A satire of dysfunctional politics and economic disparity.
Chapter VII: Day/Page 70 CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY. . . .
She pulls open the door to the shop.
Immediately upon entering, a beautiful, elegantly-dressed female with shiny blond hair pulled tight into a ponytail rushes at her shouting and waving her arms, frantically trying to sweep Sofia out the door, back onto the mosaic-tiled sidewalk outside.
“You don’t belong here. Get out, get out, or I’ll call the police,” says the beautiful pony-tailed blonde.
Sofia holds up a gold coin. (Take it easy. Look… I have money.)
Unimpressed and undaunted, the blond continues making harsh, sweeping motions for Sofia to retreat. “Go. Beat it. Get out of here. You don’t belong here you filthy slacker,” she shouts.
(Ok, fine, I’m leaving.)
As Sofia turns to go, a second female, an older woman with grey hair stiff as a spool of wire, and bright, cherry-red lipstick, shouts something which causes the younger one to break off her attack.
The older woman scurries over, gently slaps the younger one on the back of the hand to shoo her out of the way, and tenderly draws Sofia inside. “Come, my child, don’t listen to her. Please come in.”
“You can’t be serious, Marianova,” blurts the blonde. “Look at the mangy cur. She stinks. She hasn’t washed in days, maybe weeks. Oh my gosh, I can’t stand the smell. I think I’m going to throw up.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust, covers her face, and rushes to the back of the store.
(I know what you mean—I can’t stand the smell of me either. I don’t know how you guys can live with these noses. I’ve only had one for a few hours and it’s already more than I can take.)
Marianova takes Sofia by the forearm, leading her further into the store. “Please come in, dear child. Pay no attention to her. Your money is as good as anyone else’s in my store.”
“I’m sure she stole it,” the blonde spits out venomously from the back of the room. “All those filthy slackers do. How else would she get a gold coin? It’s probably fake… not even real.”
“Well, which one is it, stolen or fake?” says Marianova sarcastically.
“Both!” snorts the blond.
“Oh, hush, Ivana. Maybe she married money, like you did.”
That silenced the blonde momentarily.
Marianova turns to Sofia. “Just ignore her. I’m sure she didn’t mean what she said. Please come in. We have lots of very nice clothes and accessories. Over here are the skirts and dresses. We also have casual pants and slacks, if you’re interested. Handbags, shoes—just about anything you want. What can I help you with today?”
Marianova speaks rapidly, ivory-white teeth . . .
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Gregory James
All rights reserved