| Letters From the Hellmouth by Spikez_tart |
| Chapter #1 - Ask Lucretia |
| The Sunnydale Evening Star Ask Lucretia – Practical Advice for Denizens of the Hellmouth Dear Lucretia, Last year I jumped off that big rickety tower on Center Street into a whirly multi-dimensional pool to save my little sister’s life (I’m so regretting that) and ended up dead. So, I was dead and minding my own business, when my so-called Bestest Friend, Treebark (not her real name), jerked me out of heaven with some magick stunt. The trip back was rankly, which made me all bad moody, so now I’m dating a guy, Horndog (not his real name, though it ought to be). Horndog is Evil and wears a cool black leather coat. We have sex a lot even though he is not!!! my boyfriend. I enclose some sketches. I was wicked careful and kept my Luv Thang with Horndog a secret from all my friends, except for one little slip when Horndog had his hand on my ass and Doofus (not his real name, though it ought to be) saw us. Doofus was too dumb to figure out what Horndog’s hand was doing making itself comfortable on my left butt cheek, so my secret is still safe. Horndog says he loves me, but how can I be sure? Should I continue to have rad sex with Horndog? Also, should I tell my friends? I’m pretty sure they’re going to have total attitude about Horndog. Sincerely, Joan (Not My Real Name) P.S. Horndog is a vampire, but not my boyfriend P.P.S. Horndog is wicked hot and a sex god. Girlfriend! So what if Not Boyfriend is a vampire? Everybody’s on the path to enlightenment. Upgrade that studly hunk to Boyfriend Status and tell your friends to stuff their ‘tude where the Hellmouth don’t shine. ============================================================== Dear Lucretia, I pinched a paper yesterday and read what ‘Joan’ wrote about me. (Not her real name! Bloody Hell! You wouldn’t believe how sack of hammers her real name is, if I told you.) Bitch made me into her sodding sex slave, that’s what she did. She loves me and she bleeding well knows she does, but only comes around my crypt whenever she feels like a booty call. She refuses to tell her wanker friends about us, breaks my nose whenever she’s got the rag on and treats yours truly in a very shabby manner, in spite of all I’ve done for her and her brat sister. I give Joan lots of oral sex and big O’s, so I don’t see what she’s on about. Too bad she busted up my “Joan-Bot” sex doll cause Joan-Bot had a much better temper than the real Joan. Should I casually mention to Doofus and Treebark that I’m getting a leg over on Joan? Yours truly, Randy (not my real name and neither is Horndog.) Randy – Maybe you better call me for a personal consultation on those big O’s. Could be the stars are crossing you up. Bring the leather coat. ============================================================== Dear Lucretia, What should I do about a friend who is a complete ingrate? I’m talking about Joan. Two months ago, I sucked a couple of magick books dry, killed Bambi and brought my so-called Bestest Friend back from a hell dimension. While Joan was still in Hell, I babysat Joan’s Brat Sister all summer and kept Not My Boyfriend from humping the Joan Sex-Bot that looks EXACTLY like Joan. I’ve hinted around that Joan should thank me for all I’ve done, but she’s too busy moping around the house and complaining that her best black dress that she was buried in got ruined when she got in a fight with a demon gang. Like that’s my fault. She disappears for hours on end and sticks me with the chores and her Brat Sister, that is when she isn’t making rude remarks about me contributing to the rent. Blessed be, Sapling (Not My Real Name and I am so not a Treebark) Girlfriend! You’re living rent free? Magick out that checkbook and stop mooching. ============================================================== Dear Lucretia, I read what Randy said about the oral sex and the big O’s. Could I have Randy’s phone number? I’m thinking of dumping my fiancée who criticizes me all the time. Wishfully yours, Anya (Not my real name) Girlfriend! Lucretia totally respects the privacy of all the people or vampires or whatever who write to her for guidance. (I found him first, Hellbitch.) ============================================================== Dear Lucretia, I HATE THEM! I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM! And, I’m NOT a Kid. Tearfully yours, Brat Sister (Who knows if it’s my real name? Green, swirly things don’t have names.) Girlfriend! Of course you’re not a kid, baby. I can tell by your totally chilled way of dealing. ============================================================== Dear Lucretia, I cannot believe that my fiancée wrote to a gossip columnist trying to hook up with Evil Dead. Randy’s going to be a speck of dust on the end of my stake for macking on Joan, not to mention hustling my fiancée, just as soon as I catch him. Wouldn’t it be better for Joan to have a meaningful relationship with a smart, brave human with a steady union job and benefits? Humbly yours, Alexander Lavelle Harris (My real name) Guess you missed the part about the oral sex and the big O’s, Lavelle. The End |
| Chapter #2 - Cold Turkey |
| Thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews of the first post of Letters from the Hellmouth. I’m having reviews for breakfast instead of Weetabix from now on. Special thanks to KatieGirl for thinking up one of Lucretia’s lines. The Sunnydale Evening Star Ask Lucretia – Practical Advice for Denizens of the Hellmouth Dear Lucretia, Two nights ago, my old boyfriend, Huckleberry, blew into town. He tracked me down at work and caught me wearing my cow hat. I am totally mortified. He brought along his new wife, Smug Bitch (her real name). Later that same night, Huckleberry caught me in Horndog’s crypt playing hide the salami, when I was supposed to be Fighting Evil. Huckleberry is wicked jealous of Horndog and blew up his crypt. Huckleberry wants me to dump Horndog, even though Horndog is not my boyfriend and Huckleberry is married to Smug Bitch. Also, Huckleberry claimed Horndog was selling demon eggs on the International Market for Weapons of the Really Big Nasty Kind, which I can’t understand exactly how Horndog did that, since I took away the cell phone that Horndog stole from my friend, Doofus. I don’t think I should have sex with Horndog any more until he cleans out his basement. Sincerely, Joan P.S. In case you forgot, Horndog is a vampire, but not my boyfriend. P.P.S. I had sex with Horndog for five hours straight before Huckleberry caught up with me. P.P.P.S. Do I have to give back the ninja wear that Huckleberry gave me? Five hours? You go, girl! Call Merrymaids and dump that ninja suit in the nearest rubber recycle bin. ============================================================ Dear Lucretia, I recently returned to Sunnydale from an extended trip to London. When I got back, I discovered that Joan, who is like a daughter to me, has been engaging in intimate relations with a Vampire. I can scarcely describe the horror this Horndog person inspires in me, with his peroxide blonde hair and his black clothes and cigarettes and blood-and-whiskey breath, not to mention his ludicrous long, black leather coat. He’s a liar, a thief, a murderer and a smart aleck. How can I convince Joan that she should abandon her liaison with this Creature of the Night? Very Truly Yours, Joan’s Father Figure (I have not provided my real name as I understand that anonymity in these publications is prized by the persons writing to you for advice.) Hunh. You think Joan should give up the Five-Hour Marathon Man to run home to Daddy. Ain’t that special? ============================================================ Dear Lucretia, It was not my fault that “Joan” went schizo and tied up everyone in the basement (except Horndog, of course, who always gets a free pass) and let a gnarly demon try to kill all her friends. It was just a little slip up with a spell. It could happen to anyone. Horndog wasn’t my fault, either. Everyone’s trying to blame me for Joan having sex with that goofy vampire just because I did a little My Will Be Done Spell that made Joan and Horndog want to get married. That was years ago. Joan’s Daddy says I should give up magicks completely, but I don’t want to. Okay, so things go a little wonky once in a while and my girlfriend, “Ashley” (not her real name), dumped me cause she thinks I’m a magick junky. Is that any reason to go all Cold Turkey? Blessed be, Sapling (Not My Real Name and I am so not a Magick Junky) Nuh uh, Girlfriend! You keep right on jerking people around with your half-assed abracadabra and messing up their lives. Let me know how that works out for you. ============================================================= Dear Lucretia, Do you know anyone who would like to buy a wedding gown? Only worn once. I could throw in a nice wish for the Bride to Be. Wishfully yours, Mrs. Anya Harris (Not my real name) Girlfriend! What do you think this is, the Sunnydale Free Shopper? This is a quality newspaper. Don’t be trying to sell your raggedy-ass old dress in my column. =============================================================== Dear Lucretia, I can explain everything. I was holding those damn eggs for a friend. Also, I had to steal that cell phone from Doofus. Bastard laughed at my vamp face and forced Yours Truly to resort to subterfuge. I like scrumping stuff from the little #!%*&. Joan’s a bitch for taking it away after all the trouble I had nicking it. Joan’s ex-boyfriend messed up my crypt and he should clean it up. Also, I don’t see why my sex life should suffer just because Joan and the Walking Slab of Meat tossed around hand grenades in my bedroom. Yours Truly, Randy P.S. If Joan wasn’t so high and mighty, she’d let me spend the night at her place. She’s got a comfy bed and there’s plenty of room in her knickers’ drawer for my eight black tee shirts. P.P.S. What’s wrong with being a liar, a thief, a murderer and a smart aleck? A man has to have a hobby. Horndog! Watch that language. This is a family paper. As for Joan, I can see that she doesn’t appreciate you. How about you come over to my place and we’ll discuss your problem? Bring a bottle of wine and don’t forget the coat. ============================================================ Dear Lucretia, Are vampires ever gay – or bi? Just wondering. Humbly yours, Alexander Lavelle Harris (My real name) Lavelle, there are some places even Lucretia doesn’t want to go. ============================================================ |