Hostile Makeover
For the Love of Velma Dinkley
Scooby-Doo
I don't know why this happens to me. It's just so messed up. I want to be recognized for my intelligence and accomplishments. Unfortunately, my line of work usually causes me to wind up looking like something completely different. Plus, Daphne doesn't exactly help. What is it about her? I've graduated top of my class since eighth grade, solved hundreds of mysteries, and even got nominated for a Nobel Prize for my work in the field of cellular manipulation and bio-chemistry, but I still have no clue what it is about her eyes that always does something to me. Her irises are an extremely deep and pure aqua color. She almost never wears makeup around her eyes, she never needed glasses, and, overall, the natural look of her eyes is…captivating.
Okay, that didn't come out right. I'm not a lesbian; I know that. But it seems like that's one fact I can't back up (especially to my friends). What I meant was, and I don't know why I'm so bent on explaining this to whatever stranger I come across, her eyes have an interesting formation and color scheme to them. I truly think they remind me of something; some kind of setting or memory that I'm just not able to recall. Maybe they look like a shallow lagoon around dusk that I spent the day in while the gang and I were investigating the apparent resurrection of the Ghost Diver. I'm not sure what else it could be. I don't really want to try to drag up memories right now; I'm really tired. Getting hard to type.
Daphne and I have been friends for a long time. We met in high school. I was a sophomore and she was a junior. She was always sweet. Thanks to her, I got to sit at the cool girls' table at lunch. She even stood up for me against bullies. Before Mystery Inc. formed, she was usually the one to find my glasses when I lost them (not that that happened alot before lunatics in costumes starting bumping into me). When Shaggy, Freddie, Scooby, Daphne, and I finally formed Mystery Inc. and set out cross-country in Freddie's dad's old van, I was the youngest member (sometimes I even think Scooby's older than I am). No one seemed to mind. Shaggy was even comfortable enough to hint at a relationship between him and I a couple of times. I always turned him down gently: Always using some lame excuse. Every time I did, I'd look back, and Daphne would be right there taking mental notes. Daphne's not a lesbian; as cliché' as it sounds, I know this because her and Freddie have been an item since the gang started. Everyone even thought they'd tie the knot one day. Five years passed, but nothing ever happened. There were times when I wasn't even sure the two were talking to each other. I don't know. It feels like I say that alot lately.
While the mystery business was on hiatus, Daphne and I realized we'd need to find new living arrangements. I wasn't crazy about the idea of moving in with Mom, and Daphne wasn't about to move back to Blake Manor with her parents and her siblings. So, we threw aside our pride and rented an apartment room close to the ritzy section of the city. It was awesome; we had a balcony view of the city skyline, a bedroom, two bathrooms, a pretty big living room, a fully-functional kitchen, and even a walk-in closet, which Daphne took over. During the two years we spent together, we grew closer than ever before. Most of the time, I couldn't afford the rent, so Daphne covered me. I really appreciated that. But, being Daphne, she asked for some small favors in return; More times than I'd like to disclose, I found myself acting as a dress-up doll for her attempts at a clothing line. I was "blessed" enough to sample her pink mini-mini skirt, halter swimsuit, mega-high heels, and the prototype of her successful "Daphne Blake Forbidden Fruit" underwear. She always said I was the perfect model. I always thought her style of clothing was kind of uncomfortable, though. I made sure all the windows were shut, and nothing could be traced back to me. Daphne would always giggle at my comments, then keep giving me more clothing to wear. The worst experience I ever had was when she made me try on her swimwear line. Anyone who knows me knows that, for me, a swimsuit consists of a modest one-piece (usually colored orange and red) and a matching, long swimming shirt that goes down to the tips of my knees. However, for the first and last time, Daphne witnessed me wearing a very tight black push-up with a matching two-string bikini bottom (which was borderline humiliation. I mean, my hips were almost completely uncovered, and I was practically naked). Then, of course, I had to pose to, as she put it, "test the flexibility and reliability of the suit". So, I had to lie down on my stomach and fold my legs back, bend down on my knees and stretch backwards as she observed the sides of the bra, and, overall, keep from dying of embarrassment.
"This is ridiculous," I declared, abandoning the demeaning position and wrapping myself in a towel. "I'm not a model, and this is just…ah! I don't even know what to call it! I can't do this anymore! I feel like a tramp!"
"I'm sorry," Daphne quickly apologized, trying to hide her cheeks as they turned as red as fire. "I…I don't know. I didn't know you were against this." She screwed up; we could both see that. She was ashamed, and I was stupid.
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted my glasses and walked over to her. She was on the verge of tears. "It's okay," I surrendered. "You needed a model, I was here, we're friends,…and I guess I kind of owe some of this to you. This was just…way too out of my comfort zone. Don't beat yourself up, Daph. It's just…I'm not really…model material."
"I know I took it too far," she replied, blinking back her mounting tears. "…But you're wrong about what you said."
"What's that?" I asked, taking a seat on the couch.
"You're a perfect model," Daphne reassured me. "Velma…you're sweet, smart, kind…Anyone can see that just by looking at your eyes. You don't know how beautiful you are…and I think that makes you gorgeous." For the first time in a long time, I was speechless. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped, my cheeks became as red as hers, and I started babbling under my breath. She just smiled a warm smile and quickly but gently stroked down my hair.
At the time, I wore my hair pretty short in my signature, thick bob cut. I don't know why, but after that day, I decided to let my hair grow out alittle. Now, my auburn locks look slightly more feminine, lightly but attractively unkempt, somewhat wavy, and… I don't know; cuter. Oh man, I sound just like Daphne. I don't even know why I care, but I guess I just had to articulate it. I like this look; my natural look. Of course, I kept wearing my trademark baggy, light-orange sweater, my Mary-Janes, and a long red skirt. To this day, I never wear makeup; I tried it once, but the mascara always started itching, so I'd rub my eyes and wind up looking like a raccoon. Daphne still urges me to "try something new", but I'm content with how I am. My modeling days are over (thankfully), Daphne and I are better friends/roommates, and, in time, Mystery Inc. even reformed.
It was great being back on the road again. Daphne and Freddie, as far as I knew, still weren't talking. They never called each other the whole time the gang was split up. Shaggy sent us a couple of e-mails and even a phone call from him and Scoob, but Freddie; radio silence. Things weren't like they were before, but I knew the former lovebirds would come around. Our first day on the road, we were headed for North Dakota to investigate some guy calling himself Rushmore and a string of disappearances.
"Hey," Shaggy said, leaning against the wall in the back of the van, staring out the window. "You guys remember when Scooby's cousin, Scrappy was part of the team?"
"Oh, lord, that was horrible," I burst out.
"He was always trying to show me up as leader," Freddie added. "Me!"
"I still haven't gotten that urine stain out of that dress," Daphne said. "He was so creepy. No offense, Scoob."
"Rone raken," Scooby answered, taking a break from his sandwich.
"Whatever happened to him?" I asked, turning back to Shag and Scoob.
"After the gang broke up, PETA decided Scoob and I weren't 'fit guardians'," Shaggy casually answered, not breaking his composure for an instant. "So, they adopted him off and said we couldn't have any contact with him…Or maybe it was the other way around."
"Sorry, Scooby," I said in a gentle voice.
Shrugging his front legs up like a pair of human shoulders, Scooby-Doo responded with an uninvolved, "Reh", and continued eating.
We hadn't had a conversation like that in a long time; the whole gang together as a family. It was…nice. Things were different; better. Daphne and Freddie started talking to each other after about a week on the road. After three long days, the Rushmore Case was solved, and we had some free time to check out the sites and, for Daphne, the shops.
It didn't take long for the media to find us, though. The next day, we were on the local news. After explaining (for what felt like an eternity) to the makeup crew that I didn't use any cosmetics, and preferred my natural look, Daphne convinced me it was just because of the lights and camera angles. So, I let them touch up my cheeks, nose, and forehead with a light foundation, and that was it. Then, we all sat down next to Candace Thornberg and TJ Nelson and answered some questions. The matter of my nominations didn't come up much, which I was thankful for. Unlike our E! and TMZ interviews, the reporters didn't obsess over relationships and idiotic rumors (which could be summed up in few words; pot, co-habitation, and so on).
The show ended with an invitation to Caesar's Palace to investigate a string of robberies committed by a group of magicians. The publicity would be great for our resurrection, so we accepted. For the first time, we were given an all-expense-paid plane flight while the Mystery Machine was transported to our rendezvous location in Las Vegas. I never really traveled much, so the flight was awesome. Flying first class was nothing new for Daphne or Fred, but Shaggy, Scooby (who got to ride with the rest of us), and I were about to geek out. When we finally touched down, we were met by the manager, taken to the van, and went over the details in private. Everything was taken care of, so all we had to do was solve the case, unpack in the awesome hotel they booked for us, and have the time of our lives in Sin City.
I can't really go over the details of that mystery, but the part that was broadcast on live TV was all people really seemed to care about:
"Ladies and gentlemen," a young man wearing a white mask with black eyes and a black slit that somehow moved when he spoke declared. "There's been alot of crimes committed in this town. They have one thing in common as of recently; what these degenerates call magic. I stand before you tonight, having returned from my requiem in the afterlife, to show you magic's true face. I intend to do this the only way I know how…with the magic my mother passed down to me, my heart and soul, my deck of cards, and my bare hands." Of course, there was no standing ovation; that would have to be earned once again.
Backstage before the show, we met with Rufus Raucous, the legendary magician believed to have died three years ago during a major accident while performing on stage. We were the first to know he actually survived and lived underground until he felt it was time to come back. He told us the presence of "true" magic would draw the criminals right to him. It all came down to a matter of superiority; who would let someone like Rufus tell the world that their magic was just a fraud? Unfortunately, we had to make a deal with him in order for him to help us expose the criminals;
"I'm going to need an assistant," the magician declared. All eyes turned on Daphne. "No…I need her." Following the man's finger, everyone looked at Velma, whose heart suddenly began pounding as her cheeks flushed over a dramatic shade of red.
"Helping me with my return is my lovely assistant," Rufus announced to the audience, holding his hand out towards the curtains.
I slowly peeked my head out of the curtain, saw the massive crowds, and nearly fainted. There was no way I could do this. Then, I felt Daphne's hands push me out onto the stage, where everyone could see me stumble in the pink high heels and shimmering, pink, legless tutu they made me wear. Unable to hide my embarrassment, my face seemed to catch fire, and I nearly wet my leotard. Some people who knew about Mystery Inc. cheered while most others giggled. Trying to make myself look somewhat professional, I walked forward, hoping my puffy skirt was hiding my backside (which it didn't). Rufus was a professional, and that was my only relief. I would never do anything like this if it weren't completely necessary (if I was in the right mind). Our plan worked, and the criminals crashed the show. Together, we managed to tie them up and trap them in a non-lethal model of an iron maiden. Then, we unmasked them, had them arrested, and met up backstage.
"You look pretty, Velma," Daphne declared, making me blush once again. Scooby and the boys left when I said I needed to change, but Daphne stayed. "Hey," she said in a quiet, gentle voice. "Not trying to sound shallow, but wow." I kind of smiled, desperately wanting all this to be over with. "Your legs look great."
Clearing my throat, I tried to overcome the desire to run and hide under a rock. "Thank you," I said. "I think this makes me look kinda fat."
"So not," the redhead burst out. "Velma, you're not even close to being fat."
"You don't have to lie to me, Daph," I replied, only to be caught off guard by the worst possible thing I could imagine; my tutu was riding up. "You're the only model here." When I thought she wasn't looking, I began to pull down on the leotard, relieving some of the discomfort.
"I'm no model," she replied. "And I'm not lying to you. I think you're really cute. Plus, uh…I got a good look at your thighs while you were onstage. They're pretty toned." At that moment, I suddenly realized I had just shown the world just about everything. My cheeks were almost completely exposed, my legs were totally naked. Then, I broke down and started crying.
Taking off my glasses and covering my eyes and mouth with each hand, I felt my face light up as red as it'd ever been. I really, really just wanted to die. Then, I felt Daphne hug me; she was calm, respectful, and nurturing. "Sshh," she whispered, slowly lowering the two of us into a seated position on the floor. She wasn't trying to embarrass me, and I knew that. Still, I was never going to be comfortable with what had happened. "You're okay. You're okay." I don't know how long it took for me to calm down. "I know you don't like putting yourself out there…but you shouldn't be ashamed about your body, Vel. You're smart, sweet,…and from where I'm standing, you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen."
I swallowed hard, let Daphne put my glasses back on my face, and just held her. "Thanks, Daph," my crackling voice managed to whisper.
"Come on," she said, gently lifting me back up onto my feet. "Let's get you out of this costume." Smiling like a little girl, I let my friend take my hand and walk me towards the dressing room.
