Is Butter a Carb? (Georgina)

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg needed a break.

Not that his life had been a shitshow or anything the past few days, but it hadn’t been a cakewalk either. He had to write a five-page essay on The War of 1812 last week. He took the Canadian side of course, but since he had to make sure he had the right arguments and made logical conclusions (read: made the Americans look like the dumbasses that they truly were, no offense), he stayed up all night that week. Then there was that frog dissection lab exam he had to prep for his Biology class, memorizing which muscle was which and which nerve made which leg twitch. There was also the issue of having a new roommate. And of course who could forget that massive blackout that just happened out of nowhere and lasted for a good four days.

(Four days of no classes were fine, but no electricity meant limited internet use and Greg barely survived that ordeal).

So it was time for an afternoon dedicated to some R&R. And since he didn’t have a bottle of wine with him at the moment, he had to settle for the next best thing – shooting and cursing random strangers over the internet. His console was left in Banff and his parents were a little iffy sending him a new one just yet, but lucky for him he’s made a friend or two who had one and were willing to let him crash on their couch and invade their room.

“Room service!” yelled Greg loudly after knocking like there’s no tomorrow. Patience wasn’t his strongest suit and his left arm was getting just a tad bit tired carrying the two boxes of pizza and the bottle of pop he brought for the afternoon.

[Georgina Speer]

Greg had barely survived the whole 'no internet' ordeal?

Had you even seen George?

She was practically dead. It was not a pretty sight. It was also a sight that I do not want to recite. Let's just say... lots of sweets were involved. And a bit of constant tension and annoyance and general irateness. I'm worried that she may or may not have an internet addiction... we can solve that later. Or we could just ignore it. Ignoring it is good. Yup.

It was true that she had no plans. No social plans. She had plans to catch up on everything she had missed on the internet. So she totally ignored her phone. Until a little later, when the little message light kept flashing and she couldn't cope seeing it in her peripherals. She unlocked her phone and... woops. Never mind.

...wait, what time was it? She checked her clock... 15:56. Of course.

And then there were some loud knocks at the door. UGUGHghGHghGHhhhhh, fine. She slumped over to the door and opened it, looking at the boy in front of her, faking disgust and (more) annoyance, "I can't eat pizza - I’m on an all-carb diet. God, Karen, you're so stupid!" She said in a terrible American accent, as she stole away one of the boxes and looked inside, breathing in the orgasmic smell of pizza.... mmmmmmmmmmm, fooooood.... She took a slice and let it hand attractively from her mouth as she placed the box on a nearby surface and looked at Greg, "So, how can this English girl help you today?" She spoke through the food, actually holding it after she spoke and eating it properly.

Man, George was like, the best friend ever.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg knew, or at least had an idea, on how much George loved for the internet. Oh no wait, lived on the internet. She ate it, she drank it, she’d breathe it. Normally he’d open up by asking how the girl was doing after that agonizing field trip back to the Dark Ages (literally), but he decided not to. The would’s barely scarring; scratching on the scabs now would do no one any good.

So instead he greeted the Brit with a deadpan, “Boo. You whore.” as she took one of the boxes and dove right in. He did chuckle a bit though, finding George’s American accent was so on point it was almost creepy. There was just something wrong about knowing that someone had a wonderful accent and they’re speaking in the lamest accent ever. Like Andrew Garfield in those new Spider-Man movies.

He placed the remaining box and the bottle of pop on the centre table in front of the couch and made a beeline towards George’s cupboards to hunt down cups. “Normally I’d ask if you can give me a boyfriend, but I know how you scare guys away, so I’d settle for some good CoD right about now,” he said, grabbing two mugs – one with two pigs humping that said ‘making bacon’, and the other painted to look like a sitting penguin. Boy were her roommates weird or what? “I’m in the mood to shoot some stupid little boys and tell them I slept with their mom last night as I grenade their sorry asses off to oblivion.”

“By the way, cute shorts. Where’d you get them?” he added as he sat down and grabbed a greasy slice of pizza.

[Georgina Speer]

You can drink the internet? Yes, please, five gazillions orders of that beverage, please! I mean, she had eaten ten pop-tarts and then ran around singing the Nyan Cat song for a half an hour, but that wasn't the same as drinking pure internet. Get her sommadat.

Also, George's accent was terrible as it was. But when other people tried to mimic it... shudder shudder shudder... she hated terrible English accents. I mean, at first, four-ish years ago, they were entertaining. Now? Not so much. They were one of the only ways to make the girl actually annoyed with you within seconds. Unleeessss you knew her personally, and you were purposefully making it terrible. Then she would join in. Accents were weird.

"No, I totally have multiple boys constantly running into my bedroom and pleading me for delicious sex, of course. And why not throw some girls in there while you're at it. Everybody wants a piece of the Gigi." She shimmied in the most awkwardly stiff manner and popped her lips, winking badly at Greg, seeing as she wasn't the best at winking... ever. She probably would've done a cartwheel at this point if she was actually physically capable, but we're talking about a girl who sits on her fat arse at least four hours a day and eats at least one sweet daily. She could hardly do a roly-poly - heck, she'd struggled to get up when Greg had knocked at the door. She nodded, a look of judgement on her face, "Okay, I mean, I haven't tried eating raw fish when trying to attract people, but whatever you say." She danced off into her room and returned with said CoD (the actual game - psh, George totally wouldn't have a raw fish in her room...) and the necessary console etc., plugging it all in very quickly, thanks to her good knowledge of all the technology in the dorms. She turned around and eyed the mugs that Greg had pulled out-

"PINGUUUU!"

Awh, man, her penguin mug. She had a minor obsession with penguins, possibly due to the kid's show, Pingu, which she watched constantly as a little hat girl. Man, that stop motion animated penguin was her life as a kid... she had no idea where the pig mug came from. That one you could blame her room-mates on for having. She stole her beloved penguin mug off of him (it even had a little fishy-wishy and it was adorabubble and eeeeeeee!!) and huggled it, before placing it on the table, "That does sound like a gooood plan though. I can distract them with my elegant moves of an elephant."

She looked down at her patterned shorts and shrugged, "My bedroom floor." She turned on the TV, "Seriously though, probably New Look or," she snorted, "George, or something." You know, those cheap stores which sold half decent, cute clothes at decent prices. Yeah, she was a cheapskate. She also spent too much money on gaming and technology to spare much for clothes. So yeah.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg let out the loudest and most exaggerated gagging sound he could muster when he saw how George shimmied and winked. It wasn’t just because it was bad, but because it was bad and it was awkward and it was George. There’s just nothing sexy about George, Greg thought, and he thought it in the most loving way possible. Gigi was as adorable a dork can be; thinking of her otherwise would be a disservice. “Thanks for giving me something to fuel my nightmares with. As if my roommate’s faces weren’t enough.” Just because he and Dylan were civil didn’t mean he’s supposed to like the pompous little blonde.

“And just so you know, I used raw fish to attract my ex.” His first date with his ex was in an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant. Because with Greg’s appetite, he’d already ordered half the menu and he’d still be barely a quarter full. “So if that’s your current secret to engaging in orgies on the daily, then more power to you.”

George losing her shit when she saw the penguin mug only proved how adorable the girl was. Over-the-top, maybe for some, but one really couldn’t fault her. Not with that accent, Greg thought. Maybe it’s a North American thing, but the Canadian couldn’t help but feel that having such an accent could give anyone a free pass. Heck, she could curse him to be single for all eternity, use all the swear words and slurs she could think of, and Greg wouldn’t feel as bad as if her in an American accent said it.

Not that he’d wish she curse him to linger in singlehood forever. It might him being overly dramatic, but being single for this long was beginning to be very painful.

“Remind me to take you when I go shopping next time. I need to update my summer wardrobe.” Tales of her ability to find more-than-decent clothes at less than half the price did not escape Greg. He slurped a second slice and grabbed a controller, snuggling in one of the couch’s corner. “By the way, did you hear that they’re making a remake of Sapphire and Ruby?”

[Georgina Speer]

George grimaced as... attractively as humanely possible. Which was a lie and an understatement in the same sentence. "Oh, love you too." She replied, making her hands into a heart and sending him a kiss, and becoming the most sarcastic person in existence. Greg really knew how to compliment a woman.

She wasn't helping herself though.

She raised her eyebrows at him - there were other ways of using raw fish to attract people. But she was still surprised. Even if she didn't understand the context. "Slapping people with fish... I'll put it on my to-do list." Of course, the list that, if she actually wrote it out, would have about two hundred and sixty nine (ehe, sixty-nine) items, including thirteen pieces of homework from primary school, the return of multiple borrowed items and the follow through of multiple promises. She had to work on being more reliable.

Americans seemed to love a girl with a British accent. She wasn't sure why - she sounded pompous as fuck - who in their right mind liked having the equivalent of a mini, younger Queen walking around with them all the time, making random comments about things which don't make sense half of the time. But no, she would never curse him to eternal singlehood. If she had the power to curse him to do anything, it would be to bring her food whenever she requested. That would be fun. But he seemed to do that anyway, so - she quickly finished her first slice of pizza and began devouring a second.

"Geez, you care more about clothing than I do!" She considered this comment for a moment, "...fair enough. As long as you don't start giggling at skirts." Because she didn't need to be around any more skirts, Carleigh. She was not going to be subtle about that demand. At the mention of Pokemon, she seemed to light up a little more, slumping next to her friend, "Yes, holy hell, I was fucking gobsmacked when I found out!" She was really looking forward to it, gaming was a huge part of who she was, and she had encountered a lot of it as she had grown up - Sapphire and Ruby was her childhood. As long as they didn't fuck it up, this was looking to be an amazing occurrence.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg replied with an expression worthy of George’s grimace – he crossed his eyes, flared his nostrils, pulled his face as close to his body as humanly possible to show off them lovely double chins, and bared his teeth. Not unlike this face really. “Oh really? If you like it then why didn’t you put a ring on it?” He tried his hardest not to sing along, or move his hips to it. (Trust me, you do not want to see Greg move his hips. He suffers from #whiteboydancing syndrome so bad it’s not even funny). He did flick his palm back and forth reminiscent of the dance move though.

Leave it to George to bring out all the ugly in Greg. (And yes that’s a complement).

And of course she would take his raw fish comment and take it somewhere where the sun didn’t shine. “Times like these are what remind me why I stay out of your mind,” Greg said, snorting as he chose his profile and began waiting for the battlefield to load, “Oh to be lost in the winding caverns of Georgina Speer.” He laughed out loud when he realized what he just said. “Winding caverns of your mind, that is. Just so we’re clear.”

“Wait you’re finally wearing a skirt?” Greg’s eyes widened and he made the most disgustingunearthly guttural sound he could possibly muster. “Holy I wanna see this! When? Where is this skirt you speak of? Who made you get in one? Shit did they offer their firstborn to you?”

He almost spat his drink when George said the word ‘gobsmacked’. Gobsmacked? Really? “What in the seven hells is ‘gobsmacked’?” he asked in between laughs.

[Georgina Speer]

George blinked a couple of times at the... beautiful face that she had to endeavor to take in, and at the Beyoncé reference... yeah, they had both completely lost the plot. "Because I can't afford anything more than an onion ring. Do you want that?" She asked, "I could totally try to hoopla onion rings onto your fingers at the altar." She mimicked the action of frisbee throwing to get her point across, biting her bottom lip in concentration and celebrating amazingly at her imaginary achievement, punching the air and throwing her hat up and falling to her knees and holy bell where did she get all this flipping energy from? She was back where she needed to be mere seconds later though.

George gave Greg the creepiest creeper smile that she could conjure at the comment about caverns - he had handed her that one on a silver platter. She laughed eventually, and watched the TV for a moment, "Sure you do." But she knew he did. She just had a terrible mind, both dirty and confusing, "And most people choose to stay out of my mind. I say, it's their loss. But then again, there's not enough of me to go around." She sent her friend a look of curious horror, "Could you imagine me with a gestalt?" Even Georgina herself couldn't picture that monstrosity.

Too much weird. If that was possible.

She sighed dramatically, "Oh, don't get your damn panties in a twist, I don't have a skirt. But, you can congratulate Carleigh for almost guilting me into it." And she had technically put a skirt on. Over her jeans. And then walked around sumo style. Yeah, it didn't count. She became (fake) serious for a moment, "...Greg, I... I think I'm being converted." She looked at her controller as the game loaded up, "I've been... considering it." She shivered at the mere idea and focused on the screen - no, no skirty, no dressy, no nothing. Jeans were where it was at, man.

The British girl looked at Greg in complete shock and shook her head in disbelief, "You damn Americans, how the titballs do you not know what gobsmacked means?" She demanded. The brunette then went on to demonstrate, slapping a hand over her mouth in 'shock', before raising her eyebrows at the boy. Jesus Christ... "...that's ridiculous." She stated, still shaking her head, "You're ridiculous."

[Greg Mackenzie]

This was why he loved hanging out with George. They could be talking about the intricacies of the theory of relativity one moment, then about how Louis from One Direction almost came out during their last interview, then about how Greg totally adored Reigns gowns and would totally wear one of them if he could, and no one would bat an eyelash. Didn’t help that Gigi never skipped a beat whenever pop culture references and innuendos could be placed.

Honestly this was as much R&R that he was craving for. But since Greg’s a greedy little bitch, he just wanted more.

“Only if that onion ring came with spicy mayo. Then and only then will I say yes.” He absentmindedly slurped another pizza slice as the screen finally finished loading and he finally saw their “avatars”, Greg at the top half of the screen and Gigi at the bottom. ‘Cause he’s always on top. “Can we not?” giggled Greg, as his character jumped and effortlessly knifed another player. These kids seriously need to get their act together. “I don’t want Dexter Lane from History to get mad at me. I’ve already told you he thinks about you endlessly right?” A smirk slowly formed on the Canadian’s face, though his eyes were firmly on the screen. “He thinks about you standing up, sitting down, upside down…I can go on and on and on.” His eyes widened when George mentioned being a gestalt. “No. Please no. I’ve been a good boy, what did I do to deserve two Gigis?”

The joy in his face vanished when George clarified that she actually didn’t have a skirt. Carleigh’s involvement in getting her one did make him smile a bit, but the fact that it was an almost and not an actually was just too much disappointment for him to take. “Boo. You whore. I’m glad I’ve turned Carleigh into a wonderful protégé though. I mean, just four months ago I popped her Mean Girls cherry and now she’s making you wear skirts? So awesome.” Greg made sure to say So awesome in the fakest, most annoying valley girl accent.

Greg looked extremely offended when he was referred to as an American. “Girl, no,” he blurted out, complete with supposedly sassy neck motion, an accusing finger and exaggerated pout, “I’m Canadian. Not American. Ew. Also ‘titballs’? Really? That’s actual British slang?” He rolled his eyes when George demonstrated what gobsmacked was. “…that’s just shocked yo.”

[Georgina Speer]

This was great fun. And the randomness was just natural for George at this point. So this was just exercising her brain and its capacity to throw about anything and everything it could conjure up. She could go on for hours.

She nodded in agreement, "Ah, the holy spicy mayo. Where art thou?" And so, George began her beautiful tactic of making all the people there think she was an absolute noob, before owning all of their sorry butts and making them beg for mercy, mwahahah! She casually gunned someone down and rolled her eyes, "Of course, the Lane-ster," She shook her head in disbelief, "Well, unless he thinks about me wearing a hat, I don't give a flying fish." Or was it a flying fuck? Wait, did it matter? ...nope!

"Hey, two of me would be a blessing to society!" Lies, lies, lies, "I mean, who could ever get enough of this?" She ran into a pair of twits and dropped the grenade she had been holding, blowing them all up in one great kamikaze attack. "And if there were two of me, I would never have to ask other people to game with me - it's perfect!" For nobody except the girl/girls herself/themselves. Geez, this was already confusing. Ughhhhh.

"Uuuuggghhhhhh, what's the big deal about skirts and dresses and flowy things - they just get in the way and cost money and why do people bother?" Said the girl who was actually considering getting a skirt... psh, she never said that. "But Carleigh is a lovely lady girl person. Fabulous, if I do say so myself."

The British girl looked down at herself and then back up at Greg, "Girl, yes. As in, I'm pretty certain I'm a girl." But she shrugged her shoulders at her mistake, "I apologize to your moose brothers and such, I am not good at these things." That was verging on offensive, but she hoped it wasn't too far. In any case, she kept talking. "It's gobsmacked, you butt. And if you think that's bad." Here it came - "So, I was having a chin wag with this barmy ponce down the road - he gave me the right collywobbles - bare in mind I was proper zonked, when along came this legless slapper, and she may as well have been starkers, the way she was dressed. Anyway, she'd obviously been at some mental knees up, probably on the piss, and this tosser thought he could get on the pull, but he was gonna end up with Sweet Fanny Adams. So, I ran away from all that tosh before he could throw a spanner in the works and get me involved. He was completely off his trolley, and had obviously lost the plot. I'm glad I buggered off before it could get much worse." George looked over at her friend.

"England." She said, taking up another slice of pizza and taking a bite. She loved British slang, it was the dog's bollocks.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg had always considered himself rather spazzy – he always described his attention span as that of a goldfish’s: eight seconds and he’s done – but that all changed when he met the British wonder. He seemed normal, heck even slow, when it came to the pace at which thoughts went out of her mouth. Sometimes he couldn’t help but think that ‘tracking’ was her second ability and ‘being a loud mouth’ was actually her first.

‘Cause really it takes some real metahuman shit to have so many thoughts in your head and blurt them all out at once.

It was so entertaining that the first-person shooter game he came out for was really just an afterthought now. It didn’t help that him and Gigi could snipe the hell out of them even with their eyes closed. Oh how the quality of gamers dropped in years. “He thinks about what’s under the hat. Mr. Lane thinks you have a third boob under there.” He thoughtlessly reached over and gave the girl’s head a quick squeeze, not caring if she minded her hair being touched (he, for a fact, does mind if people mess his hair) or that his hand’s still greasy from the pepperoni pizza, then added, “Seems like a mere A-cup though. But then boobs are boobs no matter how small right?”

Greg quickly raised his hand when George asked about having two of her. “But then you’d never be better? ‘Cause let’s be real here, before I came into your life, your ranking was lingering in the depths of Big Fail Mary.” Which may or may not be true, but who cares at this point?

George mentioning her disdain of skirts was the opening Greg’s been waiting for since she said ‘gobsmacked’. Well, sort of. The boy saw it as the perfect opportunity to use what he learned and try to mock Gigi in the process. Long story short, he gave the most exaggerated ‘gobsmacked’ impression he could ever do.

“Uhhh, ‘cause they’re pretty and they’re liberating and they’re sexy and you could flash someone so easily.” Again said with the most annoying valley girl accent he could muster, complete with the obligatory two-second extension of the last syllable of every descriptor. “Well duh, I trained her.” Taking credit for something glorious, no matter how small his hand was on making sure it happened, was one of the boy’s strongest suits apparently. “She’s still wholesome though. I’m trying to make her adore-whore-able.”

Greg found it hard to keep a straight-face on while George did her whole British slang spiel. Every word was just way too funny to be real and honestly, he wouldn’t put it past the girl to tell him afterwards that 90% of what she said was gibberish. “And this is why we wanted out of your Empire. Seriously dodged a bullet there, you Sweet Fanny Adams.”

[Georgina Speer]

There was one simple and clear explanation for why George was so quick-witted.

One day, she met a lady as she walked down a street in London, and she gave her a dragon fruit, and we all know dragon fruits are the most magical fruits of them all (behind apples, but apples are common and boring). So! She got this dragon fruit and put it in her Yoshi pouch, and continued down the street. She reached a fish market and began pointing accusingly at the lobsters, saying something about them being mobster lobsters, hiding their fedoras and that they were going to break your pottery, and specifically only your pottery. Once she was out of that fishy paradise, she went to a GAME store and handed the store assistant the dragon fruit, asking about a special offer. They told her she was too special, and she was kicked out for causing havoc. She then ate the dragon fruit and sassed them into next week. And that is how she became quick-witted.

Maybe. Don't question it.

In relation to the game, her hands were just kinda moving and doing what they were used to. She had a lot of experience, so she didn't exactly have to think about it. Not like she focused on many things anyway. She glared at Greg when he dared to put his filthy greasy fingers on her gorgeous hat, growling a little, "Third boob or not, you just muckied up my hat. Have you no sympathy?" She shook her head for a few seconds, before rapidly jumping up, dashing into her room and returning with a new one, having thrown the infected one in her washing basket thing (well, at it. She missed). Her new one was similar to the other, except it had cat ears. She began shaking her head again, "Shame on your butt."

She snorted, "Puh-lease, I'm more fabulous than you'll ever be." Truth, right there.

That was nice. She watched him copy her amazing description and groaned in annoyance, turning around where she was sat so she was leant against him, and then leaned back, pushed into his shoulder, "You're sooo ridiiiiiculouuusss." She whined, putting her feet up on the edge of the sofa and continuing to lean on him. She pitched in, though, "See, I talked to Carleigh about the flashing thing, someone could lift your damn skirt and see your nether regions! I only want to see the nether when I'm playing Minecraft." The English girl pouted at the idea of making her adore-whore-able, "Nooo, don't ruin heeeerrrrrrrrr. She's lovely now, you shouldn't be," She did some weird version of jazz hands, "Infecting her. At least, not in a bad way." Was there a good way of infecting a person? She wasn't... particularly sure.

George raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment, "But... but you don't have Britishness. You are totally missing out." And she tilted her head, "I can translate for you, if you need me to," Poor boy, couldn't understand some casual slang, "Because that is not the correct use of 'Sweet Fanny Adams', you moose." Moosey moose boy.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Had George simply told Greg the tale of how she gained the power of the Quick of Wit, he surely would’ve just been lost. (Well, he’d try not to be lost, so he’d ask her to tell the story again and interrupt a number of times, clarifying and asking her to repeat certain parts and basically sucking the fun out of the whole tale). Lucky for him, he could read minds and thus saw the whole sequence of events. But just because he saw the whole thing didn’t mean he understood it. In fact, the images were less of a coherent movie and more of a series of cut scenes – think of those videos popular YouTubers like to put up, with them removing their transitions from one spot to another and thus appearing like they just teleported from one end of their room to their couch.

We got Gigi’s already weird story. Form it by making twitchy cut scenes. Then add Gigi’s random thoughts that had no relation whatsoever with the story spilling in the images.

So really in the end Greg was just confused. Not lost mind you, but confused. (Practically the same but Greg maintained it was different cause he knew about the dragon fruit. And the fedoras).

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw your head is a mess,” he yelled as George went back to her room. Never again will he venture in there, accidentally or otherwise. His eyes widened when he saw the new hat she wore. Like a cat seeing a ball of yarn, with claws just itching to waste the night away by tossing the ball back and forth. “Oh I like your new hat. It has way more character than the first one. Can we call this one Misus Applecheeks?” he grinned, his hand in a claw just threatening to touch her hat once more.

Then she called his butt shameful. No one calls his butt shameful.

“Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude,” hollered the boy, extending his neck out and getting as close to Georger’s face as possible. It was this particular gesture that distracted him, making his character go out in the open standing still for far too long that he was sniped without much difficulty. “My butt is awesome ok. Like I keep it covered ‘cause it can destroy the world due to it being so awesome if left unchecked.” He stuck his tongue out to Gigi like the mature sixteen year-old that he was and pouted.

The topic of Carleigh brought his good mood back though. (Not that it ever went away). “She’d be lovelier once I’m done corrupting her.” He gave George a wink, slurping another slice of the pizza as he respawned. “The only reason I’d want to be British is to get it on with Prince Harry. He’s like the only ginger I’d bang.” Lies. He’s slept with one already, a certain ginger named Romeo Buckland, a few weeks back. “Once I’m King of England I’d declare it the proper use of ‘Sweet Fanny Adams’, little Miss Wingardium Le-vi-o-sa.” Didn’t make any sense, but really at this point, who cared?

[Georgina Speer]

"Aren't you just so wonderfully delightful?" George shouted back as she quickly scavenged in her room. As much as she didn't mind curse words being thrown around as casually as jellybeans, Georgina could probably name about 2.7 people who would have a hissy fit, having heard what Gread had just said. It made George laugh though, so she didn't care. Also, her room was an organized mess, and the problem with anyone touching anything was that she remembered where everything was precisely, and if you moved it, she would his at you. Like a cat.

George attempted at hissing lowly ay Greg as he taunted her, but it sounded more like a depressed deflating balloon with no friends and no job and a dog named Larry that didn't bark no more. She tilted her head at the name, "Hmm..." She looked at Greg in minor confusion, "You've stumped me. I know apples are magical and everything, but Missus Applecheeks the Cat Hat?" She questioned, "I already have an apple hat." If he didn't expect that, he should have. However, she just shrugged her shoulders, "It's not a bad name." She deduced, leaving it to Greg as to whether or not using the name would be suitable or not.

A sharp laugh escaped George, "Your butt's awesome? What a bowl of lie soup - my butt's so awesome that if I ever mooned in public, everyone would have the perfect day and all of the world's crisises would end, instantly." She tossed her hair back fabulously and with dignified swaggermuffinness, ignoring his toddlerly stuck out tongue, "If that's not awesome, tell me what is."

The English girl groaned loudly, in fake annoyance. Greg could do what he wanted to Carleigh, but if she eversomuch as found her laughing at inappropriate jokes, he was gonna get attacked by her hat army. Mmm, pizza... no, don't get distracted! "Carleigh is gorgebutts as she is, Curly. I'll tackle you. Imma thug." She threw up some fake gangs signs and acted about as threatening as a five year old trying to act threatening.

So on a scale of 1 to 10, she was adorable.

"Oh yeah, bang the Prince, nobody will notice or anything." She said, casually, and then gasped, "Don't you change my fabulous slang, you codwolloping geezer. I'll bonk you on your conk!" She gave him a stern look, dropping her controller to make fists which she help up in front of her. "Come at me."

Come at me. Yeah, really scary, right there.