All-Night Cartoon Party
Last week I went to a Hallowe'en party dressed as Jessica Rabbit. The
month before I went to a flat-warming party as Betty Boop. I don't know
why I always try to look like cartoon characters. I had to get a taxi
to the party, and the driver watched me in the mirror the whole way. As
soon as I arrived I headed for the kitchen. Strangers make me nervous
and I needed a drink.
I dug through the fridge and made a good strong drink, a little bit
from each bottle. My hands were shaking and I spilled vodka on my
dress. There was no-one else in the kitchen, so I slipped a bottle in
my bag for later. I walked around the flat trying to find someone I
knew. Everybody watched me go past, but no-one recognised my costume. I
guess they don't watch cartoons.
'Hey, are you supposed to be from a cartoon or something?' said the
Grim Reaper. I had to take a big drink before I could reply. I didn't
know what to say, so I said 'Could I see your watch, please?' He looked
down my dress while he thought about it. Then he shrugged and told me
that the battery was flat. I just stared at his cardboard scythe, so he
went into the kitchen.
I thought about following him into the kitchen; my glass was almost
empty. After all, he seemed to be the only person here who liked
cartoons. For a while I just stood in the unfamiliar flat, holding my
glass and trying to decide. I finished my drink and went to get
another. The guy who had recognised my dress wasn't there. He must have
tiptoed past me when I wasn't watching.
I wanted to know if it was too early for me to leave, but a watch
didn't go with my costume. I found some interesting things in the
kitchen: a postcard of Venice, magnetic poetry, a bottle-opener in the
shape of a fish. The magnetic words went into the pocket of my dress,
but everything else was too big. I wished I hadn't tried to look like a
cartoon character. The fact that I'd spilled my drink on myself didn't
help. All the other girls in the flat were angels, fairies, princesses.
I wandered round the flat again, trying to find someone I knew. The
zombies, tigers, witches and mad scientists watched me around their
masks, but didn't speak to me. I had a drink in each hand, so I didn't
care. I didn't care that I couldn't take the nice things in the
kitchen. I didn't care that no-one here watched cartoons. I didn't care
that I had vodka on my dress.
There weren't enough drinks in this stupid flat. I had better things to
do than put on a dress and let idiots watch me walk past. I went into
the kitchen, put all the bottles in my bag, then left this cartoon.
Kirsty Logan lives in Glasgow. She is a co-editor of Fractured West and has stories in or
coming from Word Riot, Salome, Writers' Bloc, Mudluscious and others.
To link to this story directly: http://wigleaf.com/200909cartoon.htm
Photo detail on main page courtesy
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