Wooing the Wealthy

This week, me and Microfriction((Will link when posted)) had a contest to write a story based on a scenario.  That scenario was something like, "Suave newcomer Billy tries to woo croctchety hermit Anne."  I say something like that, because I changed their names, and crotchetyness levels, and whether or not it was clearly depicted that the main character was a newcomer.  But, otherwise I think it's pretty faithful to the scenario.

The Story:

*Ding dong*
...
"Who is that?  I thought we were alone today, baby." A sweet young blonde thing, apparently down on her luck, as the underwear she could afford to buy only covered about one-third of what underwear was supposed to cover, said in a we-better-be-alone-today manner.

"Do not worry about it" replied a man who seemed ripped out of an Abercrombie wall picture.  The one with abs you could actually see, black and white, contrast kicked up, and 6 times larger than life. "Today, it is only us."

*Ding dong*

"Oh for chriss..." The blonde got up from the bed with a start.  The advertisement-boy stared out from the middle of the mattress.  Watching short blonde curls bounce and hop as Krissa, the blonde was gifted with a name in her younger years, stomped towards the window.  "Oh, ew."

*Ding dong*

"She's like.  Is your grandma visiting?" Krissa intoned in a way that made you immediately think, "As if!" or "For sure, for sure." whether you knew those phrases or not.

"OH mierta!, what time is it?!  Damn!"

"Baby, this better not be getting in our way."

"Uh.  Oh Okay.  Baby, you're... you're.  You're my baby!"  Lightning doesn't strike often, and for Richard, because you need a name like Dick to be an Abercrombie model, it struck even less.  What some people would call a bad idea, and brush off, Richard would be ecstatic to trip upon.  Usually, he settled for much less.

"I know, but who is that wrinkly... thing?!"

Richard was diving around the room looking to get his clothes back in a seemly order. Hopping around with his jeans half way up his legs, and a beater half down his torso he started aiming for the door.  "No, no.  You're my baby, like you're my daughter, Okay?  Tonight you're my daughter."


"Ohhhh.  Kinky."

"No, no.  Not kinky.  It's normal, okay?"

"Like, ew.  It's like, normal for people to sleep with their daughters where your from?"


*Ding dong*

"No.  Okay.  Listen, you're just my daughter, and she's my girlfriend okay.  You're here visiting, on vacation from school.  Uh, put your clothes on!"  With that Richard made it out the bedroom door, and started down the stairs finishing his last neatening touches.

*Ding dong*

Reaching the front door, Richard jerked it open.  "What the hell took you so long?  I got gas runnin' all through my body, and it's just waitin to explode out."  The old woman shoved her way in. She was wearing what seemed to be a small black hat with a lot of intricate plumage, or quite possibly, it was just a dead crow.  Though deceased as her wardrobe may or may not have been, everything about Esma oozed money.  A pearl necklace hugged her neck, ever so slightly tighter than the diamond necklace right below it, with rings and earrings to match.

"Esma!  You look great this evening, mon amor" stated Richard as he procured a long stem rose out of what appeared to be thin air.

"I know it!  But quick, where's your bathroom, before this here hallway turns into a veritable bed pan."  At this point the old woman started doing a peculier dance, not unlike she had already begun to go the bathroom.  Her blouse reminded Richard of a trash bag that was holding two or three kittens, and the kittens couldn't agree on a way to sit, and were constantly fighting about it.

"Uh, right this uh way, my petit.." Richard tried to remain composed, but was having trouble as just then, he saw Krissa up at the balcony, having utterly failed to clothe herself.  Somehow, she had even lost the bra she had been wearing moments earlier.  How could she have lost it? Richard wondered.  It wasn't even that big of a room.

"Oh, I see it.  Why don't you tell me what's for dinner while I'm at it."  As Esma walkined into the bathroom, Richard gestured wildly while trying to mouth to Krissa to go get clothes on.  "Oh uh.  Dinner tonight?  My specialty."

"I don't want any oven baked pizza, no matter how much hot sauce you put on it."  Esma screeched.  Not in an angry way, but rather her voice only had one setting, and it was screech.

A little taken aback, "Well it's too late to go to the store now.  Besides, uh, my daughter is visiting, it's her favorite." Said Richard.  He was unsure what to do with Esma.  She would probably expect some kisses.  A few kisses for the older woman, now and again, would surely be worth it.  But, could he do it?  That, and oddly enough no one had ever complained about his oven baked pizza before.  This situation caught him off guard.  He usually burned them, the pizzas not his dates, and never got around to eating them.

"Meet, my daughter." said Richard. As Esma finished in the bathroom and walked out, Krissa came down the stairs in a maid's outfit.  "The maid?"  Esma asked.

"Uh no.  That's my daughter."  Richard, not being one to switch plans quickly, did not switch plans quickly.

"Your daughter's a maid?  What is she, a year younger than you?"  Esma, ever skeptical of other women dressed in maid's outfits when she was over for a date, began heading back towards the door.

"No, uh!  No!  She's not my daughter, my daughter's maid is visiting.  Is what I said."  Richard, quite pleased he had thought of such an ingenious cover up, was beaming.  Esma, confusing as it was to tell which direction she was going, or where precisely she was, based on her wardrobe's many varying velocities, was probably most of the way out of the house.

"Listen bucko.  I haven't been this put off on a date since last Thursday.  If you want some of my sugar, you better not already have some honey from the pot."  Esma said as she slammed the front door shut behind her.

Richard said, "Dammit! Where did you even find that outfit?"  Krissa, unsure how she was ever in danger from some hag, was now firmly back in the lead, in courting Richard.  Or, having Richard court her.

"Up in your room.  I'll show you." Krissa said.  With that, she grabbed his hand, and up towards his room, to inspect the stock of his wardrobe, they went.



So, now you should head over to Microfriction and read his version of whatever it is he decided the scenario was.  ((Again, will link when posted.))  It's undoubtedly very good, but my take on it was probably much better.  Just sayin'.