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Sunday, 26 August 2012


Which of these is the colour of shame?

PART THREE (part one is HERE part two is HERE but if you can't be bothered to go there, here's a quick recap: Natasha Window is an art student. She's fallen in love inexplicably fast with the painter/decorator Chase Brick. He told her a terrible secret. Then we we were treated to a brief story about a sex-mad man called Johnny. Now we're back with Natasha and Chase, in bed...)

"Gasp!" Natasha gasped. Chase's secret was so earth-shatteringly mind-blowing and even boggling that it had caused her to have a flashback to a past life. "I just had a flashback to a past life!"

"I'm sorry I kept such a disturbing truth from you for so long," Chase said, guilt written on his face in metaphorical permanent marker. "Even though we've not been together for very long, really, it felt too long to hide something that shouldn't have been hid for so long."

"I'm glad you shared it," Natasha said. "Even if I now feel the bad kind of dirty. In my brain."

"I can't believe you temporarily regressed to a past life," Chase mused. "I can't say I have had any past life experiences, yet I sometimes feel like I'm living someone else's life."

"I think that's because so many people, especially when they're like us, share such intense experiences," Natasha said in a rare moment of mature self-awareness.

"What do you mean?" Chase asked, because he wasn't quite as intelligent as Natasha.

"We're apparently in love. We're in the giddy state of sharing secrets 'because we don't want there to be secrets between us' even though there will come a time when there are secrets between us. They'll start small, like fibbing about working an extra shift or feeling ill because you don't want to do something, then gradually build into complex and potentially damaging questions of trust and respect."

"Woah," Chase said, holding his hands out like he wanted her to calm down. "That's all a bit heavy. Can't we just enjoy the somewhat ridiculous buzz all young lovers experience when they first get to know each other before their foibles first amuse, then grate, then annoy each other?"

"And chat about our future together?"

"And our kids' names," Chase said with a nod.

"I'd like that," Natasha said, cuddling up to his buff body. He radiated heat like a radiator turned only partially on. "I'm sorry to get so serious, but my friend said a few things to me recently and they really made me think."

"I don't blame you for listening to your friends," Chase said, stroking her hair. "I know you'd put them before me."

"I say that," Natasha agreed, "but I think we both know I'd actually put you before them because you're new and exciting, and I'm currently convinced we're never going to split up despite my slightly negative vibes a few paragraphs ago, no matter what anyone says, or what drugs or liquids you put in your body."

"Plus you can't have sex with your friends," Chase added. "At least I hope you don't."

"Not now I'm with you," Natasha said, kissing him. "I love you. At least, as much as a desperate and horny young woman with low self-esteem can."

"Good enough for me," he said.

They made mad, passionate love. The kind of love that writers describe with words like 'heaving' and 'thrusting' and 'moist'. Afterwards, all their serious and sobering talk about their relationship not being impervious to criticism or time or logic was reduced to sweat on the bedsheets.

"This moment is what matters to me," Natasha decided.

Chase started to say something in return but was cut off by a heavy thud on the bedroom door.

"WHAT?!" Natasha yelled. Then to Chase: "I bet it's my friends complaining about our obnoxious sex noises. Again."


"Bloody hell, mate," Chase shouted. "We've stopped!"


The door burst open and in the ragged doorway stood a hulking figure dressed in rags with a face shrouded in darkness despite the daylight filtering through the room.

"No, it can't be..." Chase gasped, pulling away from Natasha.

The figure raised a gloved hand and pointed at Natasha. "YOU, it said in a voice like gravel.

"Who the shitting bollocks are you?!" she shrieked.

"I AM THE ENEMY OF LOVE," it intoned.

"Fuck off, emo!" she retorted.

Instead, it took a lumbering step forward.

"I was worried this would happen..." Chase sobbed, pulling his trousers on. "We created the perfect conditions and summoned him! Oh god!"


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