Mother Arrogance

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man learns about beauty in his late 60s.

Submitted: July 26, 2017

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Submitted: July 26, 2017

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Mother Arrogance

 

Jarvis never stopped sitting on his mother’s lap. Finally, now at age 65, he could take a deep sigh of relief. She was gone.  Lorraine, at the fragile age of 93, continued her brainwashing control that left her son Jarvis graveling like a newborn. A great day indeed it was for him, for on this day, the day of her death, he was in control of his life. It was “good-by mother…halleluiah!” as he sat at her stiff feet until she took her last breath. Jarvis McMahon allowed himself to shed a tear but nothing too severe. So, he cried really hard for a moment, dried his face, blew his nose, and called the paramedics.  When the paramedics asked the cause of death, Jarvis replied “beauty… the price of beauty… beauty kills and the arrogance of beauty is left for the relatives to clean up”.

Jarvis knew the plastic surgeries, liposuctions, implants, whitening creams, wrinkle removers, wigs and body enhancements would kill mom Lorraine one day. And like her, it will kill him one day also. At age 65, he looked like a pretty woman Richard Gere of 45 with a handsome George Clooney playboy appeal. He had so much plastic work done his chest nipples sat up “begging” like a 16-year-old virgin.  It was pleasurable to look at in the mirror every day but painful to unravel. He would remove many of the enhancements at night so he could sleep.

Jarvis was the story of beauty. He was raised by beauty queen and beauty consultant Lorraine McMahon in Connecticut until age twenty, then the big move to the thirty-five hundred square feet glass penthouse overlooking New York City. As usual, Lorraine transformed the space into a luxurious mansion filled with antiques, museum art pieces, clothing from every international locale, and men with benefits from a wide array of global accents. The most important aspect was the chemical mixture of Lorraine’s Classic Red, a true, raw red matte lip color that she mixed in a bowl to wear daily. Classic Red was her signature. She had asked Jarvis to make “good use” of his time at college by studying chemistry and math. “I am not throwing good money down the drain for some sissy subjects you deem important like music or theater,” she blasted. ”I am not studying either mother,’ he quibbled. I love music and theatre, but my MBA is in business development.”

With his knowledge of business development Jarvis recruited a panel of high-powered leaders to serve as Board of Directors of Classic Red, while creating and testing products for his mom’s line of beauty products. What he created became the tagline “All About Beauty- Classic Red” enticement for women from every corner of the world.

‘So, mother,” Jarvis thought out loud while staring down at her cold cosmetically enhanced old body, “what do you have to say now? Should I start preparing you to meet your public with the red lips or platinum sheer foundation? Or should I leave you in your total old woman appearance…let everyone see you as you were born…thin brunette hair, tall, lanky boyish figure with bad teeth. …” he opens her mouth, “Now look at you…. Perfect white plastic coated teeth, thick blond hair glued permanently to your scalp, the perfect breasts of a young girl”.  He turns her on her stomach, “and look the doctors gave you an ass.”

There was so much he longed to understand. So much of his childhood he missed out on. He never met his father. He can remember inquiring a few times when certain men visitors resembled him. However far-fetched the inquisition was, Jarvis would ask, “Is that my father? What happened to him…where is he…why doesn’t he ever visit?’ The answer, sadly, was always the same. ‘Jarvis, your father was someone who did not love me. He was very famous and when I was fifteen, he promised fame and fortune to me. I wanted was he had to offer. My parents were very abusive, so I left Dayton and ran to Hollywood. He changed everything about me from my teeth to my hair color. He sculptured my nose and body, and because I had such an innocent boyish look, it photographed beautifully. In return for his unrelenting drive to make me famous, he seduced me and continued taking me until he grew tired of me and left me. After he was gone, you were born. So, we don’t know if he is still alive now do we? Don’t ask me about him again it is very hurtful.”

He never attended regular schools. He was home taught and then onto a slew of private schools. She had chosen his college and dormitory. She dressed him and took him to swanky elite parties and events. Her friends were his friends. She orchestrated his date nights, which was one of the only things he appreciated because Lorraine only befriended the most beautiful women, who in return had the most beautiful daughters. Her insatiable cravings for intimacy gave him approval to satisfy the same cravings within himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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