episode four: whipped cream.

"i need more whipped cream," she said, making a sour face and setting down the dixie cup filled with frozen jello and vodka.

she rose from the sofa and walked straight to the kitchen. her clunky black loafers left track marks on the carpet. minutes later, she returned to the living room, where everyone sat, still holding their cups.

"would you like some more?" she asked, like some sort of cocktail waitress. except she was wearing a vintage-like red cardigan and mid-length black skirt, not the kind of thing you'd wear to get big tips, and offering dollops of whipped cream.

"there you go," she said, cheerily. after serving everyone, she sat back down on the corner of the sofa. she had topped her own with a mountain of the fluffy white stuff and brought it to her lips.

without taking even a sip, she quickly threw it back down.

"no, i just can't take this," she said, disgusted. "it's nasty, and the whipped cream doesn't help at all."

15 january 2000