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|Animating the Mannequins. (standard:drama, 498 words)|
|Author: Ocarina||Added: Dec 01 2002||Views/Reads: 2070/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|He stood in front of the rows of glassy blank faces, cleared his throat, ran his hand through gelled blond hair and began.|
He stood in front of the rows of glassy blank faces, cleared his throat, ran his hand through gelled blond hair and began. His arms waving at points – expressing and emphasising the words, the mannequins dressed in designer clothes staring. “Fact!” He declared, with a flick of a lightly tanned hand, “Is a lot stranger than fiction!” One or two painted eyebrows slowly rose. “And I, will prove this to you!” So he continued, highlighting a true tale about an Italian lady who gave birth to sixty-three children in twenty-seven separate pregnancies, then one about three passenger ferries on different occasions sinking, the sole survivor being a man, each one different, but each bearing the same name. “So!!” He yelled, making the mannequins jump in surprise, “Isn't the story of Jesus an example of this?!” At that moment, glassy stares slipped over, they had heard enough about Jesus, a few shrugged that ‘they guess' stranger things had happened. The young man, suddenly noticing that he was losing them, raised his voice even further – his arms flapping. “And! If Jesus was born today, what would he get?!” “...?” Commented the rows of shop window dolls, now that the interesting stories were obviously over, sinking into a stupor. One track-suited creature raised an arm, slowly, lazily. “A TV crew!! Reality TV!!” It barked. The assembled nodded at each other and started to mutter about ‘Big Brother' while the man looked on in vain as this new deity consumed their thoughts. Another arm was raised and, now desperate, the blond man smiled hopefully at the perfectly painted features peering up at him. “I don't think so. If a woman believed she was going to give birth to the son of God now there would not be a TV crew... or even the best doctors,” her high soft voice rang clearly through the hall now, the plastic heads absorbing all, “She would be sent to some sort of home, and the baby put up for adoption. There may be already another Jesus with a foster family, badly behaved and on some kind-of drug for thinking God talks to him. In fact, I think its been done... if there was a God, and now God has given up... nothing can get through to us now, well, nothing like that anyway.” Another blank-stared doll nodded. “Yeah, if he was on TV like, it'd be boring, creepy religious people don't make good viewing. Especially without explosions... war... guns... you know?” The assembled mannequins blinked in unison at the man, whose eyes were wide and had taken two steps back from the podium. His carefully crafted notes, done out of love, lay scattered all over the shining wooden floor. Smirking, the moulded creatures tilted their heads to one side, their almost identical haircuts in the fashion of the time. Only varying from girl to boy, moulding perfectly with their perfect heads. Then, in rows, stood up and slowly walked out of the hall to their lessons. Tweet
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