Bits and PiecesThis is a featured page


I'm not one to try and get in touch with my softer side. Generally, my softer side just gets me into trouble and, as an assassin/spy, I just can't tempt the universe like that.

I'd done that recently and, much too late, realized what a mess I'd gotten myself into with a Lego-loving werewolf, a phone, and an ill-timed job at a mental institution. Needless to say, events happened and my softer side saw what happens when it gets to come out and play.

So when my dog, Lady/Killer, told me he thought it would be good for me to join in a local scrapbooking club, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

What would that do for me? I asked him.

Because, honestly, I saw no point in putting memories on paper in a cutsy stay-at-home mom sort of way. I had better things to do.

Not to mention the fact that most of my memories were protected by law and confidentiality agreements.

However, my objections came too soon. Just a few moments after Lady/Killer made his suggestion, I received a job in my doorflap.

The president of the local chapter of The Official Scrap Club held in her possession a pair of magic golden scissors. My job was to do whatever it took to steal them from her and return them to my employer. In the envelope with the job and instructions, the first half of my fee stared up at me.

I could shake my spiky self for a little while, couldn't I? How bad could it be to be cute and cuddly for a night or two?

At further prompting from Lady/Killer, I decided to go for it. I'd take the few pictures that I had of my werewolf, along with transcripts of various instant message conversations we had (oh, yes, I have them all well-documented still), and some specialty paper I'd gotten over in Egypt, and go to the silly scrapbook meeting.

Ten minutes in and I wanted to take the magic scissors and jam them in the ScrapQueen's eyeballs... After I'd used them to cut out her tongue.

She chattered on and on about her stupid baby boy who somehow managed to always do the cutest things. I mean, babies aren't always cute are they? Ugh. The giggling women in the club almost put me in sugar shock. Is it possible that all of their babies were cute all of the time?

After a while, though, I realized that the women were all trying to out-baby-cute everyone else. There was a vicious undercurrent of jealousy and a need for attention. I hadn't realized that homemakers could be so... devious.

Maybe these were my kind of people after all.

When SoccerMom wanted a particular scrap of paper, BalletMom would come up with a logical reason why she needed it instead, making SoccerMom feel guilty - although when someone willingly gave up a piece for someone else, it made them look good and kind, which apparently goes hand in hand with cute babies.

In a funny way, I felt accepted as part of the group when KarateMom sneakily stole my Lego page idea for her stupid son, who hadn't even begun teething yet and only liked to knaw on the Legos.

The conniving bitches were great fun to be around, I decided.

They seemed relieved that I didn't have any babies with whom their own had to compete.

I only had an almost lover that made up a few pictures and conversations. Surprisingly, no one tried to one-up me on the tragic love connection, though HomemakerBarbieMom offered me one of her famous (so they tell me) double chocolate brownies.

It wasn't long before even the ScrapQueen wasn't getting on my nerves. Because, despite the backstabbing, gossiping, underhanded undertone of the womens' connection, there was also the obvious display of camaraderie.

You just don't get that sort of friendship from a dog.

Or the vampire next door.

And then...

The ScrapQueen took out her magic golden scissors.

After spending the time with those women, part of me wanted to leave things be just so I could find out what kind of magic the scissors held. In two hours time, I'd found a new passion - scrapbooking. Magic scissors would definitely come in handy... Unless their main function was something like cutting off the cash and prizes of men. Although that could be useful too...

Anyway, it didn't matter. The ScrapQueen brandished the scissors for a couple of minutes, turning out the most perfect circles and squares I'd ever seen. She never let the things out of her sight once she brought them out.

I admit, I was mesmerized. And a little confused. How was I going to confiscate the damn things? I couldn't see how I'd possibly get lucky with this one.

The meeting lasted for another hour, though AlcoholicMom wished we could have stayed longer. Her babies, although cute, were driving her to drink because she never got time away from them. I would have offered to take her out to the local bar, but I had my mind on more important things - magic scissors.

I offered to stay and help clean up after everyone else had left. The ScrapQueen thanked me for the offer, but she said it wouldn't take her long at all. I had a feeling that those magic scissors would be doing most of the cleaning.

I picked up my few pages and started heading towards the door.

The ScrapQueen stopped me and told me that she knew what I was after.

I turned back to her, hoping that she might help me out and just give me the scissors. No such luck.

Stealing the scissors from the group would cut the fabric of friendship that held them all together leading to depression, murder, suicide and feeding liver to their babies. I had to admit that none of that sounded very good at all. I didn't blame her for not wanting to hand them over to me, but I had a job to do and I needed the money. Not to mention the fact that I could be killed for not doing my job.

The ScrapQueen just shook her head when I explained my position. She told me that the person who hired me must have been the Empress of Scrap, the head of the Club Organization. The woman had been jealous of the Queen for a long time and wanted to undermine her power.

I never knew housewives were so wicked.

I couldn't take the scissors, I knew that. But what could I do?

Then, like the glory of a well-scrapped picture, the ScrapQueen took out of her purse an identical pair of golden scissors. She assured me that they had enough magic to pass for the real ones, but nothing detrimental to the lives of the innocent conniving bitches in the local Club.

I was glad because I really did like those women and I wanted to keep going to meetings. It would make a nice change and a nice, safe place for my softer side to come out and play. And I could actually talk about my tragic love life without worrying about getting insulted by (Lady/Killer) anyone. A nice change...

I thanked the ScrapQueen and promised to return soon.

I knew that, eventually, my luck would run out and I'd have to do what an assassin does, but for now, I was happy to take the fake magic golden scissors and head back home.



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assassindiaries 		Latest page update: made by assassindiaries , Jan 7 2008, 11:43 PM EST (about this update About This Update assassindiaries Edited by assassindiaries


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