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Elite Veteran
Posts: 836
  
Location: Inside the Writer's Digest office | You're 12 years old and have entered a school Halloween costume contest. There's stiff competition, though you're confident you'll win—until you find out someone has bribed the judge. Write this scene.
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Veteran
Posts: 190
Location: swamps o' Florida | An abundance of spray paint fumes in my basement added to the giddy glee I felt at the completion of vision, my bumblebee costume.
All of my friends were amazed.
“You’re going to win!” Jeanette was almost as excited as I was when I modeled it for her. “Those wings look real!”
I guarded it hanging there in the basement, waiting for its’ debut performance at the Halloween party at my elementary school, the trophy for the best costume would be mine I was sure.
We arrived at the party a little early, which gave me a chance to change into my costume in the girls’ restroom.
So many people commented on how cool the costume was, and during the games and cake walks that took place before the judging I looked around the auditorium at the other children’s costumes. There were some very cool costumes. I nervously adjusted my stinger again.
I won a cake at the cake walk and it was huge! I was completely jazzed! The evening was mine. I looked for my Mom in the crowd, I had to find a place to stow the delectable chocolate cake with Dracula decoration.
There was Mom talking with her good friend, my former second grade teacher, Mrs. Gelder.
“That costume is a shoo in!” They were laughing together, they didn’t notice me approaching them on the stage, behind the podium.
“I’ll make sure she gets it!” Mrs. Gelder assured my Mom. “There are other judges here tonight who owe me for a favor.”
My heart sank. I quickly approached my Mom and handed her the cake. She was pleased with the cake, and pleased with Mrs. Gelder. They went back to chatting and I left the stage.
When the time came for the announcement on the best costume, my friends rushed to my side and were bopping up and down on their toes. They were so sure I would win. Now I was too.
Of course I won. I stepped up to the podium and took the trophy and gift certificate Mrs. Gelder handed me. I took a little bow and said thank you and walked off the stage.
I didn’t go trick or treating that Halloween. I had guilt. I stayed home and handed out candy and watched spooky movies. I wasn’t sure why I was so miserable, I couldn’t in my wildest imagination picture myself telling the crowd at school that my Mom rigged the contest.
Winter snows have now completely covered the trophy. I let my little sister take it with her outside to play race cars. It was the trophy for winning the race, which I thought was a fitting place for it. She left it outside under the swing set, and although I knew it was there I didn’t bother to retrieve it.
I think the gift certificate is under my bed somewhere, I probably will use it this Christmas to buy a gift for my Mom.
I can’t wait until next Halloween, I have the coolest costume in mind for my sister, I have to convince her it’s the one she will want to wear.
After all, it will be created by an award winning designer.
Edited by Neets 2009-10-14 9:16 AM
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New User
Posts: 2
| This is my year I thought to myself, scanning through my opponents on the auditorium stage. Half of them were in costumes that looked like K-Mart specials, and another dozen were dressed as either Bella or Edward from Twilight, their “Team Edward” shirts just begging a bully to take notice. There was no way these pale attempts were going to beat my costume: an exact replica –to scale of course—of a Knight Templar. I had started working on it after my defeat last year. My father, after some convincing, and I had built a machine to make the links for chainmail. I had searched on the internet to locate the plate pieces I would need. I had found several stores associated with the SCA that not only had very reasonable prices, but also created period-authentic items. I had sewn, with my parents help, every article of clothing. The only thing not real was the sword, but I couldn’t help that the school wouldn’t let me bring it for “safety reasons.”
Best of all, there wasn’t another knight in the competition! I would have originality on my side this year too. Of course, there were other original costumes, Cynthia Bridgeton, whom I had lost to last year, had come as a Naval Officer. She had even found medals to pin on her chest. They must have belonged to her father. He was some big shot in the Navy and liked to brag about it.
I watched Cynthia strolling across the stage to the judge’s table. Go ahead and smarm them up all you want Cynthia, I thought, this year I have the competition in the bag. I didn’t exactly know what smarm meant, but my mother liked to use it a lot when she saw Aunt Jocelyn talking to Grampa and Gramma.
I was still eying Cynthia when she finally got to the judge’s table, talked to the judge for a second, laughed, and then pushed a hundred dollar bill across the table. The judge, laughing, sneaked the money off the table and into his own pocket. Cynthia was going to win again! This was how she must have been winning for years! It was time for action.
I ducked behind the curtain of the stage. On the far side was the prop room, its door left open. I snuck across and searched the shelves until I found what I wanted: a gallon can of black paint. Coming back out of the room, I edged up to the curtain. I could hear Cynthia, still laughing with the judge in her high-pitched voice. I peeked around the curtain, setting my aim.
I ran out and hurled the bucket, dousing both Cynthia and the judge in thick, black paint. The Auditorium erupted in chaos. Eventually the teachers restored order and the competition cancelled. The principal had a meeting with my parents and I received a week’s suspension. In my mind at least, the day was a victory.
Edited by cjameshyatt 2009-10-14 6:20 PM
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Member
Posts: 5
| "Okay, Brian, you may tell your side of the story now." Mrs. Packer said.
I fixed my Batman cape and looked at Tommy Wilkins with all the meanness I had.
"I heard you tell Mr. Goopler you'd give him ten dollars if he voted for you!!"
Tommy Wilcox wasn't looking at me. Mom said people do that when they're lying. That turd was dressed as Spider-man, what a disgrace!
"When did you hear this?" Mrs. Packer asked, trying to be calm.
"When I came out of the bathroom, before the assembly," I clenched my fists, "he was around the corner, telling Mr. Goopler that he had ten dollars in his pocket and that he would give it to him if Mr. Goopler wrote his name instead of mine."
Mrs. Packer sighed.
"He cheated!" I yelled.
"I know he did," Mrs. Packer said, "but you should have told us first before you started a fight with him, okay?"
"But he was going to get away with it!" I yelled.
"Principal Hagar saw it too," Mrs. Packer said, "on the video camera. He was about to pull both Mr. Goopler and Tommy out of the assembly when you caused that ruckus."
"He was?"
"Yes, and now I'm going to have to give you detention for it."
"But what about him? He cheated! He's made Spider-Man look bad!"
"I'll deal with him," Mrs. Packer said, grabbing us both by the arms and heading towards Mr. Hagar's office, "but you're going to sit in the principals office until the end of recess. You'll serve your detention tomorrow."
If Mrs. Packer wasn't holding onto me, I'd have punched Tommy Wilcox again. That little turd. And he was wearing a super hero costume, how dare he!
Mrs. Packer may think I was out of line, but I'm Batman, I wasn't about to let the bad guys get away with doing something wrong. Not on my watch.
I'll just have to wait to get Tommy after school.
Because I'm Batman! | |
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New User
Posts: 1
| I am a quiet child. I do not like confrontations even when I have been wronged. I do not have to be first–or second–or third. I would like to be first, second or third. However, I know I would be intimidated by not knowing how to handle winning. And for this reason I rarely take part in any competitions. But, when I do, I do not mention this to my parents. Why? Have you ever watched little league sporting events.
In spite of this, I decided to enter the school's Halloween Costume Contest judged by members of the Chamber of Commerce. Not being a popularity contest, I stood a chance of winning. and deal with the attention later. On the night of the contest I emerged from my room covered head to toe in my costume. My mom and dad looked genuinely surprised and happy at my accomplishment.
As we neared the judging stand, I could hear all the "oohs, aahs, wows" and comments to my mom and dad: "Looks like your little Samantha has a winner there." Good, I am really going to win this. I want to win this.
Ooooh, the waiting game. At last the time had come. We all marched in front of the judges, then Mr. Albert Blackstone, president of the COC, walked up to the podium, tapped the microphone, and after the usual boring talk, said he would now announce the winner. "And the winner is: Amos Peabody. Congratulations young man, step right up here for your prize."
Amos Peabody? I gasped, accompanied by a collective gasp from the crowd.
I ran from the stand and tossed the costume in the recycle bin. I ran home, crying and sobbing all the way. I had made the best costume, one that covered me all up so no one could see how scared I was of winning, and the plan failed. I didn't win. While I was in the bathroom washing my face, I heard my mom and dad come through the front door.
"John! How could you do that."
"Well, Eileen, based on how terrified she was when she won the spelling bee and refusing to continue on to the State finals, I just wanted to spare her that agony."
"Bribing Al is NOT the way to do it."
Gasp. My own father? My own father bribed the judge to prevent me from winning?
The next morning as I approached the school, I noticed something on the top step. The closer I got, the more familiar it looked. Holy cow! Someone dug my costume out of the recycle bin, patched it up and put it on display. How humiliating. I ran up the stairs preparing to tear it down and destroy it. As I climbed the stairs, I heard a stirring behind me. I glanced around and saw my schoolmates and teachers applauding. ME? Were they applauding ME?
Our principal approached me and said, "Ms. Samantha, we disagree with the COC judges and pronounce you the winner. This basket of Halloween goodies, made up by your schoolmates, is your prize."
Wow! Who would've thunk it. And to my own amazement, I said, "Thank you, thank you all. Now let's dig into this basket." | |
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New User
Posts: 3
Location: Texas | I saw my friends staring at the flyer on the bulletin board in the hall. "COSTUME CONTEST TONIGHT" - it said.
"Why tonight?" I whispered to my friend Sara. "There's two more weeks until Halloween!"
Sara whispered back: "This is a way to get kids to 'think on their feet', they'll have to really get inspired to get a costume together in just a few hours!" "Let's go to the cafeteria and plan our costumes", Sara said.
We sat in the corner, quietly mumbling about possible last-minute costumes. I whispered to Sara that I'd love to wear beautiful gown. I continued: "I don't have many dresses; and I dream of pretty clothes. That's why I am always drawing pretty dresses and making paperdoll clothes."
"This is my chance to make something so I'll be as beautiful as a bride," I said. I'll find some material and make something quick! My grandmother taught me to sew - I'll run over to her house!
I quickly ran over to Granny's and asked to see her box of sewing things. "I don't have much material left from your dresses", she said. We scoured the pieces of fabric - not enough of any of them to make a dress - let alone a 'bride's dress'. "Oh, dear, what shall I do?" "I really want to be a beautiful bride!"
"My dear, don't you want to scare people for halloween?" Granny said. I replied, "No, Granny, it's my dream; I want to pretend I'm pretty with a beautiful bride's dress. I really want to be a bride in a white dress!"
Granny looked in all her boxes and bags; then she went to the linen closet. "Well, dear, I found a package I never have opened! Look here, these were bought years ago - they are soft material, creamy-white - even if they are window curtains."
"Granny! Curtains? What will I do with curtains?" I cried.
"Sweetheart, first, we measure you, then we cut the material of the curtains to make a beautiful creamy gown. We'll sew the soft material into a long, flowing skirt. Look at the color --- creamy white --- just like the a lovely bride's gown."
She continued: "Now, look what else I found! Here is some pearls we can sew to the dress, and some of my jewelry that looks very elegant - fit for a bride. Now let's see if we can find something for a veil....hmmmm. Here it is, another light curtain that is just the right length for a veil! That will be fine for a lovely bride!"
"Oh, granny, do you think I will look beautiful? What shall I wear for shoes?" "Oh! I know, I have some slippers and maybe I can paste the some pearls on my slippers!"
It was 6:30 and my granny was helping me with my 'make-up". Since I was only 12, I didn't have any of my own, but Granny showed me how to dab a little of her rouge on my cheeks. Then she took some charcoal and rubbed a tiny bit around my eyes to make them dark and pretty! "What else will make me look pretty, Granny?"
"Darling you are already lovely! The dress is long, and flowing, the material is soft and beautiful, and the pearls make it look elegant!" You'll be the prettiest girl at the dance!"
Granny drove me to the school for the dance. My friend, Sara, came with me. Her costume was what she wore for last year's Halloween....she was Goldilocks, with pigtails, and carrying three toy pigs."
We walked in the door to the gym. The boys were dressed like football players; some were scarecrows. I looked around at those scarey guys. I did see one cowboy that looked handsome, but the others were all dressed like vampires - ugh!
All the girls lined up on one wall, and all the boys on the other. They were all talking - like they didn't didn't even care about dancing with a boy! If truth be told, they were too shy to ask someone to dance.
Finally the teacher and parent sponsors decided to line up the boys and girls, lead them to walk around the floor and at the other end they would pair up with the next partner! That helped the boys, as they could never make decisions about choosing a girl.
The kids danced for about three minutes and then they had to quickly select another partner nearby, to be ready for the next dance. At the end of every song, you had to quickly choose another partner to be ready for the next song.
Imagine my surprise, when a boy named Bobby asked me to dance! "Why, Bobby," I said. "You are dressed in a tuxedo!" "Are you a waiter? A famous singer? What a great costume!"
"Thanks," said Bobby. "I actually wanted to be a football player with a muddy suit, and a black eye - but Mom said I had to try a new costume, so she helped me with tuxedo costume. She said I could be a waiter or a bride-groom. I think it makes me feel very important - more important than a football player, don't you think?"
"I think you look very important, Bobby," I said! "I was worried that I'd be laughed at in my bride evening dress costume, but now I see it was just the right thing to make!" "I was tired of scary vampire, and wolf costumes, and girls dressed like puppies, and boys dressed like football or baseball players!"
The announcer called us to attention. "Boys and girls, listen up! We want you to walk in a circle around the gym with your partner. The teachers will then choose three couples for the prizes." "Here comes the music! Start walking!"
The music started playing while Bobby and I held hands and walked around the outside of the gym. We looked at the costumes of cowboys, cowgirls, vampires, bats, football and baseball players. Some girls looked like Little Red Riding Hood, and some were dressed like rabbits.
We shyly looked at each other, then away. We thought we were a perfect match! The tuxedo and the bridal gown. The bride and groom - how fortunate we were to find each other in this crowd!
The music stopped; one judges took the microphone and the other carried two small gold trophies in their hands. They walked around the gym and all the kids hopped on one foot and then the other hoping they'd choose use. They all had crossed fingers - behind their backs!
I looked at Bobby and Bobby looked at me. We smiled. The judges walked around the floor and stopped right in front of us. I grew weak in the knees!
"Boys and girls, we have chosen the most original costumes right here! We didn't want something frightening; we didn't want to choose someone dressed like a 'hobo'. We want you kids to have high aspirations; dress well and think good thoughts! This couple are holding their head high and smiling at each other!" I want to introduce the couple with the First Prize -- it is the bride and the groom!"
We smiled and looked at each other. "We won!" we both said at the same time.
It was 15 years later when we again dressed as bride and groom. This time we walked down the aisle again. It was our wedding day. I was a beautiful bride in a flowing dress and Bobby was the groom in the tuxedo. We were right in step, holding hands; facing the altar. Our practice dance of 15 years ago was the start of a friendship, a partnership, and true love.
It all started with a halloween dance! But it was meant to be.
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New User
Posts: 1
| By Adam Richter
My costume took six months to make. Mom and Dad didn’t believe I would stick with it. It wasn’t easy, either. I had to read “Where the Wild Things Are” a hundred times and study the pictures over and over. I had to learn how to so. Other kids had their parents make or buy their costumes. Not me. I was going to do this all myself, and no storebought costumes would do, thank you very much.
About halfway through I thought of just entering the contest as Max, but that was too easy. I wanted to be the giant-headed, big-toothed, large-eyed creature — Douglas. After three failed attempts, a paper route, months’ worth of allowance advances and more foam stuffing than I ever saw, I finally finished the project. The first prize was mine. It had to be.
But it wasn’t. Jared Slatington’s dad worked for some television studio in Los Angeles and must have called in a favor. He was dressed just like the red Power Ranger, down to the gloves and boots. His dad probably lifted it from the set one day. It still didn’t look as good as mine, I thought.
The judge’s opinion mattered, though, not mine. Jared won the top prize for best costume, Second place went to Britteny Davis, Jared’s girlfriend. I didn’t even get honorable mention. I wanted to put on my giant head and cry inside it, but someone stopped me. Becky.
“Did you hear? The contest was fixed,” she said.
“What?” I said. “What do you mean, fixed?”
“Like, Jared didn’t have the best costume. His dad paid the judge, like, fifty bucks,” she said.
“Really?” I asked. I kind of believed her, but part of me didn’t want to.
“I saw them talking in the hallway, then Mr. Slatington handed over a bunch of money to the judge,” Becky said in a low voice, speaking with an urgent whisper.
“Dad! Hey Dad!” I yelled, looking around the room for my father. He would straighten this out. I could count on him to bring justice to this mess.
He saw me waving and came over. “What is it, champ?” he said.
“Jared’s dad cheated. He gave the judge money to make Jared win,” I said.
My father looked incredulous, as adults often do when children point out an injustice.
“Did you see it?” he asked me.
“No,” I said. “Becky did. She saw him give the money to the judge.”
“That’s a really serious accusation,” my dad said. His look grew stern— was I the one in trouble here?
“It’s true, Dad!” I said, my voice getting louder. “It has to be true! How else could he win with that costume?”
He placed both hands on my shoulders and crouched down to meet me at eye level.
“Son,” he said, “Jared won because the judge thought he had the best costume. You can’t prove that he was bribed and it won’t do any good to bring it up. Don’t make trouble.”
“But – “
“You can’t prove it,” my dad repeated. “Look, I think you have the best costume in this room. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“But – "
“But nothing. This was just a contest. It doesn’t matter who won. You did your best. Now let’s go home. We’ll get some ice cream on the way.”
That ended the discussion. Not because I wanted to. I still wanted to point out the unfairness of it all, that I should be the one with the gold ribbon. If not me, someone else. Anybody else. Not Jared. Not Jared who always, always, always, got his way in everything.
And now my own father was taking his side.
I didn’t want to go for ice cream. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that man, that coward who turned a blind eye to corruption.
I sulked for a week, not saying more than two words to my father in any given conversation. I felt that at my moment of greatest need, he let me down in a way that I could never forgive.
Looking back, I realize the wisdom of his action – or inaction, as the case may be. I learned a lesson few 12-year-olds are privy to: People will lie, cheat and steal to get what they want, and they will often get away with it.
You can’t stop them. All you can do is hope you don’t stoop to their level.
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Member
Posts: 9
| "Mom," it's the Halloween contest at the Community Center tomorrow, and I have nothing to wear," whines Charlotte.
"What about the money I gave you to buy a costume? What happened with that?"
"I looked all over and couldn't find anything original enough, and the theme is, 'Originality.'"
"Oh dear, I wish you had told me earlier. We could have gone down to the thrift shop and put something together. We'll just have to find something here. Let's look through the bags of clothes I haven't donated yet."
They search through the bags, growing progressively distraught every moment. Charlotte feels something satin and pulls it out. It is a beige-yellow full-length satin slip. "Look, Mom, I wish this could be a costume. It is so soft and beautiful."
Her mother turns and says, "Yes, I loved that slip. There's nothing wrong with it; I just don't wear that type of apparel now. Hmm... what could we do with it?" They are quiet for a few moments. "Charlotte, have you ever heard of Freud?"
"You mean, the ego, the id, the superego and penis envy?"
"Yes, I guess you have heard of him. Do your friends know about him?"
"Of course, everybody does. Why?"
"I was thinking, we could write 'Freudian Slip' in big red letters on the front of the slip and you could wear it as a costume. All you'd need are panties and your training bra. What do you think?"
"Mom, you're a genius! It could win first prize! Now that is original. Let's try it."
Next day, Charlotte and her mom show up an hour before the judging starts. Charlotte wears a long coat over the slip and won't show anyone her costume. She merely says, "You'll see it when they judge. I think it's going to win."
"Yeah, right," says Clarisse. "Look at Miranda over there." She points to one of their friends who is perfectly made up to look like a baby.
"Yes, that's nice, but it isn't as original as mine. I still think I'll win."
In the meantime, Charlotte's mom has gone to hang out with the other parents. She returns a half hour later and pulls Charlotte aside. "Char, honey, I have some bad news. There's a rumor that one of the judges has been bribed to choose your friend, Miranda. I know that cheating happens, but I wouldn't expect it in a contest for 12-year-olds."
"Oh, Mom, I felt so sure I was going to win. Now it isn't even worth trying."
"Well, there's still a chance. There are three judges, and it's doubtful they'll all vote for Miranda. By the way, which one is she?"
"She's the one over there," says Charlotte, pointing, "the baby."
Her mom locates her and says, "Oh, dear, wonder why her parents thought they needed a bribe. She's adorable!"
"You mean, you think she'd win over me, anyway?"
"Not if they judge for originality. Her costume is cute, but not original. Let's just see what happens."
Finally, 3:00 arrives. There are 12 contestants of which a few are witches and several sci-fi characters. Miranda is far better made up than any of them. "Mom," says Charlotte with creased forehead, they all look cool, but I think Miranda could still win."
"Now don't you be thinking that way, Char. Remember, originality. Give me a kiss and good luck!"
The 12 contestants parade across the stage, after which the ratings are listed. Each judge works with ten points--no decimals. Everyone but Miranda and Charlotte receive sevens and eights. Miranda receives ten and Charlotte receives nine. Miranda takes a little bow as the applause begins.
One judge, though, Mr. Nelson, stands up and says, "Miranda is only one point above Charlotte. I think in celebration of the season we should have a sudden death vote between the two girls."
Miranda's father stands up and says, "No that's not right. Miranda won, fair and square." The rest of the audience seem neutral.
Mr. Nelson asks the other two judges what they think. Mr. Roscoe says, "No, I don't think that's necessary. Miranda did win fair and square."
"What do you think, Rob?" asks Mr. Nelson.
"I say, 'Sudden Death!'
"No!" shout Miranda's parents, but the other parents and friends clap.
"All right, Miranda," says Mr. Nelson, "you go first." She walks across the stage, smiling.
"Now you, Charlotte," he says.
Charlotte walks across the stage, showing the front of her slip both to the audience and the judges.
The judges confer for a while, then Mr. Nelson stands, "I have the results." Everyone is quiet. "Charlotte receives two votes, and Miranda receives one. Charlotte is our winner!" Applause comes from everywhere except Miranda's parents who discreetly slip out the back door. | |
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Member
Posts: 9
| "Mom," it's the Halloween contest at the Community Center tomorrow, and I have nothing to wear," whines Charlotte.
"What about the money I gave you to buy a costume? What happened with that?"
"I looked all over and couldn't find anything original enough, and the theme is, 'Originality.'"
"Oh dear, I wish you had told me earlier. We could have gone down to the thrift shop and put something together. We'll just have to find something here. Let's look through the bags of clothes I haven't donated yet."
They search through the bags, growing progressively distraught every moment. Charlotte feels something satin and pulls it out. It is a beige-yellow full-length satin slip. "Look, Mom, I wish this could be a costume. It is so soft and beautiful."
Her mother turns and says, "Yes, I loved that slip. There's nothing wrong with it; I just don't wear that type of apparel now. Hmm... what could we do with it?" They are quiet for a few moments. "Charlotte, have you ever heard of Freud?"
"You mean, the ego, the id, the superego and penis envy?"
"Yes, I guess you have heard of him. Do your friends know about him?"
"Of course, everybody does. Why?"
"I was thinking, we could write 'Freudian Slip' in big red letters on the front of the slip and you could wear it as a costume. All you'd need are panties and your training bra. What do you think?"
"Mom, you're a genius! It could win first prize! Now that is original. Let's try it."
Next day, Charlotte and her mom show up an hour before the judging starts. Charlotte wears a long coat over the slip and won't show anyone her costume. She merely says, "You'll see it when they judge. I think it's going to win."
"Yeah, right," says Clarisse. "Look at Miranda over there." She points to one of their friends who is perfectly made up to look like a baby.
"Yes, that's nice, but it isn't as original as mine. I still think I'll win."
In the meantime, Charlotte's mom has gone to hang out with the other parents. She returns a half hour later and pulls Charlotte aside. "Char, honey, I have some bad news. There's a rumor that one of the judges has been bribed to choose your friend, Miranda. I know that cheating happens, but I wouldn't expect it in a contest for 12-year-olds."
"Oh, Mom, I felt so sure I was going to win. Now it isn't even worth trying."
"Well, there's still a chance. There are three judges, and it's doubtful they'll all vote for Miranda. By the way, which one is she?"
"She's the one over there," says Charlotte, pointing, "the baby."
Her mom locates her and says, "Oh, dear, wonder why her parents thought they needed a bribe. She's adorable!"
"You mean, you think she'd win over me, anyway?"
"Not if they judge for originality. Her costume is cute, but not original. Let's just see what happens."
Finally, 3:00 arrives. There are 12 contestants of which a few are witches and several sci-fi characters. Miranda is far better made up than any of them. "Mom," says Charlotte with creased forehead, they all look cool, but I think Miranda could still win."
"Now don't you be thinking that way, Char. Remember, originality. Give me a kiss and good luck!"
The 12 contestants parade across the stage, after which the ratings are listed. Each judge works with ten points--no decimals. Everyone but Miranda and Charlotte receive sevens and eights. Miranda receives ten and Charlotte receives nine. Miranda takes a little bow as the applause begins.
One judge, though, Mr. Nelson, stands up and says, "Miranda is only one point above Charlotte. I think in celebration of the season we should have a sudden death vote between the two girls."
Miranda's father stands up and says, "No that's not right. Miranda won, fair and square." The rest of the audience seem neutral.
Mr. Nelson asks the other two judges what they think. Mr. Roscoe says, "No, I don't think that's necessary. Miranda did win fair and square."
"What do you think, Rob?" asks Mr. Nelson.
"I say, 'Sudden Death!'
"No!" shout Miranda's parents, but the other parents and friends clap.
"All right, Miranda," says Mr. Nelson, "you go first." She walks across the stage, smiling.
"Now you, Charlotte," he says.
Charlotte walks across the stage, showing the front of her slip both to the audience and the judges.
The judges confer for a while, then Mr. Nelson stands, "I have the results." Everyone is quiet. "Charlotte receives two votes, and Miranda receives one. Charlotte is our winner!" Applause comes from everywhere except Miranda's parents who discreetly slip out the back door.
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New User
Posts: 1
| Butch laughed his usual snide laugh as I crossed the finish line. I was bent over, breathing hard as he stood over me, hands on his hips.
"You lost again, loser!" He said.
"Yeah, well, it didn't help that your relay team mate tripped up Wilson on the second leg." I sniped back, but it was a useless gesture. Butch cheated in everything that we competed in, and this relay race was no different.
He shrugged his shoulders, "Accidents happen. You know?"
I was determined to beat him in something fair and square, and I knew just the place to do it. The Annual Halloween Costume Contest. The school ran the contest and the costumes needed to be safe, non-vulgar and whole body. That last rule was to ensure fairness by keeping the contestants anonymous. I had been working on my costume for the last month, and it was nearly finished. It was a deep sea diver, complete with the bulbous helmet with the little glass window in the front, and weighted lead belt.
"I'll beat you at the Halloween Contest," I told him after I caught my breath and started to walk off the track.
"You'll never win!" he called after me, and that stopped me in my tracks. I turned around and walked back to him.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He laughed again. "Two reasons. One-" He pulled a glossy picture of a lizard-man dressed as a warrior from some kind of alternate science fiction world. The scales and large black eyes shined, while the ammo belts around his waist looked completely authentic. I was completely impressed.
"and the second reason?" I hesitated in asking.
"And Bee, well, lets just say that perhaps a judge or two sees things my way."
* * *
After school, I stopped by one of the local costume rental shops to get some ideas for any additional accessories I could add to my divers costume. I was resigned to the fact that that I was going to lose, but I planned on doing the best I could. Damn, I thought, he's going to cheat and win again. It wasn't fair.
"Hey kid! The costumes there in the back of the store are on special. I gotta clear them out." The store owner called out to me.
I walked to the back of the store and looked at the rack, understanding why they were clearance. They were all nasty, and dusty costumes from years back. They must have been in a warehouse and forgotten about. I pushed several to the side and had to take a step back. I reached into the pile and pulled out a lizard warrior costume! Exactly like the one that Butch had shown me in the picture.
"Yeah, I sold one of those a few days ago. If you're interested, I have a whole rack of them in the back. That one won't fit you, it's too small."
I put the costume back on the rack, pulled out my cell phone, and began dialing.
* * *
The night of the Halloween Contest had finally arrived. I stood backstage with my divers costume draped on a hanger over my shoulder, and the helmet in a bag in my hand. Butch slithered up to me in his costume and gloated.
"You should have just stayed home. My costume is going to deep six you!" He said.
I went to the dressing area that had been set aside for the boys, and began to get changed with everyone else.
* * *
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the contestants for this years Halloween Costume Contest!" The announcer called out to the crowd and the panel of 3 judges seated in front of the stage. A cheer rose up as the red velvet curtains were pulled back.
There, standing on the stage, were fifteen, identical, Lizard Warriors.
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Veteran
Posts: 190
Location: swamps o' Florida | Arudzki, that was great!
"Butch slithered up to me in his costume and gloated."
I laughed out loud at that line. | |
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New User
Posts: 2
| I remember the inconspicuous glance in the mirror before grabbing my bookbag with one hand and cupcake with candied black cat on top with the other. The chocolate treat disguised in orange, one of twelve mom had baked the night before. Already halfway down the block and the morning sun on my back, I heard her uncharacteristically yelling out the front door, threatening whoever borrowed her new hat for their costume. Being the only girl and knowing my brothers as she did, it was not hard to deduct I was the guilty one wearing the pre Civil War looking head covering, as any self respecting Scarlet O'Hara on Halloween.
I must have smiled the entire half-mile, running until I stood panting before the stoic front doors of Carle Place's grammar school. Though my smile disappeared faster than Glen Beck from a Democratic fundraiser. You see, I might have run but she drove the car to my school and stood on the marbled steps of the great learning institute ready to teach me a lesson.
It was mom's fault after all was said and done and she knew it. That is why she let me go trick or treating that night yet no as Scarlet as another part of me. While other girls my age were reading Cinderella or Ann of Green Gables (which I adored so don't misunderstand me), my nose was in the classic pages of Pride and Prejudice, Ben Hur, and Gone With The Wind to name just a few. What can I tell you?
I was born into a family of avid readers though I make no excuse. Not as scary as alot of other families I see growing up and out before me.
Thanks mom. Thanks dad. Though today you both are most likely under some tree along the banks of a Heavenly brook skimming through a book, save that place for me. One day I'll be joining you and dad there as soon as I take off this cumbersome costume they call life.
Carla Procida
Edited by carlypop123 2009-10-16 11:24 AM
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| Oh, no she didn't. I spent 3 months making this costume and she just swooped in with her handful of cash and took away my fair chance. Her costume wasn't even that good. Who actually believes that a cloned fairy princess costume could win against my totally rad grilled cheese sandwich ninja costume? You can practically smell me!...but you can't see me...
Gah! All principals are corrupt, bribe-taking fart-heads. The Annual Elmarta Middle School Halloween Costume Contest has always been my favorite event of the year. This year I actually get to be in it and stupid, snooty Jessy Greyson goes and pulls something like this. NO WAY! This was my year. She'll get hers. Just wait... ...but how to do it? Worms in her spaghetti? No. It's been done. Dead fish in her locker? No. I don't know her combo.... I've got it! Ha, ha. Yes! I'll...well I'm not gonna tell you! No one will ever find out what happened to Jessy Greyson...
Edited by Energized Aspirant 2009-10-16 11:36 AM
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| Danny stood in the hallway outside the auditorium, sweating profusely and shaking. He felt sick with rage. Though only twelve, he understood completely the primal urges that lurk deep within the human psyche, quivering in mad hostility for their brief - and no doubt regrettable - moment in the sun. Danny was going to kill little Billy Buttlick, and he was going to do it with his pistol.
Billy Buttlick - his real name was Billy Butick, but Danny knew from the moment he met him that Billy was a butt-licker, and thus he would wear it's moniker forever as long as he had anything to say about it - was the kid standing on the stage in the auditorium right now, beaming with pride and probably near to bursting at the seams over the victory he was about to be unjustly given. His poorly wrought together skeleton costume hanging off his slight frame in obscene folds and creases, the black paint around his eyes partially smeared into the white paint on his face in a dingy gray. Danny couldn't wait to watch the tears drip from Billy's eyes and draw vertical trails down the sides of his face. Coupled with the blood that would draw matching trails (of a different color) down the sides of his dime-store t-shirt - a t-shirt that had drawings of ribs and a spinal cord crudely painted on with what looked to Danny like cheap white poster paint. Oh how he was going to laugh when it pooled around his body on the shiny linoleum floor of Albert Auditorium. The other parents would scream, and the turncoat cheater Billy Buttlick would gasp his last breath staring at the ceiling of his Elementary School.
Danny's hand tightened around the handle of the pistol. He could feel his hand sweating, and it was making the rubberized grip of the gun feel slick. Both his hands were sweating, now that he thought about it, though the left hand didn't sweat because it was holding a gun, instead it sweated because it was still inside the tiger-paw glove he wore. In fact, his entire body was way too hot inside the tiger costume, but Danny hadn't had the time to change out of it. When one only has minutes with which to run home, grab the gun from the secret place Dad had hidden it and then run back to school before the announcements were read, one scarcely had time to breathe, let alone change out of a costume. If it must be a tiger that kills the Buttlick, then so be it.
As Danny stood there, staring into the doorway separating the hallway from the auditorium, his view into the room was suddenly blocked by Mr. Kokenderfer, the science teacher. Danny gasped and pulled himself back out of sight around the corner, gun pulled up next to his face just like they did in the movies. He stood there, gasping, willing himself to keep calm. He didn't see me, he didn't see me....
After a few seconds of silence, during which Danny kept expecting Kokenderfer to burst from around the corner and scream that the jig was up, he crept back towards the corner, edging his face around it as slowly as he could and wishing that he had taken off the stupid tiger's ears still on his head. Kokenderfer, however, was not right around the corner, nor was he still visible in the doorway. He had simply walked by the door, and was now gone from sight. Probably in there congratulating the Buttlick on a superb con-job.
Danny remembered overhearing Kokenderfer talking with the Principal of the school, Mr. Larkshire. Kokenderfer sometimes liked to stand outside the teacher's lounge with a cup of coffee and stare out the window into the yard. Something about enjoying the view, but what the old man saw out there among the trees that tickled him so was apparently beyond Danny's ability to see. He would stand there sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes, just staring out the window. But earlier today, as Danny was finishing a drink from the fountain down the hall, Mr. Larkshire had approached him and started to talk with the science teacher about the evening's costume contest. Danny, being as proud as he was for the effort to create the ultimate costume of feline precision and cunning, couldn't help but listen in.
"Hey Tom," Larkshire had said, "got a second?"
"Sure," Kokenderfer had replied, putting his coffee cup down.
"You know the Buticks? Wally and Hazel Butick?"
"Yeah," Kokenderfer smiled, "Billy's parents. What about them?"
"Listen, do me a favor and look out for Billy in the costume contest tonight." It was at that moment that Danny realized that Mr. Kokenderfer was going to be one of the judges. He had felt suddenly charged with this new information, and more confident than ever that it would help to secure his victory. Larkshire continued talking, so he returned his attention to the conversation, wondering just how much more inside information he was about to get!
"I just got word that they're going to be moving up to Michigan for Billy's next surgery, so they're pulling him out of school next week."
Kokenderfer's smile had vanished. "Oh, that's too bad. I feel for them, you know. It can't be easy dealing with that kind of disease, especially in one so young. He's a good kid, too."
"Yeah." Larkshire went quiet for a moment, and Danny wondered what was going on. "Listen, why don't you give Billy the first-prize tonight, give him a little sunshine on a cloudy day. You know?"
Kokenderfer nodded immediately. "Sure, I can do that."
Danny was stunned. Had he been holding anything in his hands at that moment he would have surely dropped it and alerted the two men that he stood just there around the corner. Lucky for him, his hands were empty, and neither one of them had any idea that their little scheme was overheard by Danny Fontero, who had just stepped briefly from shop class for a drink of water.
They were going to give Billy Buttlick the first prize, and they hadn't even seen Danny's tiger costume yet!
Danny crept towards the door to the auditorium, gun in hand, remembering that moment earlier that day, and wallowing in vengeful hatred. He would show them all, and he would make Billy Buttlick pay.
He arrived at the doorway to the auditorium, listening to the murmur of voices from the parents, teachers and kids inside. Everybody was milling around, eating milk and cookies, chatting with each other about the latest football game or their kids' costumes, everyone happy to continue the charade that this contest was fair. But Danny could see through the illusion. The contest was rigged. Billy Buttlick already won, he won before he even showed anyone his costume, and all because he had to go to the hospital in a month! That dirty little cheater wouldn't need a hospital when Danny was done with him; he'd need a morgue.
Danny stepped into the doorway, fully visible to the auditorium, no doubt, but no longer caring. He raised the pistol up to take aim at Billy, a single tear escaping his eye and slipping down his cheek. Now you pay. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Inside the auditorium, second row back, sat his mother, Grace, and his father, Dylan. Dylan spotted him as soon as his shadow crossed the threshold, and when he saw what Danny had in his hand, he gasped. At the sound of that, Grace looked at her husband, followed his gaze to Danny, and she, too, saw what he had and what he intended to do. She stood up and screamed his name just as Danny pulled the trigger.
"Danny!"
ZZZIWOW-WOW-WOW-WOW! went the Buck Rogers Space Blaster, the plastic barrel on the front of the gun blinking with red lights in time with the noise.
"Ha! You're dead, you dirty cheater!" Danny screamed, tears in his eyes.
Grace had hurried to the end of the row of chairs, and when she saw her son was crying, her anger evaporated and she swept him into her arms. In doing so, the little fuzzy tiger-ears he had made fell from his head and clattered to the floor. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"
Dylan chose that moment to come up beside them, and she could see he was none too happy. "Danny, where did you get that gun? You know we don't allow guns in the house!"
"Honey, it's okay," Grace said, shooting a glance at her husband, "he didn't mean any harm. He just wanted to play with it a bit, didn't you, Danny?"
Dylan took the pistol from his son's hand. Danny closed his wet eyes and hugged his mother. The dirty cheater was dead, and everything was okay again. So what if his dad took the gun away? He cried softly as Grace carried him towards the door. Dylan stooped to pick up the tiger-ears, and as he got to the door he dropped the plastic toy gun with rubberized grips into the trash. "How the heck did he find that thing?" he asked his wife. "I stuck it way back in the kitchen cupboard!"
"He's a child, Dylan," Grace said, "children climb." She smoothed Danny's sandy blond hair and saw that he was already fast asleep. "Yeah," she cooed to him softly, "I know it was a long day, big guy. Let's get you home."
Behind them, Mr. Kokenderfer announced that the first-prize would go to Billy Butick for his scary skeleton costume, and the room applauded. In his dreams, Danny heard the school cheering him for ridding the world of another dirty cheater, and he was happy once again. | |
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| “Come on, Mom! I have to be there early to register for the contest!” I wailed impatiently as my mom compulsively wiped the counter for the third time after breakfast.
“Jeez, Zach – can ya cut the whining and shut up?!” my older sister Zoe snarled at me, taking a moment to peek up from texting one of her many annoying friends.
I mustered my best ugly face and stuck my tongue out at her. “You suck, Zoe! And you’re just jealous that there isn’t a costume contest at the high school. Oh, wait, maybe there is . . . that makeup and outfit you have on are pretty scary.”
I thought she was going to hurl her phone at me for a second (which would have been hilarious!), but then she realized how self-destructive the consequences of throwing it would be and stopped mid-pitch, rolled her eyes, grabbed her backpack, and stormed by me, shoving at me with her backpack. I lithely jumped back, avoiding her overstuffed hot pink bag, and laughed. “Is that all you got? WEAK!!” She glared at me.
“Come on, you two,” Mom suddenly stood in between us, keys in hand. “Let’s go. That’s enough morning entertainment for today. Go,” she said, pushing Zoe forward with her purse.
I decided to not antagonize Zoe any further. I didn’t want to jinx the day, and pissing off my mom would have definitely made a jinx more likely. Today was the day of the big sixth grade Halloween costume contest, and I was feeling confident and proud of the costume I had created. The challenge was to come up with a unique costume that wasn’t a direct imitation of any known character in a cartoon, movie, game, TV show, music, or sport. We had to not only come up with a costume, but we also had to write two pages about our character and hand it in for a grade. The prize for first place was awesome – a day for the winner and five friends at the local amusement park, $250, dinner at my favorite pizza place (which also has a game arcade), and a chance to be interviewed for the evening TV news. Second prize was $150, and third prize was $100.
My idea was to be a superhero dog who worked to protect other dogs from evil and abusive humans, especially dog-fighting ringleaders and people who conduct experiments on dogs and other laboratory animals. My character, Great Hound the Greyhound, could turn himself into a sleek silver self-propelled “rocket dog” just by pushing on his nose, which was actually a switch that activated a suit made out of special lightweight, yet impermeable, “dog-luminum” (the result, ironically enough, of a laboratory experiment gone really bad for its human conductors!). This power to activate the awesome suit allowed him to get to the scene of a crime in a flash! His suit was armed with special weapons that shot tranquilizing darts, which would stun the enemy and hold them at bay until the police arrived to cart them off to jail.
My mom and I found this really cool shiny silver material at the craft store. She made a hood and a body suit out of the material for me, even attaching greyhound-shaped ears to the hood. She also attached some shiny gold lightning bolt “spots” on the back and sides of the body suit, which were made out of the same kind of material, only gold. It looked great!
Zoe had even consented to let me wear her silver snow boots as back paws, and she also pointed me to the right store in the mall at which to buy glittery silver gloves to cover my “front paws.” Mom painted my face with silver face paint after I ate breakfast and brushed my teeth, and she drew whiskers and a nose on me in black. Zoe’s final contribution to the costume had been an oversized “bling” chain type of necklace. She said that every superhero needs a special extra power source to use when things got tough at the crime scene. It didn’t look out of place at all – just looked like a dog collar with a tag on it. I was so psyched!
As Zoe got out of the car at the high school, dragging her heavy bag behind her, she peeked into the back seat and said, “Good luck with the contest, dork-boy!”
“Thanks for helping me with the costume, loser!” She smirked at me and shut the door, waving at Mom and me. “Bye, Mom! Don’t forget I have Art Club after school today!” I smiled and waved back at her.
I could feel my excitement rising as Mom drove down the long driveway toward the middle school. Costume contestants had to be at school a half hour early to present their costumes and essays to the judges. I practically leaped out of the car when Mom pulled up at the curb. My school bag was in my hand and not over my shoulder because I didn’t want it to mess up my costume. I ran toward the door. My friend Scottie was waiting just inside for me.
“Zach!” Mom called out. I halted abruptly and turned toward her to see her standing beside the open driver door with arms raised, one hand holding my lunch and the other one holding my essay.
“Oops!” I sheepishly but quickly approached the car. “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you’ve got my back.” I took the lunch bag and the essay out of her hands. “And thanks for making the winning costume! I’ll call you later when the contest is over!”
“OK – good luck, buddy! Love you bunches!” she waved cheerily, ducked back into the car, and drove off.
The hallways were crowded with costumed kids. The sixth grade was the only grade having the contest, but the other classes were allowed to dress up today, too. Scottie was dressed as an 80s rock star, teased hairdo and all.
“Help me think of a name for my character,” he said as we walked quickly toward the gym.
I gave him an astonished look. “You don’t have a name for it? Didn’t you have to write the name in your essay?”
“Yeah, but I left it blank. I think there’s four or five places where I have to write it in. Come on, Zach! You’re good at this stuff,” he pleaded.
“OK.” I paused, regarding him critically. “Here you go – how about Puffy Mullet?”
Scottie let out a guffaw. “That’s great!” he cried. “I love it!”
We entered the gym, which was full of students, parents, and teachers trying to manage the noise and the chaos. Scottie headed for the corner to sit down on the floor and write “Puffy Mullet” in his essay in all the blanks. I watched him, laughing to myself and shaking my head. I put my backpack and essay down on the floor beside him. “Hey bro, I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’m so nervous, and I don’t want to have to be trying to get out of this costume close to judging time to pee!”
Scottie laughed again. “Good idea. When I finish, I’ll get in line. Look for me there when you come out.”
“Cool.” I walked toward the far gym door, past the registration table and the judge’s chair, which was empty at the moment. Mr. Clark, our principal, was going to be the judge. He liked me, which gave me a little extra confidence that I might have a winning costume. I exited the noisy and crowded gym and turned left twice to go down the hallway behind the stage.
Halfway down the hall, I saw Mr. Clark talking to Kristin’s dad, Mr. Manetta, who was his friend and probably his lawyer, too. Mr. Manetta was always in the news for one case or another. Everybody always said it was like he was the only lawyer in town. Kristin said he loved to be on TV!
I walked past the bathroom door and was going to call out and wave hello to Mr. Clark, but then I noticed that the two men’s expressions were less than cordial. They seemed to be arguing about something. Mr. Manetta was thrusting an envelope toward Mr. Clark. Both of Mr. Clark’s hands were raised in an “I’m not touching that” kind of gesture. I crept back toward the boys’ bathroom and hid behind its open door.
“Chaz, I don’t want that money. Kristin needs to win the contest on the merit of her costume and essay,” Mr. Clark’s voice was rising. He took a step back but could go no further because his back was against the wall.
Mr. Manetta stepped toward him, grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket. I shrank back against the boys’ room door, terrified. Now I really had to pee, but I was afraid to move for fear they would hear me. “Listen, Dan,” said Mr. Manetta, “you know what kind of power I wield in this town. And you know how difficult I can make things for you with the school board because of what I know about your recreational habits. I’m doing you a kindness by offering you this money to throw the contest. I could just threaten you and force you to let Kristin win that way, but I’m trying to be a nice guy and make it worth your while.”
I peeked past the bathroom door with one eye. The hallway light glinted off Mr. Manetta’s diamond pinky ring, which I could see clearly because of the way he grasped Mr. Clark’s jacket. Mr. Clark was sweating, and he kind of looked like he was going to cry. My heart was pounding, and I felt myself start to sweat, too. I hoped desperately that the silver face paint would stay intact.
“OK, Chaz, OK,” Mr. Clark relented. “Please let go of my coat. You win. I’ll do it. But I’m donating the money to charity. I’m not keeping your filthy cash.”
Mr. Manetta released his grip on Mr. Clark, pushing Mr. Clark’s body and head against the wall. “Atta boy, Dan! I knew you would see it my way!” He clapped Mr. Clark on the back. Mr. Clark winced at the impact on his shoulder blade, stuffing the envelope into his jacket’s inside pocket and trying to smooth his now wrinkled lapels.
“I hope you don’t mind if I stay to watch the contest.” Mr. Manetta grinned darkly. “I know you won’t let me down now.”
Mr. Clark ignored him, straightened his shoulders, and walked briskly toward the bathroom. I quickly ducked into a stall as quietly as I could and flushed the toilet so Mr. Clark would know someone was in there. I heard him enter the bathroom. The water at the sink turned on. I heard splashing and the cranking of the paper towel holder. I quickly ran through my options of what to do. I still had to pee, but I had already flushed the toilet.
I decided to open the door and saunter out and have a brief conversation with Mr. Clark, pretending I had seen nothing. Mr. Clark turned toward me when the stall door creaked. “Oh, hey Zach,” he said. He seemed relieved to see a friendly face.
“Uh, hi, Mr. Clark,” I stammered. “A-are you ready for the contest?” I said nervously.
He finished drying his face. He looked exhausted. “Yes!” he forced a smile at me and tried to work up some enthusiasm. “Looks like you are, too! Great costume . . . what is your character’s name?”
I felt a rush of confidence and pride, remembering my essay and Mom and Zoe’s hard work in preparing my costume. “I’m Great Hound the Greyhound, savior to the downtrodden dogs of society!” I raised my arm in a flourish and bowed forward.
Mr. Clark laughed and said, “Sounds awesome, Z. Good luck, kiddo!” He raised his hand for a high five, and my silver-gloved hand landed on his with a muted slap.
“Thanks,” I said, watching after him as he tossed his paper towel in the trash can and walked out the door. I stood there for a moment, taking in the events of the last few minutes. I realized that the confidence and pride I felt a moment ago were completely pointless now. Kristin was going to win the contest, whether she deserved to or not, and all of the rest of us sixth graders who had worked so hard on our costumes and hoped to win that awesome prize were just plain out of luck. I was crushed, and stunned by what I had seen from Mr. Manetta in the hallway.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My dumbstruck expression didn’t even register – it was like I was looking at some other kid in my costume, wondering why he had that stupid look on his face. I didn’t know what to do. What could I do? Mr. Manetta was a grownup, a powerful man in our community. But he was doing something wrong—so wrong that it made me sick thinking about it.
I decided I better pee before that became another problem in this great-day-turned-bad. I was just re-entering the stall when Scottie came running into the bathroom. “What are you DOING?!?” he said. They’re almost ready to close registration. Come ON!!”
“Yeah, okay, sorry,” I said, quickly shutting the stall door, removing my silver gloves, and undoing the little “escape hatch” my mom had made on the lower half of the costume.
As Scottie paced back and forth in front of the sink, muttering to himself that I was an idiot and the world’s slowest pisser, I re-ran the events in the hallway through my mind. I wanted to tell someone, but I was truly in a quandary. Should I call my mom and tell her? Scottie was not the one to tell—too emotional. Brian’s dad was a cop in our town—should I ask Brian for his dad’s phone number?
“ZACH!!” Scottie cried, his exasperation obvious.
“All right!” I yelled, re-composing my costume and my demeanor, and racing out of the bathroom with Scottie.
I was indeed the last one to register at the table. Scottie ran to the corner of the gym to retrieve my essay as I filled out the short form to register my name and my character’s name. Scottie handed the essay to the teacher at the table. “Here, this is Zach’s essay!” She looked at him quizzically and looked to me for confirmation. I nodded and smiled tightly at her, handing over my form and the pencil.
There were 48 sixth graders entered, almost the whole class. I was number 48. Scottie was number 35. I noticed Kristin was in chair 4. Brian was somewhere in the middle – I couldn’t exactly pinpoint his number, but it was around 26 or 27.
Scottie’s chatter pierced my thoughts. “We’re supposed to sit in the chair with our number on it,” he said. “The essay reading will start when the first bell rings, which is in just a minute or so.”
“’K – good luck, man,” I lightly punched his upper arm. “Can’t wait to hear your essay about Puffy Mullet.”
Scottie smiled at me and turned to go to the third row of chairs. He plopped down in the middle chair in the row. I turned into the fourth row and went almost to the end where seat 48 waited for me. Seats 49-61 were empty.
I sat down. My stomach churned. I was angry at Mr. Manetta, but at the same time I was scared of him and scared to report what I had seen to anyone. I was crushingly disappointed at not being able to win the contest myself. My shoulders slumped, and I suddenly didn’t even want to compete, although the second and third prizes would be good to win, too.
The contest had several rounds. Fifteen students would survive the first round. Miss Jong was helping Mr. Clark with the first round of readings. She was rounding up students numbered 1-24 and herding them toward the auxiliary gym to hear their readings. Suddenly Mr. Clark leaped up and hurried over to her, and spoke quietly into her ear. She smiled and nodded, and I heard her say, “No problem, Dan!” as she cheerfully approached our group of the remaining 24, number 25-48. Mr. Clark ushered the first group into the other gym, glancing uneasily at Mr. Manetta, who got up from his chair at the back of the main gym and followed them in. I felt bad for Mr. Clark.
The essay readings began promptly at 8:05 a.m. My thoughts were scurrying all over the place, as my mind worked on a decision as to what to do. I briefly heard snippets of essays about superhero firefighters, mutant insects, bionic dancers, athletes with unusual abilities, and on and on. I did come out of my funk long enough to hear Scottie’s essay, which was surprisingly entertaining and funny. I smiled at him and gave him the thumbs up, and sunk back into my reverie. It seemed like only a few seconds until I heard Miss Jong call my name, and I went to the front of the room to read to my classmates. My essay got long and loud applause—another indication that going with dog-related material was a great idea and a crowd pleaser.
Miss Jong announced the winners: Scottie and I made the cut. Brian did not. Our other buddies Jim, VJ, and Alex made it, along with Sarina, Rosie, and Angela. Mr. Clark’s winning group came in—Kristin and six others, of course.
First round non-winners were told to sit at the back of the gym. The rest of us were seated in the first two rows, in order of our old numbers. I was last again. Scottie was two seats away. Kristin was first. Mr. Clark sat down in Miss Jong’s chair and faced us solemnly. Miss Jong sat off to his right. Mr. Clark read the rules again, and he told us that the three winners would be selected from this remaining 15 after we all read our essays again for him.
As Kristin rose to read her paper, I stole a glance back at Mr. Manetta, who was sitting in seat 61 in the back row behind the candidates who were cut. He was proudly looking at his daughter. Mr. Clark looked nervous, and I saw him go into his pocket to grab a tissue to dab away his sweat. Mr. Manetta flashed Kristin the thumbs up sign, and she smiled demurely. I was sure she had no idea what her father had done. She read nervously and did not look confident, which I believed would have been different had she been in on Mr. Manetta’s secret.
The 15 winning essays were all good. Scottie had a rough time reading his—the pressure got to him. He lost his place twice, and almost bit through his lower lip trying to find it again. He sat down looking very deflated after his reading. My essay again got a lot of applause, even from Mr. Manetta, which kind of made me nauseous and flamingly angry at the same time.
I was angry at him for ruining the contest for me and the other contestants. What I had witnessed in the hallway took away the joy of anticipating the unwritten ending for this event toward which I had worked so hard and prepared so well! Instead of listening with eagerness and interest to my classmates’ readings, I was wrestling with my morals and my thoughts around what to do about what I had seen and heard. I was unable to really enjoy others' essays, except for Scottie’s, to which I made a point to listen.
Mr. Clark announced the winners: Kristin, first prize; me – second prize; and Rosie – third prize. VJ looked crushed and a little confused at Kristin being selected, as did the couple of friends who surrounded him. Sarina was crying, and her girlfriends were trying to console her. Her essay was really good, and her costume had mine beat, I thought. My friends were slapping me on the back, smiling, hugging me, and chanting my name. I played along, smiling and high-fiving.
After a few minutes, I squeezed out from the crush of my pals and went up to Kristin to congratulate her. Rosie ran over and almost knocked the two of us over in a “winner’s group hug.” Kristin seemed surprised at the result of the contest, but she was flushed with delight at being selected. “I just can’t believe it!” I heard her say to Rosie. “I thought your essay was better than mine, and Zach’s was REALLY good!” I glanced at Mr. Manetta chatting with some of the other parents as they congratulated him on Kristin’s win. I wanted to punch him in the face. What a jerk!
It was lunch time for sixth grade, and my classmates quickly dispersed to go to their lockers and to lunch. I lingered in the back of the gym, pretending to gather my things and put my essay away. I waited until most of the kids were out, but the gym was still pretty full of people milling about – parents, students, teachers, the janitorial staff folding the chairs in preparation for afternoon gym classes. Everyone was distracted, and I nonchalantly made my way toward the back door of the gym and out into the hallway by the main desk. The receptionist was chatting with a parent, and I sauntered out the front door of the school with a group of parents who had attended the contest.
I opened my lunch bag and pulled out my mom’s PBJ (the best in the world!). I munched on it as I walked, thinking about what I was going to do now. The municipal building was only three blocks from the middle school. I strode confidently down the street, knowing that if the universe was working that day, Brian’s dad was on duty right now somewhere in the police station.
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New User
Posts: 2
| It couldn’t be beat. No one could top a kitchen blender costume complete with rotating blades and a gallon of fruit smoothie strapped to my back for my classmates to enjoy. My mom drove me to school that day after we painstakingly assembled my costume. There was no way I was going to ride the bus with liquids sloshing in my “pitcher” suit, precariously close to my skivvies, and a fellow bus rider could easily upset the motor powering the cardboard blades spinning at my stomach. We managed to stretch the seatbelt over my pitcher-ed lap, and with my lid hat firmly in place, set off for what I anticipated to be my crowning elementary school moment. Minutes later after my mother successfully freed me from the car seat, I strutted into the classroom, blades whirring, juice swishing, and lidded head held high. The competition was quite impressive this year. Billy was Two-Face from the Batman movies. He even had a shiny coin he would flip in the air and then scramble after when it landed and rolled several feet from his outstretched hand. Tonya was Tinkerbell, sporting a sequined green ensemble, sparkly slippers with pom-poms glued to the top, and a bucket of fine glitter. Any unfortunate soul who passed near her was doused with a handful of the stuff. A rather rakish character was brooding in the corner near the multiplication tables, decked out in a brilliantly tailored pinstripe suit and shiny Oxfords. A dark fedora was pulled devilishly over his face, and a toy Tommy gun dangled loosely from one hand. Tommie. The costume, the gun -- cute play on his name. But moving parts trump even the cutest costumes. Everyone knows that. And I had strawberry smoothies to boot. I circled around each of my classmates as I made my way to my seat, ensuring ample opportunity for them to marvel at the genius and remarkable execution of my Halloween costume. I was just about to offer a smoothie to Tommie when I saw it go down – a spectacle of utter nastiness, a deed that threatened to annihilate my dreams of possessing the Halloween Costume trophy. Lacie was talking with our teacher – and the sole judge of the annual competition --Mr. Thorton at the front of the class. Her costume was at first glance rather rudimentary. She was wearing a mint green house dress with a frilly apron and pearl studs. She had a home décor magazine tucked into an oversized apron pocket, and her hair was coiffed in a matronly manner. A housewife? Big deal. And then another student entered the classroom at the right and Lacie automatically turned her body that direction to see who had entered. It was then I saw she was wearing hand-cuffs. Of course. She was Martha Stewart. A clever social commentary, but still not enough to defeat the ingenious nature of my own outfit. It appeared that Lacie was aware of this fact as well, for I saw her slip a bundle of green into Mr. Thorton’s cardigan pocket. A bribe! Was nothing sacred?! I barely felt the smoothie slip from my hand in my utter horror. A squeal of enormous emotion ripped past my lips. All eyes swiveled towards me, but my own were burrowing into the two evil-doers at the front of the class. “You…how…what…nooooo,” I sputtered, jabbing and shaking a finger in their direction. Mr. Thorton turned a most unflattering shade of red, but Lacie only looked bored. She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and studied her fingernails. “Oh, relax, it’s just a stupid contest.” “Well if it’s just a stupid contest, why bribe the judge, Lacie, huh? Huh?!” She dropped the hand she was studying, the chain of the hand-cuffs clinking together. “Be-cause. It was just a joke. Chrissy and I just wanted to see if we could do it. Okay?” I was livid, but fought to keep myself under control. “Not ok. Do you have any idea how hard I worked on this costume? And this is strawberry smoothie…strawberry!!” So much for being under control. I was shaking from head to foot, and was pretty sure the smoothie gallon was getting an upset stomach – I could feel a small trickle oozing from its spout and seeping towards my underwear. Mr. Thorton regained his composure first. “Uh, ladies, let’s be reasonable about this.” He turned to Lacie and put on his best stern look. “Now, young lady, you’ve had your fun. Return to your seat and we’ll have no more of this bribing nonsense.” Lacie didn’t budge, but cocked one eyebrow at the teacher. “Mr. Thorton? The money?” Mr. Thorton blushed. “Oh, right,” he stammered and pawed the bundle from his pocket, handing it reluctantly to Lacie. She took her seat, but I remained frozen in righteous indignation. Mr. Thorton cleared his throat. “Uh, right, and boys and girls, the clear winner of our Halloween contest is….Felicity Andrews!!! Love the blender idea!” The applause was heart-felt enough and the trophy was now mine, but my blood was still boiling. I gave it a moment to cool, and then worked my way to the front to claim my prize. I was only 12, after all, and everything had turned out alright. No point in passing up what was rightfully won! Mr. Thorton asked if I would like to give an acceptance speech. I said I would. I cleared my throat and asked, beaming at the class, “Who wants a smoothie?”
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New User
Posts: 3
| This is complete crap, I fumed to myself standing with the other contestants on stage. How did Jake Spencer’s stupid, uninspired zombie costume win this contest? That is not better than a Bible-toting cow—a holy cow. I was original. Jake was lame.
Not according to the judges, though. They gave him first prize a $50 Target gift card. I got second. I accepted the prize silently and trudged off stage, feeling cheated. Outside, I tore off the cow head, cursed all bovine and headed for the locker room.
I was inside a bathroom stall, pulling on my shirt and licking my wounds, when I heard a door open. I rolled my eyes, irritated. I wanted to be alone. I started to open the lock when a voice stopped me.
“Dude, I can’t believe you won.” It was Jake’s best friend, Cory James. He and Jake were part of the “It” crowd—they were just born cool. They weren’t dorky like the rest of us. I hated them.
And apparently they hated me. I listened, shocked, as they laughed about how they had engineered the win to spite me. Julie Hanks, one of the judges, had a thing for Jake and leaned on the other judges to make sure he won.
“D’jou see Brian’s face? He almost cried!” They laughed together, slammed their lockers shut and left.
Hot, angry tears stung my eyes but I didn’t move until I was sure they were gone. I was stunned. Jake and Cory ignored almost everyone. I had no idea they knew my name, much less disliked me.
But wasn’t taking it. I’d go to the principal and demand justice for these cheaters. Interrogate Julie until she confessed. Strip Jake of his prize. Make Cory wear a diaper.
And I would have done it if Jake hadn’t walked back in to retrieve the sweatshirt he’d forgotten on top his locker. Our eyes locked as I emerged from the bathroom. He stopped suddenly, startled. We just looked at each other. I could tell he was rattled and felt my anger drain away.
“Here man. You forgot this.” I grabbed his sweatshirt and handed it to him. He accepted the sweatshirt with a quiet nod.
“Uh thanks. Sorry about the contest. Your costume was…cool.” He looked so uncomfortable I almost felt sorry for him. I congratulated him and turned to leave.
“Dude, what’ takin’ so long? Me and Julie are wai—.” Cory walked in but stopped short when he saw me.
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Cory glanced at Jake, who still hadn’t moved. Hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder, I said good-bye and left.
Julie paled when she saw me open the door. I just smiled politely and kept walking. As I left campus, I realized I wasn’t even mad. I’d done the right thing and it felt great.
“Hi Mom,” I said climbing into her car and holding up my $20 McDonald’s gift card. “I got second place. Dinner’s on me.”
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Member
Posts: 8
| "Oh, yeah. I am so gonna win," I say to my best friend, modeling my costume for the contest. He laughs and says,"Its just a mask." "A cool mask," I say. "A really cool mask." All I am wearing is one of those superhero/thief masks that just covers the area around your eyes and some regular clothes. I know that I probably won't win, but what the heck. Every one else is probably dressing as some one from Twilight or wearing one of those cheesy mass-produced store bought costumes. I might win the prize for funniest costume, at the very least. Or most original. My friend is wearing a bikini over a muscle man suit. Okay, he'll probably win the funniest costume award. "Ready to go?" asks my mom. "Yep," I say. "Lets go." *** At the school, we make a beeline for the gym and are buffeted by a wave of noise. Forty thousand students, yelling to be heard over the noise, proclaiming how great their costume is. Eighty thousand parents, gushing to each other how great their kid's costume is. Ten teachers, screaming into microphones, telling every one to shut up and stop talking about their stupid costumes. "Busy year!" I shout to my friend. I'm not sure if he hears me, because he doesn't say anything. Or maybe he does. Hard to say. All of the noise abruptly stops short as the principle tells the kids to go to the different balconies to wait for presentation. "See ya!" I say to my friend as he goes up to the Funniest balcony and I go to the Original one. Is it me, or are there a lot of Smarty-Pants costumes headed up with me? Its only original when one person does it, people! "You would have thought of that," says some one off to my right. "Now the rest of us are gonna look bad." Girl voice, fire head costume..."Elly?" "Who would it be, Superman?" she says. "That costume is so real looking. You're gonna win," I say. "I will if ten bucks has anything to do with it," she says, and walks away. What? Ten bucks? She bribed the judges? Wheres the fun in that? Jerk. At the very least it could have been fifty. Then it would have been a good bribe. Its enough to make me consider leaving. But I don't. *** "The winner for the Funniest Costume Prize is... Jack Thorniebottom, as 'The incredible Mr. Swimsuit Model'!" No suprise there, I told him he was a shoe in to win."The Most Original Costume goes to... Elly Thompson, as 'Fire Headed Psycho Maniac Dude'!" Well, Elly always did have good costume names, even if she had to bribe the judges to choose them."And the Best Costume Award goes to... the person in the 'Unnamed Person' costume!"Hey, thats me. What do I do again? Oh yeah, go accept my prize. Except, I can't move...
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New User
Posts: 1
| Tommy mother is a whore.
I heard my dad and uncle Jake talking about her. They didn't know I was just outside the garage door when I heard uncle Jake call her that. Dad just laughed and replied, "You should know!"
"Me? What about the time we all went skinny dipping?"
"Was that who the girl was?"
They both laughed and took a swig of their beer. I wasn't sure I should interupt them so I went back in the house. I'll show dad my outfit later. I'd heard the word before but wasn't exactly what it meant. I've heard the word around school but I'm not sure sure what it means. I need to ask Tommy.
Our party is Friday and I've got five days to finish fixing my outfit but I'm sure I'll win the hundred dollar prize. That would sure be great. Daddy said I could have half of it now and he would put the other half in my college account. Wow, fifty dollars! I never had that much money all at one time. I need a new ball glove and the one I saw at the sporting goods store was really nice. I need a new one; the one I have now was my brothers and it's getting pretty beat up and besides, it doesn't fit my hand.
The week went by pretty fast. I worked on my costume every night after I finished my homework. I wasn't sure about the tassels but it added a funny touch and Daddy said he liked it so I did it. I sowed on the tassels myself!
Tommy and I talked a couple times but I didn't ask him about his mother, I wasn't sure I should and it really didn't matter. I liked her. She was always nice to us kids and ate ice cream with us when the ice cream truck drove down our street. I think she's pretty.
As soon as I got home from school on Friday I ran up to my room to start getting dressed. I just knew I would win, noboby had ever thought of useing this as a halloween costume and I knew it would win, I just knew it would. Daddy came up and knocked on the door, "I'm not ready." I proudly announced. "I need a few more minutes."
"OK, but you need to eat dinner before we leave."
"I know, I'll be down in just a minute."
"No, get down here now, you can finish getting dressed after dinner. Just put a robe on for now. You can put the top on later."
I couldn't argue with that, I wasn't hungry but we always sat down togeather for dinner. Boy, would Mom and Sissey be surprised if I came down in my costume but I better wait, I couldn't eat in it anyway. I put on my robe and slowly made my way into the dining room.
"Is your costume ready? Do you think you'll win?"
"It sure is and it's just perfect. I know I'm going to win Mom, I just know I'm going to win."
"Oh, I know you are dear. Your Dad told me about your costume and said he was absolutely sure you were going to win. I just sorry your sister has a party the same time you do. I wish I could be there."
"It's OK Mom, Daddy will be there with me."
Dinner went pretty quick, sissey was already dressed and she and Mom left as soon as dinner was over. They'll see my outfit when we all get home. Daddy helped me put the top on and out to the truck and over to the school for the party.
When I walked in everybody went crazy (I knew I would win) and they all laughed. Boy, were we having fun. It seemed like forever but finally the judgeing started. I went up first, did my "performance" (all my little gadgets worked) and I graciously waited until everyone else did their thing. Finally, the judges came out to announce the winner.
Tommy's Mother came out ahead of the other two judges. "This has been a real chore but we picked a winner and let me say that all the costumes are really great this year. Ok, it's that time, here we go - - - and the winner is - - -."
"I WON! I couldn't belive it!" I almost cried, it's a good thing the top of this thing covered my face. Daddy just stood there clapping and smiling. Wow, this is absolutely the best day of my life. I won.
Afterwards they let us take off our masks and play games; wow, what a great time I'm having. Where's my Dad. Oh, well he's probably out having a smoke (I wish he wouldn't) but I know he's proud of me, he's a really great dad but, I better go looking for him, he's probably roaming around the school rooms; there, I think I hear him and Tommys mother. "Oh Daddy - - - DADDY!" | |
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Costume Contest - 10/13
