Goth Girl Nananananana!
Journal Entry One
She sat behind her dauntless and grand cherry red finished desk typing away… type, type, type… bling… “Damn”, she thought, “there must be a way to wear my fish net stockings without them getting stuck in my crotch everyday.” type, type, type… bling… stop- sip coffee- "ick cold,” said Hanna the blonde Goth girl of secretarial/receptionist/do whatever needs done office girl. The every day life of Hanna, who works for Smiths Shipping and Receiving Warehouse located on the corner of Second St. and Clark Pl. Elizabeth, New Jersey, is anything but mundane.
SIDE NOTE: Yes Hanna does start out her pen and paper existence as nothing more than a shallow “Sex in the City” kinda girl but in the end… well… why not just begin to read her journal entries and you decide later. Now get off you damn ass and go grab your coffee and while you’re at it bring me a blueberry muffin I’ve been up all night typing and my punctuation and grammar suck… so sue me.
Smiths Shipping and Receiving Warehouse had been in business for nearly forty some years. It was located strategically not too far from the New Jersey Turnpike, south of the Newark Airport and to the southeast was Port Ivory Outside the warehouse you could catch a faint fishy stench, mixed with ship oil on days when the breeze carried the odor inland a bit, but inside the warehouse office the filter ventilators kept the ode de toilet smells at bay.
The company had originally been started by William T. Smith but when he passed on the fate of the company landed in the lap of his alcoholic son… namely El Presidente Smith. As the business began to slip into oblivion, due to the lack of interest on Smith Jr.’s part and his only love… the bourbon bottle, bankruptcy was eminent within a year. For some reason though one night as El Presidente Smith staggered by The Immaculate Heart of Mary/ St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Parish he had what was called an ‘Epiphany’, so to speak. He said it had been raining and he came across Jackson Park which was just across the street from the parish and he just laid down in the mud. He stated Mother Mary came to him as he was lying face down. Mary proceeded to tell him that his mission was to revive the company and take the yearly profits and give 30% of it once a year to the local orphanage that was associated with the parish. He said Mary told him if he didn’t he would be dead in six months. So El Presidente Smith put away the bourbon, joined AAA, followed the ten step program and turned Smiths Shipping and Receiving back into its glorious hey day. As far as I know I haven’t seen pick up another bottle or glass of any adult beverage since then. As well, each year around Christmas time he takes 30 % of his yearly profits and makes the donation to the orphanage home run by The Immaculate Heart of Mary/ St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Parish. He always states its his guarantee of a good investment and a nice tax right off to boot.
“Hanna”, the voice box rang with the melodious tones of Senor El Presidente… Smith. (Hanna in order to keep her shallow sense of sanity referred to him as El Presidente Smith. Maybe it was her bosses thin pencil mustache that reminded her of a desperado or it was the fact that he did resemble Mexico’s former president El Presidente Fox), “I need more copies made of the last documents sent out to the Moors Docking Service and while you’re at it, bring me a hot java with two sugars, a nip of milk and one of those powdered donuts.” [Hanna’s inner dialog] “You’d think with a degree in business I’d be used more for just… ‘Get me a donut and coffee Hanna…’” Standing up Hanna pulls her fish nets out of her crotch, straightens and smoothes her plaid skirt. She notices her nails and announces to the copier as she walks by it to the coffee pot, “my nails need a fresh coat of red paint tonight.” Hanna stops to look at her reflection in the silver aluminum siding of the microwave which sits next to the coffee pot. She pours her boss a cup of hot java…steam raises… she drips the hot liquid across the lip of the cup onto her hand- "OUCH!” Hanna cries. Raising her scaled left hand to her mouth she gently sucks on it, a blurry tear of pain traces down her childlike plump cheeks. Hanna still looking at her reflection straightens her posture, adjusts her boobs, sucks in her tummy, gives a sexual teasing pout at her reflection and then notices her roots… thinking she says, “hmmm… the color of drab brown is showing through, against the blonde it looks dingy- what color should I go now?” Hanna strokes her bangs so that they hang over her eyes slightly- she squints and wrinkles her nose at herself.
“Hanna!” blares El Presidente again over the intercom. “Coming sir!” She finishes the making of his coffee just so, scoops up the powdered donut, thinks of licking off just a smidgen of the powdery substance and even taking a sip from his coffee… “Hmmm, Hanna thinks, why not?”
Copyrighted PoisonDarts 2008 May not be reprinted, copied or otherwise in part or whole without expressed written permission of author.