Week Two, Prompt: Pariah
Jul. 11th, 2014 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
riotheclownBrigit's Flame week two
Prompt: Pariah
Word Count: 800 but i'm guessing
Warnings: language
Genre: fiction
Pariah: any person or animal that is generally despised or avoided.
Arcea had breasts that hung like mere post-scripts wrapped in a halter top that wasn't going to halt anything. Somehow she had gotten so twisted in her leggings that her pelvis seemed to be put on backwards. The total lack of body fat and the swelling of her abdomen made her look the same coming and going. Her skin, the colour of nicotine, matched her teeth and the former whites of her eyes, and her hair, #469 colour from a box of home dye was neither red nor brown nor blonde, but rather "Browlunder". Her favourite colour was Hot Pink. It was the only colour she wore. A cigarette dangling from her lips was her only accessory.
"Nobody's gonna tell me how to dress! Fucking fashion Nazis!" She swore at the television and then clicked off the "Make-over Show". She re-tied her platform sandals, they laced up and then wrapped around in crosses up her shapeless calves. After a bit of cussing over the difficulty she had because of her arthritis she was all set. She had at least a dozen Percocet she could sell to the teenagers down at the park.
She made her jerky way and navigated the grassy hill to the picnic table where she set up shop. Donning her straw hat and setting her thermos of tea of in front of her she yelled at the two girls on the rusty swings. "Put on some sun screen! Skin cancer you know, even if you're as black as you girls, you can still get it!"
As the giggling girls came towards her she told them, "You should get jobs instead of doing drugs."
"You should talk, you fucking pariah!" said the taller of the two as she snatched whole bottle of pills out of the old woman's arthritic hands.
Laughing, the two girls ran away with a speed and grace that drove Arcea crazy.
"Pariah? I'll pariah you, you little shits! I hope your fathers marry you off to some flithy old men in whatever God forsaken country you came from! That would be K. A. R. M. A.! Look THAT up why don't you!" Pariah? What cheek!. Now she would have to go back to the doctor and explain why she had none of her arthritis medicine left. A four dollar dispensing fee got her forty pills she could sell for ten dollars a pop. It was great way to supplement her pension. Without any drugs left to sell she decided to head home. She still had time to catch her favorite soap opera.
She packed up her bag and made her jerky way back up the hill. She paused at the summit, the pain in her chest overwhelming her. Reaching for the nitroglycerin pills in her bag she pulled out the bottle of Percocet. These aren't my nitroglycerin pills...Those girls stole the wrong pills! Ha! Served you right you little bitches! Jokes on you!"
She fell in a heap next to the sidewalk still laughing.
A neighbour, Mr. Ferguson, a man who had lived there for thirty-five years came along and found her. He called an ambulance on the cell phone his granddaughter made him carry on his walks. He was ashamed that he thought twice before calling. Arcea was a pox on the neighbourhood, but she was a human being...
"Don't you fucking touch my stuff you filthy gorilla!!!
He was considering walking away at this point, but he did not.
"It was probably one of your brats that stole my heart pills!"
When the paramedics were loading her on the stretcher they asked if he wanted to ride to the hospital with her.
"No. I best be gettin' back. My granddaughter worries if I'm gone too long. You think she's goin' a make it?"
"Oh she seems to have had an attack of angina. But they'll make sure she's okay before they release her."
"Hemmmmm" said Mr. Ferguson. "Well, we all benefit from free health care don't we?"
"We do our best sir, good day."
"You too."
He turned around and headed back to his house. His granddaughter was sitting on the porch petting the dog as he walked up the path. Something caught his eye near the hedge. It was a bottle of nitroglycerin pills made out to A. Basilio. He thought twice about returning the pills, looked up at his granddaughter innocently petting the dog.
"You tell me how these got here?"
"I don't know. Some girls from my class ran by and they pitched something at the house."
"Hemmmmmmmm."
"Grampa, where are you going?"
"Crazy, stupid, take your pick."
He walked his tired legs back to Arcea's apartment building and set the pills on the radiator in the doorway. Nobody would steal them and she was going to need them when she got home.
Prompt: Pariah
Word Count: 800 but i'm guessing
Warnings: language
Genre: fiction
Pariah: any person or animal that is generally despised or avoided.
Arcea had breasts that hung like mere post-scripts wrapped in a halter top that wasn't going to halt anything. Somehow she had gotten so twisted in her leggings that her pelvis seemed to be put on backwards. The total lack of body fat and the swelling of her abdomen made her look the same coming and going. Her skin, the colour of nicotine, matched her teeth and the former whites of her eyes, and her hair, #469 colour from a box of home dye was neither red nor brown nor blonde, but rather "Browlunder". Her favourite colour was Hot Pink. It was the only colour she wore. A cigarette dangling from her lips was her only accessory.
"Nobody's gonna tell me how to dress! Fucking fashion Nazis!" She swore at the television and then clicked off the "Make-over Show". She re-tied her platform sandals, they laced up and then wrapped around in crosses up her shapeless calves. After a bit of cussing over the difficulty she had because of her arthritis she was all set. She had at least a dozen Percocet she could sell to the teenagers down at the park.
She made her jerky way and navigated the grassy hill to the picnic table where she set up shop. Donning her straw hat and setting her thermos of tea of in front of her she yelled at the two girls on the rusty swings. "Put on some sun screen! Skin cancer you know, even if you're as black as you girls, you can still get it!"
As the giggling girls came towards her she told them, "You should get jobs instead of doing drugs."
"You should talk, you fucking pariah!" said the taller of the two as she snatched whole bottle of pills out of the old woman's arthritic hands.
Laughing, the two girls ran away with a speed and grace that drove Arcea crazy.
"Pariah? I'll pariah you, you little shits! I hope your fathers marry you off to some flithy old men in whatever God forsaken country you came from! That would be K. A. R. M. A.! Look THAT up why don't you!" Pariah? What cheek!. Now she would have to go back to the doctor and explain why she had none of her arthritis medicine left. A four dollar dispensing fee got her forty pills she could sell for ten dollars a pop. It was great way to supplement her pension. Without any drugs left to sell she decided to head home. She still had time to catch her favorite soap opera.
She packed up her bag and made her jerky way back up the hill. She paused at the summit, the pain in her chest overwhelming her. Reaching for the nitroglycerin pills in her bag she pulled out the bottle of Percocet. These aren't my nitroglycerin pills...Those girls stole the wrong pills! Ha! Served you right you little bitches! Jokes on you!"
She fell in a heap next to the sidewalk still laughing.
A neighbour, Mr. Ferguson, a man who had lived there for thirty-five years came along and found her. He called an ambulance on the cell phone his granddaughter made him carry on his walks. He was ashamed that he thought twice before calling. Arcea was a pox on the neighbourhood, but she was a human being...
"Don't you fucking touch my stuff you filthy gorilla!!!
He was considering walking away at this point, but he did not.
"It was probably one of your brats that stole my heart pills!"
When the paramedics were loading her on the stretcher they asked if he wanted to ride to the hospital with her.
"No. I best be gettin' back. My granddaughter worries if I'm gone too long. You think she's goin' a make it?"
"Oh she seems to have had an attack of angina. But they'll make sure she's okay before they release her."
"Hemmmmm" said Mr. Ferguson. "Well, we all benefit from free health care don't we?"
"We do our best sir, good day."
"You too."
He turned around and headed back to his house. His granddaughter was sitting on the porch petting the dog as he walked up the path. Something caught his eye near the hedge. It was a bottle of nitroglycerin pills made out to A. Basilio. He thought twice about returning the pills, looked up at his granddaughter innocently petting the dog.
"You tell me how these got here?"
"I don't know. Some girls from my class ran by and they pitched something at the house."
"Hemmmmmmmm."
"Grampa, where are you going?"
"Crazy, stupid, take your pick."
He walked his tired legs back to Arcea's apartment building and set the pills on the radiator in the doorway. Nobody would steal them and she was going to need them when she got home.
