Jack
10-10-2005, 08:52 PM
Was digging through some old files today and found my QCS story from last year, reading it now I realise that I completely deserved that OP 19. I based the character on an english teacher at my school who was completely batshit fucking insane.
Read on if you daaaarrre:
"As she walked into the studio she caught the glare of a young boy in the corner of her eyes. He pulled on his mother’s sleeve
“Mummy! Mummy! That old lady in the blue jacket has a scrot face!” The woman went to chide the young lad but looked up and met the woman’s eyes.
“That may be so Billy but scrot faced people are people to you know” The old lady nodded and smiled as she took the only vacant seat next to the mother.
“My face didn’t use to be this scrotty you know” she remarked. “Why back in the day boys used to flock from miles around, they had a different name for me then” The mother sniggered contemptuously and stroked her sons head like a small, domesticated puma and surprisingly enough he started purring.
“And what was that?” She said through a particularly incredulous cheshire smile “Did it happen to be ‘The Young Scrot Faced Wonder’?” This sent the catty youth into a fit of hysterical giggling.
The old woman smiled inwards, in her younger days she might have spooned the mother’s eyes out in revenge but her retirement had awarded her a bounty of patience and wisdom. She took the abuse because she knew the woman would probably end up strawberryin till the end of her days.
“No my dear girl, they used to call me ‘The Onion Beauty of the North’” and with that her inward smile turned outwards as the filthy new-hampshire sneer was wiped off the mother’s face by a look of total surprise and shock.
“You’re The Onion Beauty of the North!?” she cried.
“I was once known by that title, yes” These startling revelations had indeed taken the woman aback somewhat but now that she’d had time to let it sink in she was overcome with a new found respect for this hideous old woman.
“How… How did you end up with such a scrotty old face?” A slight pang of pain hit the old woman, a lesser person might have turned away and called Bob Hawke for moral support, but the old woman stood her ground.
“They called me The Onion Beauty of the North because of my uncle, Uncle Jim, he owned the largest Onion Ranch this side of Istanbul and I was the mascot –“ The young woman interrupted “Yes, yes I know that, I asked how your face became such a disgusting travesty against nature” but there was no stopping her now.
“Every year I would ride atop the highest float in The Great Onion Parade as The Onion Queen. People would marvel at my beauty and the beauty of onions. They adored me, as I did them. They would throw lemon and parsley onion pie at me in appreciation”
The mother had stopped paying attention at this point and was more interested in tending to her dying child. The old woman leapt out of her seat and threw the sick child to the ground. “PAY ATTENTION!” she screamed. This seemed to knock the boy out of his crack induced fit and snap the mother’s attention firmly onto the old woman.
She resumed her seat and continued her story “But sadly my uncle passed away in a freak stabbing accident down by the docks and with no one left to run the ranch I had to take control by myself” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I tended to those onions as I would my children, in the blazing hot desert sun every single day, that’s what did this to me” The young mother absent mindedly passed her crack pipe and lighter to her son.
“So you’re saying that years of onion farming in the sun snatched away your youth and beauty from you?” The old woman closed her eyes and nodded.
“Not only does the light further my condition but it shows the world my face. The young mother stared at her feet trying to comprehend the tradgedy.
“I also kicked a gypsy once and she declared that I would forever be the scrottiest person in the world”
Suddenly the boy was on the ground, he had OD’d on crack again and this time it looked like he wasn’t going to pull through.
“My baby!” Screamed the mother “Whatever can I do?” The old lady bent over his writhing body and pressed her scrotty face against his forehead. Suddenly the boy opened his eyes and started crying. His mother took him in her arms and rocked him back and forth looking at the old lady in awe. “However can I thank you?”
“No need to, my bus is here and I need to get going” As the old lady got up and walked off the young woman yelled out.
“Wait I never got your name”
“It’s Maria Emmanuel” And with that she disappeared from the young woman’s life forever.
As she sat there nursing her child she thought to herself “But Maria Emmanuel died 5 years ago at that old abandoned onion ranch…
The End"
The stimulus was "Light" if you didn't get it from the story.
Read on if you daaaarrre:
"As she walked into the studio she caught the glare of a young boy in the corner of her eyes. He pulled on his mother’s sleeve
“Mummy! Mummy! That old lady in the blue jacket has a scrot face!” The woman went to chide the young lad but looked up and met the woman’s eyes.
“That may be so Billy but scrot faced people are people to you know” The old lady nodded and smiled as she took the only vacant seat next to the mother.
“My face didn’t use to be this scrotty you know” she remarked. “Why back in the day boys used to flock from miles around, they had a different name for me then” The mother sniggered contemptuously and stroked her sons head like a small, domesticated puma and surprisingly enough he started purring.
“And what was that?” She said through a particularly incredulous cheshire smile “Did it happen to be ‘The Young Scrot Faced Wonder’?” This sent the catty youth into a fit of hysterical giggling.
The old woman smiled inwards, in her younger days she might have spooned the mother’s eyes out in revenge but her retirement had awarded her a bounty of patience and wisdom. She took the abuse because she knew the woman would probably end up strawberryin till the end of her days.
“No my dear girl, they used to call me ‘The Onion Beauty of the North’” and with that her inward smile turned outwards as the filthy new-hampshire sneer was wiped off the mother’s face by a look of total surprise and shock.
“You’re The Onion Beauty of the North!?” she cried.
“I was once known by that title, yes” These startling revelations had indeed taken the woman aback somewhat but now that she’d had time to let it sink in she was overcome with a new found respect for this hideous old woman.
“How… How did you end up with such a scrotty old face?” A slight pang of pain hit the old woman, a lesser person might have turned away and called Bob Hawke for moral support, but the old woman stood her ground.
“They called me The Onion Beauty of the North because of my uncle, Uncle Jim, he owned the largest Onion Ranch this side of Istanbul and I was the mascot –“ The young woman interrupted “Yes, yes I know that, I asked how your face became such a disgusting travesty against nature” but there was no stopping her now.
“Every year I would ride atop the highest float in The Great Onion Parade as The Onion Queen. People would marvel at my beauty and the beauty of onions. They adored me, as I did them. They would throw lemon and parsley onion pie at me in appreciation”
The mother had stopped paying attention at this point and was more interested in tending to her dying child. The old woman leapt out of her seat and threw the sick child to the ground. “PAY ATTENTION!” she screamed. This seemed to knock the boy out of his crack induced fit and snap the mother’s attention firmly onto the old woman.
She resumed her seat and continued her story “But sadly my uncle passed away in a freak stabbing accident down by the docks and with no one left to run the ranch I had to take control by myself” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I tended to those onions as I would my children, in the blazing hot desert sun every single day, that’s what did this to me” The young mother absent mindedly passed her crack pipe and lighter to her son.
“So you’re saying that years of onion farming in the sun snatched away your youth and beauty from you?” The old woman closed her eyes and nodded.
“Not only does the light further my condition but it shows the world my face. The young mother stared at her feet trying to comprehend the tradgedy.
“I also kicked a gypsy once and she declared that I would forever be the scrottiest person in the world”
Suddenly the boy was on the ground, he had OD’d on crack again and this time it looked like he wasn’t going to pull through.
“My baby!” Screamed the mother “Whatever can I do?” The old lady bent over his writhing body and pressed her scrotty face against his forehead. Suddenly the boy opened his eyes and started crying. His mother took him in her arms and rocked him back and forth looking at the old lady in awe. “However can I thank you?”
“No need to, my bus is here and I need to get going” As the old lady got up and walked off the young woman yelled out.
“Wait I never got your name”
“It’s Maria Emmanuel” And with that she disappeared from the young woman’s life forever.
As she sat there nursing her child she thought to herself “But Maria Emmanuel died 5 years ago at that old abandoned onion ranch…
The End"
The stimulus was "Light" if you didn't get it from the story.