her, you’d say to delete it.

Sean laughed. Dee glared at him, “What do you want?” Sean shrugged. “You have no business here. Shoo!” Dee said, swatting her hands. Okay, firstly, he was invited into this room, so he’s here. You invited him, Dee. And secondly, if he leaves this room, I will lock this room and set this place on fire like I did to the previous place so you guys won’t leave.

“This evidence will be preserved and hidden in the dungeon.” Dee added, staying close to Van. It was as if she was protecting the Van instead of the video. The video which lies in Van’s phone. In Van’s pocket, probably.

Sean raised a brow, a side of his lips twitching up. “A dungeon... What kind of dungeon?” He asked. You chuckled in amusement while Dee rolled her eyes. “Oh my fuck.”

“Shall we dance, my dear?” Sean asked, extending a hand. You thought it was over. Nope, it was definitely far from it. This couple would always confuse and amuse you to no end. “I do so relish your moves, mixed in with mine~” He sang. Dee looked at him, a look of mock annoyance. “What the fuck, Sean? Get lost. Bye.” And then she turned her attention away. Sean just laughed, his hand retreating, “Even in ignoring me, my heart's desire for you shall never wane~~” He says, still smiling. This is some Shakespearean shit going on here. “Happy waiting then~” She replied.

You finally made a sound, after watching them. Until now you still weren’t sure if they knew your presence but you just wanted Dee to not land into an ambulance. “Feel free to dance, Dee.” You said, looking at her. You know about her and her bones. “Just don't break more bones while doing so. Writers can't mend broken body parts. We can only do so much, like setting people on fire.” you added. Mending broken parts weren’t in your job scope and specifications. You can’t do this kind of shit. So it was always good to throw in a word of caution.

You’re the writer that may fix broken hearts. Not broken body parts.

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800 words. On the dot.

So here a part twelve. Cue the violent writer because goddamn it.

Yes, I’m that sarcastic calefare writer.

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Scorpio. She will punch you in the face. That sounded about right.

You were beginning to explore the possibilities of punching the characters in the face. The strength differs for each of them depending on their actions. You were contemplating on whether you really should deliver the punch. Because they really need to sit their freaking ass down and continue the goddamn wedding.

“And the bride-not-to-be walks out of the wedding hall with Grace,” Dee curtsied, “and with Keira.”

Will you use violence this soon? You glared at her. If looks could kill, she would dead more than a thousand times. “I swear to dear Chuck, I’ll superglue the damn door and set the wedding hall on fire if you dare leave this place.” You weren’t kidding. You are the writer. You set the scene. You can do things. “So sit your ass down or so help me.” The whole hall went quiet. It wasn’t rowdy in the first place, but it wasn’t this quiet. “Now cue the Wedding March.” You said, now calm.

You took some ropes for the store room at the back and passed it to Keira. “I have so leftover ropes here.” You said. Keira looked at the ropes dangling around her arms. “Feel free to tie her to the chair, thank you.” Perks of being a writer. You have ropes ready at hand. And also, this couple isn’t the first you have written for.

Can the wedding finally continue in peace?

“Ropes can be used for other things too~” Sean sang, eyeing the ropes. Where the hell are you going with this, Sean? You sighed, “I can pass you the leftover ropes after Keira is done with tying her to the chair.” Ropes from previous weddings and bondage bonding sessions.

“Oh I do love romance.” Sean smiles. This certainly isn’t romance. Well, not yet.

“Superglue Sean to the seat, the seat to the floor. Dee to the other chair with the rope tied around her. And Sean’s hand glued to the tail of the rope.” Van instructed. What? Did you catch what she said? Nope. Did anyone catch what she said? Apparently, there is. Sean. Why are you not surprised? “Now THAT is kinky.” Sean commented.

Van side-eyed Sean. “I didn’t mean for it to be kinky. I was just making sure you both are stuck together and unable to escape.” She said, simply. “You just have a dirty mind, Sean.” Everybody laughed.

Sean stood up. You eyed his movement. “I’ll proceed to leave the room now.” Sean, I dare you. “And I’m taking the rope with me.” He picks up the rope. Hell fucking no.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE. NO ONE IS LEAVING.” You said, voice final. “DON’T MAKE ME SET THIS ROOM ON FIRE.” This room wasn’t expensive anyway. You could always afford a burnt room and a few dead bodies lying on the ground. “I DON’T CARE IF I’M DEAD. MY HUSBAND IS THE KING OF HELL ANYWAY.” Just a quicker and more painful way to Hell anyway. “NO ROPES.” You said, taking the ropes and throwing it away. “I’LL USE DENTAL FLOSS TO TIE YOU TWO IF I HAVE TO.” You words sounded final. The whole room went silent again. You calmed yourself down and smiled, “Now, where were we?”

You didn’t like violent writer sometimes. But you were desperate.

It was a staring competition between you and Sean. You had a lighter and gasoline at hand, if needed.

“FINE, I SHALL STAY.” Sean decided. Good.

“Instead of ropes, try cling wrap?” Van suggested. Doesn’t sound environmental friendly but you would consider it. “You can take the rope with you,” Dee said, “but don’t have the rope attached to me, thank you very much.” Is this girl even listening? NO ROPES.

“A story nitro-boosting from PG13 to R21?” Dee mumbled. “I like it.”

It was never R21 to start off with.

Sean looked deep in thought, “Perhaps instead of merely a fantasy, it should be a non-fiction?”

You really wanted to kick him sometimes.

“Sean, we are friends no more.” Dee said, preparing to leave. You were getting pouring gasoline on the door already. “Of course you guys aren’t friends. He’s your husband.” You said, still splashing gasoline around.

NO ONE FUCKING LEAVES THIS ROOM. EVER.

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715 words

This is part eleven, after god knows how long.

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“Hey dear,” Sean looks at Dee, “Please don’t have this dish at the wedding alright?” He looks at the photo of the poor shark being thrown back into the sea after having it’s fins removed. It isn’t dead, just crippled and leaving it there to die.

“Ain’t it sweet? Discussing the menu together.” Van cooed. “Who is discussing the wedding menu? I don’t see anybody.” Dee joked. Keira looked at Van, “We can discuss.” Van nodded. “Sure~” She sang, “Their wedding is tomorrow.” She said, absolute. “So let’s get the menu out by today.” It was as if her words were final and the bride and groom had no say in this. What if they wanted it next week? If the wedding is tomorrow, will there be enough guests to attend their wedding?

“I like what’s happening here.” Mark commented. You remembered him. The potential wedding guest. You just looked around. You weren’t sure what was happening. You were always just in the story to create a next part. You noticed a couple entering the room. Do you know them? Are they potential wedding guests too? Are you going to sell more books? “And I see even more people...” Van eyed the new couple that just walked in. The smell of money. The more people, the merrier.

“The wedding shall not be tomorrow.” Van decided. Was that relief in their eyes? “They shall postpone the wedding because I want more angbaos.” She explained. “We need more people as guests,” she told the couple and then looked at you, “And I’m sure you want more people to attend the wedding too.” You nodded. More people. More money.

“Is this a part eleven now?” You asked. There wasn’t enough material for a full part. But it certainly seems good enough. “Possible.” Dee replied. You nodded, just noting down the shenanigans.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?!” Sean exclaimed. He’s lost. I’m lost too. What is even happening? It started from a pure sharks’ fin on a wedding dinner menu to potential wedding guests. Dee just shook her head, “Nothing is going on except we two are putting on the show.” “And everybody loves the show.” You commented, even though you weren’t sure what the show was about. It was one heck of a confusing show you won’t pay to watch it again.

Van stood up, getting ready to leave. Wow. It’s been eleven parts and she never left. You looked at her. “It’s my third year anniversary.” She explained. Oh... You nodded. “Wow, that’s so sweet.” Sean commented. You patted Sean’s back, “Don’t worry, it’ll be yours and Dee’s turn soon.” He didn’t say a word and just looked at you.

What?

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448 words

If you think this is the end of their shenanigans, think again.

This story is never going to end until they finally get every sort out straight and stop being the eternally confused couple. My brain hurts from all the twisting. So no, this is not how the story ends, Dee. The ship continues.

Part ten. Enjoy.

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“So this is where the story ends, at part ten.” Dee concludes. Not so fast, Dee. Until everyone has alighted this goddamn ship, it still sails.

“Sean’s birthday is in June.” Van laughs. Married at 23. “WRONG!” Sean shouted. As their writer, you never seemed to care which month they were born in. Is this vital information to the story? Maybe. Sean isn’t born in June? Van glared at the man who shouted the objection, “You don’t have a say in this. I say you’re born in June and that’s final.” She can do that?! “But nobody can deny my birthday is in July and I’m never getting married!” Dee says with a nod of her head, as if she’s damn sure its going to happen. You doubt.

“Van,” you asked, “if you can change Sean’s birth month, can you change Dee’s birth month too?” If she could change the groom, certainly she could change the bride’s one too. “So she can get married to Sean?” You plead. She is getting married. You’d make sure you’ll see through it. Even if it’s a goddamn budget wedding at a coffeeshop.

“You can’t change facts.” Dee said. Is this trying to sound comforting? Nope. I know how comforting sounds like, and this doesn’t sound comforting. Even if it’s just texts. “You could twist it, but you can’t change it. A fact is still a fact.” You’re a writer. Sure you could do something? Of course. “I will change neither,” you said, sounding final. “The fact that you’re still going to get married to Sean isn’t gonna change.” And that was a fact. Like she said, you can’t change facts.

“I see we are still going ahead with the nuptials?” Sean confirmed. Yes. Even if you can’t have a wedding, it was good to attend a friend’s wedding, right?

“As your writer that has a birthday in October,” your finger traced to find your birth month; never getting married, “because of the eternally confused couple, I’m never getting married.” Well, there are other complications too but do they need to know? “Because I have no life,” you complained, “my life is basically just updating people your marriage status.” You looked at the couple.

Marriage Status: It’s complicated because we’re confused as fuck as well.

“She married her laptop.” Van said. It sounded sad, but she’s not wrong...? 

“Dee knows I married the King of Hell.” All those souls and incarnations, you were sure the throne had your name on it, carved and painted in gold. “It’s in the introductory story, way before Sean came into the picture.” Ah, the good times. “So hence, in this life,” you stated, and probably the next few of them, “I cannot be married.” If you are loyal to anybody, the King would be one of them. “If not, it’s considered as an extra-marital affair.”

“That sounds...” Sean couldn’t quite place a term on it, “oddly loving...” You laughed. You weren’t the most loyal, but you knew who to side.

Dee nodded, remembering the introduction, “Yes, since day one, you were already married to him.” Ha, you remembered. You were already married before you even met Dee. No ring to your finger but a soul bonded counts. “Her marriage was announced countless of times.”

Sean looked at you. What?! How?! No invitation?!

“We are married,” You explained, “But due to his status, there isn’t a wedding.” No one was invited. Probably except some demons here and there. Unless you’ll love to visit Hell (which is easy to get in and difficult to get out) no humans were invited. “So sorry for not inviting you guys.” You apologised. “Plus, my husband isn’t exactly... open to meeting new people.”

They nodded, hopefully understanding.

Not bad, they took this news quite well.

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631 words

This is part nine.

Enjoy.

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You’re at that human age when you’re supposed to be attached and planning for a wedding. But there’s something wrong with that. You’re painfully single (sans the non-human marital thing, please read part ten for that). So you can now only hope to see your friends getting married. Well, at least one of you is married right?

“I’m definitely stoked.” Keira exclaimed. All excited and waiting for Dee’s wedding invitation which you weren’t sure if they were coming into the mail. Did she send them by snail mail? Or by air? “We get money from the wedding guests!!” Van said with glee. Yes, imagine all the money. She could just keep the reception angbao money. You were fine with your book-selling money with their love story. You can make a fortune. All the money.

“Bitch, please” Oh, here comes the bride. “I’m broke as fuck. What do you mean a buffet at the wedding?” No buffet? “Maybe I could afford a coffee shop wedding?” As budget as it sounds, as long as food is involved, you were alright. “Ain’t coffee shop weddings considered weddings too?” You asked. “I mean you could just call the store to prepare the dishes and I’ll consider it as a buffet.” You reasoned. You weren’t one to be picky about food. “I’ll still be waiting for your invitation.”

“Coffee pork ribs and mock shark fins would be lovely.” Van listed her choice of dishes. Lovely but expensive. “And the cold platter is still a must.” She said. What’s a wedding without the cold appetizers? “Throw in a mapo tofu and salted egg cereal prawns.” Van continued. It’s expensive, but it’s still definitely cheaper than a buffet at some high class restaurant.

“In the end, the wedding still goes on.” Van concluded. Yep, and she came back to the same point. The wedding is still on. Regardless how budget the wedding is.

“Have you forgotten the groom?” Sean asked, walking in.

You’ve written eight chapters so far. Is this the first time they are walking in by themselves? You pocketed the super glue. It’ll come in handy some time.

“Because I know that sooner or later, one of the three girls would call you out.” You were right. It was an intuition of the writer. But you were wrong about something. “I was putting my money on Van to call you out but it looks like Dee got to it first.” You confessed. You were betting on Van but looks like the wife had summoned her husband first. “But hey, you still got here, didn’t you?”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to fork out the wedding expenses as well?” Dee asked. “Anyway, I didn’t say I wanted to marry you,” but you will, still carry on with your argument, “You’ll be left on the shelf for as long as I determine.” Okay... “I’ll leave you on the shelf and I’ll disappear after that.” Harsh, abandonment.

“Why are you sentencing yourself to a life sentence?” Van asked Dee. “If you leave him on the shelf, it means that you’ll be leaving yourself on the shelf too.” She explained. “No one is gonna take the both of you,” She reasoned. Unless someone is into threesome, they are going to be left there forever.

Hell isn’t going to have them over as well. One’s too clean. And the other is too weird. We don’t take either.

“In the end, you’re still in the same plight as him. Same place too.” Van chided, “On. The. Shelf.” “But it’s my choice.” Dee replied. She wanted to be on the shelf, so why can’t she stay on the shelf? “I like to sit on the shelf alone.”

She didn’t make any sense. You looked at her, “But you’re not alone?” She isn’t. “Sean’s on the shelf with you,” you replied. She left him on the shelf, remember? You sighed, “As your writer, can I just superglue you both on the shelf and not move?” So no one could take them away and they can’t leave either. “Especially Dee because she’s always leaving.” You were getting reading your superglue.

“See!!” Dee shouted, as if trying to prove a point. Exactly what point is it? “I’m a free spirit thus there won’t be a marriage because nope, I’ll be leaving as always.” She says, getting ready to leave.

Sit the fuck down, woman. You glared at her. If looks could kill, she’ll probably be mutilated. Alright, chill woman. chill.

“Perhaps it is not who is free or who is chained, but a matter of who is holding the leash, and who is willingly chained?” Sean states. Where the fuck does he get all those quotes from? It made sense. Bless the groom and his inspirational quote. You all know who is the less confused one between the two.

“Of course I’m the one holding the leash while you are not the one being leashed.” Dee says. Am I missing the point here? Who is willing to be chained not who is the one being chained.

“You know what,” you said, documenting everything, “I think the whole thing came about because Dee is confused as fuck.” Yes. “First there’s a wedding. Then there isn’t a wedding. Somehow, someone became a free spirit and then it got kinky as fuck because there’s a leash involved somewhere.” And you weren’t finished. “And then all of a sudden there is a coffee shop wedding.” So the question is, Where the fuck is the wedding?! “I’m not here to make people confused. But I think you are the confused one, which makes everybody confused.” You explained.

“I think she just wants a push and pull,” Keira said, “maybe she heard that some guys like that?” Where the fuck does Dee gets news about guys from?

“Isn’t there some song that goes Some like it rough, Some like it tough?” Sean asked.

You don’t know these kind of songs. Too kinky for your liking.

But you’ll stay eternally confused until they sort it out.

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1003 words