Welp, I’ve given you guys a while to recover from the cringe that was chapter 2 of my first novel. Now, we’re picking up the cringe with chapters 3 and 4, where things get a bit more interesting.
Chapter 3: The Show and the Accident
Two weeks flew by. Rebeca had been working full-time, non-stop, learning all her lines. Now, it was showtime! As she sat at her dresser, putting on her make-up, doing her hair and putting on her dress, there was a knock at the door. Who was it? It was Brittany, the girl who had lied to the director and stolen the map. What does SHE want? thought Rebeca as she opened the door.
[Author’s Note: The fact that Rebeca had only two weeks to memorize her lines is laughable to me. If you do a search online, it can take years to get the plot of a Broadway play put together, several weeks if not months for the stage props to be built, and 30-40 days (depending on the complexity of the play) for the actors to rehearse their lines. Even school plays usually take at least a semester to produce, so Rebeca must’ve been hired last-minute to replace someone else, or the director is incompetent.]
“Hello, Rebeca,” Britney said, enunciating the name.
“Hello, Brittney. Why are you here? Had to come and taunt me?” Retorted Rebeca.
“No. I’m just here to inform you that I have been fired as an actress. I’m also here to say I’m sorry for taking your map and calling you gullible.”
“Girls!” said the director, busting into the room, “It’s showtime. Get into your places.”
“Well, I better go,” said Brittney. “I’ll be backstage!”
“Bye!” replied Rebeca with a wave of her hand.
[Author’s Note: Why is Brittney allowed backstage if she’s just been fired? I realize her father is the director, but you would think she wouldn’t be allowed back there after her track record of trying to sabotage Rebeca, which is why she was fired, I assume.]
As Rebeca got to her place, she felt a feeling she had never felt before. It was a mix of confidence and fear at the same time. But she still got into her spot.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Girls and boys of all ages!” started the director, “Welcome to the play of the century, The Love Story!”
The curtains opened with a dramatic flourish. Two towers appeared on the sides of the stage. A boy was in one. Rebeca was in the other. “Thy dear, sweet husband, it appears we have been separated!” recited Rebeca to the boy in the other tower.
[Author’s Note: Ugh…once again 10-year-old me’s idea of what Elizabethan English sounded like was totally screwed. “Thy” needs to be “my” in this sentence.]
“Alas! Thy is separated. Curse thou evil witch! Thy may die in thou tower, but thy love for each other will never perish,” recited the boy.
[Author’s Note: Once again, the correct way to say this would be: “Alas! thou art separated. Curse thou, evil witch! Thou may die in thy tower, but our love for each other will never perish.” However, even with the glaring grammatical problems, I can give 10-year-old me props for including a ton of exposition in the beginning of the play. Shakespear did this quite often in his plays, with the either background characters (such as comedic relief characters) or the main character(s) basically setting up the entire plot of the show and the characters’ relations to each other from the minute the curtain opened.]
“Thee loves you…” As Rebeca was trying to say her line, the curtain closed, and two masks popped out. When the curtains opened, Rebeca lay sprawled out on the ground and the boy’s tower still stood. Rebeca saw Brittney smirking at her. Brittney had done it! “Why! You. Stinking. Stupid. Piece of WORTHLESS CRUD!” yelled Rebeca.
[Author’s Note: That was the most horrible insult that 10-year-old me could think of. Feel free to laugh.]
“Daddy!” Brittney wailed. “Rebeca called me a ‘piece of worthless crud!'”
[Author’s Note: Is Brittney a child?]
Rebeca had realized that she had done something the director wouldn’t like, knowing that Brittney was his daughter. When the director rushed over, Brittney managed to force out some crocodile tears. “What is it darling?” he asked.
“She…she called me a ‘piece of worthless crud’ for something I didn’t do! Sob, sob, sob!“
“Everyone, listen up!” yelled the director to the crowd. “Thank you for coming here, but the show’s over! Don’t worry, you will get your money back, guaranteed.”
“Awww!” collective, disappointed sigh came from the audience as they left.
“And you. Rebeca, pack up. You’re fired!”
“Gasp!” gasped Rebeca. She was sad. As she walked towards her room where she stayed when she worked as an actress, she though, If it wasn’t for that jerk wad, Brittney, I could have stayed as an actress, maybe convince the director to help in the costume making department. Then I could make my way into the fashion business. Now, I’m sunk!
Chapter 4: Sadness, Anger and Another Interview
“Welcome home, Rebeca. We heard the news and we’re sorry,” said Mrs. Richardson.
“It’s okay. I didn’t like it anyways,” said Rebeca. “At least there are other jobs I could participate in.”
“Right,” pipped up Mr. Richardson.
Right after about an hour of pity from her parents, Rebeca finally got to go to bed, dreaming about what may happen the next day.
Dinggggggggggggggg screamed the alarm clock. It started like it started two days ago, when Brittney had caused Rebeca to call her a “piece of worthless crud.” Only today was different. It was another day where she had to go to another job interview.
[Author’s Note: Yes, I actually wrote Ding with fifteen g’s. That’s not an exaggeration. I also want to point out how easy I thought it was to find a job. Life was so much easier when I didn’t know about how many people you would have to apply to to get a job, how many of them would never get back to you, how many phishing emails you would get during the job search, how hard it is to write a resume when you have no experience in the work force, etc.]
She did the regular routine; say bye to her parents, get dressed, and stop by Mc Donalds to get some food.
[Author’s Note: Was it done in that order? Did she get dressed in her car? Also, she’s trying to be a model in the 2010’s before the fat-acceptance movement started becoming super mainstream. Why is she getting McDonalds?]
When she got to the job interviewer’s office, she noticed that it wasn’t like the other interviewer’s office (Rebeca was at a different office). It was like the Sistine Chapel, with many pictures of different people. “Hello, Rebeca. I’m Morgan, your job interviewer,” said the job interviewer. “What have your intentions been?”
[Author’s Note: Do I need to point out how redundant that was?]
“You will listen to my intentions” asked Rebeca.
“Yep!”
“AWESOME! Okay, so, on my ninth Christmas, my parents got me a pair of designer fashion heels….”
“Uh huh,” said Morgan, highly interested in the story.
“And ever since then, I had a dream of becoming a fashion designer. Then, on my tenth birthday, Mom and Dad (Mr. and Mrs. Richardson) got me a sleek, long-sleeved, knee-high dress, like the ones you sometimes see celebrities in. That’s how my dream of also becoming a model came along. But how could I do both Well, I used my imagination to combine a fashion designer with a model and decided to become a fashion designer/model!”
[Author’s Note: In a job interview, do not do what Rebeca did, which was give your entire life story to the interviewer when they ask the question “Why do you want to work for us?” (which is the closest I can get to them asking “What are your intentions.” It will not help you. Secondly, she makes it seem impossible for a fashion designer to also be a model, when many fashion designers have walked the runway before, one of the most famous of these being Coco Channel.]
“What an interesting story, Rebeca! But I have a few questions to ask you.”
“What are they?”
“Well, for one, even though we are a job-giving company who listens to your intentions, we also listen to your talents and combine them with your intentions.”
“Oh. I was afraid you would say that.”
“But…we could make an exception.”
“You could? Really?”
“Yes! In fact, consider yourself hired!”
“EEK!” squealed Rebeca.
“Quick question, though. Do you have any expertise on how to work a sewing machine? Any expertise on the fashion trends of the century?”
“No.”
“Well then, we may have to send you to Paris!”
“WHAT! You’re sending me to the fashion capital of the world?!”
“Yes. It appears I must. I’ll get you enrolled in the best fashion school there, and that is…Prism de Beau Fashion School!”
“Yay!”
“The plane leaving for Paris will be leaving at 10:30 a.m.”
“Got it!”
As Rebeca left for home, she was bursting with excitement. She was going to the fashion empire. Paris. And what made it even better was the fact that she was going to learn from the greatest fashion designers ever! She knew practically every name of every fashion designer there, Madam Du Boa, Madam Swan, everyone. And now, she was going to learn from every one of them! What a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! She couldn’t wait to tell her parents she was going to Paris.
“Mom, Dad, guess what! I’m going to Paris to become a fashion designer!” said Rebeca as she ran into the living room.
[Author’s Note: The job interviewer in this chapter is the most incompetent interviewer ever. While it is good to know what a person wants in a job, that’s where the application process comes in. When you have a job opening, you put up the name of it and you can tell what the person wants to do by whether or not they apply for that job. Talent is also really important; if you don’t have the right skillset, you’re not going to be hired.
Additionally, this job interviewer (who acts more like an agent) would be making whatever company she’s working for lose money by hiring someone (Rebeca) who doesn’t even know basic sewing skills or what the fashion trends are, because they would have to pay for the plane ticket and the tuition for schooling. This raises the question of: Why didn’t Rebeca apply to go to this fashion school instead of going to college? It doesn’t make much sense.
But then again, fashion in general doesn’t make much sense nowadays. Have you seen some of today’s fashion shows?
Just remember, these two are from Valentino and Gucci and the guy looks like he forgot his pants before stealing some socks and shoes from a member of a German folk band.]
Until next time,
M.J.
The Tanuki Corner 
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