A Pasty Man

I’ve been struggling recently to write, so I’ve come up with this little idea to get things going; I’m going to try and write 200 words per day, and finish a short story with in the next few days. Once I’m settled back into a routine, I can go back and start working again on my longer works.

So, here you go:

Pasty skin, pasty lips, pasty everything. He had been born with a coat of ivory, and had gone through his teenager years being called “vampire”, “albino”, and “Mr. Freeze” by a kid with chipped tooth and a never-fading black eye. As a young man, he had spent two years and a couple of hundred greens on tanning sprays which turned him orange, and tanning sessions that he quit after his first cancer scare. At the age of twenty-two, he settled his vendetta with his skin-tone, and realized that perhaps he would forever remain pasty. The decision came slow, after being called paper-thin by ex no. 1, ex no. 2, and ex no. 4. His color wasn’t a big deal, he reasoned; some countries have populations that are even paler than he was, so just because his fellow country men had a nice glisten to their tone, it didn’t mean that handsomeness was bound to it. He was over it, except for when he pickpocket his sister’s bronzer on a few occasional dates (but he didn’t own, and that was all that mattered!). He never ever brushed it on his face though; only over his abs- or ab.
It was one particular day that he felt oddly confident…

A deadly flavor

So, I was invited to create a new wacky flavor by a local ice cream parlor-Yes Mama, your daughter is this important now. The flavor was to reflect the essence of my humble personality, and I was sure people were going to gulp it down. Granted, I’m an acquired taste, but I thought if I took a day off from job hunting, and experimented with flavors at home, I could come up with taste-bud heaven.  The way I planned it, it would’ve been similar to the persona I put on during an interview; Technically, it wouldn’t have reflected my personality, but it wouldn’t have been a complete lie either. I had to consider the safety of people and the sales of the parlor. No one wants to be the flavor that gets tossed out in buckets at the end of the day!

 

First, I headed to the supermarket and got a pint of every flavor. I also stacked up on fruits (I’m not a fruity person, but people like it. If I didn’t put fruits in, I would’ve just sounded like the slob), and cookies. My credit card maxed out, so I ended up with vanilla and whatever my roommate had in the fridge. Everyone likes Vanilla, right?

 

My roommate is a slob though, so no wonder the fridge was empty save for peanut butter and jelly. I was quick on my feet, and I thought could work mixed in with Vanilla? Fine, I might be somewhat deadly allergic to peanut, but I wasn’t going to eat it. It only had to reflect me; and no one knew me there, so I was vanilla and peanut better and jelly, dammit!

 

Anyway, turns out, I did have to eat it… in front of too many people. I think I have to move. 

I wrote this in response to the daily prompt, “Flavor #32“, by The Daily Post.