Tag Archives: broke-ass weave

10 Years Later — and Four Minutes Older

So, was anyone else underwhelmed with the preview of “Sweet Valley Confidential”? I mean, it’s nice to know that Elizabeth cries when she comes and all, but a Sweet Valley without a date-rapist Bruce Patman is a Sweet Valley I don’t want any part of.

I’m gearing up to tackle “Sweet Valley Confidential” Four Minutes Older style. Join me at my new site, www.fourminutesolder.com, for day-shift hooker Jessica, gold-diggin’ Lila and a Bruce who still has the balls to attempt date rape!


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Prom Baby! – The full story

Full text of this year’s NaNo, “Prom Baby!” after the jump. If you are looking for the 2007 NaNo, “Double Penetration,” click here. NSFW – or any occasion, really


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Prom Baby! – Word count: 45,389

Enid grabbed a girl by her hair and threw a hard knee to her throat. Glancing behind her, she could see that several Big Mesa students had breached the gym. Her first thought was for Elizabeth’s safety.
“I’ve got to get back into the gym,” Enid said, throwing an elbow to a large girl to her right. “Do you guys think you can manage this?”
Todd nodded and punched two guys at once as if to prove his point. Todd punch action in full effect

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Prom Baby! – Word count: 28,176

“I don’t care about what Lila read in Ingenue. I don’t care about Lila Fowler, period,” Elizabeth said. “Unless she has some sort of psychological problem, physical handicap or family issue I can give her advice on.”
Jessica snorted. “Lila has psychological problems and family issues up the wazoo,” she said. “Oh, and I’m pretty sure inverted nipples count as a physical handicap.” They totally do

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Prom Baby! – Word count: 6,660

“We still didn’t find out what boobs are for,” Jessica said thoughtfully, chewing on a french fry. “Hey, Liz, aren’t you going to eat that brownie?” She reached over and snagged the fudge-covered brownie off Elizabeth’s tray. “Aren’t you going to eat any of your lunch? Give it here. I’m starving.”
“Who cares what boobs are for?” Lila said. “This class is a major bore.”
“Have you forgotten about that skanky bitch from Big Mesa?” Jessica asked. “Do you want her and all the other a-holes from Big Mesa to think they’re better than us?” I bet Bruce Patman knows what boobs are for

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Prom Baby! – Word count: 4,751

“I could say the same for Sam Woodruff,” Lila snapped. John was still a touchy subject with her; he had once tried to show her his junk up at Miller’s Point, a popular spot for Sweet Valley High students to park their cars and practice sexual restraint.
“Don’t get all bent out of shape, Lila,” Jessica said, breezing through several dresses on the sale rack. She held up a strapless pink gown. “What do you think about this one?”
Lila eyed the dress critically and shrugged. “It’s all right, if you want to look like you live in a split-level ranch on Calico Drive,” she said, rolling her eyes. But it has a Spanish-tiled kitchen


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Domestic violence is not funny (unless it’s happening to Jessica Wakefield)

   “Look, if there’s something specific that you have to tell me about him, go ahead. Otherwise, shut up.”

“He’s arrogant and self-centered. He’ll hurt you.” (SVH #3, Playing With Fire, p. 35)

Jessica looked away, avoiding her twin’s penetrating gaze. The truth was that Bruce had already hurt her. Elizabeth, observant as she was (being a real reporter and all), had failed to notice that the bruises Jessica had been coming home with weren’t the result of a Lila-orchestrated fall from a cheerleading pyramid. No, they were the result of Bruce Patman’s anger, a terrifying force Jessica had first witnessed when she’d made fun of the Patman family fortune.

“Honestly, Bruce,” she’d laughed while they were headed to the beach in his Porsche, “who even buys Patman’s Peaches?”

Everyone buys Patman’s Peaches,” Bruce growled in defense of his father’s successful canning business.

“Well, I don’t,” Jessica said. Of course, that’s because I don’t eat, she thought, sneaking a glance at herself in the side mirror. As usual, she looked perfect.

“What do you buy, the store brand?” Bruce asked, snorting in disgust.

“No!” Jessica gasped, horrifed. “We’re not, like, poor, you know.”

“You’re poor to me,” Bruce said, raising his voice in anger. “Patman’s Peaches bought the Porsche you’re sitting in right now, and Patman’s Peaches bought you that broke-ass weave, and Patman’s Peaches bought you the thong you seem to enjoy showing off to everyone in Sweet Valley when you cheer at the football games!”

And with that, Bruce slapped Jessica across the face.


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