Written by Czar Fruitcake
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sorry about the reposts, I had to do that because fanfiction.net put me on restriction and took down the earlier posting of the story for “inappropriate content.”
SUMMARY: Paige’s flavor of the moment takes a beating.
Under the command of the Elders, Leo grabbed Piper and orbed her back down to earth before she could hit the long haired Elder another time. Piper struggled out of his restrictive hold when they made it back to the manor.
“What do you think you’re doing, Oh-fat-headed-one who makes with the pacifism?” Piper asked irately.
“Saving you from making a big mistake,” Leo said. “They really don’t like it when you insult their robes.”
The two of them paused in the middle of the conversation when they noticed Paige on the couch making out with another random guy. Slapping Phoebe had put her in a make out mood, strangely enough.
“Excuse me,” Piper said in a dignified voice, “I believe I hear the call for slappage, and what a sweet sound it is. It says ‘I’m a make out ho, come slap me.’ I’m in the mood to oblige the voice. Be right back.”
Paige, oblivious in her tonsil hockey frenzy, didn’t notice Piper walking calmly towards them with a huge smile on her face. Piper tapped Paige on the shoulder. Paige, the pushy queen of make out ho-ville, didn’t notice. THWACK!
“Hey!” Paige said, “I’ll dye my hair back tomorrow. Leave me alone! I’m busy!”
Piper, in a surprising burst of strength, picked Paige up by her obligatorily ugly shirt and tossed her aside. THWACK! Piper smacked the guy Paige was making out with upside the head.
He was dumbfounded. “Uh, yeah, uh, where did, uh, you know, girl with the red hair go?”
THWACK! Paige stood up and smacked him upside the head. “That’s for not knowing my name!”
“What’s my name?” the guy asked her.
Paige shrugged. “Claude?” she guessed.
“Claude?” said the guy. “What kind of lame ass name is Claude?”
Piper smacked not-Claude upside the head. “I don’t tolerate that kind of language in my house,” she explained.
THWACK. Piper hit Paige again. “What kind of lame ass name is Claude?” she asked Paige. Paige shrugged, rubbing her sore head.
The doorbell rang, and Piper went to open it, secure in the thought that her can of whoop ass was three quarters full.
She paused for a moment and then turned around. To no one in particular she asked, “What kind of idiot doesn’t notice when his girlfriend orbs out in the middle of climax?” She turned to look at the guy. “Was that you?” she asked.
“Uh, I don’t think so,” the guy replied.
“Wrong answer,” Piper said. THWACK.
The doorbell rang again.
OKAY GUYS… WHO’S AT THE DOOR? YOU TELL ME.