September 20, 2013

Blogtember: Creative Writing Day- Dreading the Dinner Party

Thursday, September 19: Creative writing day: write a (very short) fictional story that starts with this sentence: "To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century." 

Today's writing prompt sent me on a crazy random tangent... This shows some weird random colors right here but it's the first thing that came to mind.

To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century.

The zit on the end of my nose was so large I had actually had to call in from work at the button factory because I couldn't see around it enough to type on my computer.

To top it off, my water had been shut off for two weeks. I longed for a shower.

I was beginning to think that life really couldn't get worse- but I have to tell you that is a dangerous path of reasoning to follow... For truly life did indeed get worse.

I was sitting in my apartment with my eyes closed resting (if I kept my eyes open they continually crossed and met at a central junction of the ginormous zit). I had a fan pointed at me to blow the odors of no bathing in the general direction of the hall and an open window.

I was lulled to sleep by the steady hum of the fan. My head bobbed, nodded and certainly I slipped into a lovely state of sleep.

No longer had I been asleep than I was startled awake by a light popping sound the smell of burning hair. My hair!

I had lit a candle earlier in the day to help "lighten" the mood of the room. Mossy Oak.  As I fell asleep my greasy hair lit into a flame. I tried to open my eyes but the monstrosity on the end of my nose made it hard to see. I stood up and lunged in the general direction of my aquarium. The flame on my head was growing and I feared it would soon reach my prized unibrow.

I grabbed hold of the aquarium and plunged my head into its shallow bubbling waters.

I pulled my head out- spluttering and coughing, cold slimy aquarium water burning my nostrils.

I slowly reached up to assess the damage...

Crunchy hair crumbled in my hand.

I stumbled to the bathroom to find a cooling gel to put on the stinging area of my head where the licking flames had touched.  I fished in a drawer, eyes still tightly squeezed shut, and grabbed the bottle that felt like burn ointment. No sooner had I slathered it on the entire right side of my head and face did I realize it was an old bottle of Nair- hair removing cream. Drats!

I turned on the water only to remember there was none. I began rubbing off the cream furiously with a dry, crusty towel only to smear it on my right eyebrow and eyelashes- hair sliding off in my hands. The right side of my head the smoothest, slickest, cue ball ever.

I sat on my teetering toilet defeated.

Could this be happening? Half bald, cross-eyed and reeking, I began to weep.

I wept the tears of a defeated, half bald, zit faced factory worker.

If only my best friend Maria hadn't made me swear... She made me swear that I would come to this dinner party where her cousin Lorenzo would be waiting to meet me.

To top it off- our mutual friend Linda was also expecting me to arrive. I had lost a bet over an unfortunate game of "Go Fish".  I reached from the toilet to the back of my bathroom door where my lederhosen, freshly laundered and starched hung- ready for a night on the town.

I had no choice... though I dreaded it.. I knew what I had to do.

I wasn't going to let a little baldness ruin my evening.

I put on my girdle. Braided my remaining hair in a crunchy, uneven side-braid. I put on a make-shift eye patch to stop my eyes from crossing and grabbed the only eye liner I could find (blue) to draw in an eyebrow where mine had so sadly been burnt off.

I carefully drew an arch- like a caterpillar tip toeing across my wandering eye. This way I would look either constantly astonished or interested in what everyone had to say.

I slipped on my lederhosen and slipped quietly into the balmy night...

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