I'm Betting On Me

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Summary

It is not a good time it never is when someone has the price the price on her head to be what she does not want to be it is someone who has the rage the someone who has the rage to seek the just cause I'm betting on me is a edited version of the former Fanny on the Hill it is newer and fresher and it tells that spell check does work. I have re done the former Fanny on the Hill and made it this. I hope it is the right kind of unkindness and spite for the right waffle will be lost without it. The thing is when one is writing stuff comes out and this is one of them. I am wolfing down novels and novellas and to make matters worse they are as good as my own so I am making more novels to read and many peoples novels are read by me. This way there is a good exchange and communication and we say things in flowery language. Plus we can use the spell checker as many times as Microsoft allows it.

Genre:
Drama / Other
Author:
pencil
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
33
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
18+

Chapter 1

Then back again as if in a sea saw of emotion seeing the past not caring if the present sees what I was like what I saw what reason lay behind my frigidity. I was frigid I was cold unfeeling no but fridge yes. This man a Prince mimicking me the woman as he mimicked the man himself no longer myself no longer us two locked in a world poles apart it was like bipolar it was like he did not understand it was I did not understand that he did not understand. This courtship of ours has seen better days have it not my love? He never courted in his life desire yes but courtship no. He began to notice that I was not infatuated as I once was. He I said should court me. He did it the only way possible by feeding his prejudices his lust at such a peak he did it the only way he knew by humiliating me. I a Londoner seemed to want a tractor in my backyard. I am not a farm girl, I don’t need a tractor. But he came with the tractor and he had to seem to be in control for it was obvious he wanted me but did not understand the reason I was not you know. He expected instant seduction and he did not get this it fascinated him why I would not. It made him all the more determined. He did not know how to please he had never put himself out for anyone.

Our sting was that he never would understand me or I him. Or at least I understand children they can be spoilt and if not properly taken in hand can cause a lot of damage. This child and his toys I thought he grew so restless one toy after the other as if he were in hell practising press ups as if he were limbering he said he did not have proper sex for a year and it made him itch to.

I he blamed I he blamed. Why did he blame me for everything? Is it my fault for being a commoner? I COULD not help being a common herd the common person the little me the little woman whom time forgot because he forgot me he went to others but would not let me be. I am the litter behind the dog and he is the dog in the manger. Look here are the facts of that dreary day the little facts of being in the world of nobodies. We the nobodies are not impressed and he wonders why?

I am made to feel such guilt and such a lot of guilt as if I ruined his pet project. It is his pet project to get what he wants and this is how he went to it with a will not because of lust or love but because he was bored and unhappy with himself. To be out of sorts with himself is something a handsome prince is not supposed to be. A prince is something hard to live with even with himself. He could not stand the mirror image of himself in my eyes he thought he was normal except a prince a man he thought he had no secrets except he was filled with secrets. He thought he had nothing to hide except he was hiding from himself. I made him not himself something to reach for I felt guilty because I wanted him to reach me first was that too much to ask?

I made him do such a rat by putting a spell on him by casting him in iron by being me I made him inhuman. He asks permission to you know do it, why because of me he fears women he has to ask permission and by asking he is not enjoying he wants to plunder and grab when all he could do is ask. He gets true but why he gets is the reason he is tormented. He can’t be bothered anymore to reason with me. It has come to blows. I remember him as he was driving the tractor being a man. He looked so delicious and decorative I wanted to eat him up. Yet there was nothing to eat up afterwards he had done his duty he was exhausted he could not be polite anymore. His courtship over he had done something so wonderful by coming with his tractor that anymore would have unhinged him. He does not like woman without any willingness to please. I am that woman I Am all he s. I set him to do a task and he did not is it any wonder that he is fed up? I exhausted him that day with driving the tractor and putting the press behind him and being a nerd. He said was I a complete fool that did not realise what he had done how clever he had been?

I saw his point too clever by half. I wanted nothing to do with him after that. Him driving a tractor all the way to Old Kent road and I watching him was something sensual yet it was artificial and sensual like a painting in a Danish picture all out lust is important he must have had several women then he did not say how many. I know he was tired he started raging at me saying I was ungrateful and the ingratitude of the commoner was something he did not understand.

Well I don’t like being called a commoner. I am like a nerd really with my bottom picked what my bottom does get up to now is no one’s business. But then it got nothing at all, it was so loose being enthralled by passions which were not mind. I thought mind the gap mind the step mind the prince mind the man. Then I was so enthralled when he came to the cafe as if he were there to see what it was like that the masses were eating. He would gape at us as if we were animals in a David Attenborough documentary telling all the people he knew nothing but seeming to tell something. When he had no intention of doing as if I were a girl whose body did not belong there I worked. Had to because there was no choice I wanted to go to University but had no A ’levels because of that place the cafe. I AM wicked now I have brawled and hurled abuse at him and now sat in state satisfied that I have said my piece.

I need to seem educated at least I thought. I AM me no longer but this fat scum working in the cafe. As the years went on and on in seeming lusts and fights I grew harden to men every man I met was he. My walk disappeared into a mannish walk I became a female no longer. I was neither woman nor man. In between something which I have always d as if my soul would escape every summer I would wear dresses and become female then that too ceased as I became older. Disenchantment came from the dream of one man one woman as if my dreams were curtailed as if they were snapped shut.

I was shut off from the world as if in a cage doing nothing in particular doing something so particular. It was my destiny to see through pretensions and things like that it is unwise to see behind the facade of people they don’t want you to.

Look I am the woman whom time forgot did not have anything of my own yet worked till midnight. I did not have time yet all the time in the world. This is me the world wary genius do you see the idiot in me? The scrambling child the little princess in waiting what fool am I? Do you think I am me for no reason that the little I knew and the little I know nothing in comparison? What mass elixir has I that at a certain age now I find him? Life is so unpredictable life so unexpected life is so delicious come to my parlour says the spider to the fly but there are no more parlours about the word is extinct the way of life is too.

Why me this passion at a certain age as men demand experience from me as they demand reasons I have never you know been. Can experience be mounted, framed on the wall like a degree? The comparison with experience is that the more experience you have the less you become. Is it an ass I am or old fashioned? Can I compare you to experienced harlot? Without experience there can’t be certainty and when certainty comes everything falls flat. Just so old fashioned without a shoe to my name with nothing but this nagging content as if the content on my belly is a cat about to purr and the purring sound comes with the anguish that I have rights as same as everyone else. I am no longer in the doldrums wasting the life blood of me into something into pages into ink as I waited to die life came. It was so unexpected to live when one was expecting something else. The blow fallen the axe seen but not felt. I am no longer jumpy as if all the evil has been split without my blood letting except a bit. I am in the thralls of this contentment as if it is I am home. These moments are precious I feel like I am thirteen and allowed to stay on my own. This is me with grownups letting my hair into business that no one minds.

I have become something else I have become me in a way it has been going on for months. I have seen monsters and villains and now I am all content to feel love. However love has its vices and responsibilities and things in the night are not necessarily all to the good. Although necessary to avoid the itch he has and to see that everybody has the time of day to be less nasty.

I can’t tell them the truth without hurting myself and humbling the ego that is I! My fragile self with the wounds to show and the honours to be won as streets fill with blood and St. Pauls is up for grabs with seeming activists what are they activating what is this thing of mind that can see the same people who killed someone in Welling at St. Paul’s. I’m I a FOOL? Or some sort of scaremonger, some idiot? Why am I making that kind of connections with my impressions and my little life with all these good people? But there are no good people don’t you see these people are there to cause trouble.

The trouble with you is you are laid back Charlie.

The problem with you is you love me for it.

Where is the honesty the aristocracy in that pure animal matter? It is indeed to think nobody thought I could read or write and now mimicking my betters in the true literary guard and making a new fool of themselves the editors coming not to chase me but to rid themselves of me.

“There are no such people?”

“Do you mean that none of them exist? That the editors are all in my mind? Does it mean that me being in such a haste to write was wrong that they were not waiting for me to write at all?”

What a thought it is true it is true they must be all in my mind they do not care what happens to me they seem to gloat that some day I will die intestate and be in some splendid foolish parade of some manuscripts where they can have the lot. Nothing passes through you does it? Not much at all.

“What in the world are you all talking about?”

“We do not know.”

“They rather have someone else.”

“Not her again?”

“Most definitely her anyone but you.”

“But I am as gifted.”

“You sell zero books.”

“But my work is important.”

“Only to you.”

“I speak about important subjects.”

“Throw them into the binman.”

“He does not want them either.”

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