Fashion Kills Me pt. 1
So I dyed my hair Gun Metal Grey with silver highlights, and went to Fashion School.
The other girls there were stupid. I was the oldest by 900 years.
Why do you want to do this course? Asked the teacher.
"Omg, I just want 2 do this course cos I
fashion!"
enthused one girl.
"Omg, me 2!" cried another.
"I
f4sh1on 4 3v4!" tweeted some of the others.
It got to me.
"Um, I want to do this course because I'm bored. I'm old. I havn't done anything with my life. yup. thanks." I thought for a second. "oh yeah," I said, "and I hate fashion. I just really like clothes."
There was a general silence as everyone stared at me uncomprehendingly, Bambi light glowing from their innocent eyes. I could tell I was alone.
The only person left to speak was the little 'punk' girl next to me. Her stockings and t-shirt were artfully torn into shreds, and she wasn't wearing any shoes.
She stared hard at the desk.
"Um, yeah, my mum made me do it." she muttered. I loved her instantly.
As it turned out, her mum didn't really make her do it, she just didn't know what she wanted to do, so did something, anything. A punk taking fashion. She was beautiful, a diamond in torn polyester, with huge serious greeny hazel eyes fringed by heavy black paint. Her name was June.
June had a boyfriend who was the same age as me, called Ridge, who lived in a different city. She would tell me stories about him while we tried to thread the triple overunderlockers. Apparently there was a girl living in his city who was obsessed with Ridge. She would write lusty romance novels with Ridge and herself as the main characters, and a June-like character would be killed off horribly every time. This girl was also blonde, tanned, toothy and boring. her name was Charlene. Charlene sent June catty text messages to which June always replied with diplomacy. Sometimes the messages became threatening. June was slightly rattled.
I told her not to worry.
A few weeks went by, and the messages from Charlene became slowly more frequent and more threatening. June became visibly distressed, and haggard from lack of sleep. Then came terrible news from Ridge. That weekend, he said, Charlene had drugged him and date-raped him. June flew into a flurry of rage and despair.
Some of the other fashion students asked what was wrong. June told them the basics.
"Omg, June, I c4n't 63l31ve your cr4zy l1f3!" they said
"Jus7 try not 2 th1nk 46out 1t, ok? try 2 st4y p0s1t1v3!
"
"How are you doing that?" I asked them after a pause.
"Doing wh4t?
" they said
"I don't know," I sighed, "You're just talking really wierdly. Maybe I'm just old and behind the times."
They tittered at me. "Y4h, pr011y!
" they said.
June was distraught.
"Theres nothing we can do!" she cried. "Ridge inadvertently destroyed all the evidence! Theres no use moving cities either because she'll follow us wherever we go! Oh, woe!" She rocked back and forth shedding hot tears.
"Theres only one thing we can do." I said
"What, oh what?" sobbed June
"Let's kill her." I said
So we did.
The other girls there were stupid. I was the oldest by 900 years.
Why do you want to do this course? Asked the teacher.
"Omg, I just want 2 do this course cos I
fashion!"
enthused one girl.
"Omg, me 2!" cried another.
"I
f4sh1on 4 3v4!" tweeted some of the others.It got to me.
"Um, I want to do this course because I'm bored. I'm old. I havn't done anything with my life. yup. thanks." I thought for a second. "oh yeah," I said, "and I hate fashion. I just really like clothes."
There was a general silence as everyone stared at me uncomprehendingly, Bambi light glowing from their innocent eyes. I could tell I was alone.
The only person left to speak was the little 'punk' girl next to me. Her stockings and t-shirt were artfully torn into shreds, and she wasn't wearing any shoes.
She stared hard at the desk.
"Um, yeah, my mum made me do it." she muttered. I loved her instantly.
As it turned out, her mum didn't really make her do it, she just didn't know what she wanted to do, so did something, anything. A punk taking fashion. She was beautiful, a diamond in torn polyester, with huge serious greeny hazel eyes fringed by heavy black paint. Her name was June.
June had a boyfriend who was the same age as me, called Ridge, who lived in a different city. She would tell me stories about him while we tried to thread the triple overunderlockers. Apparently there was a girl living in his city who was obsessed with Ridge. She would write lusty romance novels with Ridge and herself as the main characters, and a June-like character would be killed off horribly every time. This girl was also blonde, tanned, toothy and boring. her name was Charlene. Charlene sent June catty text messages to which June always replied with diplomacy. Sometimes the messages became threatening. June was slightly rattled.
I told her not to worry.
A few weeks went by, and the messages from Charlene became slowly more frequent and more threatening. June became visibly distressed, and haggard from lack of sleep. Then came terrible news from Ridge. That weekend, he said, Charlene had drugged him and date-raped him. June flew into a flurry of rage and despair.
Some of the other fashion students asked what was wrong. June told them the basics.
"Omg, June, I c4n't 63l31ve your cr4zy l1f3!" they said
"Jus7 try not 2 th1nk 46out 1t, ok? try 2 st4y p0s1t1v3!
""How are you doing that?" I asked them after a pause.
"Doing wh4t?
" they said"I don't know," I sighed, "You're just talking really wierdly. Maybe I'm just old and behind the times."
They tittered at me. "Y4h, pr011y!
" they said.June was distraught.
"Theres nothing we can do!" she cried. "Ridge inadvertently destroyed all the evidence! Theres no use moving cities either because she'll follow us wherever we go! Oh, woe!" She rocked back and forth shedding hot tears.
"Theres only one thing we can do." I said
"What, oh what?" sobbed June
"Let's kill her." I said
So we did.
posted by Face at 1:42 PM
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