You Are In A Church......

I am never on his blog so the fact that I even have a few followers is a miracle so just bare with me as I type a bunch of nonsensical ramblings to help me piece this short story together. If I do not get back on for weeks, that means that this story will be buried next to the other one and will forever be at peace. From our writing prompt this past Sunday...."You are in a church.".....

"Who needs a wrist band?" shouts the young man as he shuffles up and down the brick-paved sidewalk. "Who needs a wristband?" He stops abruptly to bend down and pick up a penny. He gives it to the young girl who holds her mom's hand intensely and squints her eyes as if she is refraining from saying something she will regret. "Young lady, do you know why you're here?" "I'm here to see the Father." (at this time, not sure what the name is.) " Why such a sweet faced angel would need to do that?" "I'm here to repent."
She releases her grip from her mother and continues to move forward. A long line of sinners follow.

Sinner #1
Susie Q
(At this moment I am hearing CCR's "Susie Q" and a cowbell. Camera is panning down the same brick- paved road and stops, pointing directly to a woman's face.)
"I haven't quite picked out my pew for the replacement chairs to my 1908 farm table. I am delighted to see an ad in Craigslist for a pair, but I think a bit pricey." (OK- now I am stuck. Let me get out of this scene and go back to my "original place" for the introduction to "Sinner #1"- Chelsey Hotel.)

Everything She Liked #3....

Taking those thoughts to heart, she double bolted the door and turned to the entry way. She noticed the parquet maple flooring was a bit dusty and proceeded to the kitchen for a damp cloth. Near the counter, a bottle of vodka. "A bit early for the drink." She grabbed an icepick, opened the fridge and made her way to the icebox. A cold cocoa cola would be her poison.
"Oh fiddle- sticks Henry." The cat purred while feeling the tousle of familiar hands.
A knock at the door made her jump to her feet. Under her breath she whispered, "Breathe baby, breathe."

"Breathe baby, breathe. Breathe Betty. Wake up!"
"What?" Betty felt her surroundings. The crumbling papers awakened her senses and she quickly snapped out of her stupor. She felt her broken glasses on the right side and put them on. The release of her squint softened the lines on her face and an early morning familiar sun beat down with a vengeance.
" Time to move."

Everything She Liked Cont.....

Startled by the loud noise of a heavy old door, she was surprised that a tiny nudge would cause such a sound. The door slowly reopened. A glimmer of sunlight graced the blue undertones in her ruby reds. Her pout was only slightly attractive and her pin dangled from a now disheveled curl.
"What do you want from me? Its best that you turn around and walk away. My friend is coming any moment now."
" Not very lady like to shut the door with such strong force."
" It was a slip of the wrist and I am not feeling very lady like. Best that you leave."
" Yeah well, do yourself a favor and get over whatever it is that floats in that crazy head of yours. An empty mind is quite liberating."
From the corner of his eye he could see the neighbor peeking through Dupioni silk curtains. He hesitated but turned around and hit the pavement. A quick glance over his shoulder left her with the impression that he would be back.

Everything She Liked

Everything she liked was either rouge, textured or helpless. She could paint her pout with Chanel Ruby Red, scrape her nails down a jute rug or clean up endless spills from her canine terror.
She was a throwback species who encountered a bit of success with her high heeled strappy shoes and pin curled waves. A brief slip of her strap lead her eyes down to the small tear in her noir thigh high stockings. It was not long before a knock at the door would reveal what she had been waiting for. "Just a second" she whimpered as she fidgeted with her pencil skirt and fastened her bobby pin. The door opened. A quick glance and SLAM.

Sand Blocks, Body Dysmorphia and Mick Jagger?

I went to the dentist the other day. Had to have a cleaning and checkup and was a bit concerned about my two front teeth getting in the way of my lip and bottom teeth and possibly causing problems in the future. Due to unforeseen circumstances that escalated throughout my adult life, I had to have a crown and veneer placed on my two front teeth. Problem was not completely solved because I was starting to feel a bit like a rabbit. So, when one starts to feel slightly below human realm, we tend to sniff around a bit and find the cure.
I have a love hate relationship with my dental family only because I think that they hate me. I bring all the kids in for an appointment on the wrong day, I only pay around ten dollars at a time on the bill, and I ask too many questions. "What, when, where and why? Who and how? How much?"
I proceed with my appointment and had a very thorough cleaning. I was in pain due to the scraping. She even asked if I wanted to participate in her Mary Kay rituals. Huh? I was eventually sent to the next room where the conversation began about the size of my teeth. Everyone said they were fine, best looking fake teeth on this side of town. Most fake teeth are opaque and Chiclets, but mine were glossy and long. Long? "They fit your face. You have a long face. They are perfect." I also had a compliment on the color of my "natural" teeth and they asked if they were bleached prior to having the veneers done. Nope. I think they might have been trying to tell me something. Do not change a good thing?
My dentist talks in symbols when trying to explain the fundamentals of the way our teeth work. I am going to try and explain in a paraphrase sort of way with quotes. "If I were to file them down, there may be a chance you would not be able to bite correctly on a sandwich. See, take a sandwich for example, and a sand block and when those two are adjacent and 360 degrees sideways, when they come together, they reach an agreement with one another on what would be more appropriate to bite on, a sandwich or a sand block, etc..." I nod my head and completely agree with him. What the hell is he talking about? These are the scenarios I get from him every time. I love him! He files my teeth. "If you do not like them now, that is on you."
I look in the dentist's mirror and shout out "Perfect."
While I am driving, I keep smiling. What a difference 1mm makes. I am looking up into my brain and seeing a vision of my dentist pointing his finger at me reminiscent of the Santa and elf in A Christmas Story. He yells in slow motion "Itttssss oooonnnnn yyyyoooouuu." His foot is pushing me out his door into the cold snowy winter with nothing but a car and a big fat silver mirror. Now my mind starts to play tricks on me. Should I have kept them long? Are they too short, too crooked, bla bla bla. Made me think about how people perceive themselves and what makes certain individuals, like Heidi Montag, want to change their appearance so drastically. Do I have body dysmorphia? Will I never be happy with my teeth? Did I go to the dentist looking like Roger Rabbit and coming back looking like Mick Jagger? I don't know, but I am happy with them.