Yet another speedrent entry...
Disclaimer: RENT is the brainchild of Jonathan Larson (I'mnotworthyI'mnotworthy)
Maureen Johnson stalked the length of her bedroom, raising her apple-red boots high before bringing them down. She paused and spun around. The blue wool cloak from her dress-up chest spun with her. She stared furiously at me, her big brown eyes wider, mouth in a lush pout.
"I don't care!" she announced suddenly, giving her foot a hearty stomp. "I don't care what Sarah says! I'm not a baby!"
I told her that I agreed with her.
"And I don't need school! I don't want to do my stupid piano!"
Well… that was going a bit far. Maureen was a bright little girl with a bright future if she dedicated herself. She was talented. I said as much.
Maureen stormed over and slapped me off the chair. "Shut up!" she commanded. "I hate you! You don't know anything! You're a stupid bucket head, just like stupid Mark and stupid Roger!"
Aah, Stupid Mark and Stupid Roger. I knew them well. They had auditioned for the same play as Maureen, her school's musical version of Peter Rabbit. Maureen auditioned for the biggest part, the male lead, a part given instead to Stupid Roger (who, by the way, one time brought matches and cigarrettes to school and had tears in all his clothes). The part of the sparrow was given the Stupid Mark, who still picked his nose and cried a lot.
I was not like Stupid Mark and Stupid Roger! I loved Maureen! My Maureen was perfect and special and I knew that, even if no one else did.
She smiled. Maureen's a little beauty when she smiles. Oh, she's a beauty when she pouts, but a fearful beauty. She swept me into a big hug. "I knew I could count on you, Pookie. Oh, you're so good to me. I love you, Pookie-bear. I'm gonna bake you some cookies."
Maureen was sent to bed without her supper for using the oven with no one home. She held me tight and told me that she loved me, me, nobody else, and some day we would run away together and eat all the cookies we wanted.
Even then I knew it was a lie. I knew I would slip from her hands in a bad rainstorm and float in the sea off of France, where Maureen's enigmatic artist of a mommy lived. And Maureen would have another Pookie, this one with shaggy brown fur and shiny black button eyes, then one with porcelain hands and a porcelain face. In high school she would find her third Pookie, in the form of Stupid Mark no less!
But then, none of that mattered, did it? Because the Pookie she wanted, the real Pookie, was taken from her arms by a French storm.
fin!
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