CAFÉ PARODY'S CHAPTER 2-
IF YOU WANT TO BE A MODEL RAISE YOUR HANDS!
Paris sat in his chair, fidgeting as he listened to his professor speak.
"Usually, I would suggest a career for a student who actually has a brain," Professor Snooty remarked dryly. "But for you, I'm afraid that I can't."
Paris blinked. "What did you say? I wasn't listening."
Professor Snooty sighed and asked,
"What is your major in college?"
Design," Paris replied eagerly. "I absolutely loooove it."
"Yes, but what kind of design?" Snooty asked impatiently.
Paris blinked. He had definitely not been expecting that one. He bit his lip and wondered, 'Why is she also able to trick me on these kind of questions?'
"I major in the kind of design where you draw clothes," Paris said slowly, remembering sketching out a gorgeous silk gown in class.
Snooty hit her forehead with her palm and wondered, 'Who accepted this idiot into college?' She sat up and glared at Paris as if accusing him for giving her a headache. He just sat there, looking at her blankly.
"GET OUT!" she exploded. "Get out of this college and never come back because you will never become a fashion designer. NEVER!"
Normally, Professor Snooty had noted as a pretty sane and patient professor, a professor that would never scream at her students, but Paris had driven her to the brink. She jumped up with a mad glint in her dilated pupils and threw her coffee mug at Paris. She missed, but it was enough to send Paris running out the room and timidly close the door behind him.
"Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Paris mused and quickly took off before Snooty could fling open the door and throw another coffee mug at him.
On his way to his locker, Paris noticed another guy coming his way. It was Patroclus, an eager, inexperienced blond junior that was usually hanging around at the side of his cousin Achilles. Paris shuddered at the very thought of the name. Achilles was the terror of most kids at the college excluding girls of course. To Paris who had been born a natural playboy, Achilles posed as his greatest rival. Girls went to him so it would help their reputation only. Surprisingly, Patroclus was alone.
Patroclus was talking to someone on his cellphone is hushed whispers. Paris hardly ever eavesdropped, but couldn't help it once he heard Patroclus say,
"Café Troy? That one owned by that old man and his son Hector? Yep, we'll be there after our classes are over. Don't worry, Achilles never fails."
Paris raised his eyebrows. His instincts told him that something big was going to happen.
LATER-
"WHAT?!" Briseis spun around to gape at Paris. "How could you just like drop out of college like that?"
Paris shrugged. "Hey, I didn't drop out. I was kicked out."
Briseis shook her head. "You know what? I think I'll let Hector yell at you for this one."
Paris wasn't listening. His attention was completely captured by a poster on the window of a salon. The poster showed the photo of an extraordinarily beautiful blond and below the photo, it said:
Helen Kruger will be holding auditions for young models at the sorority house at 687 Cygnus Circle.
"That's it!" Paris exclaimed. "Hector doesn't have to know that I was kicked out. I'll do this audition thing and he'll think that I dropped out so I could have the job!"
Briseis looked at the poster skeptically. "You're going to become a model?"
Paris grabbed her hand. "Wanta join me in the quest?"
EVEN LATER-
They stood outside a sorority house that looked more like an Italian villa with Gothic arches and marble columns. There was a wide stretch of a lush, green lawn that had a fountain with two mermaids frolicking in the water. Standing outside the doorway and feeling stupid, Paris rang the bell once, twice, and was about to knock the door down when it opened.
A petite teen stood in the doorway, her caramel hair spilling down past her shoulders. She had very wide, dark eyes that widened even more at the sight of Paris and Briseis. Slowly, a hesitant half smile reached her lips.
"Here for the auditions, right?" she asked.
She didn't wait for an answer and waved for them to come in, saying.
"I know you're here for the audition. My name's Cassandra by the way."
They walked in, unsure of what to expect. The inside of the house was just as gorgeous as the outside. An ornate black iron railing lined a curving marble staircase in front of them and just then, the woman whose face was on the poster, came walking down the staircase, smiling at them.
Her smile was perfect, too perfect. It showed no joy, no emotion yet it made Paris want to leap up and kiss her hand and do anything to keep that smile on her face. She was a flawless vision in designer silk and as soon as she set her blue-green eyes on Paris, her eyes brightened with interest.
Trailing behind her was a whole flock of people, eager and hopeful. The woman just waved her hand for silence and in a single second, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"Thank you," the woman said, smiling like a smug pussy cat, knowing her power over them. "My name is Helen Kruger and if you want to be a model, raise your hand so I know you're at the right place!"
A few dozen hands flew up, not including Paris's.
Helen looked at him curiously and asked loudly,
"Are you in the right place?"
Everyone turned to look at Paris who wasn't a trifle intimidated. He looked her in the eye and replied confidently,
"I don't want to be a model. I have to because of my good looks."
Helen stared and then, snickered. She threw back her head and laughed out loud. Pointing at him, Helen said as her eyes sparkled,
"I like you."
She turned to all the others and said carelessly,
"You can all go home now."
A couple of people burst out crying right there, but Briseis just shrugged and whispered to Paris,
"Good luck, Mr. Good Looks."
As soon as all the people had filed out, the doors slammed shut behind them and Cassandra locked the doors with a key that she slid into her pocket. Paris watched her move nervously. He had not been expecting this.
Helen examined him for a moment and then murmured,
"Follow me."
And then she swaggered off, her hips swaying and the skirt of her dress swishing.
IF YOU WANT TO BE A MODEL RAISE YOUR HANDS!
Paris sat in his chair, fidgeting as he listened to his professor speak.
"Usually, I would suggest a career for a student who actually has a brain," Professor Snooty remarked dryly. "But for you, I'm afraid that I can't."
Paris blinked. "What did you say? I wasn't listening."
Professor Snooty sighed and asked,
"What is your major in college?"
Design," Paris replied eagerly. "I absolutely loooove it."
"Yes, but what kind of design?" Snooty asked impatiently.
Paris blinked. He had definitely not been expecting that one. He bit his lip and wondered, 'Why is she also able to trick me on these kind of questions?'
"I major in the kind of design where you draw clothes," Paris said slowly, remembering sketching out a gorgeous silk gown in class.
Snooty hit her forehead with her palm and wondered, 'Who accepted this idiot into college?' She sat up and glared at Paris as if accusing him for giving her a headache. He just sat there, looking at her blankly.
"GET OUT!" she exploded. "Get out of this college and never come back because you will never become a fashion designer. NEVER!"
Normally, Professor Snooty had noted as a pretty sane and patient professor, a professor that would never scream at her students, but Paris had driven her to the brink. She jumped up with a mad glint in her dilated pupils and threw her coffee mug at Paris. She missed, but it was enough to send Paris running out the room and timidly close the door behind him.
"Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Paris mused and quickly took off before Snooty could fling open the door and throw another coffee mug at him.
On his way to his locker, Paris noticed another guy coming his way. It was Patroclus, an eager, inexperienced blond junior that was usually hanging around at the side of his cousin Achilles. Paris shuddered at the very thought of the name. Achilles was the terror of most kids at the college excluding girls of course. To Paris who had been born a natural playboy, Achilles posed as his greatest rival. Girls went to him so it would help their reputation only. Surprisingly, Patroclus was alone.
Patroclus was talking to someone on his cellphone is hushed whispers. Paris hardly ever eavesdropped, but couldn't help it once he heard Patroclus say,
"Café Troy? That one owned by that old man and his son Hector? Yep, we'll be there after our classes are over. Don't worry, Achilles never fails."
Paris raised his eyebrows. His instincts told him that something big was going to happen.
LATER-
"WHAT?!" Briseis spun around to gape at Paris. "How could you just like drop out of college like that?"
Paris shrugged. "Hey, I didn't drop out. I was kicked out."
Briseis shook her head. "You know what? I think I'll let Hector yell at you for this one."
Paris wasn't listening. His attention was completely captured by a poster on the window of a salon. The poster showed the photo of an extraordinarily beautiful blond and below the photo, it said:
Helen Kruger will be holding auditions for young models at the sorority house at 687 Cygnus Circle.
"That's it!" Paris exclaimed. "Hector doesn't have to know that I was kicked out. I'll do this audition thing and he'll think that I dropped out so I could have the job!"
Briseis looked at the poster skeptically. "You're going to become a model?"
Paris grabbed her hand. "Wanta join me in the quest?"
EVEN LATER-
They stood outside a sorority house that looked more like an Italian villa with Gothic arches and marble columns. There was a wide stretch of a lush, green lawn that had a fountain with two mermaids frolicking in the water. Standing outside the doorway and feeling stupid, Paris rang the bell once, twice, and was about to knock the door down when it opened.
A petite teen stood in the doorway, her caramel hair spilling down past her shoulders. She had very wide, dark eyes that widened even more at the sight of Paris and Briseis. Slowly, a hesitant half smile reached her lips.
"Here for the auditions, right?" she asked.
She didn't wait for an answer and waved for them to come in, saying.
"I know you're here for the audition. My name's Cassandra by the way."
They walked in, unsure of what to expect. The inside of the house was just as gorgeous as the outside. An ornate black iron railing lined a curving marble staircase in front of them and just then, the woman whose face was on the poster, came walking down the staircase, smiling at them.
Her smile was perfect, too perfect. It showed no joy, no emotion yet it made Paris want to leap up and kiss her hand and do anything to keep that smile on her face. She was a flawless vision in designer silk and as soon as she set her blue-green eyes on Paris, her eyes brightened with interest.
Trailing behind her was a whole flock of people, eager and hopeful. The woman just waved her hand for silence and in a single second, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"Thank you," the woman said, smiling like a smug pussy cat, knowing her power over them. "My name is Helen Kruger and if you want to be a model, raise your hand so I know you're at the right place!"
A few dozen hands flew up, not including Paris's.
Helen looked at him curiously and asked loudly,
"Are you in the right place?"
Everyone turned to look at Paris who wasn't a trifle intimidated. He looked her in the eye and replied confidently,
"I don't want to be a model. I have to because of my good looks."
Helen stared and then, snickered. She threw back her head and laughed out loud. Pointing at him, Helen said as her eyes sparkled,
"I like you."
She turned to all the others and said carelessly,
"You can all go home now."
A couple of people burst out crying right there, but Briseis just shrugged and whispered to Paris,
"Good luck, Mr. Good Looks."
As soon as all the people had filed out, the doors slammed shut behind them and Cassandra locked the doors with a key that she slid into her pocket. Paris watched her move nervously. He had not been expecting this.
Helen examined him for a moment and then murmured,
"Follow me."
And then she swaggered off, her hips swaying and the skirt of her dress swishing.