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FICTION: CBLB Somwhere In America…

June 18, 2010

Image: Ryan McGinley

The following story, which will be serialized once a week on this blog, is FICTION. Though set within actual cultural set points of time and place, as one would find in historical fiction, no one character is based on anyone living or dead, but imaginary.

This is satire. I hope it’s a fun ride, which is my sole intention as the author.

This work is registered with the Writers’ Guild of America and is additionally protected.  Law will prosecute any use of the following work without explicit permission by the author.

 

Somewhere in America….

Now that Kat had topped the best seller list with her girl power book, she didn’t worry much about being carted off to the asylum again. Within the same moments that Kat was tying  Zoro to a hard backed chair in her office, three girls all sophomores at Sameold High School in the center of the USA bolted through the doors of Yetanother Mall.

It was Friday night and all the kids in their town cruised Yetanother.  The girls didn’t even turn around when the carpool mom yelled after them, “Be at this entrance in two hours for pick up, understand?” By then they had linked arms and had begun singing “Poker Face,” Lady’s Gaga’s song, which was blasting from Hot Chickie boutique where they bought their leggings and tank tops.

Photos of Lady Gaga in thigh high leather boots and pleather cut off shorts lined the walls of Hot Chickie. So did pin ups of Beyonce, Paris HIlton, and Miley Cyrus, all wearing hot pants,since Hot Chickie sold knock off versions of these outfits.

The leader of the girls pulled the other two into the ladies’ room around the corner from Hot Chickie. inside she whipped out a mini skirt and some heels from her tote bag and slid out of her jeans and sneakers, the uniform the three of them had just shared. “Just in case you know who is here!” The leader said. The other girls giggled and nodded emphatically. Then, all three took their spots in front of the mirrors. “Who’s got the eye liner? The mascara? Hurry up!”

“You’re skirt is up to your yaya!” Said one of the girls. “Duh, it’s supposed to be.” Answered the leader. “I look hot, don’t I?” The other girls nodded.

They bounded out of the ladies room with their lids darkened, and pupils lined thickly underneath the way Gaga would do it. The leader no longer wanted to link arms since she assumed her place in the center, the only one of them in a short black polyurethane skirt,  and knock off gladiator heels that she bought at Payless Shoes. But they all wore low-cut tanks. All donned long blown out hair. Two of the three dyed their hair chicken yellow blonde as was popular at Sameold High School. The leader stayed brunette and wore hot cherry lipstick.

They had spent their allowances in all of these stores. The Sports Shack for Nike or Converse running shoes. Bath and Body Works for Strawberry soaps and bubble bath. The Disney store, for dolls and DVDs when they were little. JC Penney, where their moms bought Jacqueline Smith casuals and they were forced to buy part of their wardrobes for school because none of their moms approved of Hot Chickie.

CLICK “MORE” LINE BELOW, TO KEEP READING…

A group of boys strode through the middle of Yetanother, right past the JC Penney to the left of the decorative fountain that spouted pink water via a timer. “Let’s come around the other side of the fountain.” Said one of the blondes to the leader. The girls almost knocked over the families throwing pennies in the fake pink fountain for luck.  They plopped themselves down on the edge facing the boys.

“Hey.” Said the main boy.

“Hey.” Answered the main girl.

The girl leader crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt rode up so high she had to pinch her thighs together. She dangled a foot before the main boy, kicking out towards him. He stared at her chest, a pushed up size B and grinned.

“Wanna come around the back of the electronics store with me?”

“No!” She shouted.

“Don’t you wanna show me what’s under that skirt? You wanted to last week at the slumber party.”

The leader flushed. “Shut up!” She yelled and grabbed her two friends, pulling them away from the fountain toward the ice cream kiosk as the boys cackled.

“You’ll be back bitches!” They yelled.

On the way toward the other end of the mall, past ice cream and life-sized Disney characters, the leader stopped at the window of a Barnes and Noble bookstore. A photo of a woman posing against a hot young guy with a guitar caught her eye. “Take the Power Back Girls!” was scrawled across the top.

“Let’s go in!” Said the leader.

Inside, she and the girls opened Kat’s book, to the introduction:

“I grew up in Ohio, the daughter of a television salesman and a homemaker. As the middle child, my brother bullied me and never allowed me to date. And my younger sister could not have been more spoiled. If I had stayed in Ohio, my best shot would have been to get a job as a clerk or to tend a cash register in the middle of nowhere. But, I boarded a bus to New York and never looked back.  I got to  tend bar at the hottest parties, where I met rock stars, actors, and freaks. Even the freaks were  great individualists. I understood them as they did me. I became their therapist after midnight, and they made me a star in my own right. This is my story, girls. Listen well.”

“It’s worth it!” Said one of the blondes, already reaching into her wallet, to spend $29.99 of the forty dollars she was allotted until the following Friday. The others grabbed their copies, while the leader checked the hour on her iPhone. “We have just enough time to pay for these, change and wash in the bathroom, before heading out.”

The second carpool mom was  tapping her forefinger on the wheel of her black SUV. “Sorry, mom.” Said the leader. “What did you girls buy this time?” Asked the mother. “Books!” They replied in unison. “Well, that’s something new!” Said the mom, half smiling in disbelief.

She pulled the car out of the parking lot, while concurrently in a showroom East of them in Manhattan, Kat had already secured the ends of two jump ropes around Zoro’s limbs.

An advertisement played on the car radio station. The announcer asked. “It’s 10 pm. Do you know where your children are?

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Jake permalink
    June 18, 2010 8:50 pm

    This is kind of GENIUS!

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