A/N: I’m back with a new story. Caution, it’s sorta raunchy! Sorry, I haven’t posted much. Summer heat tends to seep thru my skull an’ boil my brain, thus slowin me down like a zombie;) Anyway, enjoy this next one:
David Tennant as Luke Scottish Fetish McDonald
Maisie Williams as Ina Parker
Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Parker
Rhys Ifans as Troy
Jenna Coleman as Sylvia Fletcher
Tom Felton as Thomas Fletcher AKA Tommy the twat
James May as Mick
Jason Isaacs as Mr. Fletcher
Timothy Spall as Uncle Jack
Cameron Monaghan as Robert Smith AKA Bob the competitive cockroach.
“Oi! Where d’you think yer goin?!” Ina’s mum called out to her hurrying daughter, turning away from the smoking skillet on which she was busily scrambling eggs. “Work. Unlike Troy, I’m not unemployed, mum.” she replied, shooting a glare at her mum’s new boyfriend, who’d made himself comfy at the breakfast table. “What? Without breakfast? ” he asked, feigning concern once he’d finished licking his plate clean of bacon grease. “Yup. I’ve had my share of mum’s burnt eggs, thank you very much!” she retorted, adjusting the worn out leather handbag (which had belonged to her late beloved dad) that held her notepad, before hurrying out, eliciting a glare from her mum. “I think yer brother’s a bad influence on her.” she heard the loathsome Troy exclaim behind her back, obviously with his mouth full of a second helping of eggs. She paid no attention to his comments, quickly hopping onto her bicycle and pedalling to her workplace- her uncle Jack’s spacious apartment cum the makeshift headquarters of the local rock magazine- The Rolling Jack.
“Yer assignment for the day, m’lady.” he whispered, tilting the brim of his hat affectionately before handing her a glossy poster of a leather clad rock star with ruffly hair and eyes lined with jet black eye make up. He watched as his niece’s face lit up on seeing the poster. “Born in the small town of Kirkcudbright in 1970, rocking out since the 90’s, massive fan following, pissed on the Wallace Monument in an inebriated state, earned the moniker Kilted Klepto when he attempted to shoplift prescription drugs in a kilt, even served time for it…” the knowledgeable rock journo rambled on, as she was tasked with the assignment of interviewing the Scottish Fetish. “Spoken like a true fan girl! ” her uncle/boss, Jack teased. “Uncle, I can’t thank you enough! I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet him! You’ve no idea how…How long I’ve idolized this man….nay, this legend…” she began to stammer, excitedly. “I know, kiddo. I’ve set up a meeting with his manager, Mick. He’s a kind soul, that man.” her uncle explained. “Of course, he’s a kind soul. He’s the bloody Scottish Fetish, for cryin out loud! ” she interrupted. “I meant, Mick is a kind soul. Yer Scottish Fetish on the other hand, he’s not so welcoming. In fact, he’s a hot mess an’ Mick’s the glue that’s keepin im from falling apart completely.” he revealed, before handing her Mick’s visiting card. “Now, chop-chop, off ya go! An’ be a dear an’ try not to pick up any o’ his filthy language while yer there, kay? Or yer mum’ll have my head, eh? ” he requested, before sending the jittery young girl off.