November 6, 2020

Plastic Feelings (6/31)

 



“That woman deserves her revenge, and we deserve to die.”

  

            The October breeze howled that night as the balding trees shed more leaves around West Borough Mall. The moon shined brighter than the poorly attended street lamps, not a cloud in sight. This was not the scenario Amanda had hoped for as she pulled into the parking lot in her bright orange Toyota Scion rental. Her headlights shined through the eight glass doors of the mall, revealing a few Macy’s mannequins standing guard, before turning to the left to take the closest handicap spot. Her car alone in front of the building, Amanda paused to admire the dangling locket hanging from the rearview mirror. She hand delivered a kiss to it before stepping out of the driver’s side and popping the trunk. Stepping on every dry leaf in her Louboutins, she stomped five feet and retrieved her golf bag, throwing it over her shoulder and readjusting her long slick aqua hair from underneath. Besides it being velour, at least her fitted, black Adidas track suit aided her stealth intentions.

            She crunched her way towards the front entrance. At a quarter past eleven, the mall was clearly closed, but she had business to attend to. Without blinking, Amanda walked into and shattered the second most left glass door. A few steps into Macy’s she paused and felt her left pocket: she’d forgotten that she hadn’t forgotten her keys for once. She could hear Dani screaming in her head. Snapping out of her stupor, she noticed that two of the mannequins were gone; the center mannequin remained but seemed to be shaking. Amanda reached over her shoulder and clumsily felt around for a club that felt appropriate until she unsheathed a wedge headed golf club - good for digging in. Placing both hands around the handle, she prepared as if aiming for a ball on the ground, adjusting her target height as she hit the apex of her back swing, and connected with the shaking mannequins right shin.

            The mannequin screamed as the plaster of its leg crumbled and it tumbled off its podium. “Now was that really necessary?” a feminine voice calmly asked over the intercom. “You’re no fun. I left him there to announce everything. You should be more concerned about the other two, Tiger Rudes.” Fluorescent lights flickered and mannequins with angry faces suddenly became visible to Amanda. “Oh, and their friends.”

            The mannequins moved closer to her as the lights went dark again, only pausing in the light. If for nothing else, Amanda was upset she wouldn’t get any blood on her shoes. She held her ground, grabbing a 9 iron from her bag and wildly swinging both clubs as they chipped away at plaster faces until a prolonged period of darkness allowed a more fashionable mannequin in an olive blouse and burgundy blazer to snatch the wedge club. Amanda blocked a vertical swing from the blazered one with her remaining club. Quickly realizing she should have listened to Dani and worked her arms more, Amanda spun out of the way and used the light to escape the center of the mannequin horde.

            After three revolutions, she finally found herself taller than most of the clothing racks. Looking to the right, Amanda saw a three foot form emerge from under the skirt racks. Though it had no face or hair, she immediately recognized the outfit and gasped. A tear fought against her fake lashes to drop, and the short mannequin in a furry pink hoodie and neon yellow tights rushed towards her in light-up sneakers as clumsy as a baby giraffe. Tears clouding her eyes, she punted the childlike figure across the Kid’s section back towards the changing rooms. She still thought the fluorescent outfit was both function yet fashionable despite Dani’s taste levels.

            As she prepared to face the horde of soulless models certainly behind her by now, Amanda felt a nibble on her ankle. She looked down; the shattered leg mannequin predicted her move and was now gnawing on her leg. While it didn’t hurt, it distracted her long enough for the blazered mannequin to line up a clean chop. Amanda looked up but she wasn’t swift enough as the flashing lights sped up and the mannequin wedged the club into the side of Amanda’s skull.

            She fell over disoriented. “You see, my love, this is what you get for stepping out on me,” the voice echoed from the ceiling intercom. “And then you come back and challenge me as if I was in the wrong for killing your girlfriend.” Amanda twitched on the ground while she listened to the message. “Oh, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of Dani’s little girl. I’ll raise her on my own since you couldn’t put your rage aside. Only I’m allowed that.” The sound of high heeled clacking drew closer to Amanda as she gasped for air. “I didn’t want to see you die,” the voice could be heard from the intercom and around the corner as a woman in a black cloak and white business casual approached Amanda. “You were supposed to at least pass this test, but if you can’t defeat well-dressed dummies, then you truly weren’t qualified to be my number two. My everything.” A fresh tear splashed against Amanda’s cheek as she looked up at her former love as if to beg for mercy. “Tell Dani that Patricia wishes you two nothing but the best… in hell.” Patricia dramatically turned away as she snapped her fingers and walked away to the sounds of her plaster minions in sensible shoes pummeling the woman she once considered worthy.

 

 “...but then again, so does she.” - Budd, Kill Bill Vol 2., Dir Quentin Tarantino


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