This has been an "interesting" week. Not a bad week, but not a good one, either. Parts stressful and other parts fun. Some laughter along the way and smiles, no tears (thank goodness!). But I'm worn out - so I'm going to be lazy and just post a flash piece I wrote for this week's FFF on Authonomy.
The theme is Stag Night / Hen Night and this is what my Muse produced:
What Happens in Vegas…
“Where the hell have you been?” Kerry demanded. “You’re almost an hour late! My mother was just about ready to have another breakdown!”
Cynthia’s
blonde head reappeared above the froth of white satin and lace, her
bridesmaids fluttering around her like the fairies in Disney’s
Cinderella. One was trying to zip the dress. Another was fussing with
the skirt, which was twisted up inside, caught in the zipper. One was
scurrying around, trying to get a shot at fixing the veil in place while
her maid of honor attempted to splatter make-up on her face without
getting any on the pristine white fabric.
“I’m sorry, Ker-bear, I
really am.” Her bloodshot eyes glistened with tears. His yelling, as
justifiable as it might be, was killing her splitting headache. Her
stomach wasn’t in any great shape, either.
“Well that’s not good
enough! I demand to know where you were, what you’ve been up to
otherwise there isn’t going to be any wedding.” He was red-faced above
the tight collar of his morning suit.
“Well-l-l…” it was hard to
think, to remember, between the pounding in her head, the fluttering of
her attendants and the threats being made by her stomach. “We started
off at Mary’s room. She’s staying at the Four Seasons. I remember that.
Then we went up to Circus Circus.” She squinted as she tried to
remember. “Let’s see… we stopped at Mandalay Bay, the Luxor, Excalibur,
New York New York, Bellagio, Caesar’s… yeah, I think we hit them all.”
“All? You hit all of the hotels along the strip between the Luxor and Circus Circus?” He stared at her, mouth agape in shock.
“Yeah… I think so. Those on the left side of the street, anyway.”
He put his head into his hands, muttering, “I don’t believe it. What would Mother say?”
“Then,
after we got done bar hopping, we went over to…” her fingers snapped as
she tried to remember. It was, really, all just a blur of noise and
color, drinks and more drinks and still more drinks. “I think we ate
someplace. Hard Rock Café, yeah, we ate there, and then we went dancing
over at the Venetian…” She giggled, “We met the funniest guy! He picked
up on Liz first, when we were at the Luxor, and followed us around the
rest of the night. His name is Barry and…” Her voice stopped as she felt
her eyes widen at the same time her stomach gave a mighty heave. Oh
SHIT! The room whirled and she staggered, heading toward the bathroom,
her bridesmaids dutifully following, still trying to finish dressing
her.
Ineffectually trying to brush them away, she threw herself
down in front of the porcelain basin and everything in her stomach came
up as the name Barry floated around in her head.
Where is he? Who is he? Is he real? Did I make him up? Where did I leave him?
Outside
there was a commotion, shouting and a door banged open. “Where is she?
She said she’d be here today. God dammit! Where is she?”
Barry
had arrived. Long unwashed unkempt hair; a thick unruly beard hanging
halfway down his chest, tattoos across every inch of skin that wasn’t
covered by his tattered clothing and leather biker’s vest, body odor and
all.
Inside the bathroom, Cynthia made a sound like a kitten
being squashed and promptly collapsed in a heap of frothy white satin
and lace.
* * * * *
Have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
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