Louisa and her clone are back by popular request...
|SCREAMS!!! Contest Entry 12/20/19
Prompt: Use the words: AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE or ANYTHING CHRISTMAS RELATED
This is the sequel to another of my SCREAMS!!! contest entries, Doppelgänger .
I was lucky the crazy Nazi scientist who cloned me had a cleaning lady for his secret underground lab. It was the only way I was able to escape that damn tube! The only unfortunate part was that I made it out in time to have no excuse to miss Aunt Martie's family Thanksgiving celebration. At least the turkey could be stomached--barely--this year. That's more than I could say for the family.
As the next few weeks went by, and I searched the want ads for a new job (preferably not another one working for a mad Nazi scientist this time!). I wondered sometimes what had come of evil super-clone bitch, but I had seen no sign of her since she had escaped the lab.
I was a bit surprised that she hadn't shown up in the news, tearing some pour dude's still-beating heart out or something. But... nada.
I felt lazy today, so I looked in the fridge to see what I could snack on while I watched some crappy Hallmark Christmas movie on TV.
It was empty.
I seriously needed to go grocery shopping. But that required effort. Like putting up a Christmas tree. I was too lazy on both counts.
I did have the fruitcake that Aunt Martie had sent me home from Thanksgiving with. I pulled it out of the fridge and looked at the "best by" date on the bottom of the heavily wrapped thing.
Best by January 7, 1962.
Shit! With no other alternatives than to actually go to the grocery store, I made my decision. I was pretty sure "best by" dates were only a guideline. Who cares if it was a little expired? It was less than a century past its prime, right? I tore off the wrapping and tasted a bite... still moist! Those 1962-era preservatives were really freaking awesome! Yay, cold war! Everything back then was made to be stored in a nuclear fallout shelter, I supposed. Bully for me!
As I spread my legs out on the couch, the eternal fruit cake on my stomach, to watch the two-hour long Christmas card commercial, I idly wondered whether I could look as good as my über-clone if I worked out for, like, three years straight and had a little plastic surgery done.
The door buzzer sounded, and I groaned. So much for laziness... now I had to walk twenty whole feet to press the little intercom button! Damn it all! I did it, walking every one of those twenty lousy feet.
I pressed the intercom button.
"Who is it?
"It is I," a voice came, sounding suspiciously like my own.
"Who the hell is I?" I asked.
"You are my sister," came the voice.
"No, not me, I!" I said.
"I am your sister," it replied.
"Oh. Yeah, I guess that I probably could have figured that out when you said sister before, but then... WAIT! I don't have a sister!"
"You have a sister. I am she," the voice said.
"What the hell, lady? Who talks like that?! Are you with some crazy religious cult or something?"
"I speak English. I am not a member of a religious sect."
"No shit, lady! Who are you really?"
Well, whoever it was must have gone.
As I began to walk back to my couch, the door flew inward with a crash, landing about an inch in front of me. A woman stepped inside my apartment.
It was evil super-clone bitch!
"Okay, let's get this over with," I said, holding out my arms to give her unobstructed access for the little heart-tear-out move she was so fond of. I had resigned myself to this possible fate a while back. Why couldn't she have just done me before I had to go to Aunt Martie's? Cruel, evil super-clone bitch, cruel!
"Why are you standing with your arms out, sister?"
"Okay. First, we're not sisters! You're some kind of evil super-clone bitch copy of me. That does not equal sister. That equals evil super-clone bitch. Second, I was getting ready for your punch-into-my-chest-and-pull-out-my-heart thing that you like to do. Do I need to like open my shirt too or something? Sheesh! I was just trying to speed this thing along... easier for everybody that way, right?"
"I do not understand your unorthodox manner of speech."
"Shit, lady. I'm sure you don't have all day, let's just get this over with!"
"Your freaking punch-into-my-chest-and-pull-out-my-heart thing! Geez! It's too bad that scientist didn't give you at least a double digit IQ!"
"Your speech is difficult to understand."
"Look who's talking!"
She looked around. Good lord! How does this oh-so-stupid bimbo get the goddess version of my body? Life is most definitely not fair.
Evil super-clone bitch stopped looking around and began to simply look confused. As she did, I looked down her perfectly toned, perfectly fit, superbody and sighed. Maybe if I gave her some of that mutant fruitcake, she would put on, say, a single ounce of fat... that wasn't in her huge boobs.
"I seek your help, sister. I do not understand how to properly interact with this world. I require guidance."
Hmm... maybe my "sister" wasn't such an evil super-clone bitch after all. I might have to revise my name. Let's see... if I dropped the "evil" and the "bitch", it left super-clone? That didn't have as nice of a ring to it, though. Maybe "Louisa Squared?"
"Okay, sister. I'll help you out under three conditions. One, you leave my heart in my chest, verstehst du? Two, you need to eat a piece of radioactive fruitcake. Three, your new name is Louisa Squared. And four, when I'm at the bar trying to hook up, you can't come along unless you wear a burlap sack or something," I said. "That's long enough to cover those sexy legs of yours. Agreed?" I revised, considering that she probably had more sex appeal in those legs of hers than I had in my whole body.
"You listed four conditions of cooperation yet informed me that there were merely three. May I choose which three I accept?"
"What? No, all four. You thought you were going to pull a fast one on me, didn't you? Ha! I knew you wanted to try the heart thing again! Shit!"
Louisa Squared smiled. It was a little scary.
"Okay, the first thing you need to do is stop talking like a freaking robot! You need to start talking more like me. Got it?"
"Freaking got it."
"Next, we need to get you some normal clothes. You're wearing some kind of hospital gown thing, and it's going to make you look weird. Sorta like your black eyes."
She blinked and her eyes looked normal and blue.
"How did you...?"
"I am able to change parts of my freaking appearance at will. Got it?"
"Wow, you're really getting the hang of this talking thing," I said, only partially facetious.
"So I'm going to get you some clothes out of my dresser, alright?"
I walked to the other room to find her a t-shirt and some sweats. I considered skinny jeans, but decided against it. That freakishly awesome ass of hers would never fit in them.
When I came out, my stupid neighbor was standing in the doorway, ogling Squared.
"Dude!" I said, "Quit leering at my sister, you lech!"
"Your sister? I just heard a crash and came over to make sure you were alright!" he said.
"I'm alright. Check. So beat it, pervert..."
"Okay, geez, Louisa, you can be such a bitch sometimes," he said.
At that, Squared seemed to be on him instantly, flinging him the twenty feet from the doorway to my couch.
He rose to his feet shakily, bruised and in shock at Squared's display of strength.
"What are y...?"
He never had a chance to finish his sentence, as Louisa was instantly in front of him again and plunged her hand into his chest. As he collapsed in a heap, she stood there with his heart in her hand.
"I knew it! I knew you wanted to do the heart-ripping thing again!" I cried.
She smiled again. Creepy.
I looked at the woman, my sorta-sister, incredulously, just standing there smiling with a heart in her hand--next to my coffee table.
Damn! I thought. Such a tragedy. She got blood all over my fruitcake!