Post by Rosie Wikus on Jul 24, 2014 21:54:57 GMT -6
The floor quaked as the tributes of District 9 were in the green room. The day for the parade had finally arrived. Tim, the designer for the tributes rushed through the room with scraps of fabric here and there. Tim began to speak, saying “My dear darlings…we have to make this work. The streams of green, gold, amber must reflect the seasons of the fields for you and Arnie. Right now, I see nothing but a hot mess”.
Rosie felt distraught. She had never been in front of a large crowd prior to being selected for the Hunger Games. Her deep, ingrained scar glistened as she slowly moved her arms through her dress. She wasn’t sure of what Tim was saying, but she had never felt more beautiful in a dress. Although awkward at first, Rosie knew that dressing up was the only to impress sponsors. The garments glistened as if they were crown jewels of the Capitol.
As Rosie reflected on the garments, Tim approached her, holding nothing but a long white, veil. Tim said to her “Rosie, you are about to represent your district. It’s your time to shine. Both you and Arnie will wear masks of bread to reflect the pride of the farming industry of your district”. Rosie was unsure of what to make of both a veil and a bread mask. The bread mask for Arnie and her was similar to that of a slice of bread with two eyes and a mouth hole. Although minimalist, it apparently said something about the drive of the working class. Tim interrupted Rosie’s train of thought, “Rosie, you must know that as you both cross paths with the sponsors, your outfits will swiftly change to reflect the seasons. I want you to stand loud and proud like my family couldn’t do years ago”.
Rosie contemplated the secrets that she could not tell Tim or Arnie that revealed why she had volunteered to join the games. She could not trust them enough to confide in them her dark history and the tragic fate of her parents; however she could not help but feel a visceral attraction to the lean and limber Arnie. Her body was saying let’s go, but her heart was saying no. She steeled herself against her hormones and remembered her true motivation; a desire to be reunited with her parents and to strike against the Capitol. She boarded the elaborate platform, adorned in grains, bread products and soil. She rolled her shoulders back, protruded her chest forward and put her strong arm around Arnie’s waist, hoping to bring herself closer to the enigmatic and brooding individual next to her in the multigrain bread mask with his tortured good looks.
“Why toil among the multigrain?”, Rosie wondered aloud. She contemplated Arnie outfitted instead with a rye mask, or would sourdough fit him better? In the end, was the answer pumpernickel? Arnie was really just enough sour and just enough soft to be the boost of fiber missing in Rosie’s diet, and today was a day of harvest. Furthermore, a slight toasting would perhaps better prepare things for the impending panini that was to become of the day’s festivities.
Rosie felt distraught. She had never been in front of a large crowd prior to being selected for the Hunger Games. Her deep, ingrained scar glistened as she slowly moved her arms through her dress. She wasn’t sure of what Tim was saying, but she had never felt more beautiful in a dress. Although awkward at first, Rosie knew that dressing up was the only to impress sponsors. The garments glistened as if they were crown jewels of the Capitol.
As Rosie reflected on the garments, Tim approached her, holding nothing but a long white, veil. Tim said to her “Rosie, you are about to represent your district. It’s your time to shine. Both you and Arnie will wear masks of bread to reflect the pride of the farming industry of your district”. Rosie was unsure of what to make of both a veil and a bread mask. The bread mask for Arnie and her was similar to that of a slice of bread with two eyes and a mouth hole. Although minimalist, it apparently said something about the drive of the working class. Tim interrupted Rosie’s train of thought, “Rosie, you must know that as you both cross paths with the sponsors, your outfits will swiftly change to reflect the seasons. I want you to stand loud and proud like my family couldn’t do years ago”.
Rosie contemplated the secrets that she could not tell Tim or Arnie that revealed why she had volunteered to join the games. She could not trust them enough to confide in them her dark history and the tragic fate of her parents; however she could not help but feel a visceral attraction to the lean and limber Arnie. Her body was saying let’s go, but her heart was saying no. She steeled herself against her hormones and remembered her true motivation; a desire to be reunited with her parents and to strike against the Capitol. She boarded the elaborate platform, adorned in grains, bread products and soil. She rolled her shoulders back, protruded her chest forward and put her strong arm around Arnie’s waist, hoping to bring herself closer to the enigmatic and brooding individual next to her in the multigrain bread mask with his tortured good looks.
“Why toil among the multigrain?”, Rosie wondered aloud. She contemplated Arnie outfitted instead with a rye mask, or would sourdough fit him better? In the end, was the answer pumpernickel? Arnie was really just enough sour and just enough soft to be the boost of fiber missing in Rosie’s diet, and today was a day of harvest. Furthermore, a slight toasting would perhaps better prepare things for the impending panini that was to become of the day’s festivities.