9 Tales Told in the Dark 2 by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

Author:9 Tales Told in the Dark [Dark, 9 Tales Told in the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bride of Chaos
Published: 2014-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

As yet, however, she had nothing. She was a big fat nobody who just wanted to put the stupid cookies down. She could leave, go back out the front door, slide them onto the seat next to her; take them back to the seclusion of her apartment where she would eat them in private. Let Karen get her own ride home.

No, she decided. Ramey did not have a clue who she was, but she did know she was not a quitter. She had come to the party to have a good time and she, damn well, would! She saw a puny Christmas tree in the entryway to another room. She could probably put the cookies down somewhere in there.

She entered and looked around. There was a coffee table in the center of the room. It held only a couple of crunched beer cans and one stubbed out cigarette. There was a couch next to it. Perfect she thought. A fireplace was against the far wall. Somebody had actually built a fire. It was flanked on either side by two frosty windows. The moon hung full and low in one of them. It was cold out finally. Snow had begun to lightly fall.

After shoving, the beer cans off the table and putting the platter down, Ramey squeezed her ass between the coffee table and the couch.

Plopping herself down, air escaped her mouth in an inadvertent, “Humph!”

This was more like it. She could remain stationary, and still keep an eye out for interesting prospective men. It would be nice to show both Marcus and Karen that they had not hurt her.

People stumbled against the couch bobbing their head to music. Occasionally one of them would glance down, then quickly look away, and walk off.

If things were different, she thought… if she were different…

Ramey began to fantasize that some hot guy would come out of the crowd. Noticing her cookies, he’d stop. “Are these the cookies?” He’d sit down next to her. Unable to control himself, he would grab a cookie. “Oooooooooh so good!”

She smiled mumbling something. Then she realized she was talking to herself. She quickly looked around. Nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to her anyway. The cookies, even in this crowd, would be the only thing that had a chance of satisfying her.

And why not. Ramey deserved to get a little pleasure from life like anyone. She picked one cookie up off the stack.

First, she admired it.

Her psych professor had been right. These were a work of art. Ramey was the Andy Warhol of cookies. Each, in either red or green, was an exact replica of the next stuttering down to Santa’s image at the bottom of the pile. These losers don’t have any idea what they’re missing.

She crammed the cookie in.

A wave of guilt washed over her. She had done it; she had blown her diet. If there were ever a chance for retaliation, she’d have to be skinny to achieve it. If not today, in some distant tomorrow, she must prove to Marcus and Karen that she was also something beautiful.

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