Happy Halloween
by Rachel
genre:
Literature & Fiction
description:
I'm experimenting with writing stories that are happy. Here's some flash fiction. Is it happy? "Happy" is in its title, so maybe?
chapters
chapter 1:
Happy Halloween
Happy Halloween
chapter 1
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updated 12/26/07
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2809 characters
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0 people liked it
In the JC Penney’s dressing room, Mega and I danced in front of the three-way mirrors in our pastel unitards.
I said, “You’re being such a unitard!” and poked at my knee fat while we laughed.
She said, looking at her butt, “Seriously, I’m leaving the tags on and returning this thing.”
Later, at the AA Halloween Dance, we worked out. Creepy old guys kept wanting to dance with me.
“I’m exercising!” I said, appalled. I took a seat and tightened my velcro shoe tabs. I adjusted the scrunchie in my side ponytail. I sang along to the Journey song in my invisible microphone. I asked the cute kid beside me what he was supposed to be.
“I just got off work,” he said. He was wearing a shirt and some jeans.
“So maybe you’re dressed as a guy who just got off work,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said.
“Do you want to exercise!?” I asked. He said no, he didn’t want to exercise.
Back on the dance floor, I asked Mega, “Do you want to check your pulse and walk it out?” She put two fingers on her jugular and consulted her invisible watch. We marched in place.
“Let’s stretch!” I said, stretching.
“Let’s take a lap!” I said, and ran past the DJ.
Even 80s aerobics instructors have to pee, and so I did. In the bathroom, my Subtle Shaper support hosiery were being impossible; they nearly strangled me. There was this girl in there with a cape, carpenter suspenders, tights, high heels, and underpants worn on the outside. I had no idea who she was supposed to be.
After I peed, this old guy dressed as a doctor said, “I used to go to Lizard’s and all the drunk girls let me stick this in between their boobs.” He waggled his stethoscope at me. “You girls won’t let me do that anymore.”
“Time to jog,” I said, and ran away.
Marilyn Monroe, my sponsor, slow danced with JFK Jr., her husband. During the fast songs, we all exercised together. She did jumping jacks in her blue silk dress.
For the costume contest, we lined up in pairs. There was this devil and angel, and the angel was missing a bunch of teeth, except that wasn’t part of her costume. There was the creepy doctor and his nurse. There were some other people, whatever. Then there was me and Mega. We ran in place when they called our names. The crowd cheered. We won the AA Costume Contest. Someone gave me a t-shirt.
We went to Starbucks after we won, and I asked Mega, “How many calories does this frap have? Could I burn them off with my Buns of Steel video, or my Thigh Master?” We drank too much caffeine, and then Mega dropped me off at home. I kept exercising in front of the mirror, and laughed so hard. I mean, I couldn’t believe it. I could not believe that this was me.
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I said, “You’re being such a unitard!” and poked at my knee fat while we laughed.
She said, looking at her butt, “Seriously, I’m leaving the tags on and returning this thing.”
Later, at the AA Halloween Dance, we worked out. Creepy old guys kept wanting to dance with me.
“I’m exercising!” I said, appalled. I took a seat and tightened my velcro shoe tabs. I adjusted the scrunchie in my side ponytail. I sang along to the Journey song in my invisible microphone. I asked the cute kid beside me what he was supposed to be.
“I just got off work,” he said. He was wearing a shirt and some jeans.
“So maybe you’re dressed as a guy who just got off work,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said.
“Do you want to exercise!?” I asked. He said no, he didn’t want to exercise.
Back on the dance floor, I asked Mega, “Do you want to check your pulse and walk it out?” She put two fingers on her jugular and consulted her invisible watch. We marched in place.
“Let’s stretch!” I said, stretching.
“Let’s take a lap!” I said, and ran past the DJ.
Even 80s aerobics instructors have to pee, and so I did. In the bathroom, my Subtle Shaper support hosiery were being impossible; they nearly strangled me. There was this girl in there with a cape, carpenter suspenders, tights, high heels, and underpants worn on the outside. I had no idea who she was supposed to be.
After I peed, this old guy dressed as a doctor said, “I used to go to Lizard’s and all the drunk girls let me stick this in between their boobs.” He waggled his stethoscope at me. “You girls won’t let me do that anymore.”
“Time to jog,” I said, and ran away.
Marilyn Monroe, my sponsor, slow danced with JFK Jr., her husband. During the fast songs, we all exercised together. She did jumping jacks in her blue silk dress.
For the costume contest, we lined up in pairs. There was this devil and angel, and the angel was missing a bunch of teeth, except that wasn’t part of her costume. There was the creepy doctor and his nurse. There were some other people, whatever. Then there was me and Mega. We ran in place when they called our names. The crowd cheered. We won the AA Costume Contest. Someone gave me a t-shirt.
We went to Starbucks after we won, and I asked Mega, “How many calories does this frap have? Could I burn them off with my Buns of Steel video, or my Thigh Master?” We drank too much caffeine, and then Mega dropped me off at home. I kept exercising in front of the mirror, and laughed so hard. I mean, I couldn’t believe it. I could not believe that this was me.
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