I'd like to send a shout-out...
Apr. 7th, 2003 08:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveYeah, I wrote this, but Kassie, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ethrosdemon, deserves all the credit/blame/fatawas. She gave me the situation, the beta, and more lines than you can beat... errr, I'll leave that beat thing alone.
Lex/Eminem
Wal-Mart Road Trippin'
Lex is not anti-drugs. Lex is anti drug-sitting.
He’s no one’s mother, and he finds it hard to be around someone who’s high when he can’t partake as well. Especially when the person requiring the sitting is Marshall.
Lex is quite sure that Marshall could drive any lesser being to Xanax at the very least, which is probably also why Lex enjoys his company. It has to account for Lex agreeing to take Marshall to the closest Stop and Go, which Lex is now discovering is in the next county over.
“This shit feels so good.” Marshall’s writhing Lex periphery, and Lex spares a glance to make sure that he hasn’t done something stupid like stripping his pants off in order to get closer to the Italian leather. Not that Lex could blame him, but the McLaren is new, really fucking new.
“Don’t worry, dog, I ain’t gonna spunk on your seats.” Marshall’s staring hard, not at Lex but at the dashboard. “How the fuck can you listen to this shit? This ain’t music. It’s fucking constipating.” Stoners shouldn’t be able to move as fast as Marshall does, but one minute Lex is listening to Billie Holliday and the next there a man barking in his subwoofers.
It’s the Snoop Dizzle coming to t’y’all live from the parkin’ lot of the East St. Louie Wal-Mart on First and King. We about to throw ourselves a barbeque up in here so if you in the neighborhood stop by, but I don’t want no broke ass, punk ass bitches down here trying to get they selves some free food. This here is Wal-Mart, y’all need to buy some shit. And bring some shit. Bring some ribs and greens. And don’t forget the Hennessy…
Lex has never been one for Hennessy or Wal-Mart, so he’s a bit taken aback when Marshall shouts, “Pull this motherfucker over!” Nevertheless, he immediately pulls over into the parking lot of something called Sizzler, throwing the car into neutral. He takes a moment to check the lights on the console. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but it better be serious.
“Damn, I got munchies like my name was Redman.” Marshall’s leaning all the way forward in his seat, nose pressed up against the windshield, and Lex instinctively reaches out to push him back. He does not want Marshall’s oily nose prints on his glass.
His arm lingers a bit too long across Marshall’s torso though, and there’s a noticeable gap in conversation while a raspy voice rhymes over a gospel choir.
“Do not *ever* yell at me while I’m driving.” Lex’s voice is harsh, but his glare is wasted on Marshall’s glazed appearance. Damn stoners.
“We are not eating at someplace called Sizzler,” he adds definitively.
“I know.” Marshall’s head nods more than is necessary, ostensibly due to his current enhanced state. “We goin to Wal-Mart.”
“Wal. Mart.” Lex punctuates the name, making the two words sound like ‘Ebola virus.’
“I know you ain’t hatin’ on Wal-Mart,” Marshall challenges. “Punk, don’t make me smack you down.”
“I don’t believe there’s a Wal-Mart in Lowell County, or Madison County for that matter.” Lex’s expression can only be described as smug.
“’S’all right. We ain’t goin’ there. We goin’ to Missouri.”
It’s been a while since Lex has been at a loss for words, but Marshall’s been busy working on his new album, and Lex hasn’t seen him since Christmas. “Marshall, we are *not* going to St. Louis.”
“Bitch, if you don’t drive this car to St. Louis, I’ma carjack you and drive there myself.”
“You’d have to get out that seat first, and judging by your current state, I‘ll take my chances.”
“Why you gotta be such a little bitch? Just drive the fucking car.”
*
Lex does not want to go to St. Louis. He most certainly does not want to go to St. Louis with a stoned Marshall so they can go to a party in a Wal-Mart parking lot.
Lex used to party in backrooms and penthouses. It’s a long way down the ladder to the parking lot of Wal-Mart.
He glances at Marshall, who’s slumped in his seat eating a Twinkie he found in the glove box. That was supposed to be Lex's Twinkie, but he’s certainly not going to say anything about that now.
Marshall turns to him with icing on his bottom lip, and Lex blinks. “This is some good shit, yo. You want some?” Whatever answer Lex was going to give is blocked out by the announcer on the radio.
Lex remembers when he was just Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Y’all know how we do with this shit, don’t forget to thank the Wal-Mart people and patronize they establishment. And yeah I said patronize, for y’all illiterate nizzles that ain’t from The Godfather, it means you buy shit, not steal it. Why the fuck you gonna steal from Wal-Mart? My bad, I know why y’all’d do that, but don’t! We ‘bout to set this shit off with a track by my boy Fiddy Cent. That's five, oh. No, not *The* Five-Oh. I mean Five-Zero...man, *beep* y'all...
Marshall has obviously forgotten about his offer to Lex because he’s gone back to his Twinkie, nodding his head vigorously in sync with the music and his chewing. “That’s my boy,” he says talking with his mouth full. “Met him when I was bonin’ his sister. She used to work at Wal-Mart, yo. Hooked me up with that N2 system.”
Lex winces at the way Marshall‘s head is snapping on his neck, and instead he tries to focus on the road. “Thank you for telling me something I didn’t want to know. I appreciate your candidness, Marshall.”
“Don’t hate, LL. You know you got mad love for 50.”
“Actually, no, I don’t.” Lex downshifts when he catches sight of headlights in his periphery, nearly flinching when Marshall shifts in his seat, practically climbing over the gearbox. The car’s wheels drift slightly, but not enough for anyone else but Lex to notice.
“How the fuck are you gonna hate on my artist? You don’t see me hatin' on the tricks you bring home, and they ain’t even any good!” It’s a very small space for Marshall to be yelling in, and Marshall can yell with the best of them. Lex’s isn’t sure how his hearing is going to cope with the next several hours.
“Are you comparing your artist to a whore?” Lex can’t help but be amused at the obvious comparison. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t happen to care for his lyrics.”
“Bitch!” Marshall’s sputtering over rhymes about clubs, and a small voice tells Lex that maybe upsetting the stoner in the car wasn’t a very good idea. “Have you heard him rhyme? He’s got skills you ain’t never gonna have, dayglo. How *the fuck* are you gonna dog my man?”
Lex has always been taught to go for the weakness, and obviously that’s does not lean towards admitting his lack of rapping skills. “Your man? Is there something you care to share with me?” he says, sparing a glance at Marshall’s incredulous visage.
“I ain’t no --- How the fuck --- We ain’t like you and that limp-dick, jailbait pretty boy Clark,” Marshall retorts finally, crossing his arms and slouching back in his seat. If the light were better, Lex would swear that Marshall was sulking.
“How exactly did this conversation get to Clark?”
“Cos he’s a punk ass redneck hick. Shit, I’d almost rather you stick with Dr. Cyclops than with *that* bitch. He’s gonna be just like Kim and fuck your shit up. Why you gotta sweat his nuts? He ain’t got nothin’ you can’t get elsewhere.”
“Are you offering?”
“What? Nah, I was just sayin‘.”
There’s a long moment before Lex turns up the radio. He’s never hated on Snoop Dizzle.
We back in the parkin’ lot of the Wal-Mart and folks be wildin’ up in here. I mean damn. Good thing this shit is outdoors otherwise you know it’d be funky as yo mama’s drawers. We got hoes and tricks and that’s just inside the store, so get the *beep* down here… What the *beep*? I know you ain’t just break my grill. *Beep* I’ma break my foot off and…
“Sometimes I get that not so fresh feeling, but with FDS….
*
The state line passes by on Lex’s right; and it strikes him that Marshall’s been quiet for at least fifteen minutes, which means he’s either asleep or… asleep, so Lex’s is surprised when the passenger window is powered down. Seconds later the song on the radio is punctuated by the sound of fingers drumming on the roof of the car.
This doesn’t bother Lex as much as it should.
When the song ends so does the tapping.
I ain’t sure how much longer we gonna be here, y’all, cos I swear I’m seein’ lights in the distance. Oh, wait that’s my boy’s ride. Nizzle, how many times I gotta tell you to get rid of them bright ass lights? I hate that shit, y’all. Them mother*beep* blue ass lights be blindin’ you when you trying to roll down the street. Y’all know what I’m sayin?’
*
The collection of lights that make up the St. Louis skyline are jarring to Lex’s senses after the pitch blackness of the highway. Between that and the luminous St. Louis arch, he feels like he just drove into Neverland sponsored by McDonald’s.
“Do you know the location of this illustrious hotspot?” he inquires over Marshall’s improv reworking of the song on the radio.
“It’s a motherfucking Wal-Mart, Lex, how hard can it be to find?”
Lex’s first instinct is to kick Marshall out the car and drive home, but that would be wrong, and Lex is trying to turn over a new leaf. Or something to that effect. So instead he bites the inside of his jaw and keeps his eyes open for police lights and monstrous concrete blocks. It takes all of five minutes for this resolve to fade away, and he reaches inside his coat and removes his mobile. He’s thrown when a hand reaches out and snatches it away.
“Fool, what *the fuck* you doin’? Ain’t this how your punk ass almost got killed last time?” There’s no mistaking Marshall’s anger, and Lex is almost touched. Almost.
“I was going to call information and find out the location of your new favorite club,” he replies, dryly.
“Ain’t you got eyes, motherfucker?” The hand holding Lex’s phone goes out his window, and for a minute Lex thinks Marshall’s going to throw his cell phone away.
“Marshall.”
“Dog, just get in the right line and follow them rims,” Marshall says, gesturing to a line of Escalades rolling on 23 inch dubs. They’re so obvious that Lex is surprised he didn’t see them sooner, or at least hear them with their supersonic car stereos. Merging into the cavalcade of cars, Lex is still taken off guard when everyone suddenly exits without using their indicators.
There’s a stop light at the end of the off ramp, and the McLaren vibrates from the bass surrounding it, making Lex wince. He doubts his shocks were built for this.
He turns to Marshall to get back his cell phone, but his motion is blocked by Marshall reaching across him to turn down the radio as though this action is going to cut out the surrounding sounds.
Whatever Lex is about to say is cut off when a car pulls alongside the F1 and a dark window rolls down. It’s funny that when the window rolls down Lex’s first thought isn’t of rap wars but the incredulous wonder at how anyone can drive around at two in the morning in windows so dark the occupants probably have no idea of the time of day.
“DAWG!” a decidedly male voice shouts over an insane beat, and Lex tries very hard not to freeze when a young man leans halfway out the window.
“It was hot with the Oscars,” the other car’s driver shouts into Marshall’s window. “My girl was all over that shit, screaming like a bitch, but I knew you had that on lockdown, man.” Lex eyes fix on Marshall, who’s holding the phone to his ear at the same time that’s he waving at the other driver and rolling up the window.
Lex’s heart is not beating erratically. Also, he’ll start breathing again real soon. He doesn’t know how Marshall deals with this sort of craziness. It’s nothing at all like the boardroom and society pages. Everybody knows Lex, but *everybody* knows Marshall.
The blaring of car horns breaks Lex out of this otherworldly existence, and he shifts the car into first just in time to make the light.
A smile plays across his lips as they pass an 8 Mile billboard with the words ‘Oscar-Winning’ slapped across the bottom.
He has to give Marshall credit: he never settles for being anything less than the best.
Lex can relate to that.
*
Shut the fuck up it’s my show I’ll stop the song in the middle if I fuckin’ want. I got my boy on the line; y’all say what’s up to Em. What up, dog? Or should I call you Oscar Meyer for that gold hotdog your ass just won. Where the *beep* you callin' from?
-fin-
Notes: I wrote the words, but really it's all down to Kassie, go harass her now to show you how it's really done.
Also, huge thanks toaelita for reigniting my devotion to the McLaren family.
ethrosdemon, deserves all the credit/blame/fatawas. She gave me the situation, the beta, and more lines than you can beat... errr, I'll leave that beat thing alone.Lex/Eminem
Wal-Mart Road Trippin'
Lex is not anti-drugs. Lex is anti drug-sitting.
He’s no one’s mother, and he finds it hard to be around someone who’s high when he can’t partake as well. Especially when the person requiring the sitting is Marshall.
Lex is quite sure that Marshall could drive any lesser being to Xanax at the very least, which is probably also why Lex enjoys his company. It has to account for Lex agreeing to take Marshall to the closest Stop and Go, which Lex is now discovering is in the next county over.
“This shit feels so good.” Marshall’s writhing Lex periphery, and Lex spares a glance to make sure that he hasn’t done something stupid like stripping his pants off in order to get closer to the Italian leather. Not that Lex could blame him, but the McLaren is new, really fucking new.
“Don’t worry, dog, I ain’t gonna spunk on your seats.” Marshall’s staring hard, not at Lex but at the dashboard. “How the fuck can you listen to this shit? This ain’t music. It’s fucking constipating.” Stoners shouldn’t be able to move as fast as Marshall does, but one minute Lex is listening to Billie Holliday and the next there a man barking in his subwoofers.
It’s the Snoop Dizzle coming to t’y’all live from the parkin’ lot of the East St. Louie Wal-Mart on First and King. We about to throw ourselves a barbeque up in here so if you in the neighborhood stop by, but I don’t want no broke ass, punk ass bitches down here trying to get they selves some free food. This here is Wal-Mart, y’all need to buy some shit. And bring some shit. Bring some ribs and greens. And don’t forget the Hennessy…
Lex has never been one for Hennessy or Wal-Mart, so he’s a bit taken aback when Marshall shouts, “Pull this motherfucker over!” Nevertheless, he immediately pulls over into the parking lot of something called Sizzler, throwing the car into neutral. He takes a moment to check the lights on the console. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but it better be serious.
“Damn, I got munchies like my name was Redman.” Marshall’s leaning all the way forward in his seat, nose pressed up against the windshield, and Lex instinctively reaches out to push him back. He does not want Marshall’s oily nose prints on his glass.
His arm lingers a bit too long across Marshall’s torso though, and there’s a noticeable gap in conversation while a raspy voice rhymes over a gospel choir.
“Do not *ever* yell at me while I’m driving.” Lex’s voice is harsh, but his glare is wasted on Marshall’s glazed appearance. Damn stoners.
“We are not eating at someplace called Sizzler,” he adds definitively.
“I know.” Marshall’s head nods more than is necessary, ostensibly due to his current enhanced state. “We goin to Wal-Mart.”
“Wal. Mart.” Lex punctuates the name, making the two words sound like ‘Ebola virus.’
“I know you ain’t hatin’ on Wal-Mart,” Marshall challenges. “Punk, don’t make me smack you down.”
“I don’t believe there’s a Wal-Mart in Lowell County, or Madison County for that matter.” Lex’s expression can only be described as smug.
“’S’all right. We ain’t goin’ there. We goin’ to Missouri.”
It’s been a while since Lex has been at a loss for words, but Marshall’s been busy working on his new album, and Lex hasn’t seen him since Christmas. “Marshall, we are *not* going to St. Louis.”
“Bitch, if you don’t drive this car to St. Louis, I’ma carjack you and drive there myself.”
“You’d have to get out that seat first, and judging by your current state, I‘ll take my chances.”
“Why you gotta be such a little bitch? Just drive the fucking car.”
*
Lex does not want to go to St. Louis. He most certainly does not want to go to St. Louis with a stoned Marshall so they can go to a party in a Wal-Mart parking lot.
Lex used to party in backrooms and penthouses. It’s a long way down the ladder to the parking lot of Wal-Mart.
He glances at Marshall, who’s slumped in his seat eating a Twinkie he found in the glove box. That was supposed to be Lex's Twinkie, but he’s certainly not going to say anything about that now.
Marshall turns to him with icing on his bottom lip, and Lex blinks. “This is some good shit, yo. You want some?” Whatever answer Lex was going to give is blocked out by the announcer on the radio.
Lex remembers when he was just Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Y’all know how we do with this shit, don’t forget to thank the Wal-Mart people and patronize they establishment. And yeah I said patronize, for y’all illiterate nizzles that ain’t from The Godfather, it means you buy shit, not steal it. Why the fuck you gonna steal from Wal-Mart? My bad, I know why y’all’d do that, but don’t! We ‘bout to set this shit off with a track by my boy Fiddy Cent. That's five, oh. No, not *The* Five-Oh. I mean Five-Zero...man, *beep* y'all...
Marshall has obviously forgotten about his offer to Lex because he’s gone back to his Twinkie, nodding his head vigorously in sync with the music and his chewing. “That’s my boy,” he says talking with his mouth full. “Met him when I was bonin’ his sister. She used to work at Wal-Mart, yo. Hooked me up with that N2 system.”
Lex winces at the way Marshall‘s head is snapping on his neck, and instead he tries to focus on the road. “Thank you for telling me something I didn’t want to know. I appreciate your candidness, Marshall.”
“Don’t hate, LL. You know you got mad love for 50.”
“Actually, no, I don’t.” Lex downshifts when he catches sight of headlights in his periphery, nearly flinching when Marshall shifts in his seat, practically climbing over the gearbox. The car’s wheels drift slightly, but not enough for anyone else but Lex to notice.
“How the fuck are you gonna hate on my artist? You don’t see me hatin' on the tricks you bring home, and they ain’t even any good!” It’s a very small space for Marshall to be yelling in, and Marshall can yell with the best of them. Lex’s isn’t sure how his hearing is going to cope with the next several hours.
“Are you comparing your artist to a whore?” Lex can’t help but be amused at the obvious comparison. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t happen to care for his lyrics.”
“Bitch!” Marshall’s sputtering over rhymes about clubs, and a small voice tells Lex that maybe upsetting the stoner in the car wasn’t a very good idea. “Have you heard him rhyme? He’s got skills you ain’t never gonna have, dayglo. How *the fuck* are you gonna dog my man?”
Lex has always been taught to go for the weakness, and obviously that’s does not lean towards admitting his lack of rapping skills. “Your man? Is there something you care to share with me?” he says, sparing a glance at Marshall’s incredulous visage.
“I ain’t no --- How the fuck --- We ain’t like you and that limp-dick, jailbait pretty boy Clark,” Marshall retorts finally, crossing his arms and slouching back in his seat. If the light were better, Lex would swear that Marshall was sulking.
“How exactly did this conversation get to Clark?”
“Cos he’s a punk ass redneck hick. Shit, I’d almost rather you stick with Dr. Cyclops than with *that* bitch. He’s gonna be just like Kim and fuck your shit up. Why you gotta sweat his nuts? He ain’t got nothin’ you can’t get elsewhere.”
“Are you offering?”
“What? Nah, I was just sayin‘.”
There’s a long moment before Lex turns up the radio. He’s never hated on Snoop Dizzle.
We back in the parkin’ lot of the Wal-Mart and folks be wildin’ up in here. I mean damn. Good thing this shit is outdoors otherwise you know it’d be funky as yo mama’s drawers. We got hoes and tricks and that’s just inside the store, so get the *beep* down here… What the *beep*? I know you ain’t just break my grill. *Beep* I’ma break my foot off and…
“Sometimes I get that not so fresh feeling, but with FDS….
*
The state line passes by on Lex’s right; and it strikes him that Marshall’s been quiet for at least fifteen minutes, which means he’s either asleep or… asleep, so Lex’s is surprised when the passenger window is powered down. Seconds later the song on the radio is punctuated by the sound of fingers drumming on the roof of the car.
This doesn’t bother Lex as much as it should.
When the song ends so does the tapping.
I ain’t sure how much longer we gonna be here, y’all, cos I swear I’m seein’ lights in the distance. Oh, wait that’s my boy’s ride. Nizzle, how many times I gotta tell you to get rid of them bright ass lights? I hate that shit, y’all. Them mother*beep* blue ass lights be blindin’ you when you trying to roll down the street. Y’all know what I’m sayin?’
*
The collection of lights that make up the St. Louis skyline are jarring to Lex’s senses after the pitch blackness of the highway. Between that and the luminous St. Louis arch, he feels like he just drove into Neverland sponsored by McDonald’s.
“Do you know the location of this illustrious hotspot?” he inquires over Marshall’s improv reworking of the song on the radio.
“It’s a motherfucking Wal-Mart, Lex, how hard can it be to find?”
Lex’s first instinct is to kick Marshall out the car and drive home, but that would be wrong, and Lex is trying to turn over a new leaf. Or something to that effect. So instead he bites the inside of his jaw and keeps his eyes open for police lights and monstrous concrete blocks. It takes all of five minutes for this resolve to fade away, and he reaches inside his coat and removes his mobile. He’s thrown when a hand reaches out and snatches it away.
“Fool, what *the fuck* you doin’? Ain’t this how your punk ass almost got killed last time?” There’s no mistaking Marshall’s anger, and Lex is almost touched. Almost.
“I was going to call information and find out the location of your new favorite club,” he replies, dryly.
“Ain’t you got eyes, motherfucker?” The hand holding Lex’s phone goes out his window, and for a minute Lex thinks Marshall’s going to throw his cell phone away.
“Marshall.”
“Dog, just get in the right line and follow them rims,” Marshall says, gesturing to a line of Escalades rolling on 23 inch dubs. They’re so obvious that Lex is surprised he didn’t see them sooner, or at least hear them with their supersonic car stereos. Merging into the cavalcade of cars, Lex is still taken off guard when everyone suddenly exits without using their indicators.
There’s a stop light at the end of the off ramp, and the McLaren vibrates from the bass surrounding it, making Lex wince. He doubts his shocks were built for this.
He turns to Marshall to get back his cell phone, but his motion is blocked by Marshall reaching across him to turn down the radio as though this action is going to cut out the surrounding sounds.
Whatever Lex is about to say is cut off when a car pulls alongside the F1 and a dark window rolls down. It’s funny that when the window rolls down Lex’s first thought isn’t of rap wars but the incredulous wonder at how anyone can drive around at two in the morning in windows so dark the occupants probably have no idea of the time of day.
“DAWG!” a decidedly male voice shouts over an insane beat, and Lex tries very hard not to freeze when a young man leans halfway out the window.
“It was hot with the Oscars,” the other car’s driver shouts into Marshall’s window. “My girl was all over that shit, screaming like a bitch, but I knew you had that on lockdown, man.” Lex eyes fix on Marshall, who’s holding the phone to his ear at the same time that’s he waving at the other driver and rolling up the window.
Lex’s heart is not beating erratically. Also, he’ll start breathing again real soon. He doesn’t know how Marshall deals with this sort of craziness. It’s nothing at all like the boardroom and society pages. Everybody knows Lex, but *everybody* knows Marshall.
The blaring of car horns breaks Lex out of this otherworldly existence, and he shifts the car into first just in time to make the light.
A smile plays across his lips as they pass an 8 Mile billboard with the words ‘Oscar-Winning’ slapped across the bottom.
He has to give Marshall credit: he never settles for being anything less than the best.
Lex can relate to that.
*
Shut the fuck up it’s my show I’ll stop the song in the middle if I fuckin’ want. I got my boy on the line; y’all say what’s up to Em. What up, dog? Or should I call you Oscar Meyer for that gold hotdog your ass just won. Where the *beep* you callin' from?
-fin-
Notes: I wrote the words, but really it's all down to Kassie, go harass her now to show you how it's really done.
Also, huge thanks to
aelita for reigniting my devotion to the McLaren family.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 09:05 am (UTC)I am out of my MIND over this, Z! It's so damn good!
So very funny. And I don't know why, but this line made me laugh like I was on gas:
Lex remembers when he was just Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Followed by this:
He’s never hated on Snoop Dizzle.
*wheezing* Heeeeeeee, I can so see Lex, the sekrit Snoop fan. Bwah!
God. The voices here are just so perfect, Zahra. I adore it. Thank you so much for writing. Whee!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 11:10 am (UTC)*wheezing* Heeeeeeee, I can so see Lex, the sekrit Snoop fan. Bwah!
God. The voices here are just so perfect, Zahra. I adore it. Thank you so much for writing. Whee!
Imagine this: Lex dancing around his dorm room, smoking some herb and sippin on Gin & Juice right when Clark walks in. You know you see this, don't lie *winks* I'm so glad you liked this. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 11:19 am (UTC)*eyes you* How is it I leave you feedback and get stung?
Also: picked up on a re-read 'dayglo'. How is it possible I missed that the first time round??
Dayglo. Ha!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 09:49 am (UTC)Oh, Slim is NOT talking smack on Lex Luthor?! Damn, dog, that's just whack.
Obviously I enjoyed this very much. I know there've been other MM/LL fics, but this is the first I've read. Any backstory on how these two delightful boys found each other?
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:07 am (UTC)Go there, and scroll down, you will see the offending stories, since they are labelled.
There is also a list: shameless-f on yahoogroups where there are tons of Em/weird people fics.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 08:06 pm (UTC)Will you sign my ass now?
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 09:49 am (UTC)Must. Stop. Laughing.
Oh shit, I give up.
*cackles*
Ahahahahaha. Funniest. Thing. Ever!
EVER!
*mwah mwah mwah*
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 11:21 am (UTC)Must. Stop. Laughing.
Oh shit, I give up.
*cackles*
Ahahahahaha. Funniest. Thing. Ever!
You read this? Stop the madness! *grin* I'm glad you liked it though, thank you.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:16 am (UTC)*gasping for air*
Oh! My! God!
I don't remember laughing this much in ages. Damn, girl. And I feel for poor Lex because I've been in his position. Baby-sitting can suck.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 11:24 am (UTC)*gasping for air*
Oh! My! God!
I don't remember laughing this much in ages. Damn, girl. And I feel for poor Lex because I've been in his position. Baby-sitting can suck.
Did I say thank you, I forgot to say thank you, bollocks. The entire time I was writing this I was picturing Lex and Marshall in the McLaren, even though I snafu'd the entire thing and put DeLorean in its stead (I did fix that by the way, and gave you credit). I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:18 am (UTC)Very amusing story, though. I fear to ask the inspiration behind it though.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:29 am (UTC)I read this, and my first thought was, 'What are you talking about? I was just looking at the specs the other day', and then it hit me, the entire time I was typing DeLorean I was thinking McLaren (http://www.mclarencars.com/content/sections/mainfr/cars.htm). So I went through and changed that. My bad. Thanks for pointing that out.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 10:26 am (UTC)Oh God...you are evil! Seriously evil! I can just see Lex surrounded by a bunch of low-riders with dark windows and booming bases. LOL.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:26 am (UTC)Oh God...you are evil! Seriously evil! I can just see Lex surrounded by a bunch of low-riders with dark windows and booming bases. LOL.
You really must read
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Date: 2003-04-07 10:41 am (UTC)I don't know why, but of everything, this was what cracked me up the most. You know I'm forever going to be wondering about what kind of junk food Lex has in his car now.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:33 am (UTC)I don't know why, but of everything, this was what cracked me up the most. You know I'm forever going to be wondering about what kind of junk food Lex has in his car now.
This is a *good* thing. Yes, I will forever categorize this as a good thing.
Lex loves junk food.
It's not a commonly known fact, point thereof, it's what can only be described as a secret. A closely guarded secret that one day will become a matter of National Security, but for now it's just a matter of privacy.
For now though, the moment a new issue of Warrior Angel appears in the mail, he tucks it under his arm and goes to the kitchen. The pantry has a special box in the back labelled 'Prunes' and inside are Double Stuff Oreos and a jar of Kool-Aid mix.
Lex fixes himself a very large and sugary glass of Tropical Punch and Ty Nant, and then retires to the guest bathroom on the third floor with his comic book and six Oreos to read in peace.
Yes, Lex likes his junk food almost as much as he likes his comics.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:41 am (UTC)Write me this. Please? I love comic geek Lex as much as you do, and there's just something incredibly adorable about junk food sneaking Lex reading the latest issue of Warrior Angel.
*pokes* you know you want to.
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Date: 2003-04-07 10:52 am (UTC)Oh no he din't!
This whole thing was so funny, I'll forgive Em for snarking on my girl, hell, he got Clark good too.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:35 am (UTC)Oh no he din't!
This whole thing was so funny, I'll forgive Em for snarking on my girl, hell, he got Clark good too.
Marshall is *very* protective of his property.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:11 am (UTC)eyesdarker via ethrosdemon's lj
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:45 am (UTC)Wow. I was just going for cheap thrills, but your comment has me all agog. Thank you so much for all your kindness, I appreciate it immensely.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:13 am (UTC)Bwahaha! Very fun. I love Marshall's Clark hate.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:38 am (UTC)Bwahaha! Very fun. I love Marshall's Clark hate.</i. It's that jealousy. First Lex hates on his man and then he runs after The Cornfed Kid, Marshall is fully within his rights.
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Date: 2003-04-07 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 11:48 am (UTC)You know this, and I know this, and Marshall knows this, but let's allow Lex to keep his illusions.
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Date: 2003-04-07 01:21 pm (UTC)“I know.” Marshall’s head nods more than is necessary, ostensibly due to his current enhanced state. “We goin to Wal-Mart.”
“Wal. Mart.” Lex punctuates the name, making the two words sound like ‘Ebola virus.’
“I know you ain’t hatin’ on Wal-Mart,” Marshall challenges. “Punk, don’t make me smack you down.”
“I don’t believe there’s a Wal-Mart in Lowell County, or Madison County for that matter.” Lex’s expression can only be described as smug.
“’S’all right. We ain’t goin’ there. We goin’ to Missouri.”
It’s been a while since Lex has been at a loss for words, but Marshall’s been busy working on his new album, and Lex hasn’t seen him since Christmas. “Marshall, we are *not* going to St. Louis.”
“Bitch, if you don’t drive this car to St. Louis, I’ma carjack you and drive there myself.”
“You’d have to get out that seat first, and judging by your current state, I‘ll take my chances.”
“Why you gotta be such a little bitch? Just drive the fucking car.”
Hee! Poor Lex, exposed to the lowbrow horrors of Wal-Mart.
He must be Marshall's bitch. He drove all the way to St. Louis to get to the party.
“I ain’t no --- How the fuck --- We ain’t like you and that limp-dick, jailbait pretty boy Clark,” Marshall retorts finally, crossing his arms and slouching back in his seat. If the light were better, Lex would swear that Marshall was sulking.
“How exactly did this conversation get to Clark?”
“Cos he’s a punk ass redneck hick. Shit, I’d almost rather you stick with Dr. Cyclops than with *that* bitch. He’s gonna be just like Kim and fuck your shit up. Why you gotta sweat his nuts? He ain’t got nothin’ you can’t get elsewhere.”
“Are you offering?”
“What? Nah, I was just sayin‘.”
There’s a long moment before Lex turns up the radio. He’s never hated on Snoop Dizzle.
Oh no, he did not just hate on Clark like that. Lex should drop his punk ass for that.
Snoop Dizzle! Bwah!
*falls over laughing more*
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Date: 2003-04-08 09:36 am (UTC)Snoop Dizzle! Bwah!
*falls over laughing more*
I'm so glad you enjoyed this, I had a great time writing it. *g*
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Date: 2003-04-07 03:44 pm (UTC)Bwahaha !!!
That fucking cracked me up, what did I tell you? Should have fucking written Marshall a looooong time ago *BG*
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Date: 2003-04-08 09:35 am (UTC)That fucking cracked me up, what did I tell you? Should have fucking written Marshall a looooong time ago *BG*
WTF? Dude, I ain't even know you read this! How was I supposed to know to write it when I never knew you read it! Also, how is work? That good, huh? I must e you cos I ain't talked to you in like a minute. I sound like Em. Shit. Also, I was going to say something but you know, memory ain't what it used to be *g*
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Date: 2003-04-08 04:18 pm (UTC)I sound like Em.
*snigger*
I’m sure it’s not because you’re mentally unstable or anything *eg*
Oh btw, you still haven’t emailed me *sigh*
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Date: 2003-04-16 01:34 am (UTC)YES!!! i hate those fuckers. every single time i see someone drvie past me with those things i just want to swerve into their lane and TAKE THEM OUT!!
not that i uh... feel passionately about this or anything. ^^;;;
and i really enjoyed this. it's been too long since i read any lex/eminem. and i also love how... how you show so much emotion between them, without clearly delineating the boundaries of their relationship.
personally, i think they should just shag already.,
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Date: 2004-05-06 12:28 pm (UTC)Giggles madly.
I'll have to go look up the other Lex/Em fic someone posted a link to above.
Oh god, I hope they're not as good. Lex/Em could be my new crack OTP.