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Hi everyone! This is my first sporking - my sarcastic comments are in a pretty shade of purple, to match the purple prose. All spelling fails are crossed out.

Last time on Sim Spork: Faythe Meek (which has to be one of the worst Mary-Sue names since Enoby Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way) mouthed off to her captors and was generally annoying. What kind of name is "Faythe" anyway? I don't know if the author intends it to be pronounced as "Faith" or some kind of weird mash-up between "Faith" and "Faye" (which is how I would pronounce it).

Link: You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake.
Title: Keeping Faythe 1.3
Author: bannabambina
Description: "Well, I am amazingly talented and super awsome."- Faythe Meek SHUT. UP. More like amazingly obnoxious and super annoying. The chapter description alone makes me hate her.

Sorry sorry it took so long! I know, I'm a bad person.

But ah well, it's here now :)

Enjoy ripping my story to shreds, sign, rate, Stop talking that blah blah blah!!!! xxx

The summer party was beyond ridiculous. Women, with make up slathered on their faces and hair that looked fried to shreds sat uncomfortable in silken dresses their husbands evidently shoved them into, with the hopes for a trophy wife to make others jealous. They were stick thin, picking at salad while staring longingly at fat steaks and buttery beans (Which I ate with relish) I don't think steak and beans would taste too good with relish. and speaking when spoken to which grammar fail quiet voices. They wanted class but, sadly, class is something attained over a lifetime, and no amount of diamonds and products will give it to you, which is something I learned from a lifetime with my mom. My sister may dress like a hobo, but she carried herself and talked with a grace none of these women pulled off.
The men were entirely different. They sat in suits and shirts, smug leers in place as they reguarded their]/i] women, talking too loudly and drinking too much.
Oh, you could cut the testosterone with a business card.
HTML fail.

I sat opposite a man with greasy black hair and an equally oily smile who smirked at me every so often, apparently thinking himself god's gift to women just because he had a few million rattling around in his pocket as loose change.
"So Amelia, I havn't seen you before at one of these get togethers. How do you know Boss?"
He spoke patronizingly, like he expected me to blush at having such a 'great' man deign to speak to me, or whisper something that would solidify his ideas about a womans fragile mind.
"Oh, I own my own multi-corporation of human trafficking in twelve major countries. Boss and I have dealings together, although he admits my expertese far exeeds his own." I smiled pityingly at him as though he was a poor little poor man pretending to have more than he had.
He gaped at me slightly, as did a few others on our table.

"What corporation?" A man a few seats down asked me. He had cool blue eyes that warmed slightly with amusment.
"Uh... Fried Potato People." I said deadpan, spearing a chip with my fork and biting into it. There were surprised giggles from a few of the girls and men grinned.
"Really? That's fascinating." Oily guy said. I grinned and shrugged modestly.
"Thank you. I agree." I sighed theatrically, fanning myself with a napkin. Oily looked confused, like he couldn't decide whether to suck up to me or disbelive me. He went with sucking up.
"You look so young to own a company, and a woman too. Does your husband run it?" He found himself on more comfortable flooring. I noticed a couple of women stiffen, and squash down any feminism they had in them. Amateurs. Amateurs at what, exactly? Being an annoying prat like you? And you are a disgrace to feminists everywhere. This story is disgustingly misogynist.

"No, I am amazingly talented and super awsome GAHHHH. Beats head against the wall." I smirked, narrowing my eyes at him. Your "witty" remarks are not witty at all, FAYTHE. And they will be a lot less funny when they get you killed. I noticed a few people shooting me appreciative looks. Seems noone likes Oily. Poor guy.
"I... Right. Ok." He stuttered, looking slightly shellshocked, as though a woman had never spoken to him before in his life. This implies that no woman has ever spoken to him before. Should be "had never spoken to him like that before".  Probably hadn't to be honest.
"I have a deathly secret," I stage whispered, "I'm not being entirely truthful." Insert snorts of laughter from around me. OMG Sue, you are SOOOO funny! A brunette with sea green dress smiled.
"So who are you then, Amelia." She askes fluidly, with a slightly nasal accent.
"I'm Boss's neice, Amelia Saunders," I lied easily to these people I didn't care about, 'my parents recently died so I've been shipped off to live here." I arranged my face into a suitibly mournful expression. Coos of sorrow and sympathy sounded up and down our table and I nodded graciously.

Take a hint, and learn how to spell.

The rest of the meal passed slowly, but not too agonisingly. Oily sat quiet and resentful, but everyone else was in high spirits. I entertained them cheerfully with sarcastic comebacks and my usual wisecracks, which had most of them roaring with laughter. I'm sure they were laughing AT you, not WITH you.  The women, with abandon that was quite touching really, got louder and louder with their storytelling and annectotes, eventually taking over completly and wailing with laughter. I was aware of the glances we were drawing from other tables, curiosity and envy, as to who this dark haired stranger was who made these usually so reserved people laugh and talk with such relish. Again with the relish.
Afterall should be two words, these people could me my ticket out of here.

It was odd having Carmen serve me, but she winked and grinned whenever no one was looking, and made me feel less awkward. I ate and drank with relief after a week of not enough, and carried on my (ever so intellectual) conversation with a woman next to me with died her hair had died? bleach hair and a healthy interest in my private life. Her name was Trish I think, or Mish or Lish....
"But you must have a boyfriend! You're adorable." She was declaring towards the end of the meal, "Jay, doesn't your cousin have a boyfriend? Mabye you could set her up with someone!" Trish/ Mish/ Lish sang to Jay who I had been studiously ignoring.
"That's an excellent idea, I have a perfect person. Top secret though." His eyes were possesive and hot on me, as I noticed many others were. Men are so fickle. They had wives, and I was half their age.
"Oh, you joker." I laughed easily, glaring at him through veiled eyelashes.

Thankfully, we were interrupted by Boss who clicked a knife to a glass, a few hours into the meal.
"Thank you all for coming to my home for this rather modest lunch." He smiled bashfully as though having a ��500 meal apiece was too little, not to mention the hideously expensive flowers people were trampling. "I would like to welcome my neice, Mia, who sadly joins us on the bases of a death Should be "basis", but "joins us on the basis of a death" still sounds awkward, but who I still am glad to have with all my heart." Heads turned to look at me, and I nodded cheerfully. My table broke into applause. Aw.
"Anyway, our security system has been disabled, so you are welcome to leave through the front gate when ready. Thank you." He took his seat with a smile that said- We have an awsome Learn how to spell "awesome", goddamn! And don't italicize this whole passage. security system so Ha! Screw you! I control your life. *evil laughter.* Whose life, exactly? This doesn't make any sense.

I turned back and smiled apologetically.
"I'm afraid I'll have to say goodbye, I am feeling a little unwell and want to go have a lie down."
"Oh, are you ok?" A woman with short brown hair and blue eyes that had to be fake asked.
"Fine! I ate too much, which is a habit of mine." I got to my feet, as did many others who embraced me, shook my hand or just nodded. I smiled genuinly at these people who may be fake, shallow, drug dealers and human traffickers, but still meant well in certain occasions. ORLY. Somehow I don't believe this.
"Bye!" I grinned, walking away from my seat finally. I headed for the building, debating whether to make a run for the un-alarmed gates or wait it out, and decided to wait it out. I didn't feel like having a bullet put in me when I was so pleasently full. Stupid Sue! Run while you still can! Okay, so maybe the guards would still shoot you with people around, but if they killed you, the boss wouldn't get his ransom. And the way this part is written makes it sound like Faythe is too fucking lazy to inconvenience herself by trying to get away. And I couldn't leave Carmen and Lily. Funny, I haven't seen any sign that you care for them at all.

I raced straight for Annie's room, eternally grateful that there weren't any lusty guards waiting around to grab me.
"Jeez, that was the single most- Kio!" I grinned delightedly as I walked into the warm little room and spotted Kio stretched on the velvet couch. Roman was straddling another chair, but I ignored him, so he reguarded me with amused green eyes shaded with tousled hair which he ruffled with one hand.
"How was the par-tay?" Kio grinned, taking in my new look. I threw myself across him theatrically, raising a hand to my forehead as if in a swoon.
"It was utterly fabulous darling." I drawled, giggling.

LOL at the photo. Kio doesn't seem at all upset that Faythe's torso is intersecting with his.

He rolled his eyes and drummed a beat on my stomach. I scattered perfume bottles and candles with one dangling foot, thankful for a moments peace.
"So why do you look so depressed?" I noted Annies Missing apostrophe tightly drawn face, and Romans grim twist of his mouth. His sinfully good mouth with a slightly fuller lower lip.
Oh, shuttup brain.
"It's... a new girl." Annie sounded sad, her voice heavy with strain.
"Oh, that's freaking terrible." I growled, getting to my feet again. Kio grabbed my hand but I pulled away from him. He was seemed suddenly threatening, working for the enemy.
"Why do you accept this crap? Why do you help with this crap?" I snarled, turning away from him and marching over to the table. Moral indignation doesn't suit you, Sue.

I took out a make up wipe and started feverishly scrubbing make up from my face. I watched Roman in the mirror, and he steadily looked back at me.
"She's coming today, can you keep an eye on her?" Roman asked in his Irish lilt. I narrowed my eyes at him and he raised his eyebrows, "I get you hate my guts but this isn't for me, Fa-Mia." He looked almost hurt.
I frowned. Did I still hate him? He was the only one, other than Kio who had actually kept his hands of me, helped me even.
But I just couldn't get the picture of him dragging my sister to that car out of my head. *Spoiler* And yet you still get into bed with him in later chapters.
I snapped my gaze away from him and kissed the tissue to get rid of the lipstick.

"You're going to rip your skin off if you rub any harder." Annie said quietly, gently plucking it from my hand. She gently removed the rest- the mascara, lipstick, eyeshadow, blusher, foundation... until I was just me again. I pulled my hair back into a messy bun and made my way over to my discarded pile of clothes from earlier. Despite Kio and Roman I pulled off my dress and slipped the my uniform on, too upset to think about modesty.

I furiously rubbed a tear from my eye, straightening my spine and turning around to meet Kio's sympathetic eyes, which I wanted to rip out. I don't want sympathy. Roman's eyes were filled with something like empathy, and little respect. Better.

This story is boring the hell out of me.

Annie came and pulled me into a soft chanel-scented A brand name like Chanel should be capitalized hug that made me feel instantly better.
"My mother wears your perfume. Chanel number 5." I found myself saying, breathing in the musky honey sweet scent. That was weird. I miss my Mother?! What's wrong with me?
"Shit comma here that's odd, I hate my mother, and right now I would give anything to have her yell at me and tell me how dissapointed in me she is." Maybe you miss your mother because she has cared and provided for you throughout your life? Bitch. I smiled weakly, stepping back and dropping my arms.
"Well, you'll see her soon, hon'." She stroked one of my cheeks sadly, before the door behind her opened.

A girl walked in. And yes, I mean GIRL. She was only about fourteen years old. Her blonde hair was a tangled nest surrounding a delicatly pretty face, which was full of her wide terrified eyes. She had a black eye.
I gaped at her, desperation and horror clawing up my throat. It. Was. Not. Right.
How freaking dare they.
"I'm Alyssa." She whispered, her voice wavering, eyes darting across us all as though waiting for somone to kill her. She shrank back from every movement, mascara mixing with tears on her face.
She looked like Summer.

"Oh, Honey. Come in, this is Mia." Annie ushered Alyssa in, directing her to the bathroom. She looked at me with a mixture of pure heart stopping fear and hope, the kind of hope a drowning man would have with straws. I literally felt my heart break.
She turned and went into the bathroom. I sagged, and thought I was going to fall, but an arm kept me upright, and I realised I've lost count of how many spelling mistakes are in this chapter. it was Roman. I looked at Kio, and didn't see sympathy, or anything. His face was blank, like he was seperate from the terrified child in the room. Like he had seen it all before, and didn't care anymore.
It scared me to death.

I'm sure Roman is a wonderful guy, even if he works for a man who holds young women hostage for ransom.
I ripped myself away and ran, my legs like water and something rising in me like a scream. I didn't make it far before I fell sideways against a door, tears streaking down my face. This was so wrong. For the sake of some money?

At this point, the story was boring me so much I couldn't bother to make many comments.

I sobbed, shapes blurry and twisted through teardrops. I felt rather than saw Roman follow me and wrap his arms around me, pressing my back into the door. I rested my head on his chest and cried for everything: My sister, my family, my life, Alyssa, the way the guards looked at me, the constant fear, the look on Kio's face that made him seem like one of them...
So bottling up feelings only worked temporarily. I should remember that.
Roman held me, rubbing a hand gently over the curve of my back as if waiting for me to punch him. Which I would of if I could stop crying long enough to figure out where my fist was.
Oh, it was balled in his hair. The other clutching the back of his belt. Right.
His chest was warm under his shirt, and made me feel marginally better, as goosebumps popped up all over me, images of Alyssa's terrified face filled my mind, making me cry harder.

Roman sighed and lowed his face to the crook of my neck, his breath warm on my ear.
"You're crying out a years supply of water to a third world country, Meek." He murmered against my skin. I gave a tearful snort and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
Ok. I hate him. But I was too upset and I need comfort. So sue me.
I clutched at him, one hand knotted into his hair, the other fisted Here comes the smut.... oh wait. Someone needs to tell the author that "fisted" has another meaning. on the shoulder of his jacket, and waited for my tears to stop, and dry on my cheeks. He kept his arms wrapped around my waist, letting me cry without any more sarcastic comments.
Wow comma here I was unusually emotional today. Mood swings, much?
Eventually I released him, but he kept his hands hovering on my hips as if waiting for me to break down again.
"I'm fine. Not used to emotional outbursts, but fine." I tried to rub away my tears with a bare arm. He rolled his eyes and offered his sleeve.
"Thanks, master." *RETCH* I smirked, giving a sarcastic little curtsey before heading for Annie's again.

I waited a moment to compose myself before pushing into the room. Alyssa was sat LOL grammar fail again, in a black dress a little more conservative than mine, her blonde hair cropped short. What was the point of giving her a haircut? Do these guys have some fetish for changing hairstyles? Did she get kidnapped by a group of aspiring hairdressers? Why does this story have to suck so much? It made her look even younger, and I wouldn't be surprised if she was under 13.
"I'm Mia." I smiled at her. She looked at me carefully, as though weighing her internal debates before nodding.
"Mia's lovely, and she'll keep an eye on you honey. This girl can look after herself." Annie grinned proudly. I snorted.
"Just ignore the previous fifteen minutes where I ran off in tears and had to be comforted by one of the guards. Other than that, I'm golden." Alyssa smiled weakly at me.
"Can you get her off to your room, I think she needs some sleep." Annie asked gently, shooting a glance at Alyssa.

"I'll take them, much as I feel Mia can look after herself in heels, a mini skirt and with a kid attached to her." Roman grinned, apparently having followed me.
"I can, actually." I waved my hand modestly, thinking about it. Ok, I could barely take care of myself, I had the bruises to prove it. "Actually... I- uh- think Alyssa would prefer it if you were there." I conceded.
Annie and Roman snorted. Oh shuttup Please do shut up.
"But-" Alyssa whispered, her eyes terrified on Roman. I glanced at him, his eyes were wide and caring, he looked almost paternal. That's how I wanted Kio to look, not cold and informal like he had.
"Don't worry about Roman, I can take him." I smirked.
I glanced around, realising Kio had left. That irritated me. Why couldn't he help Alyssa feel better? Like he had for me? That boy was not in my good books.

"That was proven wrong." Roman said smugly, his eyebrows raised.
"It was not, you threatened my sister so I had to give up the only time we fought. Bring it on, bitch." I tilted my head, slitting my eyes and grinning. Annie giggled and interrupted. Way to be inconsistent, Sue. Didn't you say that you hated him, and now you're joking with him? Also, it's not a smart idea to make jokes at the expense of the man who kidnapped you. Don't say I didn't warn you.
"Children, children, you have a job to do."
"Oh yeah. Alyssa! Come here, stay close to me and don't look anyone in the eye." I warned as cheerfully as I could. She attached herself to my arm, any closer and she would be part of me. I waved at Annie and we left.

Roman lead the way, a little way ahead to make Alyssa more comfortable.
"Hey, bitch." A snarling voice came from ahead. I sighed. Bitch could only be me. Indeed.
And yes, I was right.
"Ah, the dulcet tones of my favorite guard." I rolled my eyes at Red, pushing Alyssa behind me.
"You got me in trouble, I was locked in-" He broke off, apparently having noticed Roman with his balled up fists for the first time. "What you gonna do Roman?" He taunted.
"As much as I enjoy our little get togethers, I really don't have the time to kick your ass right now." I touched my cheek where the bruise from where he had punched me was fading.
"Fuck off, Glen." Roman smirked without preamble, That doesn't make any sense "Don't forget I'm your superior."
Red shot me a venemous glare before turning on his heel and marching off.
"Fun, now he's really pissed off." I sighed, patting Alyssa's arm gently.

Roman lead us to our room and turned.
"You do have a way with the guards, how many fights this past week, kid?" He smirked, crossing his alarmingly well difined arms. Just jump into bed with him already! You moon over him constantly, and don't seem to mind that he kidnaps women for a living.
"Who you calling kid?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Well you are eighteen."
"So? You're what, twenty?"
"Which makes me older than you."
"Screw you." *wink wink, nudge nudge, know what I mean, say no more, say no more!*
Alyssa pulled on my arm and I glanced down at her to find her practically falling asleep on me. I walked into the room, towing her and smirked back at Roman.
"Night night old man."

Here's a shot of Lily, because she wasn't in this one! Somehow, I don't care.

I hope you enjoyed NO, please sign my GB if you want the next part or I won't bother...! Please don't.

Sorry for the lack of funny, I got completely bored halfway through. If you stuck through the whole spork, you deserve a reward. So have some cute kittens! (And if you find the Monty Python reference, you are awesome.)



( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 3rd, 2010 07:51 pm (UTC)
You had me laughing from that.
I further agree, Faythe Meek has got to be the worse name I've ever heard, it sounds like some kind of weird veggie, or is that just me?!
I didn't get bored of your sporking, I'm getting bored of her story. However, the kittens made me smile.
Oct. 3rd, 2010 08:07 pm (UTC)
I couldn't finish this shit. The sporking was A+ stellar, Lissa, but oh my God the text was retched! Faythe is just a HORRIBLE protagonist and this story does nothing for feminism. Like, are you kidding me? DAKJFSADLKFJSDAKLF;

I honestly can't believe people said this story forwarded feminism about 500 years. If anything, it sets it back that far.
Oct. 6th, 2010 09:31 pm (UTC)
... What's the difference between a Grammar Nazi and a critic? Am I the only one who thinks the word Grammar Nazi is supposed to be an offensive term? I mean a lot of people call themsleves Grammar Nazis, but when you think about it, didn't the Nazis KILL people? Pretty damn offensive if you ask me. But what do you think of Grammar Nazis?
Oct. 12th, 2010 12:44 am (UTC)
Actually, I know someone named Faythe, but her dad killed himself two years ago, and her mom's an alcoholic. Go figure.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )


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