The Tinkerbell Hilton Diaries by Tinkerbell Hilton & D. Resin

The Tinkerbell Hilton Diaries by Tinkerbell Hilton & D. Resin

Author:Tinkerbell Hilton & D. Resin [HILTON, TINKERBELL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780446562362
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-06-27T00:00:00+00:00


FEB. 19 | 03 All ABOARD

Currently I’m at some party of about twenty-five or so semifamous people happening in a grand Spanish villa–style mansion in Beverly Hills.

Paris is currently bopping around the pool topless, a good description of both outfit and psyche. She’s had about nine of those little Red Bull cans in the past hour . . . when she does finally pee, she’s going to carve the porcelain of the toilet just like one of those chainsaw guys making an ice sculpture.

Paris’s interaction with the boys here is an interesting spectacle to watch: she doesn’t do anything but dance alone in some corner, then all the guys sort of find their way to her, one at a time, like bees. She’ll humor them individually for a bit, then with instant and complete dismissal the guy is given the boot. The guy then wanders off, looking as if he’d gone to a guillotine by way of a kissing booth.

Despite all this going on in plain sight of everyone, the steady flow of boymeat never slows down even a little, which makes it hard to pity any of them even slightly.

Hmmm . . . some reality-show semifamous dweeb has been floating facedown in the pool for quite some time now. I thought she was pulling a stunt, but a crowd gathered around her about fifteen minutes ago and now it looks like a pair of paramedics are here; so either she overdid the refreshments, or she’s really committed to the joke.

Oh, the glamour.

Huh. About thirty feet from the pool there’s another body in the grass.

I don’t really follow rock music so I don’t know who that is facedown in the garden, dead to the world.

Or possibly just dead. I can’t tell, but she is covered in ants. Nope, slight movement.

It’s a drag when there’s only enough medical concern in the room for one and you’ve got two dying clichés in attendance.

Not bound by such concerns, I stopped typing long enough to go pee on her head. She revived just enough to roll her face out of her own vomit puddle and avoid pulling a Jimi here on the lawn.



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