Empowerment. Engagement. Authenticity.
Alien Encounter - Reality TV
I’d made lollipops that weekend, red and green
for Christmas, and admired the pretty corn syrup gloss. Every time I use
corn syrup, it takes me back to a Nancy Drew novel I’d read in childhood
where corn syrup was used to make fake blood and, as I shaped the candy,
I fancied myself a bad-girl Martha Stewart, bloodying the noses of
cookie thieves everywhere.
When Carson’s fist rammed into Scott’s face on Christmas Eve, the dark
red ribbon running from Scott’s nose looked nothing like corn syrup.
There was the brisk snap of dry pasta. The eighteen-month old in my lap
whimpered, or maybe the sound came from me, I didn’t know. Under my
cashmere sweater, my heart was rioting, my skin prickling with cold
sweat. Beside me on the couch, Brogan slouched in indolent
disinterest…just another redneck Christmas.
“You took them, didn’t you?” Carson snarled. He had Scott by the collar.
“Empty your pockets!”
“Fuck you!” Scott swung at him. “I didn’t take nothing!”
The living room was littered with shreds of Christmas wrapping, garbage
bags bursting with thrift store finds. I had oohed and aahed at the
Salvation Army gold-tassled pillows and the full-length, red faux fur
coat. It’s the thought that counts, I’d counselled myself. These people
have welcomed you into their home and into their family as Brogan’s
girlfriend.
Carson was grabbing at Scott’s clothes and items were tumbling to the
scarred hardwood floor. Cigarettes, a BIC lighter, two red envelopes and
china dog figurines I’d seen somewhere before. Carson lashed out again
and Scott stumbled, taking down a gaudy glass bowl. From the corner of
my eye, I saw a hulking shadow and then Damian was kneeling beside a
woozy Scott.
“You’d better get outta here,” Damian growled to Scott and, oh my God,
was that a gun in Damian’s hand?
I thought of Johnny Castle in “Dirty Dancing” and Danny Zuko in
“Grease.” Bad boys turned good. The toddler in my lap didn’t look any
different despite her mother – Brogan’s sister – barely being eighteen.
So naturally, Scott would return the cards he’d taken from the Christmas
tree and put the China dogs back on the mantle. He would apologize,
everyone would hug and we’d open the Christmas tin of baking I’d brought
over.
Just like in the movies.
Not even my bad-girl Martha Stewart persona was that naïve.
(c) Kristy Kassie, 2016
Inspiration in Writing - Alien Encounter
Sometimes characters are thrown into completely
unfamiliar situations.
