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    Planet Terror: The One With Bette’s Birthday

    Story written on September 27, 2007 by helebette.
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    2 votes, average: 3.50 out of 52 votes, average: 3.50 out of 52 votes, average: 3.50 out of 52 votes, average: 3.50 out of 52 votes, average: 3.50 out of 5 (2 votes, average: 3.50 out of 5)
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    Genre(s):
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    Character(s): ,
    Number of Comments: 4
    Words: 4234
    Story Shortlink: https://assertive-maroon-jellyfish.104-250-143-187.cpanel.site/?p=67009
    Author Notes:

    pure fluff, and a ridiculous amount of sex for the bionic women…ridiculous…i’m blushing again…its absurd…perhaps thats the moral–too much sex is absurd–or maybe life is absurd. who knows?

    Midnight

    and I’m a waitin’ on the 12:05,

    hopin’ it’ll take me just a little farther down the line…

    Moonlight,

    you’re just a heartache in disguise,

    won’t you keep my heart from breakin’ if its only for a very short time…

     

     

    Two lone figures stand in the wilderness. Tall, statuesque brunettes, their faces are etched with the lonely ages through which they have lived.  The women stand side by side.  Their fingers itch to draw the guns on their hips.

     

    The wind whistles across the beach—waves are heard crashing just beside them.  

     

    The sun bakes the melting dead, who stand witness to the end of time.  Their bodies fall in a macabre display of limbs and useless weapons.  In the distance vehicles can be heard.

     

    Twelve leering figures, dirty and decayed, stare back at the two women. 

     

    This is no ordinary standoff. The dirty dozen only have to wait until the bullets run out.

     

    Until one of the women steps forward.  From behind her back, she pulls two machetes.

     

    “Happy birthday baby.” The other says, in reference to a birthday long past, when these knives were first presented to her lover. Immortal now, the women move ahead to finish the last of the infected.

     

     

     

    Present day…

     

    “Hey…sweetheart…” a lovely English sounding voice drew Bette from sleep.

     

    “Bette…” Helena’s lips brushed her cheek.

     

    Bette’s eyes opened slowly; her surroundings came into sharper focus.  Smiling, she saw Helena looking down at her.

     

    “Good dream?” Helena gave her a big grin, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Happy birthday sweetheart.”

     

    “Oh yeah, I had forgotten.” Bette was an awful liar. She loved the attention.

     

    “Want your presents now or later?” Helena asked, snuggling in closer.

     

    “Later…no, now…”

     

    Helena laughed. “Ok, let’s wait a bit then…now,  now.” She said over Bette’s protests. “One of the presents is a bit…well, inappropriate to be dragging into bed with us. Let’s have our breakfast and open presents then, ok?”

     

    Caiohme started babbling in her bed, waiting to be picked up.  Helena shooed Bette ahead with the baby, while she gathered the things she had wrapped for her.

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    Comments

    2. Such an eclectic birthday stash. Why are Brits (at least Helena and the ones I know) so obsessed with Canadian maple syrup? It’s a good thing Bette was able to set aside memories of horrible birthdays past and test-drive those restraints.

    3. By the way, I’m sure that Catholicism hasn’t cornered the market on sadism in the name of religion. Is it my imagination or is most of it aimed at women, both east and west?

    4. As always, it’s so cute when you blush, but I assume it’s more for the skinny-dipping than the sex. Hey, it’s Bette’s birthday and she can settle for a quicky if she wants. It’s not like there isn’t more where that came from. Maple syrup IS a mighty good thing, but that damn diabetes gets in the way of my indulging like Helena. She must have a hollow leg. Oh wait, she DOES have a hollow leg! Here’s hoping Bette’s vision is more than wishful thinking.

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