"How about you go fuck yourself? You - the one with no balls."
Criss laughed and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the middle of the circle.
"Are you going to perform a ritual killing, or something? Shouldn't there be a pentagram drawn in blood on the ground with my senior picture in the middle of it?"
Criss laughed harder. "This one has a sense of humor. What's your name, sweetheart?"
Danielle snapped her fingers. "Oh, my Gawd, that's where I remember you from!" Danielle took on the accent of a New York City prostitute. "Criss - Criss it's me, Divinity! You picked me up last week at around one in the morning - you know, when you were drunk and had blown all of your money on gambling? Oh, my Gawd, how could I forget?" Danielle slapped him across the face. "You still owe me fifty dawllers!"
Criss was awe-struck. After he didn't say anything for a few minutes, Danielle rolled her eyes and socked his arm. "I'm just yanking your chain. Jesus. My name's Danielle."
Criss cleared his throat and looked at the camera nervously. "Hm, yeah. Anyways, um, can I show you a trick?"
Danielle shrugged. "I lose any body part, you dick's gonna be the first to go on yours."
The crowd laughed. Criss just stared at her. "Do you have any lipstick?"
"Oh, yes, tons. Hold on, I need to look for it in my sequin purse." Danielle then pretended as if she had a purse, and started rummaging through it. "Oh, oops, there's my Blackberry, and there's my ten-thousand dollar digital camera, and - oh! Found it!" She pretended to pull a tube of lipstick out and mimed opening it. But instead of giving him the "lipstick" she shoved her middle finger in his face. "Yep. It's a nick shade of suck it!"
Criss' face was red with embarrassment. Or anger. Danielle couldn't tell.
"Okay, then .. does anyone in the audience have some lipstick?" An older woman was kind enough to give some to Criss. He opened it and showed the crowd, then told Danielle to hold out both hands.
He chose whatever was her writing hand, and pulled it up a little higher. He made her make a fist.
"Let me see your hands."
Criss blanched. "What?"
"You know the whole, 'nothing up my sleeves' type of deal? Well, show me your hands; show me your sleeves."
Criss' eyes widened. He flipped his hands over really quickly; pulled up his sleeves. "That good?"
Danielle had been pretty mean earlier. So, out of the kindness of her heart of gold, she decided not to say that Criss made a stain on his sleeve from the lipstick on his finger-tip.
After the trick, everyone was awe-struck, the cameras turned off (after Criss pretended to eat it, of course - what a wierdo), and Criss started signing autographs.
Derek came over to Danielle, mouth agape and palms out. "You do know .. you do know that you're a complete bitch, right?" he cried, laughing. "That is the shittiest thing I think you've ever done to someone. Especially since you were on national television when you did it!"
"He can edit me out," Danielle said, tiredly. She grabbed Derek's hand. "Can we go get that coffee now? And can you pay for it?"
Derek grinned at her and began walking. "I suppose."
Danielle held onto his arm with her free hand as she rested her head against his bicep. They started walking.
She stopped, however, when someone grabbed her by the elbow, and whispered dangerously in her ear, "I need to talk to you. Now."
Danielle sighed, looking up at Derek. "Well," she said. "Ix-nay on that offee-cay."
Criss pulled Danielle over to the side of the building they were in front of. He looked pissed.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" was the first thing he demanded.
"Well, I have this insane feeling that aliens are controlling my body. My doctor says it's because I eat drumsticks and guitar picks, and drink motor-oil a lot. My psychiatrist doesn't think it's healthy, either."
Criss stared angrily at Danielle's smiling face. "Have you been drinking again?"
"If I was drunk, I'd probably have my hands down your pants by now."
"Good point." Criss sighed and rubbed his palms over his eyes. "Look," he said, removing his hands, "I really need to know - "
"You smudged your eyeliner."
Criss stopped talking. "Shut up."
"I need to know why you acted like that. I mean, seriously, Danielle. Twenty-seven years old."
"Oh, thank you for my age update. Do you do weather, too?"
"Danielle - "
"How about the time?"
"Danielle - "
"How many babies have been born in the past five minutes?"
Criss hit himself in the head with his fist.
"My doctor says that's not healthy, either."
He continued to do it.
"Well, call me when you've broken into your skull. I'll be having coffee with Derek."
"We're going to your apartment." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the street.
"Derek, I guess I'm leaving!" Danielle called, over her shoulder. She heard Derek make a confused noise. Probably because she was being dragged down the street by Criss Angel.
After a block or so, Danielle's hand went numb. "All right, asshole, I can take it from here." She tried to wrench out of his grip. Her arm didn't budge.
No wonder the guy could pick up cars! His grip was like iron.