Hey ladies! I’m here to talk to today about a very important issue. This issue, which is so close to my heart may very well shock you, but it is time for you to know the truth. I'm hear to talk to you about the danger that is swimming with dolphins. Sure, you may think that dolphins seem like your typical cute, cuddly, marine life friends, but in truth they are wild, ferocious, uncontrollable savages, who, more often then not, are out to steal your virtue!
I know girls, I know, so many of you had planned to swim with dolphins on this year’s spring break trip to Cabo. (Insert squeals of delight here.) But give me a few moments to convince you of why staying on the beach working on your hot spring break tan will be much more worth your time. This may be surprising to you sisters, but did you know that captive dolphins are actually much more dangerous then wild dolphins? I know—I totes thought I was being messed with when I first learned this. But it’s true! Captive dolphins in "swim with dolphin" programs often become aggressive, and have been known to do everything from ramming people to the bottom of the pool to chasing them. And the injuries that result from these incidents range from scratches and cuts to broken bones. I don’t know about you, but the only thing I want broken when I get back from Spring Break is my record for how many shots of tequila I can take! Who’s with me?
But that’s not all. As I’m sure you know, most animals mating season is in the spring. Guess what else is in spring? That’s right, our Cabo trip. There have been multiple incidents when a captive dolphin has been in the prime of mating season and mistook his swimming partner for, ahem, a different kind of partner. You would be surprised at the number of drowning incidents that have been caused by this. I’m sorry, but hotties like us have enough to worry about with all these frat boys hounding us all the time, we do not need to also worry about waking up to something of another species. I mean, ew. I know “what happens in Cabo stays in Cabo” and everything, but who can live down an infamous story like that? We have our reputations to think about girls.
I know what some of you girls are thinking right now. I considered it too. But trust me when I say this, dolphin petting zoos are just as bad. Those toothers are sharper then you think, and we don’t go through the labors of getting manicures every week just so some angry dolphins can have a prettier looking snack.
I’m telling you all of this not because I want to ruin your fun, but because sisters have to look our for each other. Dolphins are just like any other wild animal, and I mean really, would you like, want to go swimming with a grizzly bear? So keep in mind what I’ve told you and I hope everyone has a beyond awesome time this spring break!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Writing Assignment 8, Draft 1
Hey ladies! I’m here to talk to today about a very important issue that is very close to my heart. That is the danger of swimming with dolphins. Sure, you may think that dolphins seem like your cute, cuddly, marine life friends, but in truth they are wild, ferocious, incontrollable savages, who in some cases are out to steal your virtue!
I know girls, I know, that so many of you had planned to swim with dolphins on this year’s spring break trip to Cabo. (Insert squeals of delight here.) But give me a few moments as to tell you why you should staying on the beach working on your hot spring break tan will be much more worth your time. This may be surprising to you sisters, but did you know that captive dolphins are actually much more dangerous then wild dolphins? I know—I totes thought I was being messed with when I learned this. But it’s true! Captive dolphins in swim with dolphin programs often become aggressive, and have been known to ramming people at the bottom of the pool to chasing them. And the injuries that result from these incidents range from scratches and cuts to broken bones. I don’t know about you, but the only thing I want broken when I get back from Spring Break is my record for how many shots of tequila I can take! Who’s with me?
But that’s not all. As I’m sure you know, most animals mating season is in the spring. Guess what else is in spring? That’s right, our Cabo trip. There have been multiple incidents when a captive dolphin has been in the prime of mating season and mistook his swimming partner for, ahem, a different kind of partner. You would be surprised at the number of drowning incidents that have been caused by this. I’m sorry, but hotties like us have enough to worry about with all these frat boys hounding us all the time, we do not need to also worry about waking up to something of another species. I mean, ew. I know “what happens in Cabo stays in Cabo” and everything, but who can live down an infamous story like that?
I know what some of you girls are thinking right now. I considered it too. But trust me when I say this, dolphin petting zoos are just as bad. Those toothers are sharper then you think, and we don’t go through the labors of getting manicures every week just so some angry dolphins can have a prettier looking snack.
I’m telling you all of this not because I want to ruin your fun, but because sisters have to look our for each other. Dolphins are just like any other wild animal, and I mean really, would you like, want to go swimming with a grizzly bear? So keep in mind what I’ve told you and I hope everyone has a beyond awesome time this spring break!
I know girls, I know, that so many of you had planned to swim with dolphins on this year’s spring break trip to Cabo. (Insert squeals of delight here.) But give me a few moments as to tell you why you should staying on the beach working on your hot spring break tan will be much more worth your time. This may be surprising to you sisters, but did you know that captive dolphins are actually much more dangerous then wild dolphins? I know—I totes thought I was being messed with when I learned this. But it’s true! Captive dolphins in swim with dolphin programs often become aggressive, and have been known to ramming people at the bottom of the pool to chasing them. And the injuries that result from these incidents range from scratches and cuts to broken bones. I don’t know about you, but the only thing I want broken when I get back from Spring Break is my record for how many shots of tequila I can take! Who’s with me?
But that’s not all. As I’m sure you know, most animals mating season is in the spring. Guess what else is in spring? That’s right, our Cabo trip. There have been multiple incidents when a captive dolphin has been in the prime of mating season and mistook his swimming partner for, ahem, a different kind of partner. You would be surprised at the number of drowning incidents that have been caused by this. I’m sorry, but hotties like us have enough to worry about with all these frat boys hounding us all the time, we do not need to also worry about waking up to something of another species. I mean, ew. I know “what happens in Cabo stays in Cabo” and everything, but who can live down an infamous story like that?
I know what some of you girls are thinking right now. I considered it too. But trust me when I say this, dolphin petting zoos are just as bad. Those toothers are sharper then you think, and we don’t go through the labors of getting manicures every week just so some angry dolphins can have a prettier looking snack.
I’m telling you all of this not because I want to ruin your fun, but because sisters have to look our for each other. Dolphins are just like any other wild animal, and I mean really, would you like, want to go swimming with a grizzly bear? So keep in mind what I’ve told you and I hope everyone has a beyond awesome time this spring break!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Writing Assignment 6 Final Draft
“Officer, welcome. I’ve been waiting for you.” I say as I open my door to Officer Beaumont. He walks in and looks uncomfortable. Against the lushness of my furnishings—the rich colored wallpaper and velvety carpets imported from Paris, he looks rough and out of place.
“Hello Miss Velonsky.” He says, half raising his hand as if to shake mine, but then seeming to think better of the motion dropping his hand to his side. I manage to hide a smile by turning my back to lead him into the parlor…I was used to this flustered appearance upon meeting me.
“As you know I have a few questions Miss Velonsky.” He says as he takes a seat on the silk armchair.
“Natasha, please.” I smile graciously, perching on the chaise lounge. He repositions himself, taking out a pad of paper and pen, tapping the pen against the paper. Hopefully we could get this interrogation over with quickly.
“That is a very fancy dress.” Officer Beaumont points out rather simple-mindedly. I look down innocently at the silk ball gown that I had slipped on moments before he arrived and shrugged my shoulders. In truth my wardrobe choice had been rather specifically chosen. Elegant ladies weren’t murderers, everyone knew that.
“Tell me the events of last Friday evening.” He said into my silence.
“I had a show at the Carlton Theater as you know, Officer.”
“Perhaps you could be more specific.”
“I took a cab to the theater at around 5 O’clock, arrived in my dressing room and had my dinner served to me there. I ate dinner alone and then I got my hair and makeup done and warmed up my voice. The curtain went up at 7:00. I sang until the show ended at around 9:00, then, well you know what happened next.”
“Yes, I do. You left the stage and found…” He looked down at his paper to read a name—“ Fred Kinsley, stabbed to death in your dressing room.” My heart skipped a beat at Kinsley’s name, but I remained calm.
“Yes.”
“Did you have relations with the Kinsley before?”
“We had been acquainted at a few various and sundry society galas, but that was the extent of it.
“Really? I find that very interesting. It seems that Mr. Kinsley’s sister was under the impression that you had known him quite well.”
“Oh?” I say raising one eyebrow in an attempt to seem coy, but the question coming out more faintly then I had planned. Officer Beaumont now seemed to be in his element.
“Mr. Kinsley and I were…old friends.” I manage.
“Friends?”
“Yes.”
“Purely platonic?”
“Yes.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Isn’t one’s first love platonic enough?” I soon as I said it I knew it was the wrong thing to say. I hurried to recover. “I knew Fred Kinsley when I was very young, before I began my life on the stage. We had grown up together. But when I left home to come to the city we lost touch. You can imagine my surprise at seeing him dead in my dressing room after all these years. I’m still recovering from the trauma of it.” I bring a tear to my eye and let it sit there. I knew that I looked the epitome of stifled misery.
“And your fiancé, Mr. Duke Harvington of Harvington Banking, he knew of this Fred Kinsley?” The question took me by surprise. I thought nothing surprised me.
“Of course not. Why would he? They’re from two separate worlds.”
“Yes, two separate worlds. The world of being in love with Mary Winstead and the world of being in love with Natasha Velonsky.” The Officer says calmly. I cock my head to one side.
“I’m sorry…Mary Winsted?”
“You’re not familiar with the name?” I don’t answer, calculating in my head. “Are you familiar with that name, Miss Velonsky?” The Officer repeated the question in earnest. I open my mouth to speak, but no answer came out. “I would have thought that you wouldn’t have forgotten your original name, ma’am.” The officer says quietly.
“Mary Winsted doesn’t make a very good stage name.” I finally say. I can feel my walls of calm breaking down around me and I know it is time for drastic measures. “Would you like a glass of wine, Officer Beaumont? All this chatting has gotten me simply parched.” I don’t wait for his reply and instead I get up and pour two glasses. He stands also, taking a glass from me and we both sip. I place my hand gently on his chest.
“I can’t help but admire you, Officer. I’ve never been so intimidated in my life.” I smile slightly.
“Call it a gift.” His soft voice mimics mine and I know I am winning. Men are so predictable. I lean closer to him so that I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. And suddenly we are kissing, kissing passionately as my head does a victory dance until suddenly I feel something cold and metal on my wrist. I look down and see a handcuff covering it and for a moment am confused at how it got there. But then I see that Officer Beaumont has pulled out a piece of wrinkled paper from his coat pocket.
“I have here a marriage license for Fred Kinsley and Mary Winsted.” I stare at it in amazement. “It’s quite curious to me, Miss Winsted that you would agree to marry Duke Harvington when you’re already married. Though I supposed if Mr. Kinsley were to suddenly die, you would be a widow and free to do as you please and go marry your millionaire, nice and tidy with no scandal of divorce.” Our faces are still inches apart.
“I...” I let my voice travel off, my lip trembling.
“So perhaps Mr. Kinsley showed up in your dressing room during intermission last Friday to remind you of your union, and things got a bit heated?”
“Mary Winsted and Natasha Velonsky are two different people.”
“Not in the eye of the law. You over pampered starlets are all the same. You commit a crime, and expect seduction is going to get you what you want, just like everywhere else in your over privileged lives? You make me…” But he is cut off suddenly as he gasps and falls to the ground, blood trickling down his back. He looks at me in shock as he lay there, dying on the ground.
“You should really make sure your knife is more neatly stowed away before embracing a woman, Beaumont. The outer pocket? Really? And now I’ll have to get the carpet cleaned.” As I spoke those last words I saw the life flicker from him and he was dead. I pick up the marriage document, now dripping with blood and threw it into the fire, before commencing theatrical screams, “Help! Murder! Murder in my Apartment! Help!”
“Hello Miss Velonsky.” He says, half raising his hand as if to shake mine, but then seeming to think better of the motion dropping his hand to his side. I manage to hide a smile by turning my back to lead him into the parlor…I was used to this flustered appearance upon meeting me.
“As you know I have a few questions Miss Velonsky.” He says as he takes a seat on the silk armchair.
“Natasha, please.” I smile graciously, perching on the chaise lounge. He repositions himself, taking out a pad of paper and pen, tapping the pen against the paper. Hopefully we could get this interrogation over with quickly.
“That is a very fancy dress.” Officer Beaumont points out rather simple-mindedly. I look down innocently at the silk ball gown that I had slipped on moments before he arrived and shrugged my shoulders. In truth my wardrobe choice had been rather specifically chosen. Elegant ladies weren’t murderers, everyone knew that.
“Tell me the events of last Friday evening.” He said into my silence.
“I had a show at the Carlton Theater as you know, Officer.”
“Perhaps you could be more specific.”
“I took a cab to the theater at around 5 O’clock, arrived in my dressing room and had my dinner served to me there. I ate dinner alone and then I got my hair and makeup done and warmed up my voice. The curtain went up at 7:00. I sang until the show ended at around 9:00, then, well you know what happened next.”
“Yes, I do. You left the stage and found…” He looked down at his paper to read a name—“ Fred Kinsley, stabbed to death in your dressing room.” My heart skipped a beat at Kinsley’s name, but I remained calm.
“Yes.”
“Did you have relations with the Kinsley before?”
“We had been acquainted at a few various and sundry society galas, but that was the extent of it.
“Really? I find that very interesting. It seems that Mr. Kinsley’s sister was under the impression that you had known him quite well.”
“Oh?” I say raising one eyebrow in an attempt to seem coy, but the question coming out more faintly then I had planned. Officer Beaumont now seemed to be in his element.
“Mr. Kinsley and I were…old friends.” I manage.
“Friends?”
“Yes.”
“Purely platonic?”
“Yes.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Isn’t one’s first love platonic enough?” I soon as I said it I knew it was the wrong thing to say. I hurried to recover. “I knew Fred Kinsley when I was very young, before I began my life on the stage. We had grown up together. But when I left home to come to the city we lost touch. You can imagine my surprise at seeing him dead in my dressing room after all these years. I’m still recovering from the trauma of it.” I bring a tear to my eye and let it sit there. I knew that I looked the epitome of stifled misery.
“And your fiancé, Mr. Duke Harvington of Harvington Banking, he knew of this Fred Kinsley?” The question took me by surprise. I thought nothing surprised me.
“Of course not. Why would he? They’re from two separate worlds.”
“Yes, two separate worlds. The world of being in love with Mary Winstead and the world of being in love with Natasha Velonsky.” The Officer says calmly. I cock my head to one side.
“I’m sorry…Mary Winsted?”
“You’re not familiar with the name?” I don’t answer, calculating in my head. “Are you familiar with that name, Miss Velonsky?” The Officer repeated the question in earnest. I open my mouth to speak, but no answer came out. “I would have thought that you wouldn’t have forgotten your original name, ma’am.” The officer says quietly.
“Mary Winsted doesn’t make a very good stage name.” I finally say. I can feel my walls of calm breaking down around me and I know it is time for drastic measures. “Would you like a glass of wine, Officer Beaumont? All this chatting has gotten me simply parched.” I don’t wait for his reply and instead I get up and pour two glasses. He stands also, taking a glass from me and we both sip. I place my hand gently on his chest.
“I can’t help but admire you, Officer. I’ve never been so intimidated in my life.” I smile slightly.
“Call it a gift.” His soft voice mimics mine and I know I am winning. Men are so predictable. I lean closer to him so that I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. And suddenly we are kissing, kissing passionately as my head does a victory dance until suddenly I feel something cold and metal on my wrist. I look down and see a handcuff covering it and for a moment am confused at how it got there. But then I see that Officer Beaumont has pulled out a piece of wrinkled paper from his coat pocket.
“I have here a marriage license for Fred Kinsley and Mary Winsted.” I stare at it in amazement. “It’s quite curious to me, Miss Winsted that you would agree to marry Duke Harvington when you’re already married. Though I supposed if Mr. Kinsley were to suddenly die, you would be a widow and free to do as you please and go marry your millionaire, nice and tidy with no scandal of divorce.” Our faces are still inches apart.
“I...” I let my voice travel off, my lip trembling.
“So perhaps Mr. Kinsley showed up in your dressing room during intermission last Friday to remind you of your union, and things got a bit heated?”
“Mary Winsted and Natasha Velonsky are two different people.”
“Not in the eye of the law. You over pampered starlets are all the same. You commit a crime, and expect seduction is going to get you what you want, just like everywhere else in your over privileged lives? You make me…” But he is cut off suddenly as he gasps and falls to the ground, blood trickling down his back. He looks at me in shock as he lay there, dying on the ground.
“You should really make sure your knife is more neatly stowed away before embracing a woman, Beaumont. The outer pocket? Really? And now I’ll have to get the carpet cleaned.” As I spoke those last words I saw the life flicker from him and he was dead. I pick up the marriage document, now dripping with blood and threw it into the fire, before commencing theatrical screams, “Help! Murder! Murder in my Apartment! Help!”
Monday, March 23, 2009
Writing Assignment 6 Draft 1
“Officer, welcome. I’ve been waiting for you.” I say as I open my door to Officer Beaumont. He walks in and looks uncomfortable. Against the lushness of my furnishings—the rich colored wallpaper and velvety carpets imported from Paris, he looks rough and out of place.
“Hello Miss Velonsky.” He says, half raising his hand as if to shake mine, but then seeming to think better of the motion dropping his hand to his side. I manage to hide a smile by turning my back to lead him into the parlor…I was used to this flustered appearance upon meeting me.
“As you know I have a few questions Miss Velonsky.” He says as he takes a seat on the silk armchair.
“Natasha, please.” I smile graciously, perching on the chaise lounge. He repositions himself, taking out a pad of paper and pen, tapping the pen against the paper. Hopefully we could get this interrogation over with quickly.
“That is a very fancy dress.” Officer Beaumont points out rather simple-mindedly. I look down innocently at the silk ball gown that I had slipped on moments before he arrived and shrugged my shoulders. In truth my wardrobe choice had been rather specifically chosen. Elegant ladies weren’t murderers, everyone knew that.
“Tell me the events of last Friday evening.” He said into my silence.
“I had a show at the Carlton Theater as you know, Officer.”
“Perhaps you could be more specific.”
“I took a cab to the theater at around 5 O’clock, arrived in my dressing room and had my dinner served to me there. I ate alone that night because I was going out to a party with the friends anyways after my performance. I did my usual pre-show rituals—costuming, putting on makeup, hair, warming up my voice,. Then the curtain went up at 7:00. I sang until the show ended at around 9:00, then, well you know what happened next.”
“Yes, I do. You left the stage and found…” He looked down at his paper to read a name—“ Fred Kinsley, stabbed to death in your dressing room.” My heart skipped a beat at Kinsley’s name, but I remained calm.
“Yes.”
“Did you have relations with the Kinsley before?”
“We had been acquainted at a few various and sundry society galas, but that was the extent of it.
“Really? I find that very interesting. It seems that Mr. Kinsley’s sister was under the impression that you had known him quite well.”
“Oh?” I say raising one eyebrow in an attempt to seem coy, but the question coming out more faintly then I had planned. Officer Beaumont now seemed to be in his element.
“Mr. Kinsley and I were…old friends.” I manage.
“Friends?”
“Yes.”
“Purely platonic?”
“Yes.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Isn’t one’s first love platonic enough?” I soon as I said it I knew it was the wrong thing to say. I hurried to recover. “I knew Fred Kinsley when I was very young, before I began my life on the stage. We had grown up together. But when I left home to come to the city we lost touch. You can imagine my surprise at seeing him dead in my dressing room after all these years. I’m still recovering from the trauma of it.” I bring a tear to my eye and let it sit there. I knew that I looked the epitome of stifled misery.
“And your fiancé, Mr. Duke Harvington of Harvington Banking, he knew of this Fred Kinsley?” The question took me by surprise. I thought nothing surprised me.
“Of course not. Why would he? They’re from two separate worlds.”
“Yes, two separate worlds. The world of being in love with Mary Winsted and the world of being in love with Natasha Velonsky.” The Officer says calmly. I cock my head to one side.
“I’m sorry…Mary Winstead?”
“You’re not familiar with the name?” I don’t answer, calculating in my head. “Are you familiar with that name, Miss Velonsky?” The Officer repeated the question in earnest. I open my mouth to speak, but no answer came out. “I would have thought that you wouldn’t have forgotten your original name, ma’am.” The officer says quietly.
“Mary Winsted doesn’t make a very good stage name.” I finally say. I can feel my walls of calm breaking down around me and I know it is time for drastic measures. “Would you like a glass of wine, Officer Beaumont? All this chatting has gotten me simply parched.” I don’t wait for his reply and instead I get up and pour two glasses. He stands also, taking a glass from me and we both sip. I place my hand gently on his chest.
“I can’t help but admire you, Officer. I’ve never been so intimidated in my life.” I smile slightly.
“Call it a gift.” His soft voice mimics mine and I know I am winning. Men are so predictable. I lean closer to him so that I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. And suddenly we are kissing, kissing passionately as my head does a victory dance until suddenly I feel something cold and metal on my wrist. I look down and see a handcuff covering it and for a moment am confused at how it got there. But then I see that Officer Beaumont has pulled out a piece of wrinkled paper from his coat pocket.
“I have here a marriage license for Fred Kinsley and Mary Winsted.” I stare at it in amazement. “It’s quite curious to me, Miss Winsted that you would agree to marry Duke Harvington when you’re already married. Though I supposed if Mr. Kinsley were to suddenly die, you would be a widow and free to do as you please and go marry your millionaire, nice and tidy with no scandal of divorce.” Our faces are still inches apart.
“I’ve never been afraid of scandal. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“So perhaps Mr. Kinsley showed up in your dressing room during intermission last Friday to remind you of your union, and things got a bit heated?”
“Mary Winsted and Natasha Velonsky are two different people.”
“Not in the eye of the law. You over pampered starlets are all the same. You commit a crime, and expect seduction is going to get you what you want, just like everywhere else in your over privileged lives? You make me…” But he is cut off suddenly as he gasps and falls to the ground, blood trickling down his back. He looks at me in shock as he lay there, dying on the ground.
“You should really make sure your knife is more neatly stowed away before embracing a woman, Beaumont. The outer pocket? Really? And now I’ll have to get the carpet cleaned.” As I spoke those last words I saw the life flicker from him and he was dead. I pick up the marriage document, now dripping with blood and threw it into the fire, before commencing theatrical screams, “Help! Murder! Murder in my Apartment! Help!”
“Hello Miss Velonsky.” He says, half raising his hand as if to shake mine, but then seeming to think better of the motion dropping his hand to his side. I manage to hide a smile by turning my back to lead him into the parlor…I was used to this flustered appearance upon meeting me.
“As you know I have a few questions Miss Velonsky.” He says as he takes a seat on the silk armchair.
“Natasha, please.” I smile graciously, perching on the chaise lounge. He repositions himself, taking out a pad of paper and pen, tapping the pen against the paper. Hopefully we could get this interrogation over with quickly.
“That is a very fancy dress.” Officer Beaumont points out rather simple-mindedly. I look down innocently at the silk ball gown that I had slipped on moments before he arrived and shrugged my shoulders. In truth my wardrobe choice had been rather specifically chosen. Elegant ladies weren’t murderers, everyone knew that.
“Tell me the events of last Friday evening.” He said into my silence.
“I had a show at the Carlton Theater as you know, Officer.”
“Perhaps you could be more specific.”
“I took a cab to the theater at around 5 O’clock, arrived in my dressing room and had my dinner served to me there. I ate alone that night because I was going out to a party with the friends anyways after my performance. I did my usual pre-show rituals—costuming, putting on makeup, hair, warming up my voice,. Then the curtain went up at 7:00. I sang until the show ended at around 9:00, then, well you know what happened next.”
“Yes, I do. You left the stage and found…” He looked down at his paper to read a name—“ Fred Kinsley, stabbed to death in your dressing room.” My heart skipped a beat at Kinsley’s name, but I remained calm.
“Yes.”
“Did you have relations with the Kinsley before?”
“We had been acquainted at a few various and sundry society galas, but that was the extent of it.
“Really? I find that very interesting. It seems that Mr. Kinsley’s sister was under the impression that you had known him quite well.”
“Oh?” I say raising one eyebrow in an attempt to seem coy, but the question coming out more faintly then I had planned. Officer Beaumont now seemed to be in his element.
“Mr. Kinsley and I were…old friends.” I manage.
“Friends?”
“Yes.”
“Purely platonic?”
“Yes.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Isn’t one’s first love platonic enough?” I soon as I said it I knew it was the wrong thing to say. I hurried to recover. “I knew Fred Kinsley when I was very young, before I began my life on the stage. We had grown up together. But when I left home to come to the city we lost touch. You can imagine my surprise at seeing him dead in my dressing room after all these years. I’m still recovering from the trauma of it.” I bring a tear to my eye and let it sit there. I knew that I looked the epitome of stifled misery.
“And your fiancé, Mr. Duke Harvington of Harvington Banking, he knew of this Fred Kinsley?” The question took me by surprise. I thought nothing surprised me.
“Of course not. Why would he? They’re from two separate worlds.”
“Yes, two separate worlds. The world of being in love with Mary Winsted and the world of being in love with Natasha Velonsky.” The Officer says calmly. I cock my head to one side.
“I’m sorry…Mary Winstead?”
“You’re not familiar with the name?” I don’t answer, calculating in my head. “Are you familiar with that name, Miss Velonsky?” The Officer repeated the question in earnest. I open my mouth to speak, but no answer came out. “I would have thought that you wouldn’t have forgotten your original name, ma’am.” The officer says quietly.
“Mary Winsted doesn’t make a very good stage name.” I finally say. I can feel my walls of calm breaking down around me and I know it is time for drastic measures. “Would you like a glass of wine, Officer Beaumont? All this chatting has gotten me simply parched.” I don’t wait for his reply and instead I get up and pour two glasses. He stands also, taking a glass from me and we both sip. I place my hand gently on his chest.
“I can’t help but admire you, Officer. I’ve never been so intimidated in my life.” I smile slightly.
“Call it a gift.” His soft voice mimics mine and I know I am winning. Men are so predictable. I lean closer to him so that I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. And suddenly we are kissing, kissing passionately as my head does a victory dance until suddenly I feel something cold and metal on my wrist. I look down and see a handcuff covering it and for a moment am confused at how it got there. But then I see that Officer Beaumont has pulled out a piece of wrinkled paper from his coat pocket.
“I have here a marriage license for Fred Kinsley and Mary Winsted.” I stare at it in amazement. “It’s quite curious to me, Miss Winsted that you would agree to marry Duke Harvington when you’re already married. Though I supposed if Mr. Kinsley were to suddenly die, you would be a widow and free to do as you please and go marry your millionaire, nice and tidy with no scandal of divorce.” Our faces are still inches apart.
“I’ve never been afraid of scandal. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“So perhaps Mr. Kinsley showed up in your dressing room during intermission last Friday to remind you of your union, and things got a bit heated?”
“Mary Winsted and Natasha Velonsky are two different people.”
“Not in the eye of the law. You over pampered starlets are all the same. You commit a crime, and expect seduction is going to get you what you want, just like everywhere else in your over privileged lives? You make me…” But he is cut off suddenly as he gasps and falls to the ground, blood trickling down his back. He looks at me in shock as he lay there, dying on the ground.
“You should really make sure your knife is more neatly stowed away before embracing a woman, Beaumont. The outer pocket? Really? And now I’ll have to get the carpet cleaned.” As I spoke those last words I saw the life flicker from him and he was dead. I pick up the marriage document, now dripping with blood and threw it into the fire, before commencing theatrical screams, “Help! Murder! Murder in my Apartment! Help!”
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Writing Assignment 5 Final Draft
A bright, sunny summer’s day. The kind of day where the sun is beating down just enough so that one is relieved to get indoors. In city hall that day, the escape indoors did little for the four people in a stuffy room at the end of the hall on the third floor. The ancient air conditioning unit chugged on hopefully, but to no avail. A bead of perspiration formed on the judge’s upper lip as she rapped her podium with her pen impatiently.
“…Speak now or forever hold you peace.” She raised her eyebrows at a bored looking secretary standing idly diagonally behind the engaged couple. The secretary furrows her brow as if to say, “How would I know?” but then gives a shake of her head indicating that she had no objections to the union. She then glanced at her watch anxiously. For the secretary, this was the worst part of her job. It wasn’t even supposed to be her job. But when naïve young couples like the present Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson come into city hall to get married, not knowing that they needed a witness, the secretary often stepped in, much to her discomfort.
The secretary studies the young couple with interest. She normally saw two kinds of wedding at city hall. There’s the shotgun, someone’s a little too pregnant for the big white dress church ceremony wedding, and then there’s the couple with a head over heels (normally trying too hard) bride and a groom who is obviously gritting his teeth at the very idea of marriage…but doesn’t want to lose her or whatever his reason may be. For some reason, this couple didn’t seem to fit into this mold. They seem so normal. She continued to wonder why Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson would go for a wedding ceremony with the same amount of charm as a trip to the DMV.
In truth, city hall had never been Sarah or Steven’s idea of a dream wedding. Far from it, in fact. The real reason for the impromptu ceremony actually goes back about four generations into Sarah Howard’s family. The story goes that her Great, great, great grandfather Howard was engaged to marry this girl when, ten minutes before the ceremony, his best friend informed him that he had, ahem, already deflowered the beloved bride. Many a time. Sarah’s great, great, great grandfather (who always had quite the temper) waited until right before he was supposed to say “I do” and instead of vowing to bind himself to his bride forever, he pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the heart multiple times. It was really quite the scandal.
One might ask what this has to do with Sarah and Steven. It seems that, ever since this fateful tragedy, a curse has been set on Sarah’s family, so that at every wedding the Howard family hosts, a family member suffers an untimely death. One might say this is only silly superstition, but the previous year Sarah’s brother regarded the story as such and right during the vows their Uncle Ernie was stung by a bee and died of an unknown bee allergy. So, Sarah and Steven weren’t willing to take any risks.
They are more then content as they say their “I do’s” in front of complete strangers, knowing that no family members were at risk because of their union. After the ceremony, the secretary’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she blurts out to the couple:
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” The couple exchanges a look, slightly taken aback. Steven proceeds to shrug his shoulders, knowing that Sarah did not want to get into her family history.
“Stage fright.”
“…Speak now or forever hold you peace.” She raised her eyebrows at a bored looking secretary standing idly diagonally behind the engaged couple. The secretary furrows her brow as if to say, “How would I know?” but then gives a shake of her head indicating that she had no objections to the union. She then glanced at her watch anxiously. For the secretary, this was the worst part of her job. It wasn’t even supposed to be her job. But when naïve young couples like the present Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson come into city hall to get married, not knowing that they needed a witness, the secretary often stepped in, much to her discomfort.
The secretary studies the young couple with interest. She normally saw two kinds of wedding at city hall. There’s the shotgun, someone’s a little too pregnant for the big white dress church ceremony wedding, and then there’s the couple with a head over heels (normally trying too hard) bride and a groom who is obviously gritting his teeth at the very idea of marriage…but doesn’t want to lose her or whatever his reason may be. For some reason, this couple didn’t seem to fit into this mold. They seem so normal. She continued to wonder why Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson would go for a wedding ceremony with the same amount of charm as a trip to the DMV.
In truth, city hall had never been Sarah or Steven’s idea of a dream wedding. Far from it, in fact. The real reason for the impromptu ceremony actually goes back about four generations into Sarah Howard’s family. The story goes that her Great, great, great grandfather Howard was engaged to marry this girl when, ten minutes before the ceremony, his best friend informed him that he had, ahem, already deflowered the beloved bride. Many a time. Sarah’s great, great, great grandfather (who always had quite the temper) waited until right before he was supposed to say “I do” and instead of vowing to bind himself to his bride forever, he pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the heart multiple times. It was really quite the scandal.
One might ask what this has to do with Sarah and Steven. It seems that, ever since this fateful tragedy, a curse has been set on Sarah’s family, so that at every wedding the Howard family hosts, a family member suffers an untimely death. One might say this is only silly superstition, but the previous year Sarah’s brother regarded the story as such and right during the vows their Uncle Ernie was stung by a bee and died of an unknown bee allergy. So, Sarah and Steven weren’t willing to take any risks.
They are more then content as they say their “I do’s” in front of complete strangers, knowing that no family members were at risk because of their union. After the ceremony, the secretary’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she blurts out to the couple:
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” The couple exchanges a look, slightly taken aback. Steven proceeds to shrug his shoulders, knowing that Sarah did not want to get into her family history.
“Stage fright.”
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Writing Assignment 5 Draft 2
“Here, you just need to fill out this paperwork here, and do you have a witness?” The secretary sitting behind the desk asks us as if she already knows the answer to her own question. I look over at Steven who looks more surprised then I am. I had an inkling that we would run into this problem.
“Could you possibly step in? We really don’t have time to go find someone.” I ask eagerly. The secretary sighs and nods, filling out the witness line on the clipboard. A stab of guilt pierces my stomach, but hey, maybe the curse didn’t work on strangers. Hopefully.
City hall had never exactly been my dream wedding. Far from it, in fact. But Steven was my dream husband, and I wanted out marriage to be perfect…so I knew he’d understand. His family, on the other hand…
It’s just this…curse. Well, that’s what we call it—the Howard family wedding curse. It all started with my great, great, great grandfather Howard. The story goes that he was engaged to marry this girl when, ten minutes before the ceremony, his best friend informed him that he had, ahem, already deflowered his beloved bride. Many a time. This was back in the day before that kind of thing was less unheard of. Well, my great, great, great grandfather (who always had quite the temper apparently) waited until right before he was supposed to say “I do” and instead of vowing to bind himself to her forever, he pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the heart multiple times. It was really quite the scandal.
What does this have to do with me you may ask? Well, ever since this horrible tragedy happened at almost every single wedding the Howard family hosts a family member dies. I’m not kidding, my great grandfather’s unfaithful fiancée must have risen from the dead to curse the weddings of the Howard’s forever. Last year, my brother disregarded the curse as a bunch of bologna and just as he’s saying his vows a bee stung my Uncle Ernie and, it turning out that he’s deathly allergic of bees, he died on the spot.
So I’m not willing to take any risks, and Steven, being the saint that he is, agrees to go along with it. And of course my family isn’t complaining since no one wants to be next.
So city hall works for me. Sure, the ceremony is charmless, but at least there are no tragic deaths. As we are leaving the room as man and wife I notice for the first time that the secretary is looking at us rather awkwardly. I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” She blurts out. An odd question, I thought. I find myself not knowing what to say, not wanting to get into the Howard family history. As usual, Steven sweeps in and saves the day.
“Stage fright.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. He really is the perfect man.
“Could you possibly step in? We really don’t have time to go find someone.” I ask eagerly. The secretary sighs and nods, filling out the witness line on the clipboard. A stab of guilt pierces my stomach, but hey, maybe the curse didn’t work on strangers. Hopefully.
City hall had never exactly been my dream wedding. Far from it, in fact. But Steven was my dream husband, and I wanted out marriage to be perfect…so I knew he’d understand. His family, on the other hand…
It’s just this…curse. Well, that’s what we call it—the Howard family wedding curse. It all started with my great, great, great grandfather Howard. The story goes that he was engaged to marry this girl when, ten minutes before the ceremony, his best friend informed him that he had, ahem, already deflowered his beloved bride. Many a time. This was back in the day before that kind of thing was less unheard of. Well, my great, great, great grandfather (who always had quite the temper apparently) waited until right before he was supposed to say “I do” and instead of vowing to bind himself to her forever, he pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the heart multiple times. It was really quite the scandal.
What does this have to do with me you may ask? Well, ever since this horrible tragedy happened at almost every single wedding the Howard family hosts a family member dies. I’m not kidding, my great grandfather’s unfaithful fiancée must have risen from the dead to curse the weddings of the Howard’s forever. Last year, my brother disregarded the curse as a bunch of bologna and just as he’s saying his vows a bee stung my Uncle Ernie and, it turning out that he’s deathly allergic of bees, he died on the spot.
So I’m not willing to take any risks, and Steven, being the saint that he is, agrees to go along with it. And of course my family isn’t complaining since no one wants to be next.
So city hall works for me. Sure, the ceremony is charmless, but at least there are no tragic deaths. As we are leaving the room as man and wife I notice for the first time that the secretary is looking at us rather awkwardly. I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” She blurts out. An odd question, I thought. I find myself not knowing what to say, not wanting to get into the Howard family history. As usual, Steven sweeps in and saves the day.
“Stage fright.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. He really is the perfect man.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Writing Assignment 5 Draft 1
It’s gotten really stuffy in the room. I pull at my starched collar a bit, glancing towards to the window air conditioning unit to see if it’s on. Despite the rattling coming from the west window, there doesn’t seem to be any proof that the decrepit thing is actually cooling the ancient room. I glance at my watch quickly. 12:04. Technically, I was supposed to be on my lunch break four minutes ago.
“…Speak now or forever hold your peace.” A pen taps hard against the podium and I snap my head up. Judge Mills is looking at me, eyebrows raised expectedly. I feel myself furrow my brow as if to say “How would I know?” But then shake my head. Honestly, this is the worst part of my job. It’s not even supposed to be my job, but I’ve always been a pushover. So when young naïve couples show up to city hall to get married, not knowing they needed to bring a witness, I always get asked as they fill out the paperwork I hand them. And I, of course, say yes. I mean, who am I to stand in the way of young love, even for the hour it would take to run outside and find another witness?
I’ve been a last minute witness for 77 weddings in my three years of working as a secretary here, and I always feel a little grimy afterwards. I can’t exactly place my finger on it, but whenever I sign my name on the witness line I feel like I lying. How do I know that it’s ethically okay I’m supporting these marriages? I never know if the couple is right for each other, in general I know them for approximately ten minutes prior to the ceremony.
I consider the couple in front of me. Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson. Nice, generic names. Steven Johnson is plain look enough, nondescript sandy brown hair, and similar eyes, medium height…I would guess around 5’ 9”. His bride is pretty much the same, a little shorter, slightly mousy brown hair, pale skin. I’m focusing on the plainness of this couple when I suddenly realize that there’s something very different about them…they’re so…normal.
I generally see two kinds of weddings here at city hall. There’s the shotgun, someone’s a little-too-pregnant for the big white dress church ceremony wedding, and then there’s the couple with a head over heels (normally trying too hard) bride and a groom who is obviously gritting his teeth at the very idea of marriage…but doesn’t want to lose her or whatever his reason may be.
This couple doesn’t seem to fit into either of these stereotypes. I watch them look at each other excitedly, speaking the vows that have echoed in this room thousands of times before, and they actually look happy. Suddenly I am reeling with curiosity. Why would this normal, relatively happy couple opt for this ceremony that has as much charm as a visit to the DMV? I know it’s probably rude, but after the vows and they are walking out the door, I blurt it out.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” The couple stops and looks at me, calculatingly. The guy shrugs his shoulders.
“Stage fright.” I nod and let them leave the room. I think it really is time to get a new job. All this speculating is exhausting me.
“…Speak now or forever hold your peace.” A pen taps hard against the podium and I snap my head up. Judge Mills is looking at me, eyebrows raised expectedly. I feel myself furrow my brow as if to say “How would I know?” But then shake my head. Honestly, this is the worst part of my job. It’s not even supposed to be my job, but I’ve always been a pushover. So when young naïve couples show up to city hall to get married, not knowing they needed to bring a witness, I always get asked as they fill out the paperwork I hand them. And I, of course, say yes. I mean, who am I to stand in the way of young love, even for the hour it would take to run outside and find another witness?
I’ve been a last minute witness for 77 weddings in my three years of working as a secretary here, and I always feel a little grimy afterwards. I can’t exactly place my finger on it, but whenever I sign my name on the witness line I feel like I lying. How do I know that it’s ethically okay I’m supporting these marriages? I never know if the couple is right for each other, in general I know them for approximately ten minutes prior to the ceremony.
I consider the couple in front of me. Sarah Howard and Steven Johnson. Nice, generic names. Steven Johnson is plain look enough, nondescript sandy brown hair, and similar eyes, medium height…I would guess around 5’ 9”. His bride is pretty much the same, a little shorter, slightly mousy brown hair, pale skin. I’m focusing on the plainness of this couple when I suddenly realize that there’s something very different about them…they’re so…normal.
I generally see two kinds of weddings here at city hall. There’s the shotgun, someone’s a little-too-pregnant for the big white dress church ceremony wedding, and then there’s the couple with a head over heels (normally trying too hard) bride and a groom who is obviously gritting his teeth at the very idea of marriage…but doesn’t want to lose her or whatever his reason may be.
This couple doesn’t seem to fit into either of these stereotypes. I watch them look at each other excitedly, speaking the vows that have echoed in this room thousands of times before, and they actually look happy. Suddenly I am reeling with curiosity. Why would this normal, relatively happy couple opt for this ceremony that has as much charm as a visit to the DMV? I know it’s probably rude, but after the vows and they are walking out the door, I blurt it out.
“Why are you getting married in city hall?” The couple stops and looks at me, calculatingly. The guy shrugs his shoulders.
“Stage fright.” I nod and let them leave the room. I think it really is time to get a new job. All this speculating is exhausting me.
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