Quote:
Originally posted by Badger
Taylor moved to wake him, but then remembered there was only one successful method. She gathered up the saliva in her mouth, envisioned Calvin as a grovelling Katy Perry, and spat out at him with all the force of a cannon.
Calvin started, and then grinned sleazily at his "girlfriend". "Hey baby" he leered, his doleful Scottish accent morphing awkwardly into Californian. "Feeling nasty tonight are we?"
Taylor snatched a satin pillow from the recliner and smacked him with it. "Idiot, it's 7am. And I am NOT in the mood for more disgusting activities. Get up, get clean; we have work to do."
Calvin groaned and sat up, grasping Taylor's waist for support. Taylor internally grimaced at the touch of his rough masculine hands. How she longed to be embraced with the soft delicate digits of a Victoria Secret model. But alas, she could not feel that pleasure just yet.
She threw Calvin's clothes at him, shouting instructions as he clumsily straightened the room. Ellie hurried to help him, tripping over an unconscious Instagram celebrity in the process.
Taylor rolled her eyes. For how much longer would she have to endure the company of these imbeciles. The idea of spending most of her life with these drips filled her with bile and nausea. But it will be all worth it in the end, she told herself. She has already come so far.
She straightened a hanging photo of herself standing on stage with a guitar and long curly locks. She shuddered at the memory of all those fat inbred hicks chugging moonshine and hollering at her to play more insipid twangs. Thank Lucifer she has moved on to better things.
Cara Delevigne loudly swept into the room, carrying the first of Taylor's daily required grocery shopping. She placed the bags down with little care, and strided over to wish the Shake it Off singer good morning. The model made to kiss her on the lips, but Taylor sharply turned her head to the side for Cara to catch her cheek instead. "Don't be so forward Cara," she hissed. She felt that her time with Cara might have to be cut short soon; the model's eyebrows were disgustingly masculine.
Taylor asked for space from the staff, and they all bowed and left her alone. She paused, and then shifted the furniture from the centre of the room to the walls. The large woollen rug was rolled up with extertion, revealing an intricate pentangle pattern seared into the glossy wood flooring. Taylor took out a candle and a knife from a locked cupboard, knelt down in the centre of the symbol and lit the candle. As the room darkened and the candleflame flared, Taylor began reciting her routine reverse-Arabic chants.
|
Just as she felt in touch with the spirit of Satan, she heard something interrupting her spiritual connection. Only one despicable, sad excuse for a human being was capable of interrupting her communication with demons, one human being that had a stronger connection with the darkness than herself: Katheryn Hudson.
"Hey baby
" she heard Katheryn speaking to Satan. "How's your dark horse, honey?" Immediately, all the candles went out.
"ZENDAYAAAAAA!" she shrieked; a horrifying gust of wind now circulated through the house; Ellie was smacked in the face by a 2 by 4, to which she was immediately knocked unconscious. Zendaya came flooding in. "Miss Swift, Ell --" she was interrupted by a swift slap in the face, moving her to the ground. Taylor's eyes were now engulfed black, and her voice dropped several octaves. "Katy. Perry. Fix."
Zendaya knew what she had to do. Stepping over Ellie Goulding's lifeless corpse in a flood out of the front door, she called a taxi. "To LA," she muttered, handing the driver $10,000 in cash. "I've got a California girl to see."
