Young Writers Society

Micki Lee-

Life under the knife is not a good look for anyone and Micki seems to think it is. Micki would not think and could not think of his world with out having the perfect anything. If anything he could not fix with a knife he’ll cover it up. He looked like the perfect male model. What a guy? Micki looked out the window of his six bedroom house, the window led to a balcony big enough to fit two normal sized patios. “The world is not ready for me today. The world is never ready for me.” Only twenty three with sixteen surgeries been done. His creative way of covering his incisions marks is telling people he used to get into fights and cut himself from lack of love and depression. An also perfect lie to get a girl; both edgy and sensitive side are pulled out. “When I get a family, I’ going to spoil all of my children,” if the words children and family didn’t echo haphazardly in his head, “I wonder if my wife would cheat on me, she can’t!” He wailed tearlessly against the wall then back up again to his feet when he smiled. He shallowly walked out to his balcony looking over the neighborhood which he lived in; his house made the others a careless doll house. Then he shouted to the neighbor about his riches. “My life is far greater than yours, you unworthy slobs,” he said then headed down to kitchen. “This is not good. I need more food, more but less so that I cannot lose my body.”

At the store he shopped, shopped. Then he ran into her, he slowed. Love in a grocery store. “Charli, what are you doing here?” “Micki! Wow I never thought I’d see you here. I always thought you would be somewhere flying or having your butlers or maids to get your food. How are you? Give me a hug.” They hugged while he inhaled her scent. He noticed he did not breath, was he scared? No, can’t be. Micki Lee don’t get scared, he get even. “So how have you been exactly?” “I have been good why?” “Well you sound like a criminal on the run breathing like that. Come to my house later, here’s the address so be there because I am having a party. Big bash you know? Everyone will be there. Even big business people.” “Well I guess I could. I guess it could- sure I will be there Miss Charli. In fact, I will even be there early to help.” “That’ll be great Micki. Thanks.” They hugged again before he realized his breathing was almost as irregular as his heartbeat. She disappeared in the food hunting crowd. He fed on the so called ugly in his eyes walking by smiling. Then a little voice hit him smack in the reality section, nobody really lives under the knife like him.

He started to cry. A grown man crying against his buggy full of health foods, he looked really un-manly to himself. Buying all that stuff made him realize, looking at people, and Charli. He had nothing grateful for him to be grateful for besides his wealth, and beauty which only matters to people around him as another plastic doll with no beauty skin deep. There was more than beauty skin deep within him, he cried harder, silently. What emotions was he feeling? True, were they true, were they because of Charli? He hoped so. He needed love. “Who’s there?” A little girl looked up as he whirled around teary eyed and confused. Her tiny body and head pulled up to meet his eyes, her little pony tail all but still embraced against the color of her clothes. Red against light periwinkle, “Excuse me. Are you okay sir?” “Yeah, yeah I am.” “Well can you help me find my sister?” “Sure, but only if you want. Do you want me to carry you or hold your hand?” She reached up. So he took it to pick her up. They walked around the store for an hour until she fell asleep, “Ah kid, how are we gonna find her if you sleep?”

Then she came again, “Hey Charli. Now you don’t look to good.” “My sister! Thank you so much Micki.” “This is your sister and careful she’s asleep. I learned a lot talking with her, looking for her sister, which is you!” “Yes she wandered off. Thank you again and I’ll see you tonight!” “Hey. How come I don’t get a reward?” “Ha okay what do you want?” “Anything,” he said looking down whereas a tear began to form, “anything you would want to give me as one, or let me keep her for a day. I like to spoil kids.” “Really, well you have my address so it’s either or, we can discuss it tonight. Do we have a deal or not?” “As long as we do not shake hands?” “Why what is wrong with my hands?” “Nothing, if you count pretty as something wrong?” “Heh, no I guess not.” She walked away; he felt a burn inside his face. Then he looked away trying not to watch. Stigma.