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Tuesday, February 01, 2005

 

A Short Play

(Scene: A restaurant. Tushie and Ling-Ling sit looking at menus.)

TUSHIE: Ling-Ling, how's my lipstick?

LING-LING: Smudged.

TUSHIE: Dammit. This was supposed to be smudge-proof.

LING-LING: Try mine. (She takes lipstick from her purse and hands it to Tushie.)

TUSHIE: (Taking cap off and looking) Ooooh. That's beautiful. What color is this?

LING-LING: Yak Blood.

TUSHIE: Mysterious. (She puts some on.) Is this flavored? It tastes vaguely coppery.

LING-LING: Yeah, I think it's yak blood-flavored.

TUSHIE: And it's smudge-proof?

LING-LING: Has been for me. Why don't you try it?

TUSHIE: Okay. (She takes a drink of water.) Oooooh. Nothing on the glass. (She kisses the back of her hand.) Nothing. Ha-ha. Wow. That's smudge-resistant. (She lowers her head and rubs her lips all over the table.) Mother of God, what will it take to smudge this stuff?

LING-LING: Nothing short of a nuclear explosion, according to the packaging.

TUSHIE: Impressive.

LING-LING: Well, yaks are strong animals. Their blood, once shed is not easily gotten rid of. You might even say that the blood of the yak will never come off.

TUSHIE: Never?

LING-LING: I put this lipstick on two-and-a-half months ago.

TUSHIE: So the lipstick is...

LING-LING: Cursed? Yeah. Yeah.

TUSHIE: Huh. (Pause) Do you know what you're going to get?

LING-LING: The s'more omelet sounds intriguing.

(End)

Comments:
Serling-esque in its brevity, this damning look at the current couture-focused generation is a harrowing 45 second read.
 
i laughed, i cried, my dick fell off.
 
Now I know why so many are lacking imaginations...
 
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