My Perfect World
I began my day as usually like all my days; boring and ordinary. Asleep at the wheels of life. And I awoke early morning like I do every perfect and boring morning to the sounds of my perfect singing bird alarm clock. Dazed and half asleep, I then slipped into my perfect puffy pink slipper and perfect puffy pink robe, then perfectly glided down my perfectly big halls that leaded out of my room and towards my perfect big and pink princess bathroom. Where I always started my pre perfect morning grooming regimen. I would perfectly shit, showered and changed into my perfectly predictable pink outfit always pink never another color. I wore perfectly well. I then glided perfectly, “of course!”, down the hall and toward our big ang lavish perfect dining area where the family always ate breakfast perfectly, “of course” Yes I still lived at home in a big perfect mansion with my beautiful and perfect mom, stepfather and stepbrother as do all adult children f peachy who were perfectly single. My mom was a perfect 5’7 model of a woman with perfectly bleach blond hair, perfectly olive skin, hazel eyes and perfect figure which all people in this strange little town all oddly came equipped with, boring and ordinary, cookie cutter. She was also an heiress from old money, who was deep into the tradition of this old town which I will get into late, in fact it’s often whispered around town that my great great great granddaddy had something to do with the town being the way it is today at least that’s what the rumors say anyway. My mom and Stepdad were always the first ones to be sitting perfectly in the same spots, they sat eating their breakfast perfectly. I “of course” had no thoughts of doing the same and slip myself perfectly into my same spot as usual, right next to the window that looked out over the back-yard right towards our perfectly shaped pool.
“The usual?” Maliyah, our housekeeper asked me, as she brought my usual breakfast and placed it on the table in front of me. I always had one large half of a perfect grapefruit and two cup of Maliyah’s peppermint tea which I loved. Mariyah was from Syria; she was a thin and tall woman with brown blackish hair and green eyes. She had dimples and lightly tanned skin. She was made to wear a knee-high black maids dress with a short purple apron. She also was learning to speak English. “Eat up little one!”, she would say to me in her language first and then in English. “For the heart dreams later than the star!” I never got the last part of the line. But I would say it after her every morning as I sipped my perfect peppermint tea, I would for a moment sit and daydream with eyes shut but mind wide open, no limits and beyond my wildest dreams of more than what this little town in the middle of nowhere Georgia had to offer me, more freedom, more life, more adventure. My life unfortunately was anything but free, adventuristic or full of life. Instead it was fill of rules and structurer and etiquette lessons, depo shots, Fundraisers, book clubs and Cotillion and Charity balls and Charity dinners. I also secretly hated attending the banquets, horse races, and party for the royal; I dreamt of traveling the world and taking photos of the places I’ve been; while flying airplane to the rich and wealthily places or become a member of the CIA going on mission, kicking ass and taking names all while running and dodging homemade bombs, dreams I hadn’t have in a while since I started taking the town’s required daily depo shot.
Yeah every day at exactly 8:00am everyone shot up, and it consider the norm, what these shot do I don’t know nor was I to think of such things, I was a peachy and I wasn’t to have any of these thought, I was to just follow the rules because I live in a town that was closely modeled after the step-ford town in that one book Ira Levin wrote “The Step-ford Wives”; a town where everything and everyone was pleasantly peachy and perfect. Where everyone who settled here eventually drinks the Kool-Aid and I hated it with a cold raw passion, but I am determine to fit in and pull the status quo!
My Stepfather and Step brother, I think you know how they already look 5’6 and perfect right; right no need to explain any further. Beautifully blonde and blue-eyed dreamboat with nothing in their head but the wind whistling and blowing through to the other side. Deep down I wasn’t little everyone in town and I knew it along with every perfect citizen of Peachy Pleasant Valley, everyone who lives here are so cookie cutter! Blah! Sweet perfect good clean citizen, can you believe IT? I mean we have no crime for god sake in this god damn peachy heaven of a town, and nobody ever does anything other than pleasant, it just not in their nature. I mean perfect, not a hair out of place, clothes out of order, and no one ever raise their voice nothing but low and sweet and pleasant, the children are like porcelain dolls…boy does it make me sick to my stomach, it made me want to run for the hills and join a good satanic cult, you know the ones where you give your soul and in return you get revenge, right I mean seriously people?! I was always getting into trouble and I didn’t fit in, maybe that’s why I’m so hell bend on fitting in now and being perfect…okay so I was always very over the top super dramatic and took thing with a great assault, but come on could you blame me if you lived in Pleasant Ville USA. I remember when I was in the third grade and this boy by the name Cutler James came up to me and told me that I was the weirdest and most dramatic girl in like, all of Peachy Pleasant Valley, and that I would never never ever find love and be happy! We were on the playground behind the jungle gym, at Rainbow Elementary, I flew into one of my dramatic episodes; “Well Cutler James wat so ever do you know about love?” I stomped my foot and swigged my hip as I gently but dramatically place my hand on my hips and pressed my pale rosy red thin lips together in a firm but tight line as I dramatically battered and fluttered my hazel green eyes at him. “Oh brother!” Cutler James replied as he walked away in a hurry, but as he left, he hurries pass me hitting his shoulder against mine. I flew in an awful over dramatic rage and threw myself at him landing on the ground. He stopped panic at what had just happened, he could only imagine what was to come next as did the kids at Rainbow Elementary who all knew too well the dramatically rant that I could fly into; “ahhhh!” they all grasp followed by a dead two second silence that all had them frozen in midair with whatever they were doing, it was a warm and perfect summer afternoon and they had at less ten more minute till it was time to head back into the classroom for Storytime. “Oh ouch! My arms! My legs! ohhhhhhh! The pain!” I wailed and screamed in my most dramatic voice yet. “Ms. Lychee! …. Ms. Lychee!” I called as I laid mangled on the ground twitching in agony. Ms. Lychee run over to my side and bench over to pick her up. “SUCKERS! I thought “Ms. Lychee; You gullible, bleach blonde, perfect hair, pearl teeth and perfect wellllll??? everything little fool! I got you eating out the palm of my little hands again” que evil laugh here… I thought as I laughed evilly to myself as I attempt to look as weak and crippled as a little poor hurt gazelle. “Who has done this?” she cried sweetly “Who has broken the rules and hurt such a poor and sweet angel as Rebecca?” Ms Lychee proclaimed scooping me up into her perfectly tan toned arms and hugging me perfectly tight.
to be continued....