The Stepford Drunk wears lace and ostrich fur cardigan from Portobello Market,
dress from vintage store in NYC, purple slip made by the Drunk,
heels by Paul Smith, tights(worn as scarf) and hat by topshop
It had been a few weeks since the disappearance of the object of her affection
She'd listened in awe at his end of the world theory
during her short breaks from the library
where unruly children would tease her for her lack of social skills
as well as her 'irregular' dress sense, which told the story of her frailty.
She had begun working in the school library a while back
as an English Lit grad, she was overjoyed to be working
surrounded by the things she adored the most - books.
Not long ago she had become fearful
as computer units were installed in the area,
and she was told to begin cataloguing the archive,
as 'everything was going online'.
Not only did her heart weep when she would find torn out pages of the classics,
but now she heard that soon books would become obselete & unnecessary!
She began to become desperate at the finality of her situation.
Firstly, her love had disappeared.....without warning, without trace....
She had suspected the mean maths teacher,
she always had felt he had an uneasy rivalry with her unrequieted love,
and had even told this to the principal, must to his disbelief
but now even the "Math-meany" had disappeared.....
Now she faced a future without not only her human love,
but also without her paperbased friends.
Closing the library during lunchtime,
she wept away the tears as she went deeper into the stacks
towards the books she had grown up with, adored for ages
She pulled out a silver hipflask from her Monsoon purse
as she swigged down the liquor, thumbing through her companions,
through the cheeky passages of Chaucer to the passionate embrace of Heathcliff....
she continued to neck down the liquid as her tears waterlogged the tiny print.
Her head began to swim with thoughts of Heathcliff the science professor
grabbing her tightly on the moors.....no the library floors.....
no.....how they would run away together......onto the moors..
....and do sudoku on all fours......
She realised that she was too intoxicated to reopen the library....
she would lose her job and the children would laugh at her....
she had to get away!
Panicking, she needed something to calm herself down,
as the clock was ticking and soon those little bastards would file in,
to rip out pictures, from her friends the books,
and begin facebooking and looking at happy slapping virals on youtube.
Rifling through Mrs Elderberry's desk,
she found some Marlboro Reds - just the ticket!
She'd never smoked before in her life,
but in her intoxicated stupour it was just what she needed.
Upon inhaling her first drag she coughed and wheezed so much
she became completely lightheaded,
the first rush of a cigarette combined with the power of booze
sent her crashing into the periodicals stacked up nicely.
Within minutes of dropping the fag into the now spilt alcohol,
the room was beginning to become ablaze......
She had never considered dramatic action,
she was a delicate soul who loved the dashing Mr Darcy, not Mr Arson.
As the smoke filled the room, she began to panick
- she was not level headed enough to escape this dramatic action -
the most drama she'd even seen was in her head
when she'd nervously read a Mills & Boon,
and soon she was passing out
on the only well worn patch of unscorched carpet left....
Thoughts swirled in her head -
booze.....fags.....MeanyMaths.....Mr Darcy.....The Science teacher.....
the object of her love.....and how she would never see him again....
.as her vision grew darker and darker.....
The school firebell woke her with a start..... with a newfound vigour
Dusting off her delicate fibres she grabbed the hipflask
and triumphantly in one swoop inhaled all the smoke and flames,
passing them into the now-magical flask like a blowback.
Opening the rear window to the library
she hoisted herself out carefully,
so as not to catch her delicate silk lace and ostrich feather outfit on the windowframe.
She felt normal.
And in need of a drink.
The schoolbell clanging away behind her she knew what she had to do.
Running from her past, she ran towards the future.
A future with her scientific action man, whom she now knew,
for some strange reason, was alive........
look at the delicacy of her fabrics - they do not match her drunken determination!
Cheers Sweetie!
Do not let her near your carpets!
If you see her tottering around in these heels clutching a hip flask
Run! Run towards a fire hydrant!
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