LUCYS STORY OK right now I am having some troubles if you’ve already started go down to 3 eventually I will stream it

THIS IS LUCYS STORY.

Lucy

Jade and

Francine.

for now it’s kind of crazy – here is the full story below of Lucy – if you’ve already read start at 3- if not thurs 6/29 I will have someone look at this because there’s a lot more that I could do with this site if I knew how I can’t even insert media right now which is really ticking me off.

This isn’t a do it yourself easy website- I really need help – I don’t have time (as freaking usual) I am so beside myself I have some pictures I want to upload and it was so easy before now I can’t do it – and I know staring at words words words it’s hard – you want to look at a few colors and images – I had so much stuff here for you guys – bear with me – this coming Thursday (6/29) I will get my producer to fix it – I could call- the people who run this dashboard are very nice – for now I can only add words until I find out what’s going on

For now bookhopworm is taking a break from her book worming/shopping frenzy (though whenever theres an outbreak be sure to follow her on twitter bookshopworm1 people! Shell be by the Dior sandals this summer) and thought she’d just hang in the city for a while…Bookshopworm or Lucy as her real name is, was broke….it’s true folks, happens to the best of us…one minute you’re riding high on the 100k a year glory of literally sitting on your ass collecting huge paychecks, and the next minute, you’re loading boxes onto a FedEx truck for a quarter of the pay and not only that, three times as much work.

It happened one day like this. Lucy walked into her office and two other bitches were standing there. Literally.

LUCY

“I’m telling you Renee, the smell on the El is getting worse. I know they put in all those fancy new seats but it reeks of BO and, like, jiz or some shit.” I had to yell this into my phone as Renee’s hearing was getting worse and worse it seemed.

“That’s gross.” She laughed and I could picture her stomach giggling up and down to her great guffaws of cheer. If there was one thing I could count on it was Renee to laugh at anything I said, which always did kind of cheer me up. “But I know what you mean, girl.” And then much more quietly, “Oh, shit, there’s Larry, gotta go, Chickie.”

I smiled to myself and then frowned when I saw what was going on before me. Two women, who I never saw before were in MY office, looking through my drawers. I had been there eight years and no one ever looked into anything I did. My boss was the shit. He smoked crack but honestly, he never really let it interfere with work, if he had a bad comedown he’d just call in a migraine and I’d take over. We’d been working well together since the day we met.

I looked toward his office and didn’t see him. This should have been the first clue that something was VERY wrong. But still, I maintained my composure. I didn’t know then what I know now. Had I? I would have beat the shit out of both of them, and just stormed out.

“Hello-?” I said, sweetly.

Their “hellos” were not as sweet. The tubby one with red hair and freckles said, “Hey”, in a truck driving dykie way that almost made me laugh and the other one looked up and pursed her lips. She was wearing the ugliest shade of orange, too. I liked her the least, already.

“What’s going on? Where’s Mike?” I asked, growing annoyed.

With the utmost contempt, purse lips looked up and me and through teeth that I now saw were really fangs and said, “He’s no longer with us.” and then went back to going through my boxes. I should have initially asked why they were going through MY stuff then and not HIS but I was too fouled up about what I was seeing.

I ran down the hall to the two most beautiful women I knew, Sarah and Kit, and asked what the hell was going on. When they saw me Sarah immediately got up and gave me a big hug. She pulled herself apart to look at me through her glasses and said, “Isn’t it a shame about Mike?” And though she went into a deep, meaningful explanation as to why his job was “eliminated”, though purse puss seem to haveany problems un-eliminating the job, I to this day have no recollections of the words spoken. Sarah handed me a bible and told me to pray and Kit said with the sweetest sing song of voices to “fuck those bitches”.

Except they would fuck me.

HARD.

Lucy

I stormed back into the room where Tubs and Purse Lips were; who the hell did they think they were anyway? I was in this hospital for 8 years. This office was Mikes! What the hell happened? (I’d find out later, that the corporate world is an ugly, ugly place).

“Welcome,” tubs came up to me and put her hand out. I tried to keep from laughing. She had that kind of face where you just can’t quite look her in the eye so you gotta look in between and pretend otherwise you’re afraid you’ll bust out laughing. She turned around to purse lips and I looked at her ass. I couldn’t help it. I always had a nice ass so I don’t know, I was kind of guilty of feeling a little sorry for those who were less fortunate, and yet, man, she was way less fortunate because her ass was so big the pockets to her jeans looked real small

Lucy

I stormed back into the room where Tubs and Purse Lips were; who the hell did they think they were anyway. I was in this hospital for 8 years. This office was Mikes! What the hell happened? (I’d find out later, that the corporate world is an ugly, ugly place).

“Welcome,” tubs came up to me and put her hand out. I tried to keep from laughing. She had that kind of face where you just can’t quite look her in the eye so you gotta look in between and pretend that you’re taking her seriously otherwise you’re afraid you’ll bust out laughing. She turned around to purse lips and I looked at her ass. I couldn’t help it. I always had a nice ass so I don’t know, I was kind of guilty of feeling a little sorry for those who were less fortunate, and yet, man, she was way less fortunate because her ass was so big the pockets to her jeans looked microscopic.

I usually wasn’t this mean, nor judgmental but I knew these women were both gonna be bitches so I had to put them down in my head first so I could think a little straighter. I just kept thinking of poor Mike. He was probably wandering down around North Philly or Kensington now looking for crack with that tattered old briefcase in his hands, brass knuckles tucked away ’cause he was a little guy but he packed a punch.

What the fuck, man?

Purse lips came up and introduced herself as Gretchen and I wasn’t surprised I knew it had to be that or Myrtle or something. Gretch reminded me of wretch and that’s what I wanted to do at that moment. Wretch. Right in her pursed lips.

Acting like nothing was going on.

The phone rang it’s shrill ring. We were getting a procedure call.

“Pathology, Lucy speaking.”

“Hey, Lucky Lucy,” a nurse named Chris bellowed into the phone, “we have someone down here in CT we need your help.”

Thank God. A patient. I looked at lumps and Gerty or Wretchy and told them I had to make a run.

“All scans must be listed on the board,” said her Highness through lips so tight they were aggravating me. And I still didn’t really know what happened to Mike. The guy ruled that roost for almost 25 years though he had told me in a moment of solidarity that he thought everyone who was on his side were kind of leaving or getting the boot.

He had been afraid of this. But I didn’t think it would happen without warning.

I took the cart, ignored purse lips and ran downstairs to let all the nurses know that there was a new sheriff in town.

None of them were surprised.

Dr. Nissan (yes, that was his name) said in his Russian twang, “What is going on up there?” even before he let me know where the tumor was in this patient’s lungs.

“Calm down, Lucy,” he soothed, “Let me tell you a joke. Mickey and Minnie Mouse go to divorce court and the judge asks why Mickey wants to split up the famous duo.”

I raised my eyebrow and without skipping a beat he added, “He said, ‘because she’s fucking goofy.’

I smiled, shook my head and asked how big the tumor was.

He adjusted his glasses, “What no laughter?”

“Nissan-”

“Ok, ok. 30 pound weight loss without trying. 3 cm on CT but it looks..”

“It looks..” He walked over to where the radiologist sat and moved the scanner around, “looks like it shrank a little since last time.”

I watched him as he went over and adjusted the stage needle and then put a longer one inside. When he brought it out I took it from him and expressed the bloody material onto a slide and “quik dipped” it to give it some color. The 30 pound weight loss alone was worrisome. That had to be one of the biggest indicators of cancer that I saw in my career. And just as I suspected, the minute I stared into the microscope I knew I was looking at a pretty bad adenocarcinoma, pretty in color but as ugly in spirit as I suspected in those two bitches were upstairs…..

6/24 – start here if you’ve already read part 2- this is part 2B

I was so mad I took my little cancer cart and wheeled it upstairs, not able to believe that they got rid of Mike that easy and brought in two more; what was gonna happen to me? How come every place I ever worked I made a lot of money but always had to deal with a lot of bullshit. Maybe once I could try making shit money and not dealing with shit. My husband made enough. He worked homicide and believe me, people in this city were always blowing each other’s brains out, if not their own.

I was thinking about a patient named Keefer because it reminded me of Keith Richards except this guy was black, and really sick. First time I met him he was a good looking muscular dude who was kind of eyeing me up, I was in my thirties but I still had it, ya’ know? And then the next time I saw Kedith James on the list and I went up with one of the other drs and I thought that can’t be Keefer the dude he looks half dead. So when we put the 22 gauge needle in one of his lumps I bent over and stared into his eyes and he looked at me.

He recognized me. And he had these green eyes. And you know how green eyes on black dudes always looks so smooth, man his eyes were hurting and it pained me. I said hi to him but he couldn’t say hi back; the tube that had been down his throat scratched it so bad he couldn’t talk right. That or he was just straight up that sick. Either way, for some reason this is what I Was thinking of when tubs and purse lips came back into view.

I was thinking that their was no way in hell these two would care and know the patients the way I did. I knew these patients I did things for them. And when Dr. Greene came in with his urine (cause he took a lot of pain medication for his back and always wanted to know if I saw eosinophils, I think it signified something with the kidneys) but anyway, I always did it on the sly so he wouldn’t be billed. Were they gonna take care of Dr. Greene’s urine the way I did?

Purse lips came over and said, ” I don’t see any documentation on the walls of where you were just now.”

I looked at the walls like she was speaking some crazy language, “What? I just told you I was going down to CT.”

“Well now it has to be documented.” She said, haughty like.

And that was the beginning of the end for me. Because I could do a lot, and I was smart as shit, but I couldn’t remember to write stuff down. Never. It wasn’t my style. I was writing down what happened now. But like I couldn’t write down every day I’m going here I’m going there. I couldn’t do structure at all.

And that’s how purse lips and tubs would get me.

Part 3 – 6/24 for people already reading

That night I went home and Pete walked in, his glock heavy on his side. “So what happened to you?” I asked him.

“I think Manley is going down or something. He’s drinking too much and he’s just acting funny.”

Stan Manley was Pete’s partner; they usually didn’t have homicide partners but lately it had been so slammin busy that they were partnering people except who they gave Pete was a man whose wife just died about two weeks prior and he was hurting, especially since before she died they had gotten into a knock down drag out fight.

It was painful to think about.

I put on a sexy outfit, one I knew would drive Pete crazy. He loved my ass and tits and this outfit had it all hanging out. My nipples were like two pencil points and he started to talk and when I turned around and shoved my breasts right in his face he lost all train of thought.

“I love those tits, baby.”

“Put your dick in me,” I whispered, “I think I’m getting the ax. Mike did this morning and I still don’t know why. But these two fat bitches were in there asking me to document stuff.”

“People aren’t bitches because they’re fat.” Even in the heat of passion, Pete was always pragmatic.

“There fat in spirit. I mean, they are heavy but that’s not what makes them fat, you know what I mean, fat like meat heads.”

“Alexa,” I spoke into our amazon related appliance, “play ‘can you hear me knocking’, by the stones.” I always laughed because when my son was young he thought it was ‘bring me empanadas.’ I started to laugh which made Pete stick his dick in me real hard.

I threw my head back and slammed into him as hard as I could. Put on ‘Pumped up Kicks’ and remembered when life was easy and I could just snort some heroin and get really high and forget everything. Except I met Pete and I fell in love and he put his gun down and said no more heroin and that was that.

I fucked him hard and thought about what I was gonna do and then the fucking took over and I stared down into Pete’s eyes and forgot everything else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Debaholic913

I live in Philadelphia. I am a voracious reader and an avid shopaholic. I read everything from Edgar Allen Poe to Shirley Jackson to Stephen King to Graham Joyce to Lucy Clarke. Everything that I like. I shop hard. Like Chanel shop. But I like most people don't have the money to Chanel shop all the time so I do the "Sharon Stone" Gap/Armani thing of infinite fame back in the 90's - I go low/high. This site will be about my life, my shopping adventures and my critique of books. Also I am the original Queef Girl from the Howard Stern show so - stick that in your pipe and smoke it!

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