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|Metamorphosis (standard:drama, 1221 words)|
|Author: Sara Baugh||Added: May 02 2001||Views/Reads: 1701/1040||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|The ugly duckling on acid! A modern spin that will leave you uneasy...|
The unattractive young woman. Once, well not too long ago actually, a hideously ugly duckling of a girl was born to glamorous parents in the comfort of their Notting Hill flat. She had a dreadfully misshapen figure, an incessantly irritated, bloated face and a big pulsating spotty nose that was too big for her face. Proportionally absurd, She had little pits for eyes and her big black eyebrows grew together in the middle of her forehead. Compared to her mother, the nineteen-year-old face of Gucci, and her father, a forty-five year old chiseled, Italian photographer, this chick really was ugly. Unsurprisingly as soon as she was old enough this unsightly little girl was sent away to boarding school- away from the sickened observant stares of her repulsed parents who hoped that no one knew who she belonged too. Of course, none of the beautiful little girls, in their Vivienne Westward uniforms and Prada shoes, could relate to this, this un-manicured, cellulite suffering being. They gave her half-hearted nods of acknowledgements where appropriate but usually just mocked any attempts she made to fit in. This of course made our hideous little girl very upset and sometimes she would sit in her solitary bedroom and cry to herself for hours on end. In the process however, she studied hard and became very intelligent and well read. This did her no favors as she just alienated herself even more from the somewhat materialistic idiocy of her peers. When our ugly friend finally hit puberty, she began to grow, but not upwards, gracefully, like the other girls, she grew increasingly across. She also began to grow angry and bitter. Their jeering remarks flew around her head at night and meant she couldn’t sleep. "That ugly kid has got a real attitude problem"; and why not. She didn't have much to smile about, she just got uglier almost by the day, and any attempts to bleach her hair or wax her legs just worsened her dire situation. One day she looked in the mirror and was horrified at what looked back. ‘She’ could only be described as a twenty stone Alice Cooper on acid. Our ugly teen had finally had enough. She ran away from school and headed for east-London in search of others more like her, or at least a friend. However, when she got there she didn't get along too well with all the other ugly people she met, repulsed by their oh-so-80s wet perms and bargain basement leggings, and not an ounce of intelligence between them. Perhaps not surprisingly, because of the major ‘tude her past had left her with they didn’t think much of her either. She still watched as the beautiful people (and even some of the ugly ones) in her world smiled and laughed and fell in love with each other, they prospered and overcame their barriers with the bat of a lash. She became depressed more and more each day. The next ten years were of pain and grief for a struggling young ugly, ugly girl. She hated the dead end job she managed to get at Macdonalds, she hated selling fries to bent necked football players and wannabe models that barely managed one bite of their big-Mac before heading nauseous and guilty for the toilets. Her life began moving slower and slower, and her brain, her hormones were playing tricks on her, and she had dreams of the beautiful girls that were so distant. She twitched awkwardly and longed to escape. Eventually she got sacked for thinking she was ‘above the job’ and reading the guardian when she was meant to be on duty. Her boss told her she didn’t quite ‘pull-off’ the “Intelligent student look”. She found herself with nothing to do to pass the days. She rarely went to the cinema; she couldn’t understand the parallel reality that the screen portrayed, the beautiful people, overcoming their problems, falling in love, being happy. But she did like watching things blow up, she liked a good car chase and a battle, where it didn't matter who was the beautiful one, who was the thin one, or how many fries it took to fill you up. She knew what the ugly, ugly girls could do. So ugly was she, in looks and in mind, she knew how to get what those pretty girls had. One day she purchased a 1964 El Camino and a Mac-10 automatic pistol. Click here to read the rest of this story (50 more lines)
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