Angel was a lovely girl. She was only sixteen, and was becoming more beautiful by the day. Truly this flower was blooming. Her eyes were a dusty green surrounded by long heavy lashes. Her nose was more perfect than any nose had ever been. Her lips were so seductively pouty one could get lost while she spoke. Her hair was always perfectly placed and a lovely copper color. And she always had the best tans money could buy.
Milton Becket, Angel's father, saw to it she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her father was the billionaire oil tycoon from Texas. He gave his beautiful daughter the best clothes, all designer and all original made just for her. She had several different cars, all the hottest models, and with colors that would coordinate with her outfits, and if the car didn't match she'd just buy a new one. She had a 24 hour personal style team, who fixed her hair and touched up her make-up at least once an hour.
Angel attended Saint Paris Hilton's Exclusive Private School For Hot Billionaire Daughters. She was so fortunate to never have to mingle with poor, ugly, public school people, unless she wanted to. She created what she would call charity work with the poor people. She did this task with her closest friends.
When Angel would gather up the girls for charity work they would all pack into one of her BMW convertibles and park outside different public high schools and wait for the teens to get out of class. They would pay close attention to everyone leaving the school until they spotted the most fashionably challenged, wearing anything they deemed out of fashion. They especially liked to target teens who wore Walmart designer knock offs. This person would become their charity case.
Angel would start by throwing the first egg, her flunkies would follow. The poor victim would scream and wiggle until the group would have covered their charity case with gooey egg yolk. The girls would all laugh and drive quickly away. Angel felt pretty good about herself.
One afternoon Angel invited her friends to work with the ugly, but they were all busy. She decided to go alone. She pulled up to the high school parking lot. A few moments later she spotted a very ugly girl walking slowly across the parking lot. The girl had ratted up black hair, no tan, and wore the ugliest outdated pink church dress Angel had ever seen. She was the only one at the school it seemed. Angel did not care and began heaving eggs at the girl.
The girl didn't react, she didn't even stop, she just kept walking like nothing happened. Angel was beside herself. She couldn't understand why she wasn't stopping or even reacting. Angel threw more eggs. Nothing, no reaction, she kept walking. Angel became furious and got out of her car slamming the door behind her.
"Hey Ugly!" she shouted.
The girl still ignored her.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, super ugly!!"
Angel didn't take well to being ignored. She marched right up to the girl and shoved her in the shoulders. The girl stopped and looked Angel directly in the face. Angel noticed the girl wasn't right, her eyes were a glassy pale blue, the skin was a sickening shade of green. There was a powerful stench, one she had never smelt before. Then everything went dark.
Angel woke up in the hospital. Her face hurt. It was the worst pain she had ever felt. She tried to sit up, but her whole body screamed in agony. When she attempted to move her arms she realized her wrists were strapped down to the bed. She began to scream. This must have attracted a nurse, who quickly injected her with a fluid. Everything was dark again.
When she awoke, hours must have past. She was greeted by a handsome, young doctor with a billionaire smile and smooth black hair.
"Good afternoon, Miss Becket. I'm sure you are wondering why you are strapped down in the hospital ," he flipped through a clipboard containing her treatment information, "it seems you've been bitten by a zombie. You have contracted Zombietious. There is nothing to worry about. It is a mild case. We have even isolated the infection and have begun treatment. You should be over it in about a month." He paused and took in a deep breath, " there is some bad news though, oh how do I tell this to you. Miss Becket, you see, you have become horribly deformed. The zombie that bit you attacked your face, actually just your nose. While you were out we tried to save your nose, but it was no use. Miss Becket, I'm afraid you have no nose. There's nothing we can do."
Angel could not believe her ears. She didn't have a nose, her perfect nose. How could she be beautiful without a nose? How could she be popular without a nose? She couldn't bare to live without her nose. During the night Angel chewed through her straps breaking off all of her porcelain veneers. She cried and whined as she made her way to the hospital window and jumped out, landing two stories below in the hazardous waist dumpster.
A janitor found Angel groaning face down in amputated body parts and lipo-suctioned fat. She was still alive but worse off than before. They had to tranquilize her while they accessed the damage and made some repairs.
When Angel woke up she couldn't scream or even see, but she could hear. It was the billionaire smile doctor talking to her mother and father.
"I just don't know if we can even take it home with us like that, doctor, there's got to be some sort of place you can keep it locked up in," Mr. Becket said, regretfully.
"Mr. and Mrs. Becket, that still is you daughter under all those bandages."
"Milton, we can't keep it, it's gross. It has like no arms or legs. That's so disgusting." Mrs. Becket made a gagging sound, "We can like, adopt a new child, or something."
The doctor took a deep breath, "Mr. and Mrs. Becket, there is something you can do with your daughter."
Mrs. Becket shrieked and broke into tears, "Stop calling that thing my daughter, my Angel was beautiful, that thing is like, soo gross."
"Yes, I understand, I will stop calling it your daughter, for your sake, Mrs. Becket. But as I was saying, my cousin owns an underground circus and would pay top dollar for new entertainment. He's been looking for a new gimp since his last one choked to death in the egg throwing booth."
The Craft Of The Wise
A guild for Wiccans, Pagans and the like to swap stories, spells and educate those whom are curious about the craft.
