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Editor's Disclaimer: DO NOT PROFIT OFF OF THIS STORY! If I find out that you
have sold this story, or you have charged people to read this story, I WILL
SUE YOU. We all know of the huge market for these stories, and we all know
that it's happened so many times in the past, which is why I took ten
minutes to write and warn all of you about selling this story. This is a
not-for-profit story. I don't think you understand. Look, if I find out that
you are using this story to help file your taxes, I WILL ALSO SUE. Or using
it to train monkeys to drive and you charge them a fee, I WILL ALSO SUE. I'm
so sick of this stuff happening. That's why I feel I need to place this sort
of disclaimer on every story I write. I once sold a story to a guy because he
needed toilet paper, and I SUED MYSELF. I WAS BOTH THE DEFENDANT and
PLAINTIFF.

Edited by P.J. (Refer to the editor's glossary found in part one for
definitions of unclear terms.)

When possible, the author's original notes have been included.

Numbers by certain sentences indicate a corresponding note found at the end
of each part. The notes were included in 2006, years after the author's
initial writing in 2002.



Even Stevens: Reading Material For Your 11-Year-Old Nephew Part 3
(ff, food, exhib, messy, splosh, voy, Ff, grope)
by Dimes N. Nickels ([email protected])

VII. "Hey Ren, the Guy in the Back Row Said I Reminded Him of a Bunsen Burner
Because I'm So Easy to Turn On, but Then He Couldn't Get the Flame Started.
You Think That Has Any Significance?"

Tawny Dean eagerly accepted the chance to be associated with Stevens Manor.
(1) She listened to each word Louis spewed out about the situation during
power lunches of Ding-Dongs, and then nodded, laughed, and volunteered to
bring whatever essentials she could find around her house. However, the one
object that she was incapable of hauling over to Louis' residence was a pair
of skis for the ski trip. She didn't own any.

Snow gave her the sniffles, and cold weather gave her a headache. Louis,
on the other hand, provided her with enough warmth to compensate for any
horrible climate. A blizzard may cause her to blow her nose hourly, but she
could blow her nose on Mr. Stevens' sleeve. His redundant jokes and behavior
reminded her of a great imitation of her two-year-old brother. Still, it was
this act that made her nervously shuffle her feet and try not to smile.

Tawny promenaded around as the ice princess for a year before Louis' interest
waned. Suddenly, other girls who also chuckled nonstop plopped down at their
signature lunch table and laughed whenever he hit the punch line, "Not Kiss
Me -- Nestle!" Tawny's prominent place at the table moved her from directly
to the left of Louis to two seats away. This spacing continued until she was
regulated to the corner spot. By that point, she couldn't even hear the joke.
All Tawny could gather was the cackle of attention geared towards her Louis.

Ms. Dean always shook her head at girls who wrote boys' names in the
middle of penciled hearts. Mead Notebooks were where Tawny wrote depressing
cry-for-me high-school poetry about feeling down despite living in an
upper-class community where her father was wealthy and her parents never
argued. Penciled hearts are not the true intention for college-ruled paper,
she often thought. And certainly not to display the admiration for a boy.*

(*Author's Note: Hello. How are you? I'm doing fine, thanks for asking.
-Dimes)

Then, during social studies, Tawny wrote Louis' name six times in the margins
of her Mead sheets, right where "Panama Canal Treaties" and "Jimmy Carter"
should have been jotted down. Jimmy Carter may have topped Gerald Ford in
1976, but he never made Tawny laugh. Not one hehe. Not one haha. Not one
squirt of milk from her nose. Jimmy Carter just didn't do it for her. With
thoughts of Louis wearing a Hawaiian shirt prancing in her head, Tawny drug
herself home, wrote a poem about her feelings that contained the words
"black" and "death" fourteen times, made a Hot Pocket (try new Lean Pockets,
because they have broccoli!), and then decided to finally stop playing hard
to get.

So, after Ren refused to be a "party" to Louis' dreams of turning a house
into a sleazy business, Tawny tapped Louis on the shoulder and suggested that
she could take an internship in the world's oldest profession. He hugged her,
and his nose bleed miraculously ceased.

"Tawny, you're the greatest, I love you!" Louis enthused. "Now get away,
because I feel my nose starting up again..."

Those were the words she forever waited to hear, and they came from the
curly-haired, swoon-worthy jester that brought a skip to her step and a
planted an extra "rose" in her poems about "pain that taps me on the
shoulder / and mocks my real feelings." However, while the affection was
ideal, her experience was minor. She could lay claim to a smooch between
her and Tom, but that was like kissing her grandfather -- exactly like it,
complete with wet hands and the Long John Silver fish smell (Lobster Bites,
now available at participating locations).

And a creatively-placed piece of fiction couldn't rip her membranous fold of
tissue that partly or completely occludes the orifice worth a darn, either.*
Four months prior, Tawny waltzed over to the Stevens' house with thoughts of
a night alone with Louis. Instead, when she discovered him absent, the three
female occupants of the house, Ren, Ruby and Monique, invited her to the
"Girls' All-Night Social" and Ms. Dean plopped down on the couch among the
robe-wearing ladies. (2)

(*Author's Note: I'm so clever. So clever. I wish girls would, you know, not
hit me. -Dimes)

Though the conversation ceased momentarily to greet the new partygoer, it
picked up again just as Tawny reclined on her cushion and took a glass of
refreshing Wild Cherry Pepsi off the table. "See, if guys knew that, they'd
know all. We give them so much attention; just once, just once I would just
like to lay back and have them lick my ticker-tape-parade. It's like I didn't
just suck his baboon-kazoo until my jaw fell off, like oh my gosh," Ruby
vocally detailed. (3)

Tawny nodded, and felt like an island made of Cookie Crunch cereal, because
she couldn't relate with men placing their faces on her ticker-tape-parade.
Even Ren, the most demure of the group, testified to Bobby's apparent lack
of tonguing skills: "I love my Bobby, but what is going on, Bobby-Q. Just
try once to be my head float."

The conversation flipped, drifted, and rambled from eye-shadow ("Could you
believe Mandy Sanchez with her eyelids soaked in blue, what a Bunsen Burner,
I mean so easy to turn on," cried Monique*) to boys ("I'm not saying I like
the new forward on the basketball team; wait, maybe I am, can you pass the
Fritos?" explained Ruby). However, Tawny's silence carried through the
conversation until "truth or dare" was declared by Ruby (who vetoed Ren's
book discussion, and then threatened to burn said books).

(*Author's Note: As I said before, if you didn't find this line funny, then
you probably won't find it funny the next seven times I use it. This one in
particular is nearly identical to the title of this chapter. I'm so clever.
-Dimes)

Ren chose truth ("Only once, and it came free with a Happy Meal. But I don't
know how it ended in my mouth"), Monique said dare ("Crank-call Tugnut?
That's fine with me, what's the phone number to the YMCA?"), but when Ruby's
turn came, she giggled and rolled her eyes as if they were a hyperactive
twirl of blueberry Laffy Taffy and answered dare as if her voice was a spark
of Mountain Dew caffeine and a Jive Record pop-music compact disc.

"Okay, okay, okay, now Ruby you close your eyes, and uh, uh, uh, let, um,
Tawny! Yeah, let Tawny do something really, really, completely unexpected,"
Monique called out.

That switch inside of Ruby Mendel (that spread her legs and opened her mouth)
flicked on when the opportunity of bodily contact arose. She closed her eyes,
struck a pose with hand in her hair, and kneeled on the couch as she kissed
nothing in particular while a gust of wind blew her Lucky Charms' Red
Balloon-like hair strands off her marshmallowy White Horseshoe shoulders.*
Monique rubbed her palms together, and clapped along to the impromptu
faux-photo shoot that left Tawny scrunching her brow at the new pinup girl.

(*Author's Note: Maybe I should just flipping put in a scene where they eat
flipping cereal with Lucky the Leprechaun, and cry "these flipping things are
magically flipping delicious!" -Dimes)

"Well, do it, do something," Monique encouraged, while bouncing on the couch.

Tawny's indecipherable utterances: "wha... wha... wha..." Scene's random
sound effect: "waaaa.. waaaaa... waaaaaaaaa." A whale's cries for freedom:
"brhughghgcanhghghgyouhhhhghgreadhhhhhthishhhhh."

Ruby took another pose; this time she leaned down on her hands, prompting
her robe to unravel, and expose the sides of her glorious set of bagels.
Even though the dare did not ask for her to recreate her favorite poster
girl, Ruby was never one to bypass a chance at creativity. A boyfriend of
hers once commented, "I didn't know a Minnie Mouse doll could fit in your
ticker-tape-parade, wait, you ALREADY have Kim Possible in there too?"

"I don't understand," Tawny said, as she scratched her temple. "If I'm
suppose to do something unexpected, and she's expecting me to do something
unexpected, won't the only unexpected thing for me to do is to do something
expected?"

Ruby dropped her pose. Ren, who had been sitting in the background
and watching the festivities while secretly hoping that none of the
sleepoverettes stain or destroy any of her parents' belongings, nodded
and glared at her library books. She wondered about her friends.

"Hush up, Tawny, and have fun," Monique said, responding to Tawny's
immobility. "Ren, help me out here, say something! Then later we can have
Lucky Charms cereal! Tell her to do something crazy like a rodent in a fun
house of Velveeta cheese."

"Well, she's got a point," Ren said.

"Which one of us has a point?" Tawny and Monique asked.

"Well, um, um," Ren stuttered, whirling her hands around as if to scare off
flies vying for her Kim Possible fruit snacks.

At that point, Tom walked out of the kitchen, leaned down, plugged in an
extension cord by the television set, and left.

"Well, that was a little unexpected," Tawny stated, as she looked over to
Ruby.

Ruby's eyes had been closed before the interruption, but she reopened them
for a devilishly-flashed wink towards the brunette. As Tawny glared at the
"daree queen," she felt the temperature grow, and the humidity stick to her
"Miss Matched" shirt. Then Tawny thought she witnessed a flame rise off of
Ruby's pink robe. That last line wasn't a metaphor. Monique had left a
blow-dryer on during the make-me-over contest (which Monique lost because
Ren ended up looking like, as Ruby said, "a Bunsen Burner"),* and stashed
it between the cushions of the couch.

(*Author's Note: Wow, there it is again. Good work, me. -Dimes)

After extinguishing the fire, turning off the alarms, answering the phone
calls from worried neighbors, and hearing the faint cry of several boys
looking for the emergency exit in the basement, Ruby sat back down on the
couch, leaned back and closed her eyes. Monique flapped her arms to
encourage Tawny, while Ren ran her hands over her face and breathed in
the smoke damage. "Books," Ren whispered. "Flame-less books."

"Come on, do something," Monique whispered.

"I don't know, I don't know what to..." Tawny said.

"Here," Monique said, handing Tawny a still-in-the-package Original Brand
cherry popsicle from a box of twelve.

"What am I suppose to do with this?"

Monique turned the frozen treat towards her own ticker-tape parade, acting
out a protruding motion. Tawny gasped. Monique threw the popsicle at Tawny.
Ren imagined her parents taking her cell phone away from her.

After a second of peeling the wrapper off and telling herself to "just do
it," Tawny crawled over to Ruby, unhooked the robe's belt, and saw the sides
drift apart like a heat-conscious banana peel on the beach. At first Tawny
took a deep breath, sucked her stomach in, and questioned how she got between
the legs of that girl in the tenth grade whom she only spoke to three or four
times before. But, by this time, Tawny ignored any voices of logic repeating
in her head, pushed Ruby's legs apart further, and pointed the lolli directly
at Ruby's yummy-yummy-thawing-quarters.

As it dipped between the lips, Ruby winced, flung her head back, and
shivered. The popsicle began to melt the moment it delved into Ms. Mendel.
A stream of cherry poured down out of the hole and crested into her
bottom-passage, as well as on the couch cushions. The splashes of berry
divided into dime-sized puddles on her thigh, leaving a light pathway of
red. Ruby thought it felt like sitting too quickly in the bathtub of
artificial sweetener (as if, she thought afterwards, there was a proper
speed to descend into a bathtub of artificial sweetener).

"Oh, peanut brittle!" Ren said, covering her eyes with a pillow so as to not
see the desecration of her parent's furniture.

Despite the lack of warning labels printed on the side of boxes of popsicles,
the cold, rounded poles are not to be inserted anywhere but a person's mouth.
Had this occurred prior to the "The Girls' All-Night Social," Tawny may have
refrained from shoving it up Ruby's ticker-tape-parade. But, alas, it did not
happen. A chill rampaged through the blonde's feet and legs, stopping long
enough for a blizzard in her tummy, then creating a sharp icicle in her
red-chest nubs, and finally jetting out of the smokin' diva's mouth in a
cloud of frost.

"Now I know what a snow-angel feels like..." Ruby exclaimed, as she rubbed
her hands over her pair-o-bagels to build friction and heat. "It's magically
delicious! Marshmallowy delicious! And now Sandy Marmartookus has nothing on
me! Nothing on me, Ren! Her boyfriend, Luke Howatitz may have stuffed snow
in her mouth then arrived on it and called it a Snow-Cone, but..."

As she caused the ice patches to develop on Ruby's spleen and liver, Tawny
was overcome with wooziness, a loss of strength in her wrist, and the odd
reminder of what she was doing. Ruby's upward thrusts resembled a
desperately-starving mouth whose lips opened each time it reached Tawny's
face, while Ruby's hands grabbed, pulled, and pinched ripples of her own
skin from her butt, bagels, and facial cheek. She also occasionally sucked
her thumb.

"Now put it somewhere else," Monique mentioned while jumping on the couch,
and Ren trying to tell her to stop.

"What? Like the garbage?" Tawny answered.

Ruby grabbed Tawny's hair, yanked, and lifted her bottom-half towards the
popsicle- prodder's face Each time that Tawny pulled out of Ruby, Ms. Dean
noticed the increasingly-dwindling ice treat on the stick. It melted in half.

With the popsicle thawing from her first-hole, leaking (or surging) out, and
Tawny analyzing the sight (there had to be more pouring inside than what was
escaping), Ruby levitated her back-end off the seat and presented her
puckered second-hole for a taste of the dessert. When Ms. Dean looked up at
Ruby's mouth (or third-hole, which she used to moan "arhmphdohhhhgirlshhhhhh,
mehdohhhhhhthishh, ohhinhhhhhh ohhrealhhhhlifeh noooooooooo, dip it
deeper!!!!"), she dropped the popsicle on the table, leaving Ruby in
mid-gyration, and decided that the next hole she'd consider would be the kind
she could crawl into and pout.

As the quivering, rubber-like jellyfish motions of her body subsided, Ruby
and her taste buds digested disappointment. She slowed down, resting her
behind on the cushion, pulling her belt together again, and whisking the hair
from her face. The red liquid still poured out of the ticker-tape parade. As
Ruby did so, she felt Ren glare at her with a lip curled, and a reddish hue
running up her usually-peach skin.

"Ren, chill, I'll clean it up," Ruby said as she picked the popsicle up, and
took a lick off of it.

"That wasn't what I had in mind, Ruby," Ren retorted.

"Ren, I was worried that we were going to do something lame like book
discussions, but this is f-u-n, fun!" Monique said.

"So, who's next?" Ruby said with the lolli immersed in her mouth.

"Tawny," Monique quipped.

"What? Me? This is ridiculous. What did I just do?" Tawny argued.

"Ruby's dare," Monique explained.

"Then what's mine going to be?" Tawny shouted.

"Oh, I know! I know! You have to dibble-dabble in front of all of us!"
Monique suggested.

"I'm not going to dibble-dabble in public." (4)

"No, she's not," Ren added. "We've already had one incident leading to
fire and the devaluing of other people's property; we're not making her
dibble-dabble and have it lead to an earthquake."

"What's a matter, Tawny, don't you dibble-dabble? We all dibble-dabble,"
Monique said. "She-bop, he-bop, a we-bop."

"That's none of your business," Tawny shot back.

"That means yes, so what do you have to be ashamed about?" Monique remarked.
"I-bop, you-bop, a we-bop."

"Nothing, so she's going to do it..." Ruby answered. "Using one of Ren's
books."

"One of my books? I don't own these books, ladies, I got these from the
library; I'm going to have to pay for these if they're damaged, and they're
certainly going to get damaged if Tawny dibble-dabbles with them," Ren
shouted.

"Wait, don't I get a chance to choose truth?" Tawny pleaded.

"Don't worry, Ren, I think cranky library lady Ms. Rubberbelly already
dibble-dabbled in this one," Ruby said, as she sniffed the pages of "Pride
and Prejudice" and recoiled with a gag. "Her ticker-tape-parade must have
smelled like mouth balls and wigs."

"I am not rubbing `Pride and Prejudice' down there, I will not dibble-dabble
with a Jane Austen novel!" Tawny said.

"That's okay," Ruby said, as she picked another book from under the couch,
"we have `Little Women' too."

"Or Louisa May Alcott!" Tawny stated.

With her hands sticky with cherry, Ruby handed Tawny the novel and then
quickly caught a falling piece of melting popsicle with her mouth, slurping
it up in a fantastic display of her oral abilities. "Geez, look a me, I'm
making a pig out of myself here," Ruby acknowledged, as she licked the liquid
off of her fingertips.

"You made more than just a pig out of yourself tonight," Ren huffed with her
arms crossed.

"Oh, wait, what's this," Ruby said as she raised her robe and ran her hand
over her butt. "It's my hand on my rear-end for a change. And, gee, I would
have thought it was you."

"Oh hush up," Monique demanded. "Tawny's about to go all dibble-dab on her
whose-knows-its."

"I'm just going to leave is what I'm going to do," Tawny stated.

"No, no, you agreed to the dare and now you have to perform it," Ruby
reminded her.

"I never agreed to anything; I never even said dare."

"Tawny, play along and have fun," Monique said.

"If I do, will this shut you up?"

Monique and Ruby simultaneously said yes. Ren trailed behind with a sullen
and downtrodden "no."

When Tawny unzipped her jeans, showing off her white cotton undergarment and
yanking them off her legs, she imagined the embarrassment of showing off her
ticker-tape-parade. Had she ever actually indulged her whose-knows-its with
prodding and pinching, Tawny would have ripped the jeans off like Ruby
removed all her clothing in the presence of boys, students, girls, facility
members, and the night-crew at "Make the Pig a Ham: The Funniest Burger Joint
in this Location."* She couldn't. Her pair of pants were tight before, but
the humidity added to the woe of the fabric's restrictions, and the moist
clothing clung to her. She pulled the jeans to her ankles (with much
frustration), nervously sighed, opened the novel to page three hundred ninety
and read.

(*Author's Note: We get it, Dimes. Ruby is easy. -Dimes)

However, the girls glared at Tawny' whose-knows-its' patch of brown fur as if
it was the one giving the speech.

"Mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking of
first loves," Ms. Dean said to the undying attention of her peers.

"Dibble-dab, Tawny, dibble-dab, less reading, more dibble-dabbing," Monique
insisted.

"How am I suppose to with a book?"

"You're smart, think of something!" Ruby stated.

Tawny pressed the page against her exposed whose-knows-its. At first the
flat surface provided no pointed angle to permeate her hole or to flap her
rosebud. The awkwardness ended as soon as she tore page three hundred ninety
out, wrung it around her fingers, and probed her sweet opening. After several
forward thrusts, Tawny released the sheet (which was completely dry prior),
with enough inner-pollen for her to see through it.

"They are not going to let me bring that back," Ren complained.

The torn, soaked, and wasted sheet became unusable. Tawny could tell when her
whose-knows-it would bloom. That wasn't alien to her. Before the insertion,
Tawny didn't feel any rumbling between her legs, but within a second of
Louise May Alcott mingling with her opening-to-inner-beauty, she flooded the
doors. Tawny threw the ripped sheet to the ground and reached for another
page out of "Little Women." Ruby, with a fully- functioning smart mouth, took
the shredded page off the ground and prepared to recite what was left.

"Ren, this is perfectly fine, I can still read 'Moffat, Meg, aid, liberty,
feelings and young girls.' I think it originally said, 'Moffat, Meg, aid,
liberty, feelings and young girls.' Sounds right to me"

"It would, you never read it," Ren said.

"Shhhhhh," Monique interrupted. "Tawny's really reading between the lines
now."

"Oh my gosh, she is," Ruby said, as she periodically sucked on her Original
Brand popsicle and watched Tawny's hips buck, and her body convulse "Oh my
gosh, Tawny, like save some for next time..."

Tawny lurched forward, now possessing page 253, and jammed her fingers in her
ticker-tape-parade. In the twenty-five years that Louise May Alcott's "Little
Women" was stored in the school's library, it had only been checked out three
times. Once for the book to be place at the bottom of a wobbly stool, once to
kill a spider in room 231, and finally for this very occasion. Ren wondered
who would receive this classic hardcover copy next. Would that person be able
to understand the complete tale without part of the conversation between Jo
and Laurie? Would that person be able to fully analyze the feminist viewpoint
of Alcott's vision? Would that person be able to pry the pages apart?

Monique and Ruby's balloon-cheek smiles straightened out when Tawny fell face
forward on the table, breaking the legs, startling all three of the girls and
even eliciting a scream from the group of boys watching in the basement.
Tawny raised her face, showed off her oval mouth, blared her set of pipes,
and continued to treat her ticker-tape-parade to one of the finest pieces of
literature in the past three hundred years. Bored third-graders read it;
bored forth-grader read it; but Tawny Dean held the future of the English
curriculum in her soaked fingers. She exhibited the one teaching technique
that could get kids interested in reading again.*

(*Author's Note: I mean no disrespect towards Louisa May Alcott, although I
heard she had bad things to say about me. -Dimes)

"Woah, Tawny, even Ruby didn't go this far," Monique said. (5)

"Yeah, Tawny, maybe you should cool out, or something and stuff," Ruby added.

Tawny took a second breath, and removed her fingers. The dripping hand oozed
out while the embarrassment showed on her face with a series out spinning
eyes and bitten lips. All six eyes of the sleepover gang rolled to one
another.

Then Twitty entered the room.

"Um, Tawny, can you guys do it again, the camera's transmission went all
hooky-wooky," he asked to a void of voices. "No... okay... thanks."

Then he left. Then there was silence. Then he ran back in.

"Are you guys sure? That was like really awesome."

"Twitty?" Ren wondered out loud. "What are you doing here?"

Then this was followed by more silence.

So Twitty left again.

But, soon afterwards, Lucky the Leprechaun, the official mascot for Lucky
Charms, dived into the room on a protruding rainbow. The girls cheered as
bowls of Lucky Charms cereal magically appeared in each of their hands.

"Do you lasses want some cereal? That's me lucky charms! Where's my pot of
gold? Me lost it on the way here. If you find please return it to this
Irish cereal-peddling leprechaun, harp-e-dar-dar-dar," Lucky exclaimed.
"Marshmallows. Clover and blue moons! Pots of gold and rainbows!"

* * *

VIII. Tonight's Episode of "Even Stevens" Is Rated "M" for Mature and Will Be
Followed by an Episode of "The Proud Family" Where Penny Falls Down. It Will
Also Be Rated "M."

Louis informed Tawny that the guest in the Stevens Special "Suite" requested
"some extra care," and due to said guests' unfortunate experience thus far,
it was suggested that Tawny go beyond the norms of her job. After Tawny asked
Louis what exactly the norms of a pseudo-Musical Director and Manager's
Assistant are to an unlicensed bed and breakfast, he swung up two thumbs and
told her to "go get `em." When Tawny asked the follow-up question -- "What
are you talking about, this house doesn't have a suite?" -- he quietly
pointed her to his parents' room.

As she walked past the regular commotion of the night (Tom talking to an
ice cube tray and Beans chasing himself in a circle), Tawny reflected on the
position she'd find herself in. She read Willa Cather and Mary Shelly for
the sheer intellectual growth they provided, and had pictures of Eleanor
Roosevelt plastered on her locker door. Certainly these pioneering women did
not base their existence on catering towards the opposite gender and did not
cheapen their bodies to increase their boyfriend's bankroll.*

(*Author's Note: I personally have my own thoughts on the matter. How much
of Willa Cather's personal life do we actually know? I bet if she was alive
today, she'd be honored to be referenced in a story such as this. She'd be
like, "Dimes, why didn't Tawny dibble-dabble with `My Anotonia?'" and I'd be
all, "Oh, Willa." -Dimes)

Tawny took an order from a man to be submissive to another man. At the age
of fifteen, Tawny Dean did not imagine her "first time" often, but then
again, she never expected that it would include these circumstances either.
Her inner-wall would be dismantled by a stranger. He would be a guy who only
expected one thing from her, and it wasn't a book of her writings or a
reciting of her sonnet, "Conforming Kills Baby Bunnies."

Tawny turned the knob, took a deep breath that created a crease in her
stomach, and opened the door to the man who'd write a huge part of this
chapter in her lif...

Er... when the door opened, the author of "Tawny Dean's First Experience"
wasn't a man, but a person of her own gender. Before she entered the Stevens
Special "Suite," Tawny chalked up losing her inner-wall as an example of the
continued misuse of power of domineering men over oppressed women. But, with
her services requested by a forty-year-old woman, could the oppressed oppress
the oppressed? Didn't there need to be some oppressive force to rob her of
her first time and make her a martyr for oppressed women everywhere?

"You're Culpepper?" Tawny asked, as her sluggish legs walked her inside the
room.

"Mrs. Culpepper, but you can call me..."

"Cheryl?"

"Mrs. Culpepper," the woman answered as she opened the sheets. "Wait, Cheryl?
My first name is Judy. Did you just make a guess?"

"Mrs. Culpepper, with all due respect, your actual first name is the least of
my troubles."

"Well, the most of my troubles is that I've been waiting for someone to
assist me for thirty minutes. I've been wanting to get in the bed and get
down to business that entire time, but yet I'm always hearing banging
upstairs and screaming."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Culpepper. Our normal girl who attends to these matters,
well, she fell ill."

"A pretty disappointing satisfaction rate. Don't you have a Satisfaction
Manager?"

"She's indisposed at this moment."

This wasn't a case of the men oppressing women, Tawny decided. This was an
example of the adults taking advantage of the untrained youth. But with a
teenage Louis in the role of brains behind this exploitation, she threw her
theory away and sat down on the bed. Oppression was running rampant: adults
oppressing teenagers, men oppressing women; Tawny's underwear oppressing her
butt-crack by riding right up the divorced flesh...

Tawny surveyed the room. It appeared that Louis forgot to remove his parents'
belongings. Because of it, pictures of the couple still stood in gaudy gold
frames,with unopened junk mail on the drawers. However, along with the
Stevens' personal objects sat a pocket-sized notebook filled with numbers,
hand-drawn diagrams, and short sentences. On one of the open pages, the word
"service" was written besides a five, "cleanliness" besides a four, and
"overall experience" besides a three. It belonged to Mrs. Culpepper -- the
bed-and-breakfast critic for Channel 12.*

(*Author's Note: Most reviewers decide which products to evaluate by finding
crudely-drawn flyers taped to a retarded child's face. It's totally safe. No
reason to question this part of the story. -Dimes)

Tawny shuffled her feet against the carpet, and tied her ankles together
until it felt like they were a bow for a birthday gift She could hear the
noises of an impending "trick" pound behind her. When Mrs. Culpepper fluffed
the pillows, it sounded like a conveyer belt from a fashion-doll factory
shooting out plastic heads. The subsequent pulling of the sheets from under
the bed resembled the time a male bully ripped her holiday dress when Tawny
was six.

She'd be without clothes soon, placed under those sheets, with her legs
spread and her marginal muffins touched by another woman. At least she
thought so. Even with all the attention Tawny bestowed on her gender, she
never understood what went where with those girls who liked to kiss other
girls. (6)

Ms. Dean scratched her forehead, and wondered why none of the female guests
could have been attracted to Twitty.

"Well, are you gonna get started?" Mrs. Culpepper asked in demanding,
angry-boss shrill.

Mrs. Culpepper stood with her back to Tawny, her head pointed down and
her chin to her chest as if hypnotized by the white sheets. The young girl
extended her legs, stood up, and started the process of disrobing. She
fiddled with the buttons on her jeans, trying to undo each one out of its
holes until the waistline released its grip on her stomach. Each successful
attempt brought more room and more air. A pull of her jeans finally ended
the clothing's death grip, while slipping the Hanes Her Way Comfort Fit
underpants to her feet, which finally dislodged the sharp, carving pain in
her rear-end. The next article of clothing to hit the ground was her shirt,
followed by a nearly-useless small B-cup bra.

The bra did not have an averse effect on her well-being; therefore she let
them drop without much additional satisfaction. But without it, it did,
however, make her look even more awesome.*

(*Author's Note: So awesome. -Dimes)

Tawny took two seconds for a response, and watched Mrs. Culpepper shake her
head and mumble something about the lack of good teenage help in the world
today. The heat rose in Tawny's armpits, and four beads of sweat rained
down the side of her chest, along with three equally-sized drops from her
hairline. Tawny felt the Pantene conditioner melt out of her scalp and fall
into her mouth. It tasted like salty snowflakes or Saltines.

"Well..." Mrs. Culpepper said.

Tawny walked over to the woman. Each time Tawny moved her moist thigh, it
squeaked like Micky Mouse in Disney's new remastered DVD of "Fantasia.".
Nonetheless, she approached Mrs. Culpepper from behind, and when within
reach, threw her arms around her stomach and kissed the back of the older
woman's shoulder.

Mrs. Culpepper squirmed and pushed away. Tawny inched backwards.

"Wha... what is going on here?" Mrs. Culpepper asked.

"I thought you wanted, I thought you wanted me to..."

"Change my sheets. What kind of establishment are you running here?"

"Um, I'm just the Musical Director."

"What in the name of all that is filled with a Ho-Ho is going on?"

"Uhhhhh," Tawny said, as she flung her arms in the air and sat down. "I never
wanted to be a girl who subjects herself to pay-for-humdinging to impress a
boy."

"We all do, sweetie. We all want to avoid subjecting our tasty Hostess
Donettes* for cash to impress a boy. We all do. That doesn't it make it
right to mount me without warning," Mrs. Culpepper said.

(*Author's Note: The muffins, I mean. Her muffins. Not the dessert muffins,
the real kind. You know what I'm talking about. The Hostess Donettes that are
real muffins. The kind that are on a girl. Those muffins. -Dimes)

"At first I thought you were oppressing me, and then I thought all men were
oppressing me, and now I think that I'm oppressing myself. I think I'm going
to leave." By the time those words left Tawny's mouth (all thirty-some), the
door slammed shut with her tiny frame following right behind it. Her clothes,
on the other hand, remained sprawled on the floor of the Stevens Special
Suite.

While Tawny stood outside of the room, knocking her head against a wall that
bellowed a thunderous "oppressed" in her ears, each guest (age four to forty)
walked past aghast with hands over their mouths while shooting stares. Tom,
who came waltzing in with a plate of re-heated tuna, fell and dropped his
food on the carpet.

Her eyes remained on the ceiling as she brushed the hair from her face and
crossed her arms. Each occupant at the Stevens Manor took a gander at Tawny's
shapes and curves. First it was the old guy, then the other old guy, some
woman, some woman who resembled her science teacher, and then Twitty, who was
busy fulfilling his commitments by dusting the furniture with his hand. He
too, took a gander at Tawny, but only after telling Tom to get back to work.

"You're without clothing Tawny, that's really cool," Twitty said, as Tom left
the room while kicking the ground.

"Hey, Twitty, do you want to make kiss with the
forty-year-old bed-and-breakfast reviewer from Channel 12 so she won't call
our parents on us?" Tawny mumbled, while staring at the ceiling and reciting
a Sylvia Plath poem in her mind.

"Gee, this is all so sudden Tawny," he responded by slamming his hand on his
forehead. "I'd hate to objectify myself and my gender and stuff."

"Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. / The first time it happened
I was ten. / It was an accident."

"Look, I'm just going to say it: no, Tawny. No, I will not make kiss with the
forty-year-old bed-and-breakfast reviewer from Channel 12 so she will not
call our parents on us."

"Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air."

"Your hair is brown, Tawny, not red," Twitty revealed, just before turning
his head towards the kitchen. "Do you think Tom will make kiss with the
forty-year-old bed-and- breakfast reviewer from Channel 12 so she won't call
our parents on us while still washing the dishes and serving frozen ravioli
to our guests?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, me either," Twitty said. "Wait, I haven't heard anything break for
about two minutes. Where'd that kid go?"

"Them unwrap me hand and foot-- / The big strip tease. / Gentlemen, ladies."

"How it happens / I don't care / If it's raining / Or what I'll wear," Twitty
said.

Tawny stared at Twitty for like a really long time.

"Life goes by / who knows why," Twitty said, wiping a faux tear from his
cheek.

"That's very deep, Twitty."

"Thanks," Twitty responded. "So do you plan on getting dressed, or are you
going to just walk around without clothes, which, you know, would be all cool
with me and stuff."

* * *

IX. "Dyke n. 1.a. An Embankment of Earth and Rock to Prevent Floods."

Ruby left Mr. and Mrs. Found-Their-Freak shortly after Mr. Found-His-Freak
finished on her bare-flesh seat cushions. Even though the robe she donned did
not originate from her own pink closet, and the smearing of his cream on its
fabric would not be a financial detriment to her own bank account, Ruby still
wandered into the bathroom to freshen-up. With her back facing the mirror,
and her face twisted to see mirror's reflection, she wiped the goo off her
rear-end with a tissue.*

(*Author's Note: I tend to think that lines like this are the only reason why
I wrote this story in the first place. -Dimes)

With her body cleansed of all (or most) sticky substances, Ruby walked to
the backyard with her hands in the robe's pockets, and enough muffin sides
popping out of her clothes to cause Twitty to exclaim, "Totally excellent,
Rubs!" She walked past a distant (and non-clothed) Tawny, and past the smell
of raw bacon served on burnt toast. She eventually made it to the outside of
the house where the inflatable, "Olympic-sized" kiddy swimming pool lay
half-empty with grass floating on the surface.

Ruby sat on a lawn chair, and splashed her feet in the contaminated water.
She waited and thought. As she waited and thought, Beans walked by in an army
suit, and holding a stuffed bunny rabbit. He pointed the stuffed bunny rabbit
at the moon and said, "bang-bang, boom!" Ruby petted Beans on the head. Beans
asked if Ruby could breast feed him.*

(*Author's Note: This use of breast has to be acceptable. Women do this in
grocery stores now. -Dimes)

"Beans, don't you have a foster parent or a test tube or something like that
that can do that for you?"

Beans looked sad. Sad, sad Beans. Ruby said yes, "You can suckle my bagels."
Happy, happy Beans.

"Ruby," a female voice asked from out of Ruby's peripheral vision. "Just what
are you doing here?"

Just as Beans was about to feast on the glorious size "Bs," another female
voice startled the little critter. He jumped back, aimed his bunny rabbit at
the black-haired woman wearing a miniskirt and proceeded to barrage her with
shouts of "dub-dub-dub-dub" and "ytsirch-onamor-dna-nerual-tsorf-dluohs-ssik
tsorf nerual uoy evol I." He scampered off with his hands flaying in the air,
and the springtime breeze rustling through his hair like rain in a cornfield.

"Ms. Lovelson? What are you doing here?" Ruby asked.

"A student of mine told me to wait here for someone to take my bags and
conveniently bring me to my room."

"How long ago was that?"

"An hour," Ms. Lovelson said.

"That's inconvenient, actually."

"They did bring me something to drink, though." Ms. Lovelson said. "Do you
work here?"

"I've held many positions today, Ms. Lovelson. Some for upwards of six
minutes. Other than waiting for service, what are you doing here?"

"Bedbugs."

"Oh, I heard they can bite."

"So I've heard, too..."

"Yeah," Ruby answered, then thought for a second. "Ms. Lovelson? Am I really
in the fudge-factory in science class?"

When Ms. Lovelson sat down on a lawn chair besides Ruby, she placed her hand
on the teenager's bare thigh and grazed the custard skin.

"Ruby, why aren't you doing well in class?"

"I can't concentrate."

"Why can't you concentrate?"

"It's all that dibble-dabbling."

"Ruby, if you lose your concentration each time a boy dibble-dabs in front of
you, you'll never get anything done."

"That's very true, Ms. Lovelson."

The teacher's hand roamed up the student's inner thigh. Every additional
inch that Ms. Lovelson explored caused the gap in Ruby's legs to widen.
Ruby blushed, shook her head, and when she lowered her face her legs were
on opposite sides of the lawn chair.

"Ruby, have you ever kissed a woman before?"

"Yes," Ruby answered.

"Ever, in person, saw a woman naked before?"

"We have to shower after gym, Ms. Lovelson."

"Yes, well, you ever make out with a girl before?"

"Uh-huh."

"Ruby, what haven't you done?"

"Outside of exchanging my whose-knows-its for a slinky-dink?"

"I'd hope outside of you losing your whose-knows-its," Ms. Lovelson answered.
"Ruby, will you let me help you out tonight, as long as we're both waiting
out here, so I can get you ready for the test?"

Ruby shrugged.

"I don't have any books with me."

"Ruby, school isn't about books and tests, it's about learning."

"Ms. Lovelson," Ruby said. "That's a lie."

"Yes, yes it is," Ms. Lovelson agreed. "Now take off your robe."

(Continued in part four . . . )

* * *

EDITOR'S NOTES

1. Margo Harshman was more open to veering towards risqu‚ story-lines in the
third/forth season than her cast mates. Though originally nervous about some
of the more explicit scenes, Margo still said, "I trust Lauren and Christy.
Plus, I'll have more stories based around me." While the new shift would not
allow as many stories to be based around Shia LaBeouf and A.J. Trauth's
characters, both actors said that the scenes with the girls would "more than
make up for it."

2. This story alludes to the original script of episode #214 "Secret World Of
Girls."' The script writer stated that this new nudity-based format could
"refresh the show" and "breathe new life into the series" and "for crying out
loud, let's just shoot it and then we can decide. Please, please, let's just
shoot it. Margo told me she shaved last night specifically for this scene!
What? Don't call security!"

3. The leading reason why relationships end? Surveys say an uneven amount of
attention given to baboon-kazoos and not to ticker-tape-parades.

4. Oddly enough, a survey of "Even Stevens" viewers found Tawny's character
the easiest to masturbate to, which contradicts later surveys that stated she
would be the least attractive nude. Experts determined that it was Tawny's
personality that was the leading factor. Non-experts said that out of the
three girls on the show, "you really can't go wrong."

5. Why isn't Monique in the rest of the story? She was off visiting her aunt
in Vancouver.

6. Despite it being paramount to the new scripts and stories, the word
"lesbian" was deemed inappropriate for the teen-and-preteen audience. Other
words considered unsuitable: "nude," "hymen," and the ever-controversial
"bowling ball."

    

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