I've joined a writing club for about half a year now. It's a good impetus to write. (Obviously left to my own devices I tend towards inertia, as evident from my neglect of this blog..)
In any case, wrote the following piece to bring for one of the meetings.
Working title - The Outstanding adventures of Sidekick GirlLih Peng wondered if she would be the first person ever to die in a cake. She shuddered as she imagined the group of horny, tipsy men prying open the rice-paper covering of the three-tier styrofoam cake to discover her body, bluish-cold from oxygen deprivation, clad in a ridiculous hot-pink bikini.
What the fuck was taking them so long?
She could feel her calves starting to cramp. She tried to shift her feet a little while in her crouched position, but the squeaking sound of her arms brushing against the styrofoam sides of the cake was driving her nuts.
Was that Pierre chatting up some waitress at the party? She could hear his fake-American-accent mumbling, punctuated by the shrill, over-responsive laughter of the girl dumb enough to fall for his lines.
Wheel me in already, asshole!
The familiar pounding beat of the Tom Jones’ anthem, Sex Bomb, started up, and she finally felt the cake moving. She heard familiar hooting sounds and cat calls as the men in the room started to realise what the cake was for.
Don’t cramp, don’t cramp. You can dance. Smile. Smile. Smile.
‘HAPPY STAG PARTY!’ Lih Peng burst out of the cake, shimmying and shaking to Sex Bomb. She strategically took a little longer to plunge suggestively in and out of the cake opening, in a bid for more time to work out the pins and needles in her calves. On the second refrain of the song, she cautiously climbed out of the cake, hoping that Pierre had bloody remembered to lock the trolley in place. He had. She quickly scanned the room amidst her gyrations, looking for the most obviously drunk man, who had the highest probability of being the stag, and the lowest capability of making any moves on her. She headed for the target in question.
In-coming. A hand reached out for her butt. Quick dodge. Bright smile. Stupid prick.
Another one. This was at chest level. She did a limbo move and sinuously turned away, brushing his hand aside. Didn’t these people realise the concept of ‘See, no touch’?
Target reached. He stank. Whiskey, beer and a hint of fresh vomit. Please don’t try to kiss me please please please.
When was the song going to end?
He was drunk, but not drunk enough. ‘Baby, come to daddy, come on, I’m still a freeee man.’ Around, louder hoots and shouts of encouragement. ‘You sure you still want to get married Freddy? Look at what you’re missing out on!’
Why did they always say the same thing? Laugh the same way? Think they were being funny and original?
She smiled enigmatically, doing the obligatory shimmy whilst standing between his legs, rubbing her hands along his inner thighs. She smelt his beer belch. Don’t puke don’t puke please hold it in. His hands reached around her thighs to grab her butt. He started to knead her butt cheeks as if she was some kind of bread dough.
I hate you. I hate this.
Last chorus. She broke free, consciously still moving to the music so that they would think this was part of the performance, not her getaway. Near the exit, she turned to face the room. Final beaming smile. Her requisite one-liner, ‘Be good, boys; and baby, have a happy marriage!’
The music faded. She rushed to her allocated bathroom, where she had placed her change of clothing. Long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. She felt like throwing up. It happened every time.
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After I wrote it and read it again, i was amazed at the amount of anger I seem to have towards men in general. Quite quite disturbing.
Perhaps that would be the theme of the book (if i ever do extend it to be a book) - the letting go of this anger? Intriguing.
I thought the working title would help me focus on a theme (Being a sidekick? Being outstanding yet feeling like a sidekick?)
Perhaps I should change it to - The Redemption of Sidekick Girl from the Abyss of Anger.
I wonder why I have this affinity for comic book-kitschy titles..
