Candy Goes To A Picnic

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Classic Introvert meets world story

Submitted: July 10, 2008

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Submitted: July 10, 2008

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Candy’s mental illness didn’t reveal itself till late one August afternoon in her mid twenties.She had been offered a rare invitation to her boss’s yearly picnic.She had never made the cut before and mused over the invitation as often as she had time, wondering what she had done this year to merit such an invite.She considered her appearance, had that changed in some way.Had she been friendlier to Ms. Priggs?Her bosses real name was Ms. Briggs but Candy had always thought of her as Ms. Priggs from the day they met.

Even during the picnic, sitting on the vast carpet of lawn, she still pondered as to the how and why of her invitation.She had, after all, plenty of time to think, as no one, I mean no one, was speaking to her.She hadn’t noticed though, her mind was spinning it’s thoughts, churning out topic after topic of interesting babble.Everyone assumed she was shy but in all actuality, she was just interesting.Interesting to her self that is, her own thoughts were original and sharp and constantly on the go, dissecting life and examining it under her careful inner microscope.

Just then as she sat in her white, gauzy, windblown dress she had one of her amusing thoughts.“They’re all manikins!” “All of them!”She thought to herself with amazement.“They’re nothing to fear, they’re nothing to feel inferior to.”“Ha!”She laughed out loud delighted with her new discovery.“Manikins, Ha!”

A small gathering near by glanced at each other knowingly.She’s at it again, their eyes said.That weird girl from the temp service that never seems to get hired but always shows up every few months like a bad penny with yet another assignment.How long had she worked for them?Has it been three years, four even?

Candy actually visualized them as real manikins all frozen in time with their expensive, perfectly matching summer clothes and their smoothly quaffed hair.It kind of spooked her for a second so she decided to snap out of it.She perceived some commotion near the french doors which helped bring her around. A couple fat, rosy cheeked men were bringing out a wire basket of something, what was it."Oh, lobsters."“We’re going to eat lobster, of course, what else.”

Something inside her started to twitch at this point.She became unsettled.It had something to do with the lobsters and the grinning faces and that big pot sitting over that open fire.Her heart sank within her.The manikins were up to no good.

It was just at this precise moment that she and the lobsters and the disturbing feeling got a big break, a gift even.They were being called to the south lawn to listen to the melodious cooings ofMs. Prigg's flaxen haired sixteen year old. The long legged youth, practiced in false modesty,gave a little show of bashfulness before she launched into the first round of Doris Day’s Everybody Loves A Lover.She sang for Mommy, that was Mommy’s favorite song.

Candy lagged back until all eyes were away from the lobsters. She wondered to herself if they were going to have their little pinchers taped closed like she’d seen in tanks at the super market.She giggled when she looked down and saw that they were not.The little sea creatures had been poured into the pot of water but the pot had yet to be placed over the fire.They were sitting in fact, on a cart, with wheels!

By the time the guests made it back the beautiful little darlings were safe in the loving arms of the clear blue sea.

Candy sits on the edge of her cot in the “facility” and replays the movie of the manikin faces in her head.She pictures with perfect clarity their pleasant features twisting into angry, ugly knots. She marvels at her own calmness that day."How", she wondered, "did I manage to drift serenely past them?" She had felt that something had carried her across the lawn and the stone pavement, something invisible. Like a princess in a parade she had waved good bye to them.It was with this same calmness and dignity that she had stopped briefly and let out the loudest, longest fart you could ever imagine. A fart so perfect and so bugle like, one would have thought it fake but it wasn’t.

"A picture may paint a thousand words but a fart, well, it can say so much more,"she whispered to no one.


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