CLEANING THE WEASEL’S CLOCK
by C.J. Booth
It wasn’t a school night, so eleven year old Anna Chase was allowed to move the family’s laptop up to her room. She set it up on her desk, plugged it in, and plowed into the internet.
She actually called up her email, which she hardly ever used anymore; texting was faster. But she was positive that any day a copy of her TV commercial would come from Celine, the producer.
It had been weeks without even a ‘Thank You’ from Celine, telling Anna what a great job she did and by-the-way, here’s a copy of the finished TV commercial you were in. Celine wouldn’t promise a copy and then deliberately forget. That would be cruel.
Like something that fat weasel Brenda might do.
And boy, she knew what she was going to do when she finally got the copy. She was going to shut Brenda ‘Plasterface’ Platt’s fat trap. That’s what.
Fat. Trap. Closed.
Anna cringed when she thought back how barfingly stupid she’d been. And it had been her own dumb fault. Last year, when she’d auditioned for a part in Annie, she’d gotten a ‘call back’. And, seriously, when the director said he wanted her to read specifically for the part of Annie, she’d almost thrown up.
With her head somewhere north of Mars, she stupidly figured if she got the part, it would be Anna playing Annie! Yay! If not, then she’d surely be the understudy.
A super example of ‘Committing Idiocide’ is when you brag to your nose-in-the-air friend that you’re going to star in Annie. And then. Not.
A superb example of ‘Piling On’ would be when they cancelled the callback and even worse, when they gave the part to another girl, and even worse when Anna didn’t get in at all, and even worse when the girl who did get the part was actually another friend of Brenda’s.
Well, not this time. This time Anna would have commercial in hand before she uttered a word. She’d make Brenda eat all of her words. Choke on ‘em.
She pulled the laptop closer, scanned down and found the email. With attachment!
She wrinkled her nose as she recognized the name of the company. Baby Poop Productions. Gross and disgusting. But it didn’t matter, because now she would be untouchable.
The Annie disaster, dismissed.
Eight times she watched herself extoll the virtues of ChocoBridges cereal. Absolutely, for sure, best of all, her gorgeous, glam close-up at the end was surely gonna make Brenda have to change her panties.
Anna closed the laptop and sashayed over to her mirror like a movie star, put one hand on a hip and with the other, snapped her fingers and pointed.
“Plasterface!” she said, in a dignified voice. “You fat weasel. Pick up that baby poop over there and eat it.”
She was still laughing when she slid under the covers.
“Pick it up. Eat it.”
She tried but she couldn’t stop triumphantly snorting.
Copyright C. J. Booth 2012