Washington Horror Blog

SEMI-FICTIONAL CHRONICLE of the EVIL THAT INFECTS WASHINGTON, D.C. To read Prologue and Character Guide, please see www.washingtonhorrorblog.com, updated 6/6//2017. Follow Washington Water Woman on Twitter @HorrorDC ....

Sunday, February 01, 2015

Girl Hurl 2015!

Liv Cigemeier had been doing the Girl Hurl blog, Facebook page, and Twitter account for two years now--first for International Development Machine, then for International Development Nerds, and now again for International Development Machine.  Even though "philanthropist" Charles Wu was primarily funding her current position to administer his spy-cover operations in the Philippines, he had always been supportive of her efforts to promote girls' rights all over the world.  But today, he was not quite certain.

"It's just time to push the envelope a little," said Liv, pulling the tiny burqa over the adorable face of Wu's 3-year-old daughter, Buffy Cordelia.  "First I post the normal photos, then the burqa photos."  Little Delia giggled under what she thought was a Halloween costume.  Liv's also giggling son, Lucas (who was not yet one), was dressed as a Saudi prince and propped up in a toy car beside her.

"Are you sure this is going to have the intended effect?" asked Wu.

"Yes--controversy, commentary, discussion.  And I'm not just posting the photos:  I'm writing about it.  Michelle Obama appeared in Saudi Arabia without even a head scarf--this is a great time to pounce on this issue!"

"Of course," murmured Wu, saluting Liv's husband as he walked into the living room photo shoot.  "Our children are making a bold political statement on social media today, Felix!"

"Wow," said Felix, "this looks really atrocious."

"Atrocious in a good way, you mean?" asked his wife.

By then, Delia was pulling the burqa off her face, but Liv had gotten enough photos.

"Um, yeah, I think," said ever supportive Felix, reaching down to pick up Lucas, who was clamoring for his daddy.

"Has Angela been by?" asked Wu, referring to his secret agent, the birth mother of Lucas.  "She's taking a break from work, and I haven't seen her in awhile."

"Yeah, she babysat last night while we had date night," said Liv, tossing the burqa on a chair and scooping Delia into her arms.  "She just gets prettier and prettier every day!  And sweeter and smarter, which is more important, of course."

"At least that's what you say in your blog," joked Wu, who, truth be told, was starting to getting alarmed that his daughter really was too pretty.  The world was full of leches like him, after all, and many of the American ones had fetishes about "exotic Asian" girls, which offended him on many levels.  Delia was only a "quarter" Chinese, but it was probably enough to attract those types of men--the ones who believed Asian women were sex kittens.  And Brazilian, French, English:  Delia was beautiful in so many ways.  He could see how a father might want to hide a pretty daughter's face from all the leches, but that was abjectly unfair--burqas were truly disturbing.  Still, he wasn't looking forward to those teenage years.  "Yes, my princess has everything going for her, knock on wood."

"Thank you so much, Charles!" said Liv, handing the motherless Delia back.  "I know my little voice doesn't pull a lot of weight in the world, but we have to keep trying, don't we?"

"Yes, of course," said Wu.

Several miles away, Angela de la Paz was again at the National Arboretum visiting Dr. Devi Rajatala.  There were still a lot of things Dr. Rajatala didn't know about Angela, but she was the closest thing to a mother that Angela had.

"You're not really happy in your work," said Dr. Rajatala, handing more gardening tools to Angela to clean.  (With yearly budget cuts, the arborist had more and more work on her plate.)  "Have you thought at all about going back to school?"

Angela looked at Dr. Rajatala, who had been the first woman in her own family to go to college, eventually getting a Ph.D.  She had been on a fairly straight-line path all her life, not that it had been easy, but--

"I know how much you like helping people," continued Dr. Rajatala.  "Maybe social work?"

"My boss needs help, Dr. Raj," Angela finally blurted out.  "Last year, he found out his daughter's mother was killed tragically, and I think he wants revenge.  There's this darkness settling into him, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Have you talked to him about it?" asked the arborist, alarmed.

"I tried."

"What do you think he's going to do?"

"I don't think he's decided yet.  I think he's just letting this anger grow inside himself to a dangerous level.  He's angry that his daughter has to grow up without a mother."

"But the mother had already given up that girl, didn't she?"

"Yes," said Angela, "but when it became permanent for the worst of reasons, Charles got furious about it."

Dr. Rajatala finished tightening the screws on a spade and handed it to Angela for the to-be-cleaned pile.  "I think you should ask him to get counseling.  See, that's the sort of thing a social worker can help with, or a psychologist.  How could you possibly know how to help him?"

Angela tossed a hoe into the clean pile.  Dr. Rajatala had been like a social worker to adolescent Friendship Gardeners for a decade now, but still claimed to believe that nothing could or should be done without the proper academic training.  Or maybe she's still trying to protect me.  She's never stopped trying to protect me.  "He doesn't really let people get close to him.  I'm one of the few people he will even listen to."

"But he stopped listening," said Dr. Rajatala.

"You can't just give up on people!" said Angela.

Dr. Rajatala looked with pride at this young woman who had been through so much, had lost so much already.  "I'm not saying give up on him, sweetie, but he might need more help than you can give him."

The two fell back into silence.  If Charles had a demon inside him, Angela would know what to do--but it was just his own darkness.

A couple miles away, in their Chinatown herb shop, Lynnette Wong was also contemplating the growing darkness in Charles Wu.  Though his affection and respect for her seemed genuine enough (albeit, not very strong), she knew he was primarily viewing her as a potential stepmother for little Delia.  Though he was wooing her, he had shown little interest in having deep, emotional conversations with her.  She was mixing up a new blend of herbs for him, but she was running out of ideas for re-balancing his massive chi.  She knew she was in no danger, and Delia was in no danger, but this looming darkness in Wu was going to vent somewhere.  She looked around her shop, and smiled at a browsing customer.  Who am I kidding?  I'm sprinkling drops of water on a roaring fire.  Wu had been precisely balanced between good and evil for so long, and then they had been lulled into believing that becoming a father had pushed him over to the light.  But no.  Delia was, ironically, the reason he was now in the dark.  A dark that could not be touched by the love of a girl...or a woman...because it was focused on the evil done by men.

Over on Capitalism Hill, Ann Bishis was contemplating her path from law school  to Congressman Herrmark's office, where she had risen to Chief of Staff.  Though nobody could argue Representative Herrmark had much influence in Congress, she felt she had done a good job for his constituents and at least some of his personal goals.  But now they finally had a chance to make a huge difference:  she just had never expected it to be like this.

"What should we do with him now?" asked her cousin, Nick, one of Herrmark's twin bodyguards.  He and Costas both looked to Ann for the answer.

She looked at a very pale Herrmark, who was also waiting for her answer.  I am now a powerful woman on Capitol Hill, she thought to herself.  She looked down at the zombie they had lured into the men's restroom and decapitated.  Maggots were already crawling out of its neck.

"I can't believe this is really happening," whispered Herrmark, starting to shake.

"Cut off and flush everything you can," Ann said to her cousins, pulling her boss over to a sink to start washing blood off his hands.  "Then take what's left down to the incinerator."

"Is it hot enough to burn bones?" asked Costas.

"I think so," said Ann, chastising herself for not having a disposal plan.  She knew celebrating their first kill would be in bad taste, but she felt she needed to say something to commemorate the successful launch of their campaign against the Zombie Caucus.  "We did a good thing here."

"Maybe I should get the Holier Than Thou Caucus involved," said Herrmark, suddenly feeling more than a politically expedient interest in religion.

"They could have zombies on their own staffs," said Bishis.  "We need to do more investigating, first."

"But they could help us!" whined Herrmark.

"Not until we're sure," said Bishis.  "I have a huge list of suspects and a new leadership style in the Senate, so it will take some time to monitor committee activity and voting patterns.  All I know for certain is that there was no zombie influence on the global warming vote--that was partisan.  Zombies don't care whether the planet heats up or not."

Nick and Costas nodded as if this made perfect sense, then they slyly smiled at each other.  This job was really getting interesting now!

A few miles to the west, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell was experiencing an unexpected smackdown in the Prince and Prowling office of former Senator Evermore Breadman.

"You need to affirm Lynch as Attorney General!  What happened was a disgrace!"

"What are you talking about?" gasped McConnell, who had expected a conversation about Breadman's pro-Keystone clients who had spent big on GOP campaigns last fall.

"Calling her 'Eric Holder with ovaries' is a disgrace!"

"But we didn't call her that!" protested McConnell.  "Dinesh D'Souza did!"

"I don't care if the Mormon Tabernacle Choir called her that!  You should have condemned that remark!  If you allow that to stand, how do we stop people from calling Clarence Thomas 'Scalia with melanin', huh?"

"But that's outrageously racist and offensive!"

"What's the difference?" snarled Breadman.

"It's outrageously racist and offensive!" repeated McConnell.

"Wrong answer!" bellowed Breadman.  "You need to confirm that woman now--you don't have a decent leg to stand on!"

"Alright, alright!" said McConnell.  After a few minutes of discussing Keystone XL, McConnell was thrilled to take his leave.

Breadman's wife stood up from where she had been hiding behind Breadman's couch.  It was the first time she had been to his Prince and Prowling office in years.  "That was really well done, sweetheart!" she said, more pleased with her man than she had been in a very, very long time.  "Let's have a drink!"

Back at the National Arboretum, Angela petted Rani (the donkey) one more time and took leave of Dr. Rajatala.  She had a feeling that the Warrior was near, and it comforted her.  And then she realized something:  men really could do something that women could not--understand other men.  She would ask what the Warrior thought about Charles, and if that didn't help, she would bring back his father.

Finally she saw and heard her pink warbler, and followed it through the winter woods.

COMING UP:  Will Republicans allow somebody named "Carter" to become Secretary of Defense????


Post a Comment

<< Home