aiieeeeee! We've been tango-ed!
Oh no, the horror the absolute horror. Disaster most horrid has befallen me (and my stupid sister Etheline). Oh foul fate, why must you mock me so? What have I done to deserve this...this abomination? I know I was rude to my mother, but she deserved it Fate, she did, I swear.
Etheline arrived over last night, all hee hee and ha ha, sightly tipsy, carrying Poppy's Big Surprise in one arm, (does that dog ever walk anywhere?) and a bag of goodies she got from some stupid avon/makeup party thingie in the other
'What's in the bag, hag?' I said, doing my best 'Jack'
'Mystic tan, and eyelash tints and other freebies. Come on, we're going to try them out.'
'What, I'm not-'
'I brought wine.'
'Alrighty then, now we talkin' girlie girl. Git yer ass in d'house.'
Well between the heel and the hunt -wine bottle one wine bottle two-and the bitching about our mother and her fiancé, the watching of Constantine and so forth, we left the bloody tan stuff on too long and this morning when I woke up it looks like...it looks like I've been tango-ed.
I look ridiculous, I glow. I've had two showers and still I'm orange. I can't remove any more epidermis.
I AM ORANGE!
I called that other wretch. And guess what, she ain't in work. Apparently she called in sick. I called her house.
'Stall the ball you filthy heifer, you're not sick.'
'Oh, it's you. God my head.'
''Are you orange?' I demanded.
There was a suspicioulsy long silence. I tapped my foot.
'More a deep apricot.'
'What, don't shout at me. We must have left it on too long.'
'I knew we didn't need that many layers.'
'Well...last time it didn't seem that strong.'
'I'm fucking orange Etheline. I'm an orange minstral!'
'It should wear off in a day or two.'
'Etheline, ' I say with exaggerated, over-the-top patience, 'I have to go to kickboxing in half an hour, how can I get tone this colour down?'
'Oh, hate that.' She sighed then, a sound that sent shivers of unease down my orange spine all the way to my orange feet, 'You know what I'm thinking Cat? there must have been something dodgy with that batch, my John Rocha sheets are covered in it too. It had better come out. Did you notice the smell? Kind of like burnt copper. I don't think that's right. I'll call Carmel.'
The smallest of the cats, the nervous nelly comes stalking in. He stops and stares at me, I smile. He flees.
'Oh Jesus.' I repeat.
Memnoch, be merciful, for I know not what I do half the time.
Most of the time, make that most of the time.