Short Story / Celebration (Analysis)
Celebration
You’d be surprised how many of these things take place every day. Across the country, I’m sure the number is in the tens of thousands, if not more. The first one I heard about was by eavesdropping on a conversation at the grocery store. Just a quick description of the event and the address, it’s all I needed.
When I first started going to these events, I had a specific purpose, but I was going about it the wrong way. Initially, I was blinded by so much hatred and contempt to be careful.
Lots of rookie mistakes.
The first important lesson I learned was to always bring a gift. Just showing up and trying to get in doesn’t always work. However, if you show up with a gift, the person at the door will feel uncomfortable turning you away. Just make up a name and walk in hoisting the package in the air.
It’s that simple.
The second lesson I learned was to wrap your gift in a basic manner. To accomplish this, stay away from busy patterns, stick to pastels and don’t even think about anything metallic. If yours stands out from the rest, then it will more than likely be picked and opened first. I quickly found out that if my gift was opened about halfway through the event then it had that much more of an impact. Receiving is a wonderful thing, but giving is even more satisfying.
My first successful mission was four months ago. In order to blend in at one of these gatherings you really must take quite a few things into account.
When choosing a hair color, I thought blonde would be a safe choice. My rosy cheeks coupled with blonde curls gives off the subliminal message of:
“I’m cute. I’m harmless. Let me in.”
Another thing I had to consider was my wardrobe. If I showed up wearing my normal, everyday outfits, they would know I wasn’t supposed to be there. I had to become one of these people, temporarily of course, just to get in the door. Long sleeves would be crucial to cover up the tattoos and scars.
I walked down to the nearest popular clothing store and bought an assortment of cardigans, polo shirts, skirts, high heels and sandals After transforming myself into “one of them”, I decided to put my plan into action.
This outing took place on a particularly wonderful Sunday afternoon. Even though my allergies are horrible during that time of year, I can remember actually enjoying the fresh air. Taking in the entire outdoor experience, savoring every moment.
When I arrived at the house, there were balloons hanging from the mailbox, which stood outside the white picket fence, which was also covered in balloons, one dangling upward to the sky from every other white board. Out on the road in front of the house was an assortment of vans and sport utility vehicles parked along the curb.
I was expecting this.
I knocked three times on the door, which although was probably made out of solid oak, could not shield the outside world from the noise coming from within the house. Seconds later, the door opened with a flourish, and a chubby lady with short, spiked hair leaked out in a hurry. She was holding a champagne glass that was half empty, and by the looks of her, that glass had seen a few refills. I simply held up the gift and smiled.
“Hi there, who are you?” she asked.
“I’m a friend of Jenny’s, she told me to show up at eleven!” I blurted out with my most bubbly, fake voice. I always use the name Jenny, because let’s face it, with this group of people, there is always bound to be a Jenny, or a Stephanie, or a Megan.
“I’m Becky, follow me!” she said.
She quickly ushered me inside. I immediately saw the table with all the other gifts on it, so I made my way over there and set mine down. The laughter, followed by the fake verbal surprise filled the entire house.
Becky led me into the living room and I saw the entire lot of them: sitting, standing and lying down all over the room. This huge gathering of women sat around one young lady in the center of the room. Seeing the way they reacted to her made me think of how a cult might view its leader. Hanging on her every word, waiting for any amount of recognition in order to feel whole.
I noticed a bit of space by the piano, so I made my way over there, bumping into several of the oblivious idiots that filled the room. I had to sit there and watch her open all of these gifts, then hold up each one for all of us to see, followed by thanking who it was from. She was then handed my gift and my heart began to race. I could feel my pulse in my ears I was so excited. Attached to the top of the box was a greeting card inside a pink envelope. She opened the card and read from it as I recited the message from the card in my head:
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get these to you sooner. Despite your feelings toward the situation, I wish you the best of luck.”
The card wasn’t signed, but that’s only because I failed to do so on purpose. The less pieces of information I have to fabricate the better.
After reading the card, a slight look of confusion came over her face. Her curiosity got the better of her and she proceeded to tear open the package with the tenacity of a wild cat on top of its latest prey. Small pieces of the blue on yellow polka dot pattern paper flew around her until the small cardboard box was exposed.
Once the box was opened, she peeled back every layer of paper covering what was inside. Just by looking at her face, I could tell the exact moment that her eyes focused on the gift, but it wasn’t until she pulled it out of the box, and held it up for everyone to see, that she connected the message on the card with the gift.
Silence fell over the room when everyone realized that they were staring at a box of condoms, and the mother-to-be burst into tears. All of the friends around her, all of the people who are trying their best to pretend they love this young woman in her time of need, they all huddle around her, not so much actually caring about why she is so upset but more so in the fact that it might make for good conversation at a later time. Nothing like a good gossip opportunity to sober up a room full fake people.
That was the first time I realized exactly what I was looking for: the emotional breakdown. This healthy, young and very pregnant woman just showed all of us that she isn’t ready for this, but more importantly, she was upset that my gift arrived about seven months too late. It was this moment in time that I fell in love with, and from that point on, I knew I needed more.
The next week, at a lovely seven-bedroom home up on a hill for all to see, another young woman received a box full of day planners, one for each of the next eighteen years. I made sure to fill in every box, on every page with the word, “BUSY” is bold, red letters. You know, just to make sure she knew what she was getting into.
She threw up all over a brand new dual-stroller that would someday be filled by the set of twins that she clearly didn’t want.
The week after that, in the den of a small cottage home out in the country, another young woman received a photo album along with ten disposable cameras. The card attached read: “Take pictures now, before it’s too late. You only have so many days left that you can say truly belong to you. Enjoy them while you can.”
I can still hear her blood-curdling screams echoing in my mind.
The weekend after that was especially nice. I hit two of them in the same day, minutes apart. In a nice part of an ideal suburbia, a woman in her late thirties holds a large stack of paper in her hands. I took the liberty of filling in all the information for her, all she had to do was sign on the dotted line, and the moment her son was born he would shipped off to Louisiana to a young couple who had been waiting to adopt for quite sometime.
The moment she passed out and her guests gathered around her, I went across the street to what looked like a mirror image of every home on the block. This one, I just took a shot in the dark, because after so many good ideas, I was just grasping for anything to keep this rush. This one was simple card that read: “I know who the real father is, and I’m going to tell.”
To date, this one has worked twelve times.
After all of the sadness and watching people’s future flash before their very eyes, I got very tired of it. I thought that maybe I had become desensitized to all of it. I felt as if every single emotion could not touch me.
After these many weeks of consuming cake and alcohol, I started to put on weight. The new wardrobe started to make me feel like a much bigger person, but in all the wrong ways. Something had to change sooner or later.
I remember it like it was yesterday, mainly because that’s when it happened. The house smelled of bubble gum, which I later found out came from an electronic room freshener set to a timer, which I’m guessing spurted out a little puff of happiness approximately every seven minutes. As I stood there, I felt different, more so than ever before. This time, as I watched this young woman open her card, I felt horrible. Remorse crept up into my brain and I felt for all of them, all at once, the deepest sympathy. As her friends watched, she opened the card and read it quietly to herself. The smile on her face turned into a happy confusion, then she saw what was inside the box. She looked at it for nearly ten seconds before saying, “very funny, girls!”
She shrugged off the gift as a joke. It didn’t bother her a bit. She put the box down and began to open the next one. All I could do was sit there in awe, just simply watch her in her moment of happiness. The next gift was a set of footsie pajamas, baby blue in color. She held it up with such pride, knowing that what was inside her would soon occupy the small sleep suit. It was then I realized what I was looking for all along: someone who not only able to bear a child, but someone that was happy to do so. Happy and eager to take that next step of bringing another life into the world, and wanting nothing more than to love that little person as much as humanly possible.
Something, unfortunately, I will never experience for myself.
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The narrator is a perfect little shit of a character--rather like Shakespeare’s Iago--doing damage simply because she has the power to or, even worse, because she feels a calling to. And, though the character is not likeable, some of the issues raised by her (baby shower, of course it’s a her) are intriguing. She’s also a bit creepy, like the little old lady who attends every funeral in town.
The story is somewhat out of balance, the first several pages of conversational instruction out of place. I like the “first this, then that” step method of creating a cynical tone and pattern of thinking but it probably should come later in the story. I think the story really starts with “Trust me, after you put in this amount of work, your first successful mission will stand out in your mind for all time. Mine was four months ago.” I don’t know if this is really a good opening but this is the natural beginning, in media res, so to speak.
The biggest problem I had with the story, and I read it twice, was in organization and orientation. It was deep into the story before I knew the event was a baby shower. As I read it again, I think that the story will not suffer if we know what the event is up front. The coyness in naming the subject matter does not strengthen the work nor would revealing it at the outset weaken the tale.
There are a couple of awkward contructions, holding presents “between” one’s hands rather than “in” one’s hands for example, but those can be eliminated by a careful proof-read. I also like the title and the irony contained therein. Good luck with it.
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This is a sneaky piece of work which starts slowly and builds. I really enjoyed it, which perhaps says as much about me as it does about the piece but there we go!
It is quirky, and amusing and with a bit of polish should read really well. A few suggestions for improvements which I hope will be helpful.
Page 1 – this first para is rather laboured and repetitive and I wondered if you could start with the line which opens the next para. ‘First and foremost always bring a gift.’ Before building the descriptions of what might go wrong. That way you start with an intriguing fist statement and can develop the theme at the back of it once your reader is saying ‘A gift? Why?’
Page two – again some of your descriptions are a little laboured and could be snappier. Consider ‘Parked on both sides of the street were mini vans, sport utility vehicles and luxury sedans for at least two blocks in either direction of the residence.’ compared to ‘For at least two blocks in either direction the street was lined with an assortment of vehicles.’
Page three – You make some grammatical errors here which need correcting, I think the placement of you dependent clauses are a little bit odd. For example
‘She quickly ushered me inside with her chubby fingers and huge grin.’ This sounds as though you are joining her fingers and grin in the living room. Try something like ‘Waving her chubby fingers she ushered me inside, a huge grin on her sticky face.’
Page four – some of the images here are very good, others are rather over written. You talk about the ‘tenacity of a wild cat on top of its latest prey.’ Do you mean ferocity? Tenacity doesn’t seem to fit for something she does very quickly (otherwise she wouldn’t shred it.)
Pages five through seven. I found their reactions a little unbelievable, throughing up, screaming etc. and wondered if a more restrained but equally devastated response might not improve the general malevolence of the piece, which does come over but which is very core asset and needs to be milked for all it’s worth. I want the hairs to stand up on the back of my neck and they’re not quite doing it yet. I’m sure that with this idea (which threatens that which people tend to hold most dear) you could make it work.
Hope this is helpful.
This piece was fantastic. At first I thought it seemed like that movie “The Wedding Crashers” until I found that A) the main character was female, and B) the target was expecting mothers.
I found your “gift ideas” quite comical and the whole piece had me laughing.
There were a few thing sthat I found that you should think about fixing. There were a few spots where you skipped a word (ex:”If show up”, should be ”If you show up”)
Secondly, I wonder where the deep rooted hatred for Baby showers come from (or mor impartantly the women who throw them.) Was it simply the incident with her co-worker? Or is there something deeper? Maybe take more time with it, see if you can get us more into her psyche.
I can imagine much fun, being had by all… I think this is the kind of story, secretly we all wish we had the courage to follow through on certain occasions, especially the work colleague. Often, we never think about the person trying so hard to fool us all into thinking, they have the perfect life. By the sheer voracity and energy involved in maintaining such a facade, should be a clear indication that we have the better life. Free from the worry of what others think.
Loved the story, did make me crindge and I will give you an excellent for that! it’s getting harder and harder to bring that out in me these days…
Congratulations, you have invented a new genre. Wedding Crashers, look out. I have never read anything so funny in my life. You are a wicked person and will go to hell, but you’ll have lots of good company.
Baby shower crashing. What a novel concept and I love it. I love your description of the faces as they open your gifts. A box of condoms? Planners for the next 18 years? I never, ever, would have dreamt up something so off the cuff, laugh your ass off funny.
And you’re right about the names, only you might want to add “Ashley”, “Courtney”, “Kaitlyn” and Heather to your list. Only a suggestion.
A few punctuation errors, but I am still laughing and in this mood I definitely do not feel like pointing out punctuation or grammar faults. Your story stands on its own and salutes itself proudly.
You really ought to be ashamed, but then, so should I.
I LOVED it!
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