Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce the fifth chapter in my story Alanna the Piranha. It has been a most distressing week. That’ll teach me to allow the Maltese to introduce my blog. Firstly, the Maltese and I were left with a babysitter for the weekend while our novelist visited relatives. We spent most of our time staring out the window waiting for her to come back to us. And if that wasn’t enough, the day she returned her car was broken into. It always happens when something is out of sorts that criminals take advantage. One of the doors of the car was left unlocked and that is how they got in. They took one item: a credit card holder. However, the credit card holder (which cost an entire seven American dollars) was full of punch cards for various businesses. I genuinely hope the thief enjoyed their free coffee and teriyaki. That said without further ado her is Chapter Five of Alanna the Piranha. Bon Appetite!
Alanna the Piranha
I needed to get my hands on DNA. More specifically I wanted a woman’s DNA. Now, I suppose extracting DNA from my mother or Stacy would have worked just fine but the whole idea of taking it from one of them made my stomach turn. I needed a non-relative.
I decided it was time to pay Stacy’s dorm room a visit. I showed up in the afternoon hoping she might be in. But she wasn’t. She was late getting back from her classes. When I knocked on the door her roommate Brooke answered. I happened to know her name because Stacy mentioned it once or twice. Brooke was wearing an oversized sweatshirt with the university’s insignia on it and a pair of gym shorts. She waddled to the door with these sponge things stuck between her toes.
“Who are you?” she asked irritated and skeptical.
“I’m Stacy’s bro…cousin. I’m her cousin Flint.”
“I was supposed to meet Stacy here today.”
She looked at her watch. “Stacy’s running late. Have you tried texting her?”
“No,” I replied feeling stupid.
“There’s a study room just down the hall.”
“Couldn’t I wait for her here?”
“I don’t know you,” she snapped giving me a quizzical look. Then she shut the door in my face.
I stood there looking at the closed door for a moment. She was right. She didn’t know me. I could be a garden variety campus rapist sharking the halls for my next prey. Unfortunately for me that wasn’t the case. I was a decent guy who was heading down the hall to the study room to text my sister who would call me all sorts of expletives for coming to her dorm room uninvited. But on the bright side, I was on an all-female floor in a dormitory and DNA abounded. I just needed to wait for the opportunity to steal some girl’s DNA.
I texted Stacy:
I’m @ your room.
She texted me immediately:
WT RU doing @ my room?!
CNT a bro visit his sister?
Mom WNTD me 2 bring U a CR pkg.
K. I’ll keep it.
NT a chance! Drop it off w/ my rm mate
She DSNT trust me.
I’ll txt her.
I sat in the study room for a couple of minutes waiting for Stacy to text Brooke. Then I headed back down the hall and knocked on their door.
“So,” Brooke said when she opened it. “Where’s the care package?”
“Right,” I said and unzipped my backpack and took out a tube of toothpaste and a candy bar I’d bought at Bartell Pharmacy on the Ave.
“Are you serious?” she said. “Her mother sent this?”
“This care package sucks.”
“Can I come in and wait for Stacy now?”
She started to shut the door when the elevator doors opened, and Stacy stepped out and marched down the hall towards us. The minute she saw me she wanted to drag me back down to the elevator and throw me down the shaft. She stomped up to us and asked me, “Did you drop off the care package?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“It’s pretty sad,” Brooke said.
“He sure is,” Stacy said. “Get out of here, Flint.”
It was then that I had a moment of clarity. I needed a better care package.
I had to figure out what Stacys considered a great care package. Or rather I needed to figure out what a true care package really was so I did what any red blooded American Incel would do. I asked my mom.
“Mom,” I said. “What stuff do you usually put in a care package you send to Stacy?”
My mother looked at me quizzically. “Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to put one together for her.”
“Really?” My suggestion may as well have been I’d like to become a sadistic birthday clown for children’s parties.
“Yes,” I said. “I’d like to put together a care package…for my sister.”
“Fantastic! Let’s get started.”
I followed my mother out to the garage where she kept a small highly organized mountain of empty shipping boxes.
“Not all shipping boxes are the same,” she told me. “The best ones have a hinge or two on them as opposed to being one piece that they just glue together.”
My mother plucked a hinged cardboard box off the pile that looked like it could fit a shoebox with room to spare. She handed it to me. “You see how it has an attached hinged lid,” she said moving the lid up and down. “And at the edge of the lid there is a slit where the tab at the top edge of the box fits into. That way you have a solid box to ship items in.”
“Sure,” I said disinterested.
“Next you need tissue paper.”
“It makes the package look eye catching when she opens it. And it acts like bubble wrap protecting the items inside.”
“I had planned to deliver it in person.”
“Oh…well, it will still work. Do you remember when I used to send care packages to your dorm?”
“The key is to pack pragmatic items and add one or two goodies just for fun.”
I wracked my brain trying to remember what mom had stuck in my care packages. Socks, I think. Maybe some candy bars or crackers.
“I’m going to suggest packing the same items I used to pack for you but ones that are more Stacy’s style.”
“Like a cat suit and a whip?”
“Stacy would like things like fine chocolates or French hair accessories.”
“Alright,” I said not realizing this was going to be the Martha Stewart hour.
“And you are going to have to go to the stores to pick them up.”
“Pick them up?” I said wondering where my mother had been for the last twenty years. “I’ll order them online.”
“If you are going to order them online you might as well just have them shipped directly to her. And while you’re at it why don’t you stamp them with the fist of your cold steal heart.”
“Mom,” I said. “I will hand deliver the package. But there is no way no how I am going to pick all this up at a bunch of brick-and-mortar stores. That’s just stupid not to mention a complete waste of time.”
“Fine,” my mother said irritated. “Just make sure you get her what she wants.”
Getting all this stuff for Stacy might put me back a tick. Only one more day remains until my package arrives.
You can check out my books Chicane and the five installments in my Musicology book series Musicology: Volume One, Baby!, Musicology: Volume Two, Kid!, Musicology: Volume Three, Twist!, Musicology: Volume Four, Sweetie! and Musicology: The Epiquad on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback editions. You can also check out Musicology’s web site at www.musicologyrocks.com and vote for who you think will win Musicology!!!
STREAM OF THE WEEK: REPULSION (1965)-XUMO
In keeping with my theme of Halloween films which think outside the box, here’s a little cautionary tale for those gentlemen out there who struggle with the word no. One of the most truly chilling and disturbing films of all time with gorgeous black and white cinematography by Gilbert Taylor, Repulsion chronicles a week in the life of Carol (brilliantly portrayed by Catherine Deneuve who should have earned an Oscar nomination for this performance. She did, after all, win the New York Film Critics Circle Award for Best Actress). Carol has always been a little off. She is a beautiful young French manicurist living in London with her older sister Helen (Yvonne Furneaux). Carol is blonde and virginal. Helen is brunette and experienced and having an affair with a married man, a scumbag named Michael (Ian Hendry). The women have a cousin named Colin (John Fraser) who is madly in love with Carol. He is the opposite of Michael and desperately trying to win Carol’s affection. When Helen and Michael head off to Italy for the weekend, Carol is left alone in she and Helen’s apartment with one task: pay the rent. Roman Polanski co-wrote the script with Gérard Brach and David Stone and directed this cinematic masterpiece which remains one of his best works. Look for him playing the spoons in one of the street scenes. He tied with David Lean for best director for the New York Film Critics Circle Award for Best Director.