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Butane Crutane

Chapter Text

"Yeah, it's like I could suck you off in this," Khloé said, applying her crusty Kylie Cosmetics famous lip kit in one of the multitudinous nude shades.

Kylie nodded in agreement. She was jolted forward as her baby kicked.

"Ouch bitch, stop!" she said, patting her stomach just a tad harsher than she should've.

Kylie kicked her recording camera over in frustration.

"I can't do this anymore!" she cried, crying.

Khloé ran her fingers through her hair and nodded in agreement.

"Suck you off!" she repeated.

"I can't keep up with the lip kits anymore!" Kylie said, continuing her lament. "I've lost track of all my nude shades for the Hanukkah collection. I can't tell Latke from Baruch Hashem from Maliboo!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have made a Hanukkah collection, Kylie," her sister said. "We're not Jewish. I mean, I could be considered Jewish - I sucked that one Jewish guy off in high school."

Kylie rubbed her smooth, silicone-y under eyes. "But they're all so gorg." She picked up several tubes of light pink-brown liquid. “It’s not like I can just rename them all. Each and every one of these has a special place in my heart.”

“Well, you can probably omit the Hava Nagila Kyshadow Palette, right?” Khloé picked up a cardboard eyeshadow palette, adorned with a pair of eyes, each wearing a yamaka.

Kylie snatched the palette from her sister and opened it up. It was full of brown shades, with one red shadow thrown into the mix. You always need a good pop of color!

“I need to rethink this,” Kylie exclaimed loudly, getting up from her seat and exiting the room.

Khloé opened up a compact mirror and looked at herself.

“Suck. You. Off!

Kylie stormed through her house, the members of the camera crew all doing their best to get a decent angle on the crying Jenner girl.

“Leave me alone!” she cried. “Can’t you see I’m not in the mood to film anything right now? Won’t you guys respect my privacy?”

She entered her bedroom and locked the door, so the majority of the camera crew couldn’t enter. There was still the matter of the camera crew that resided in her room, but she had learned to live with them.

“Why can’t I just be a normal girl who doesn’t have an empire to run?” Kylie fell onto her king sized bed and began to furiously apply one of her liquid lipsticks. “This… this is a center of the mouth pop…” She was cracking under pressure. “Just apply it to the center… pat it in…”

She moved over to her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. Her baby kicked. She almost kicked back.

“I can’t get lip injections with this damn baby!”

She pulled out an electric razor.

“I can’t even compete with Rihanna!”

She switched it on.

“Life of Kylie still isn’t as watched as Worst Cooks in America!”

She held the razor up to her hair.

“I got sprayed by Jimmy Coco!”

The first clump of hair fell to the floor.

“And Kim still looks better than me!”