The Doll House
Part Two-The Cigarette Girl.
What I saw was not what I expected. The store was a cluttered mess of clothing and lace. The walls (What I could see of them) were painted black and purple, in huge stripes diagonally. I walked up to the counter, but saw nobody behind it. I picked up a business card and read ‘The Doll House, suppliers of Lolita, Gothica and Japan-inspired memorabilia’. I decided to check out what was in store, putting dresses up to myself and running my fingers across the lace. Suddenly, I heard a bang and some swearing; footsteps down the stairs.
“Hello, hi!” A cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth. I saw red red hair in curls and pins, lace hanging around her neck held down by a giant cross, red and black lacy low cut dress, and shiny black boots. “Uhm, excuse the mess-” She pointed at the entire shop, “-I’ve been busy. So, what do you want?”
“Oh, I’m looking for the owner, Lucinda.” I tried
“That’s me.” The Cigarette Girl half smiled, still puffing away at her cigarette.
“Oh, good. I, uhm, got sent here by-”
“Liza? Yeah, shes been on my back about employing somebody since I opened.” She looked me up and down with her green eyes. “Yeah, you’ll do.”
“Wait,” I stopped her puffing, “I’m hired? But don’t you want to hear my qualifications?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess.” She stood there expectantly, and I pulled out my resume and handed it to her. She squinted at it, then me and nodded.
“Yes, yes, very nice. Can you start now?”
“You didn’t even…read it.” I stared at her.
“You can count money right? And say hello? And do maths and clean and make my dinner right? You’re hired.” She said all of this very quickly, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking or what.
“Uh, sure. Ri-right now?”
“Well, sure. You wont have to pay rent or anything, don’t worry about keeping the noise down, the neighbours are cunts. Just cook me some dinner or whatever and you can move in tomorrow.”
“Th-thank you.” Was all I could splutter. I wanted to ask what I would exactly be doing, but questions seemed to be prohibited.
The next day, I moved my meagre belongings (Including a TV, stereo and many CDs, my art work and my art supplies.) into my new home and started working. The shop, though it didn’t get many customers, made a good enough profit. I felt like I could very well get used to this.
“Hello, hi!” A cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth. I saw red red hair in curls and pins, lace hanging around her neck held down by a giant cross, red and black lacy low cut dress, and shiny black boots. “Uhm, excuse the mess-” She pointed at the entire shop, “-I’ve been busy. So, what do you want?”
“Oh, I’m looking for the owner, Lucinda.” I tried
“That’s me.” The Cigarette Girl half smiled, still puffing away at her cigarette.
“Oh, good. I, uhm, got sent here by-”
“Liza? Yeah, shes been on my back about employing somebody since I opened.” She looked me up and down with her green eyes. “Yeah, you’ll do.”
“Wait,” I stopped her puffing, “I’m hired? But don’t you want to hear my qualifications?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess.” She stood there expectantly, and I pulled out my resume and handed it to her. She squinted at it, then me and nodded.
“Yes, yes, very nice. Can you start now?”
“You didn’t even…read it.” I stared at her.
“You can count money right? And say hello? And do maths and clean and make my dinner right? You’re hired.” She said all of this very quickly, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking or what.
“Uh, sure. Ri-right now?”
“Well, sure. You wont have to pay rent or anything, don’t worry about keeping the noise down, the neighbours are cunts. Just cook me some dinner or whatever and you can move in tomorrow.”
“Th-thank you.” Was all I could splutter. I wanted to ask what I would exactly be doing, but questions seemed to be prohibited.
The next day, I moved my meagre belongings (Including a TV, stereo and many CDs, my art work and my art supplies.) into my new home and started working. The shop, though it didn’t get many customers, made a good enough profit. I felt like I could very well get used to this.