Sunday, April 20, 2008
Writing Exercise Result 12
The dust motes shimmering in the air of the Chateau Marmont's ballroom were all that glittered at this celebrity auction, thought Virginia. Ben Affleck, Haley Osment, Bruce Willis. All married, underage or wrinkled. A girl had her standards.
She studied her feet, turning them this way and that, admiring how well her tan matched her white sandals. She winced as she glimpsed the pad of flesh under her little toe. Ugly, ugly, ugly. She'd have to have to talk to Dr Warchowski about that at her next six-month tune up. In Hollywood, success was all about the packaging. Distracted by her own repulsiveness, she just caught a few words of the auctioneer's announcement…'last one…lot number eighteen'. Thank God.
The charity ladies around her straightened slightly and Virginia craned to see what they were looking at. Bronzed, rippling muscles. Square, cleft chin. Tiny golden trunks that made her wonder what was under them. Man, she wanted this one. This one made the whole wasted day worthwhile.
Seventy thousand dollars later she was backstage, ready to receive her perfect man. She hadn't even caught his name. Who cared? All she wanted was to roll down those tiny golden trunks…
'Where is lot eighteen?' she asked a wizened old man with sideburns.
'Right here,' he said.
'I don't see him,' she said.
'It's me. I'm lot eighteen. Evil Editor.'
'I don't think so. Lot eighteen was, um…' Was it too insulting to say younger, thinner and more handsome? 'Lot eighteen was wearing golden trunks.'
Evil Editor unbuttoned his waistcoat and dropped his trousers. The nipple ring was a surprise. The golden trunks even more so. As for what was in them… Suddenly Virginia forgot all about younger, thinner and more handsome. In this case, success was about the package.
Posted by Evil Editor at 9:00 AM