We're All Stars Now

[noncomformist]

Who: Henrietta and You
When: Throughout 6/22
Where: Main Street U.S.A., the Library, and Joffrey's Coffee Shop
Summary: A ten year old goth is dismayed by the poser magical kingdom she has found herself trapped in.
Warnings: Vulgarity, tobacco use, hardcore goth


A. Main Street U.S.A., Morning, 6/22

[What child doesn't dream of Disney World? The sights of the park is the dream of just about every American boy and girl. The idea of being able to cut loose and be in Disney World would unattended would give just about any pre-teen a heart attack out of pure joy. What child would possibly hate being here?

The answer is this child.

Henrietta stalks Main Street, cigarette holder in hand as her eyes dart from one building to the next. Somehow her frown just grows deeper as she looks from store front to storefront, colorful and magical, before her eyes dart to the castle at the center of it all.]

Oh my God.

[She takes a slow drag on her cigarette.]

This is so lame. So lame.

B. The Library, Afternoon

[Eventually Henrietta finds her way to the library. She isn't the biggest reader, but maybe they could have something, anything, interesting. At the moment she's flipping through books, annoyed, as she tries to find something worth reading.]

Where the fuck is the occult and dark arts section.

C. Joffrey's Coffee Shop, Evening

[As lame and conformist as this place is, at least it has coffee. Sure, it's not as dark and dingy as The Village Inn was, but at least there's something with even a little goth here. She's taken a seat in the corner of the shop, drinking cup after cup of coffee and smoking the whole time, writing something down in a notebook.

If anyone tried to look at it, it would appear to be poetry. Dark poetry. Soul cutting poetry, that only a ten year old with their ten years of wisdom could write.]

Comments

C

[supoorhero]

[It's super comforting to know Disney World has its own equivalent to the Airport Hilton. Well, maybe there's a better one out there that's an actual hotel instead of a coffee shop, so maybe that makes this closer to Denny's? Either way, it's a hang-out, it's mildly depressing, and Henrietta's here.]

What's that? [Said as he unceremoniously plops down on the other side of the table and leans over to look at her book.]

[noncomformist]

[Hang outs that happen to be at least mildly depressing are, in fact, Henrietta's favorite. She eyes Kenny as he sits down, looking at him briefly before looking back to her notebook.

He's not one of her group. He's not Pete, or Michael, or even Firkle, but of all the others back home, Henrietta supposes that he's alright. She looks at the book briefly. Then reads.]

Clouds hanging over the sun. Just like the darkness that grips my soul, they linger. And then it pours.

[And then she just looks at Kenny.

It's poetry. Clearly.]

[supoorhero]

[Woah.]

...Cool.

[Well, sort of? It seems like the polite thing to say when he has nothing else. There's nothing to make fun of here, not that he'd even really want to.]

Is that all there is?

[noncomformist]

[Huh. That wasn't a response she expected. 'Cool' wasn't the word the goths would use to show approval, and as far as Henrietta expected, no one else would. She's quiet for a moment, before sighing.]

Yes. It's all I've been able to get to since I got to this damn place.

At least they have coffee here.

[supoorhero]

That's surprising. Seems like you'd have a lot of stuff to write about here.

[He frowns and tries to take another peek, almost wondering if she's holding out on him. He's just that bored, he supposes.]

They've got other stuff besides coffee, y'know. [Helpfully:] Like milkshakes and Coke, if you like those.

[noncomformist]

[She tsks a little, moving her cigarette holder back to take a drag, crossing her arms as she does.]

No. Coke is the king of conformist drinks. Coffee's the only thing that can fuel my soul.

[supoorhero]

I mean, they kidnapped us so we could work in their park. That's pretty scummy. [He's almost kneeling in his seat as he leans forward, precariously close to that coffee cup. Hmmmmm.] The least they could do is feed us whatever we want, whenever we want—

[And there goes the mug and the coffee, all over the table. Shock and awe!!]

—Fuck! Sorrysorrysorry!

[noncomformist]

They're such assholes.

[She taps some of the ash of her cigarette away, hunching over the table a bit to lean in as well, conspiratorially. And then she leans back as the coffee goes flying, grabbing her notebook before it can be splattered.]

God. Sucks for the waitress.

[supoorhero]

[W e l p. At least her notebook was saved. That's a relief, it really would've sucked to piss her off in the span of, what, under two minutes?]

...Wow. You really don't care at all.

[That's the kind of apathy that'd drive people insane with jealousy.]

So you're not...scared? [It's said after a moment of deliberation as he reaches for some napkins to wipe up what he can.]

[noncomformist]

[Deep down? Oh yes, she is in fact pretty scared of this. But 'scared' isn't a goth emotion to show. Not caring or getting pissed off at it, that's a goth emotion to show.]

No. It's just coffee. It was going to get used up somehow anyway.

...No.

[It takes her a moment to say no. To hide it. But hopefully she does enough to not have it be obvious.]

I was always gonna end up in a shallow grave anyway. Doesn't matter if its back home or if its here in the kingdom of conformists.

[She pauses for a moment too, before taking a napkin to help wipe the table. Usually she'd just let the waitress do it, but if you ARE going to do it, Kenny....fuck. She'll help, she guesses.]

[supoorhero]

[Far from rolling his eyes, Kenny sighs.]

It'd be really fucking undignified to be killed here. Especially if it turns out, like...it's not nice or cool at all, like it's being run by psychopath super villain Illumanati guys who're just pretending to be Disney.

[Somehow, he wouldn't be surprised. It also gets him to hurry up cleaning, because what if they're already attracting the attention of said psychos? The waitress could be a plant. Spooky.

When he's finished:]

You're friends with Stan, aren't you?

[noncomformist]

I don’t think something, like, the mob would pretend to be Disney. They’d just work for Disney.

[Wow Kenny. You are just cleaning this table like a motherfucker. She’s kind of surprised at how hard and nervously you’re going at it.]

Who, Raven? He went back to being a conformist.

[Or at least always had been one. He didn’t really seem to get the goth thing in general.]

He was alright.

[supoorhero]

Or they're the same thing. Disney's gotten pretty fucking weird before.

[He thinks they've ditched the purity rings though. So at least that's out. Hopefully.

...Please God, don't let them bring back the purity rings.]

I dunno, I thought you guys still talked. You, the tall guy, the kid with the weird hair, and that little kindergartner who wears lipstick.

B

[encino]

Pssst. Psst.

[Patchy the Pirate, illegal Spongebob merchandise bootleger, calls out to Henrietta from behind a bookshelf that is about as tall and wide as he is.]

I got yer dark and occult bootleg Spongebob merchandise right here, young'in!

[noncomformist]

[Henrietta heads over to the bookshelf, brow raised as she goes to see what this weird pirate man is all about. You know, bootlegging is kind of goth. It's straight giving the finger to capitalism and all the conformist cronies in the system.]

SpongeBob is for babies. What's occult about SpongeBob?

[encino]

He's not allowed in this park.

[He gestures to the little wheelbarrel of Spongebob merchandise, and lowers his voice to a whisper.]

Tell me, lass. Ye ever hear of...the occult creepypasta masterpiece that be "Squidward's Suicide"?

[noncomformist]

That's pretty goth.

[Huh. Just busting in to where he wasn't, going where he shouldn't. Who actually knew SpongeBob could tell the conformists to fuck themselves so much?]

…I'm not stupid. Squidward's Suicide doesn't exist.

[encino]

How do you know?

[noncomformist]

...Well show it to me.

[You better not be screwing with her, you pirate fuck.]

[encino]

I can't. The VHS has never been found.

[He lifts up a Squidward doll by a noose tied around it's neck.]

Oooooohhh.

[Patchy takes out a red sharpie and draws little lines under Squidward's eyes.]

[noncomformist]

[Then why'd you even bring it up? Just to push your bullshit bootleg dolls?

Because it's kind of working.]

How much do you want for it?

[encino]

13 bucks.

Since it be an occult number.

[noncomformist]

13 isn't occult, you dickhole.

[Wow. This guy is looking more and more like he doesn't know a fucking thing about the occult. What a poser.]

I'll give you six dollars and sixty-six cents for it.

[encino]

The Bible assigned ’13’ the meaning of “rebellion against constituted authority”, plus the depravity that caused Satan to be rebellin' against God.

[He crosses his arms.]

The occultist assigns ‘6’ to represent the number of man, and the number ‘7’ to represent the number of divine perfection. Thus, as a person climbs that “Jacob’s Ladder” toward self-perfection in the realm of the occult, the number ’13’ represents the state of divine perfection, self-achieved perfection, and Illumination. Six plus seven be thirteen, after all.

[noncomformist]

[Well. Okay. That gets her to silence on that part.

Give her a minute. She's reaching for thirteen dollars.]

Give me the fucking doll.

[Yeah she's taking that thing now.]