I wrote a short story for Creative Writing...well...Not oonly me...

Sooo Lauren, Braden, Alisyn, and I wrote a short story together...ummm...I had to dump some of it and revise a lot for the sake of turning it in for a portfolio peice, but the message is still there. It's 3 pages long double spaced...read on my lkdsbn.akndfakng


Kate Burnett, or, AIDS is in the air
“You had it comin’.” Clermont said, hovering over the squirming body of her arch nemesis, Cholera. “I’ll just leave you here for the shore-leave dogs.” And with that, Clermont left Cholera, bound in fishnet and nylon wire on the moonlit bay. Cholera always had a rough time, honestly, being named purposely after a disease will dampen anyone’s outlook on life – not as much as the approaching tide, however – it was just her luck.
Clermont took small steps through Crimineyville’s red light district, thinking fondly of her defeated foe and blankly glancing at the beaming neon pole-dancers. She’d made a legend of herself at ten, when she paid a male stripper in secret to give her “the works”, and, in the action, snatched out his vas deferens and dawned it as a necklace. The necklace made people fearful that that they would end up like the stripper. With a violent death and nothing worthwhile to pull out of it. There were still those, however, who challenged the fury of Clermont, and they would pay full fold with their lives.
After passing several whorehouses and hotels along the district’s main road, Clermont found herself in quite a pickle. There, leaning on the wall of a dingy, old hotel and strip club named “The Purple Urchin”, was Cholera’s side-kick, Diarrhea. Anger poured into Clermont’s veins like a good cup of Folgers in the morning - but this cup was bad, the kind with grimy bits of coffee grain in the bottom – the kind diesel drivers drink to stay awake on a trip through Kansas. Clermont bolted into the grimy building, thankful that she’d not been seen by her next-to-first person on “the list”. She downed a few pints and tried to think of a plan. Nothing. Then she took a hit from the community joint. Nothing, but Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon was now fully available in her mind, and it has never sounded better. After not-so-careful deliberation, Clermont decided to step outside and bludgeon her enemy with her Herculean strength.
By this time Diarrhea would have seen the belligerent Clermont in The Urchin, and without any hesitation, Clermont bellowed up at the business above the club, Crimineyville’s oldest brothel, “The Five Dollar Shitake”. “Diarrhea! Get out here!” A red velvet curtain flicked on the third floor – a brief flash of light. Then the window exploded in a storm of sudden light and shattered glass, raining down on Clermont’s bald head, cutting her scalp into a jigsaw of jagged fragments and flowing crimson like a velvet draped tiara. She was only shaken for a moment, and then her fire blue eyes snapped toward the being that was still rolling on the pavement from their hard, fast descent. She swept through the streets so quickly that the sound of falling glass still drowned out her heavy boots stomping into Diarrhea’s back. Diarrhea spun onto her back and then smiled.
“Why should I run from you, Clermont? There’s nothing you can do to me without your memory. I see that the scars still haven’t healed from that little spinal tap they did. How were the Brazilian doctors anyway? Clermont said nothing, she just stood over Diarrhea in the rain, her blood dripping onto Diarrhea’s pale skin and flowing jet-black hair. Diarrhea chuckled as she licked some of it off her lip and stood back up onto her stiletto heels. “You’re done, Clermont.”
“No, you are Diarrhea. They gave me more than a memory modification overseas. All those dirty scalpels and filthy rooms. They gave me the gift that keeps on giving. I’ve given it to you now. You’ll need these more than I will. I don’t need to fight anymore.” Diarrhea looked down at the many amber colored bottles littering the wet ground, all touting the same for letters somewhere on their expensive labels.
“NOOOOO!” Diarrhea screamed. Clermont smiled and watched as Diarrhea crawled among the glass shards and blood – writhing and twitching in the agony of knowing the truth. “Don’t worry too much about it, though,” Clermont said. “Everyone has AIDS.”