by Kim Cayer
I writhed on the floor for an hour and then gave up. I needed painkillers! In agony, I donned outdoor apparel. Keeping my severe headache in mind, I wore my Holiday Time Hotel get-up, although for a different reason this time. The huge sunglasses were to block out any light and the scarf bound about my head was to muffle noises. I took my umbrella and dragged myself out of the apartment.
I knew there was a pharmacy down the block and around the corner. I was just passing the high-rise car-park on the corner when I almost collided with two disgusted women.
“That was just sick!” one lady said.
“The perverts in this city!” the other exclaimed. “Makes you want to move to Minnesota.”
“He WAVED it at us!” the first one cried.
“Then he made it swing in a circle!” the other remembered.
“I am so sickened,” the first lady said. “I wish my husband had been with us. He would have killed him.”
They went out of earshot. Thank goodness; they’d been pretty shrill although it was an interesting conversation.
I rounded the corner, the drugstore sign in sight. God, I hate neon. Today anyways. “Psssst, lady! Hey, lady,” a whispered voice came at me. I wondered where the voice was coming from and glanced around. “Lady, right here,” the voice said.
I looked up and saw a man on the second level of the car-park. He had on a raincoat but it was wide open. The guy had his penis in his hand and sure enough, he was performing tricks with it. “Like it?” he asked.
“You’re sick!” I said, repulsed. His voice sounded familiar though. I took a better look and saw a long scar running along his half-hidden face.
“SILVIO?” I asked aloud. He stopped twirling his member and let it hang limply in his fingers. Come to think of it, I recognized that too. “That IS you, Silvio!”
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“It’s me,” I said. “Alice.”
“Shit, I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Silvio, what are you doing?”
“Just killing some time before work,” he said.
“You’re flashing people! That’s so sick. And hey, you already did time for that!” I couldn’t believe how dumb my boyfriend was. “Don’t you realize the trouble you could get in?”
“Don’t YOU realize I NEED to do this!” he pouted. “It relieves me of my sexual frustration.”
He looked at me defiantly. I wondered if I still wanted him for a boyfriend. Right now my mind was just filled with complete loathing for him. I shook my head and repeated, “It’s sick.”
Any thoughts I’d had concerning my relationship with Silvio were registered redundant. Out of nowhere, he was nabbed by one of them sneaky cops.
The two women were right behind the officer. “You didn’t think we’d report you, did you?” one woman triumphantly crowed. “People like you belong in jail. You’re SICK!”
The votes were in. Silvio was definitely sick. He put up a slight struggle and it was rather pitiful seeing his nudity flashing around, but he was no match for the burly cop.
Silvio was read his rights. Then the cop looked at me. “You can stay and give a statement,” he said, “but you don’t have to. We have two good witnesses right here.”
“I’ll pass,” I said and simply walked away. What WAS it with me and cops? I was some kind of jinx. All my friends saw me and then went straight to jail. Do not pass go. Go to Alice Kumplunkem Place and then go directly to jail. Well, the jinx would be off. I had no more friends left.
And to top it all off, I got my job back.
CHAPTER FIVE
The ringing of the phone woke me up. I still had a headache, hours later. I took my 32nd Tylenol aspirin. Go away, phone! Since the caller insisted on trying me every ninety seconds, I finally answered. “Hello,” I said groggily.
“Is this Alice Kumplunkem?” I was asked.
What the heck. “Yes, it is,” I replied.
“Hold on one moment for Mr. Rigby,” she said, and put me on hold. I started sweating; I wanted to hang up. Mr. Rigby was the big boss at Sebrings. He was probably going to fire me. Or worse yet, give me my job back.
“Alice!” Mr. Rigby jovially said. “Comin’ in today?”
“Uhh…can I? Am I allowed?” I asked, quite seriously.
Mr. Rigby took it the wrong way. “Alice, Alice, you KNOW we had to do that. We had to protect the image of the show.” What image, I wondered? Every character was a slut and all were on third marriages. “But now things have quieted down and the writers are desperate for new ideas.” I bet they were. They needed their daily dose of Alice Atrocities.
“Well, I guess I could come in today,” I said. “Umm…so everything will be the same?” I’d grown accustomed to my executive consultant title.
Again Mr. Rigby took it wrong. “Alright, alright, we owe you. How does an extra 1000 a week sound?”
Well, how did he think it sounded? What a bonus out of the blue! For the first time in ages, my voice got some life back into it. “That sounds fine, Mr. Rigby. Thank you!”
“Right. Gotta run! See you at work,” Rigby clicked off.
I rushed to get ready and took a few more Tylenols before I left. Why did I have to have a headache when I was almost in a good mood? This was the second day I had the same hangover. Remind me never to buy bourbon again.
Chester the doorman grandly swept open the doors to Sebrings Productions. Absolutely everyone said hello to me. I began to get a cozy feeling. They missed me! My secretary, Lilli, actually stood up when I entered the reception area. “Good morning, Lilli,” I said, erasing any grudges I may have been holding against her.
“Good morning! Welcome back!” Lilli beamed. “Your mail is on your desk…”
“I got mail?” I asked.
“I sorted through all of it. There was a lot of hate mail from that silly thing that happened, so I threw it out. Other than that, you got a letter,” Lilli said. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see any of the press clippings from last week, but if you do, I sent a whole batch down to Publicity.”
“Maybe later,” I said, like when I’m old and grey.
“And you have a meeting at 11 a.m…”
“I have a meeting?” I asked even more incredulously.
“With Farnia Forya,” Lilli informed me. “She’s the new Beluga.”
“Well, alright,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Alice, can I leave at three?” Lilli asked, true to form. “I have an appointment with my pedicurist.”
“I suppose,” I said. I was still in a fairly good mood and wanted to add, “Just don’t make it a habit,” but my jokes always fell on deaf ears.
I walked into my office to hang my coat and saw a bouquet of roses on my desk. I rushed for the card. “From the Gang at Sebrings”. How sweet! I’d never received flowers before and didn’t really know what to do with them. There seemed to be lots of water in the vase so I guessed you were supposed to smell them. I sniffed for a minute then realized they were also pretty to look at. I would keep them in my office until they crumbled from old age, I swore.
Then I spotted the letter. It was from Largemar Productions. I slit it open and saw it was from Troy LeRue, an executive producer from Monday to Sunday. I was afraid to read it, wondering if this wasn’t some blackmail attempt from my horrid audition with them. I still felt like I had a felonious aura around me – I was destined to lead a life of crime from now on.
I scanned the letter and all sorts of figures jumped out at me. 6 months, $6000 a week, 5% royalties, so on and so forth. With interest, I sat down to scan this fascinating missive. And holy cow if my self-esteem didn’t shoot up by 1000 degrees.
Largemar Productions were greatly interested in my consulting services. They were prepared to make me an offer and it was much better than Sebrings. Could it be possible I might get even richer? They were anxious to have my reply by December 15, so that I may start January 5. I guess they were going to give the current executive
consultant the boot. Well! I had over a month to decide. With a satisfied grin, I tucked the letter into my purse.
“Hi, everyone,” I said as I walked into the writers’ room. Everyone was present and accounted for.
“Alice! Welcome back!” Mary said and gaw-lee! She presented me with more roses! “These are from all the writers, just to let you know how much we missed you.”
“Thank you!” I said.
Bill wheeled in a cake, decorated in the likeness of the old Beluga character. Rather macabre, but I liked the words written in icing – ‘Welcome back, Alice! We need you!’
“Aww, thanks, everyone. This is wonderful,” I gushed. I felt a tear slip down my face.
“I’m making coffee,” one of the underlings said. “Would you like one, Alice?”
“I would, thank you, Frank,” I almost whimpered.
Mary cut the cake and we had a short party. I told them I was given a raise and Bill slapped me on the back. “They should give you one!” he agreed. “You’re worth every penny they’re paying you.”
We had all finished a second cup of coffee and I could sense they were waiting for something. Perhaps I was expected to give an executive direction. “Well,” I tried, “shall we get to work?”
Every one of them whooped and ran to their chairs. Once seated, all cast an intense eye upon me. Bill solemnly spoke. “Alright, Alice, we have to concentrate on the Beluga Gotyerdinski character. How can we fit the new girl in believably?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about – the new Beluga,” I said. “Why don’t we lighten up on her a bit?”
“No, I say we don’t,” Bill said.
“Leave her the way she was,” another writer said.
“If anything, there should be even more drama in her life,” Mary thought.
So much for my suggestion. Bill came up to me and scrutinized my face. “I know!” he shouted. “Beluga gets major plastic surgery. Tell us, Alice, why you never got that nose of yours fixed?”
I hated my nose. It had a huge, ball-shaped bump in the middle of it. “I was going to have it fixed once,” I said, “‘cept I could never come up with the funds. I had even booked the hospital time and the doctor. I was very serious about having it done but my old acting agent changed my mind. I was famous for a while as ‘The Ugliest Girl Alive’ and Paul thought the nose helped.”
“Did you feel embarrassed by your nose?” Mary asked.
“I guess,” I said. “I remember when I was younger and would go into dressing rooms in the department stores. Sometimes I’d find one that had those angled mirrors, and I’d catch a reflection of my profile. I’d run out of those rooms in tears. Same as when I‘d get my hair cut and they’d show me the side view. There was that big nose again. For ages when I was going out with Joe, I’d try to never let him see me in profile. I’d be facing him even when we went to the movies.” My nose was starting to feel larger by the second. It felt like it was covering my entire face.
After the nose story was over, they wanted to know why I never got my chin done. It receded a bit; I only had an inch between my jawline and bottom lip. Next they asked why I didn’t get my teeth straightened. I had a bit of an overbite…OK, OK, I have buck teeth. I was glad to move away from Oak Paw and my ‘Beaver’ nickname. Anger coursed through me as I told them my mother was too cheap to pay for braces, especially when the dentist told her I needed them for six years. When I moved to Toronto, I found a dentist who could get me cheap braces. I don’t know if they were second-hand or what, but after two years of wearing them, I got another dentist to pry them out of my aching mouth.
Then Mary said, “Alice, haven’t you heard of liposuction?”
“What‘s wrong with my lips?” I demanded to know. As far as I was concerned, they were purely ordinary. My best feature.
“It’s a method of sucking fat off your thighs and your behind…”
“I wasn’t always fat!” I said. “I DON’T need liposuction. I just need to go on a diet!”
My buzzer rang. Lilli informed me I had a visitor. It was time for my meeting and I was glad to leave this discussion. “If you’ll excuse me,” I said icily, “I have a meeting.”
“No problem,” Bill replied. “I think we have enough to write a scene.”
“So we’re going to have Beluga go through major reconstructive surgery?” Mary asked.
“Yeah,” Bill said. “Picture this…Beluga is in a car, racing to meet her doctor…”
“She’s discovered she’s pregnant again and wants to keep the baby this time!” Mary jumped in.
“Except she crashes and she has to have her whole body rebuilt…” Bill continued.
“But she loses the baby!” Mary concluded.
I shook my head and slipped out. My headache was back.
* * *
A woman who fairly resembled Miss Guatemela walked into my office. She caught me in the act of swallowing a couple Tylenols. “Hi, Ms. Kumplunkem, I’m Farnia Forya,” she said, extending her hand.
I shook it and said, “I’m Alice Kumplunkem.” She kept standing and I didn’t know what else to say to her. “Have a seat,” I thought to say.
She sat down and we looked at each other. She wore a bright grin so I donned the same thing. No one was speaking. I had no idea why I had to meet with her. To make small talk, I said, “So you’re the new Beluga?”
“Yes,” Farnia said, “and I’m so happy I got the part! I wanted to meet with you so I could tell you something.” Aha, so she arranged this get-together. I tensed, knowing she may threaten to beat me up if the new Beluga wasn’t made more likeable. “I’d like to say that you have nothing to worry about with me. I’ll do anything you write and I won’t cause any problems at all. So I don’t care what you make happen to Beluga, I’ll play it with a smile on my face.” That’d be terrible acting, I thought. What if Beluga broke her legs?
But then I figured she was probably getting paid some pretty big bucks to make her come into my office and encourage me to belittle Beluga. Write anything, just don’t kill her off, huh, Farnia? I felt a sinking in my stomach. “Uh, Farnia, who else have you been meeting with?” I asked.
“Oh, everyone!” she trilled. “I even met with the OWNER of Sebrings! Mr. Rigby!”
“How nice but did you meet with my writing staff by any chance?”
“Yes, yesterday,” she beamed. “I basically told them the same thing I’m telling you now.” She cocked her head and smiled, thinking she was such a good girl.
“Wonderful,” I said, not meaning it. “Well, is there anything else?”
“Just that I’d like to thank you for letting me take up some of your valuable time,” Farnia said, still smiling. “Thank you for seeing me.” She skipped out.
I had no time to ask her to stay. When she mentioned my valuable time, all I could think of was the time being spent with my writers. I hated that room. I hated being with those people. I spent up to half an hour just going for a piss when I was at work. Although I thought Miss Forya was an ass-kisser, I’d much rather have her sucking up to me than what I had to go through with my writing staff. Those guys were bloodsuckers!
I couldn’t recall if I took a Tylenol or not so just to be on the safe side, I took two more. I glanced at my watch. Good, 45 minutes to lunch. I dragged myself back into the writing room.
“Alice!” Bill pounced immediately. “There’s just so much work to do on this Beluga character! We have an idea for a scene we have to finish by lunch.”
“I just met Farnia…” I began.
“Yes, wonderful actress,” Bill said. “Now, we want you to think hard…”
“I noticed….,” I began again.
“Have you ever been goosed?” Bill asked.
I thought…GOOSED? I had wanted to ask them how they were going to match the two Beluga’s skin tones. Farnia Forya’s was definitely olive-tinted whereas Valerie Krymkyw’s was rather ivory-colored. But what the hell was Bill talking about?
�
�High-school kids did it a lot,” Mary stroked my memory. “You know…poke each other in the rear with brooms, et cetera.”
“Yeah, I KNOW what goosing is, and NO, I have never been goosed,” I retorted. Sometimes I really hated their questions.
The writers were silent a moment then Bill shouted. “A tightie! Have you ever gotten a tightie?”
“A tightie is…,” Mary began.
“I know what a tightie is!” I yelled. “And no….” I stopped. A memory surfaced. An ugly Grade-Six memory. I was going to keep silent but then remembered that’s what I was being paid for – to divulge these agonies. “Well, come to think of it, I was given a bad tightie once,” I said.
“Were you cut?” Bill asked.
“Cut?? No! Just extremely embarrassed,” I replied.
“That’s OK. That’s good. Go on,” Bill encouraged me.
“It goes back to when I was 10 years old. That’s when I got my first period.” One of the writers looked confused, so I elaborated. “My menstrual cycle began. And Mom wasn’t too pleased about it. She didn’t like the extra expense. So she showed me her napkin pads and told me to wear them and they were awful. So big! I would get chafed wearing them. Anyways, I was in Grade Six and tighties were the big gag then. This kid in my class – Lyle – snuck up behind me when I was at my locker. He gave my panties a good yank. That’s another thing about my mother! She always bought me old-lady panties up to my belly button. All the girls in school got to wear mini-panties; I saw in the shower room. Anyways, MY panties were always sticking out over my pants, and Lyle took advantage of it. But this day I had my period and was wearing one of Mom’s big Kotex pads. When Lyle grabbed my panties, he also grabbed the end of the pad and pulled it halfway out.” I winced, still remembering my shock. “He looked at it and called me gross and then went around telling everyone in school that I wore a diaper.” I stopped talking, recalling the jeers and taunts I’d put up with until Grade Eight.
The writers were silent for a moment. “Let’s give Beluga toxic shock syndrome!” Mary suggested.