Bite me, world! I'm still alive!!!!

Hello again my darlings...

I know, I know...it's been a long time since I've written here, but things have been a little strange in Bambi-Land. I've received so many concerned emails from my fans that I felt I simply had to let you all know exactly why I've been gone so long.

The truth is...I was abducted by a stalker.

Yes, yes...I know you're all absolutely horrified by the thought of me being held captive by a pimply-faced creep, but that's exactly what happened. Any rumors you might have heard about me recuperating from extensive plastic surgery are silly lies perpetrated by Steffy Von Kronk. It's scientific fact that stressful situations make your boobs bigger and erase eyebags. Google it and see.

But anyway...it was such an ordeal you would not believe it. Of course, I'll be starring in a movie based on my experiences, but still...the horror of it all!

It began late in the evening on October 2. I was just finishing up some post-production looping on my newest movie, "Queen Suckula's Cooch of Corruption" (apparently my screams of terror sounded too much like my cries of orgasmic pleasure and needed to be fine-tuned). The parking lot was dark and deserted. The sound of dead leaves being tossed along the pavement was like the whisper of voices from beyond the grave. I was alone, being between boyfriends at the time, and I walked quickly to my little convertable, my five-inch heels clicking too loudly against the sidewalks.

At my car, I sensed movement behind me. I turned around...nothing there. Of course, it was just my imagination. Sure, I'd been receiving more creepy fan mail than usual, but honestly...not a day passed that I didn't get at least one "I love you so much I have to kill you and wear your skin" letter. I decided not to let my imagination get the better of me, so I opened my car door, not even noticing that I'd forgotten yet again to lock it.

I drove through the dark, quiet night. Suddenly my engine sputtered: out of gas! But there, in the distance, was my salvation: a Circle K. A heavy rain began to fall, water spilling from the dark night sky like sheets of silvery fury. I pulled into the station and climbed out of the car, my long legs glistening with raindrops as I began to pump hot, wet gas into my desperate, open tank. I noticed the guy inside the station watching me the way all men watch me, with hungry lust in his eyes, and I tossed him a smile and a shake of my ass as I replaced the pump. My fans deserve no less.

I crossed the parking lot to pay, my dress soaking up the warm rain and becoming totally see-through, and the attendent seemed nervous as he swiped my credit card. I'm used to men becoming childish boys in my presence, so I thought nothing of it. He spit out a stream of brown chewing tobacco and said, "Ma'am, I don't think your card's gonna work. You'd best get inside here and take care of it."

What a crude come on! I laughed and pulled out cash. "I think this should more than cover it," I said and smiled brilliantly.

"No, ma'am...I can't take your cash tonight." The guy kept looking over my shoulder at my car. "You'd better just come on in."

"Nonsense!" I sputtered. "Good day to you, sir!"

With that, I turned on my five-inch heel and traipsed back to my car. I heard the attendent calling "Ma'am! Ma'am!" over and over, but I ignored it. Silly fool. Sometimes men were so overcome by being in the presence of a star such as myself that they lose all common sense.

I climbed back into my car and set about my way again, singing along with the radio as I always do. My voice was so much better than the singers, however, that I felt a stab of pity for them and turned the music off, listening instead to the swipe of the windshield wipers. I noticed there was an unfamiliar smell in the car--like cat piss on a hot radiator--but dismissed it as just me being silly again. It wasn't long before my thoughts moved on to other things, like the first day of shooting for "SexBeast 3: Doggy Style." I hated playing a werewolf, and I dreaded the extensive make up I'd have to wear.

Before too long, I was home. My fabulous cottage overlooks the freeway (what I consider the throbbing life pulse of the city) and I was so tired that I barely managed to drag myself through the front door and tear off my clothes. Nude, I wandered through the house, enjoying the reflection of myself in the windows too much to close the curtains. One little drinky-poo and then I'd be off to bed like a good girl.

I'd just began to mix my cosmo when the phone rang. Odd for someone to call me so late at night, but when you're a celebrity such as myself, the world can make demands at odd hours. I picked up my cell and heard heavy breathing. Must be a wrong number I thought as I listened to the sound. I began breathing hard myself, thinking it would be funny to give the pervo a thrill, when suddenly a man's voice said, "Go check the email."

"Excuse me?" I said in mid-orgasmic gasp.

"Go...check...the...email..."

Click! He hung up.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed and decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to check my email before bed. You never know who might add you as a friend on Myspace, after all. I slipped into my silk robe and sat down at the computer. I checked my email on hotmail (screamqueenbambi-lyn @ hotmail. com) and was horrified by what I found:

Spam emails. Hundreds of them!

I deleted and deleted and deleted, but there were too many. Penis enlarging techniques. Viagra. Porn ads. I cried out as my hand cramped at my house and my finger locked up while right-clicking. Stop it! Why wouldn't it just stop?

Finally, after what felt like minutes, I'd gotten down to my only actual email. It was from someone I didn't know: wearbambilynsfacelikeamaskandmakelovetohercorpse @ yahoo.com. Of course, I opened it, thinking it was a love letter from a fan. This is what the email said:

To my dear soon-to-be wife beyond the grave,

Bambi-Lyn, you will know the true meaning of my love for you when I come tonight. We will make sweet, sweaty love in the moonlight and you will be forever mine. And when I plunge my dagger of Shoggoth into your heart and sip the sweet nectar of your blood and bile, you will release me from my earthly bondage and allow me to become the true god among men that I am. I will skin your flesh from your body with love and care, and cherish the feel of your skin as I wear it over my naked body and caper about in the moonlight, singing songs of praise to Quith-Kul, arch demon of Hell. You are the most beautiful woman to have ever walked this earth or any other, and such beauty cannot be allowed in this festering hellpit of filth and degradation. By releasing your soul and devouring it, you will become part of me for all eternity, and together we will rule the fields and plains of planet Nebbulite and I will own your soul forever.

Love,

Bob

Hmm. Just another typical fan letter. I switched off the computer and finished my drink, looking forward to a good night's sleep before filming in the morning.

Little did I know what awaited me in my bedroom...

(See that? That's called a cliff-hanger ending. I want my fans to be on the edge of their seat as they wonder just what happened to their beloved Bambi-Lyn. Will I be killed? Will I survive the night? Well...yeah, obviously I did, but just go with me here and enjoy the suspense.)

TO BE CONTINUED...!!!!!