Who's the Ugly Chick?
Here I go ranting, again. Pardon if you don't agree with these rather bold statements.
Her red claws tap the counter table. Her fat body bulges from her too-small top. She is not attractive. She is not young. She is not gifted with supernatural powers or awareness. But she is special. Everybody is special; didn't your mom tell you?
She is an OC, but she is real. She is the woman I see every day down the street. She might even be a little bit of me. I share human nature with her, just as we all do.
I don't know her name. We won't see her for long. She exists solely to hand Yusuke and Kuwabara their tickets. She doesn't know, nor does she care to know, why they're headed for Osaka.
"Two tickets, please." Kuwabara unconsciously holds up two fingers. Her rings and claws tap against the keyboard before she hands them the tickets and receipt. She places the money in the register and clamps it shut.
She dully twirls her frizzed yellow hair on an ornamented finger as her customers examine their tickets. Her job is unfulfilling, agonizing, a chore. Fit for an untalented, ugly, frizzy, tacky old woman.
She fades from existence as Yusuke and Kuwabara leave for their train. Best to leave the adventure and romance to the pretty S-class demoness, right?
Wrong!
There's nothing alluring, nor desirable about her. Real women are worth nothing, according to fanfiction pop culture. Antifeminism hidden within a "ladys save the day" idea.
That's why I write the ugly chicks.