The day started so promisingly, with perfect caf, a wonderful breakfast, and her favorite aqua suit. Donning a pair of extremely tall, spiky black heels, she glided with the ease of long practice out to her speeder. Setting her black bag down inside on the passenger seat, she cheerfully started the engines and purred out into the traffic, flicking on the bouncy pop music and warbling along. Traffic was flowing unusually smoothly, that day, and with her blonde hair returned to normal perfection, Kakka was feeling optimistic that her escapade of a week ago had vanished down the drain with the black and green dyes.
Alighting from her speeder, she heard a faint ripping noise but, upon not seeing anything, dismissed it, and clicked her way inside. "Good morning, Chirrel," she trilled at the cameraman. "You about ready for me?"
"Give us a few, Kakka," the alien replied distractedly, peering at something on the camera. Kakka waited in the wings, reviewing her notes and murmuring sotto voce to herself, "Good morning, everyone, have I ever got a treat for you today. Last week, we asked our viewers to submit their speculations on what our esteemed Chancellor does in his spare time, and we received some truly wonderful answers!"
Her monologue was interrupted by her cameraman's coolly professional voice, several long thin fingers held up. "We'll be live in five, four, three, two, one!"
Kakka tripped merrily out in front of the panoramic view of Coruscant's busy skyline, already starting her spiel. "Good morning, every-" That was as far as she got before an extremely pervasive crack captured her attention and she stumbled to the side with a small shriek. One of the outrageously high heels had broken off the shoe, leaving her – literally – wrong-footed.
"Oh, well, this is unexpected," she tittered nervously, dithering a moment as she attempted to decide what to do. Finally bending down to see what could be done, she was dismayed to hear an emphatic ripppp from behind and slightly above her head. The back seam of her tight midi skirt had ripped all the way down to the high slit, and she squealed again – rather more loudly – as her entire skirt fell down about her ankles. Scrabbling desperately to retrieve her errant clothing, she missed the warning signs until her shirt, too, had split along suddenly weakened seams, and collapsed with soft grace onto her uneven feet.
Standing before a galaxy-wide audience in nothing but her underthings, barely a few seconds after filming started, Kakka Freetaan lost her cool. "Turn it off!" she shrieked at Chirrel, voice at top volume. "Turn it off, turn it off, get it elsewhere, you idiot, someone help me!" She was already being swarmed by horrified staff, several trying simultaneously to get someone's coat, someone else's cloak, and a towel on her. "You're bending my arm the wrong way!" the harried reporter screamed, face blazing scarlet with embarrassment and fury. "Get out of my sight!" she added, a flailing hand catching one unfortunate Rodian so hard the alien reeled, stunned, back into the camera. The whole apparatus tipped, before crashing to the floor, and the Rodian and Chirrel went down in a thrash of limbs.
The little red recording light flicking to the 'on' position went entirely unnoticed in all the chaos, the camera dutifully airing the scene from its sideways position as Kakka Freetaan, HoloNet sensation, went stamping lopsidedly about in one ridiculously tall shoe and one barefoot, wearing nothing but her underthings, having a full-on diva tantrum as scuttling staff scurried about in her wake, attempting to placate her. The surrealistic scene was punctuated by gasps, grunts, and definitely not family-friendly curses coming from the pile of beings behind the camera.
A wild kick sent the camera-proper spinning from the tripod to come to a rest in the middle of the melee, where it duteously continued broadcasting the fiasco from a rather closer position. This continued for perhaps half a minute more, before a scantily-clad Twi'lek female dodged back from Kakka's infuriated gestures, slipped on a fragment of silky top, and crashed backwards. Pinwheeling wildly but ineffectively, she sat down rather painfully right on the lens of the camera, effectively ceasing the filming and leaving trillions of viewers across the galaxy wondering –
What happened next?
"This has been a horrible day," Kakka whined to the world in general as she drove home, swathed in a borrowed coat three sizes too big for her. The world ignored her complaints. "A horrible, horrible, horrible day," she repeated, hitting her horn on the last 'horrible' for emphasis. The alien in the speeder ahead of her turned to give her a rude gesture out his window, which she returned enthusiastically, all unnoticing of the traffic cam-droid a few feet away. "It cannot possibly get any worse," she declared with assurance as she let herself into her swanky apartment.
Limping down the hallway – she'd twisted her ankle rather badly, earlier – she slammed open her bedroom door, shed the coat (it stank!) and flopped facefirst down onto her replaced custom-pressure air-filled mattress. A very rude sound emanated from below her and she freefell less than a foot before landing rather painfully on the frame beneath. Letting out a scream of frustration, she grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it.
