Saturday, November 22, 2008

...and sometimes the arts suck!

Ok, so I left with my tail between my legs, and there will be no 'Thank You' to my loyal fans! The truth of it is I HATE CONTEST! You will hear me say this about cooking ones too! Tonight, unless you were part of the 'click' on the other side of the room, you had no chance in hell winning!

The two old bags that one were long time members. One is always being praised by the members, because she has a book out, and that she is their golden girl writer...the other, well I did admit she was amusing with her 'I love Country Music' piece, and had people in the audience singing 'Happy Trails', during parts of her reading...I did give her a 9, but I felt she should have won 1st Place, not second, and the third winner who got honorable mention...was an 19 year old who just decided to stand up and tell a story about sneaking out of the house and realized the girl he was with got him into trouble, forced him to drink too much, and then he vomited on his electrical outlet and electrocuted himself...awwwwwe...yes, I am upset. The audience voted, so there no judges, only a room full of people with voting cards and pencils and the winner is....the one with the most friends in the room! Ok, I here are the pics and the piece I have to imagine my Irish humor and stance while you read this!

My support group...Gen & Juice, D'Ang-ie, and DeJay...not sure if you can see the others...

Roy, and Tim are some of my Cultural Art Expression performers...and four bottles of wine, two or three six packs of beer...for the guys of course!

I should have not gone anyway, I felt like crap breathing the cold air, I had on layers of clothing, and fighting my sinus infection that might now be bronchitis...sorry Robbie came home from his trip and I do not even feel like you know how bad I feel, whaaaaaaaa, the steroid drugs are not helping me!!!...I just feel like I look fat!

In-Convenient Drama by E. Stelling

An eighteen year old student had just finished her third shift check list with a smile. She was standing behind the convenient store counter as she did each morning around four AM, with time to spare. The scene was set as if she was on display through the large freshly cleaned windows, but what mattered was, looking out into the quiet night of the surrounding neighborhood, she felt safe and content; until one October morning when a man creeping around from the back of the building would change everything.

In shock with a gun in her face she became motivated to do what ever the gunman asked. He moved her to the back room, tied and gagged her, and then pushed his victim into the dark bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Shock turned into adrenaline, she began to think. Turn around; flip on the light, she stared into the mirror, humor became her sanity. Wiggling out of the rope, pulling the tacky masking tape from her mouth, her store safety training kicked in.

Lock the door, turn out the light, and kept track of his movements with the door chimes. She waited while crouching down behind the toilet thinking thank goodness the bathroom was spotless and sanitary; who is going to believe this; he should listen to the annoying ding, ding, ding, night after night; boy will he be pissed off when he finds out this well trained shift manager never keeps more than twenty dollars in the drawer and the new vault only gives one plastic container filled with twenty dollars every seven minutes. He was about to steal high end items like cigarettes and sun glasses the night before the store orders were due in. Maybe, he would get back at her and steal her college books, helping her get out of finals that week.

Hearing a seventh door chime, he returned inside and was heading to the back room. Suddenly his hand on the knob, turning and shaking it anxiously, she did not make a noise; then just as quickly he decided to waste no more time and left the store.

Many years later, the girl, now a woman still thinks about that night and how it changed her. What if this happened to a teenager today when things exist like blackberries, Red Bull, and their complacent behavior?

Would I be jumping up and down quickly and excitedly while texting her friends instead of the cops? Tell him things like head to toe black were not his color, and he was going to have serious hat hair later. Make him try on all the cheap tourist crap he thought he could sell on the street. I know… microwave some of the stores unhealthy processed food, and while he ate he would become too bloated to run away when the cops show up. No, I will just text him to death!

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