Halogen

Written by Priscilla Wong

Unless she was mistaken, she knew they were trying to use alienation as a procedural method to push her mind into an early stage of dementia. Nobody told them how its impossible for a sixteen year old girl to have dementia. Nonetheless, they've tried and failed. There were only a few witches and wizards involved, who bumble and stutter in public speaking arenas.

Mrs. Triceratops

Mrs. Wimbletin Alpaca Picklestick or W.A.P.

Mr. Charlatan Applesauce

Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut

Mrs. Kimjook

Mr. Accordion Ape

Mr. Turkey Jingleberry

Not only did they try to break into her mind, they tried to steal her voice and face. What a delicate little face it was. It wasn't the prettiest. There were lots of children who were fairer. But those accusatory eyes were often what did her in. Eyes that betray her Aspergers. Made her fear the occasional social worker who might kidnap her into foster care at a young age.

Vanna's parents dropped her off at the Toons Town Orphanage at the age of fourteen for her find her own path. She slept on the bottom bunk of a dank room shared with her half sister, Angie. The other girls called her a vampire for her complexion and demeanor. Angie referred to her as Drusilla instead. The windows were small, sealed shut with crusty old paint. The view opened to an alleyway that smelled of urine, alcohol and cigarettes. The next door neighbors had an unsavory side hustle. They banged on the walls daily to a beat that went along with the bass of their loud music, synchronized on occasion with a vile argument.

"Vanna Drusilla." She answered to either name.

The truth of the matter is witches and wizards alike, they were the ones who were suffered from the early stages of dementia. They made the children suffer to aid their ailing minds. Only Vanna small and strong, had the ability to pull away from their poor health and mind control. Every time they came up with a new and inventive torture device, she knew Alzheimer's ravaged their minds. Mrs. Triceratops suffered from the condition the most. Time after time, she watched the elderly witch transform into a five year old toddler within minutes, throwing tantrums over the most petty issues. She sipped Yarrow Syrup to spike her senses. It only worsened her condition.

"Vanna Drusilla, bring my petticoat."

Vanna did as instructed and as soon as she drew near, Mrs. Triceratops instinctively shot out her arm to be dressed by whom she considered to be a stray cat turned servant girl, aiming for Vanna's face. Vanna ducked every time.

"No, Drusilla. I meant my prettiest petticoat. Not the ugly one." Mrs. Triceratops held her gaze on Vanna to make her point.

Vanna returned with the tattered petticoat, the one made of denim, with leather jingles, rockstar patches, extraneous zippers, buckles and thorns. Absolutely gaudy. "Here, Mrs. Triceratops. The prettiest petticoat." She dressed the elder witch neatly and Mrs. Triceratops beamed.

For two hard long years, Mrs. Triceratops raised Vanna as her own adoptive daughter. It was a strenuous relationship filled with more triumphs than pain. Ever since Vanna withdrew herself from the new Toons Town torture devices, the elderly witch suffered from memory loss. Mrs. Triceratops was trapped in the hell of her own mind. Logic was a challenge for her. She struggled with instructions. Her emotions got in the way. Most women suffer from their own emotional state. Vanna is usually apathetic unless someone touches her face. No one is allowed to touch her face. Certainly, no one is allowed to use her voice.

Mr. Turkey Jingleberry and Mr. Accordion Ape wholeheartedly disagreed. "Drusilla, what kind of nerve gave you the impression that a filthy sixteen year old nobody like you, has the right of ownership to your existence? We will make sex worker out of you, youngling."

Mr. Charlatan Applesauce, Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut and Mrs. Kimjook agreed with the two thuggish warlords. "Yes, it's an honor for you to be called our daughter. You're apart of this orphanage and we'll use you whether you like it or not. Would you like to be transferred to a third world country?"

Mrs. Kimjook leaned in to pinch Vanna's cheeks. "Better to be useful than useless."

"You're not my family. This is an orphanage. You're just an ugly gold digger Korean witch. You can't hurt me," Vanna whispered back at the coarse one with a butter face.

"Whatdidyousaytome? VannaDrusilla you evil little vampire? Korean Pop Music is very popular. Very very popular. You STFU. Do you hear me? STFU now. KPOP music is number one. We have sexy Korean girls. White men love pedophilia. They sexier than you. You STFU now!" Mrs. Kimjook clucked, beaming.

"Let me tell you something. You're a no good, China girl. No good at all. Korean girls became sexy first. That's why Koreans have power. You need to be Korean to be worth anything. So you STFU, do you hear me?" Mrs. Kimjook shouted with finality. Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut nodded with a simple smile. As did Mr. Charlatan Applesauce, two well known pedophile friends for life.

"Speak English much?" Vanna sulked away back to her bottom bunk with her uninspiring half wit sister in the bed above.

She had a synthetic spatula used to stir her witch's cauldron where only boring things happened - dumplings, noodles and fermenting stinky cabbage. Her skin had the consistency of egg soufflé - the buttery smooth part when you cut in. When Vanna voiced a concern over bland dishes or the excessive use of soy sauce, Mrs. Kimjook relished in beating her with the stick. "Make your skin glass, child or I'll burn your face off with acid." By then, Vanna usually lost her appetite for Momma Kimjook's World Famous Glass Soup Dumplings, feeding her leftovers to the pups, stealing away ever so selfishly, for the tiniest spoonfuls of harissa and honey, with a tall glass of milk and a medley of miniature berries with edible flowers. She drank the milk in haste to avoid the scuffle between cats, dogs, children and that horrid mother. Mrs. Kimjook had an explosive temper that almost matched Vanna's quiet fury. Mr. Charlatan Applesauce adored being perceived as the silent hero. Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut couldn't help but stand back and marvel at his wife's raw untamed cruelty. It was truly a sight to behold.

Mr. Accordion Ape and Mr. Turkey Jingleberry volunteered to be Vanna's personal chaperones, surveying her every move in case she did something new they could exploit for money. And by money, it was modestly only two million dollars. Certainly not three or six billion or more, like bulge bracket banking. But two million dollars every three to four years is not nothing. These two warlords made sure that Vanna would never receive a cent from the divisive exploitation of her virginity.

"A virgin," Mr. Accordion Ape argued, "is worth more than all the Alfa Romeos in the world for her chastity."

"Now, Vanna Drusilla is not just any virgin. Do you understand how much magic this girl has at the tip of each finger? Within the strand of each hair, no matter how coarse it is, isn't that right, haute bourgeoisie from deadbeat China?" The Toons Town Hall of witches and wizards guffawed applauding.

"Well in Korea, a Chinese virgin would be worthless!" Mrs. Kimjook contributed. Mrs. Turkey Jinglberry nodded, "Yes, my child will not be sacrificed since she is mixed blood, worthless scum." "Get plastic surgery like they do in Korea or be silent," hissed Mrs. Kimjook.

"Can someone record her and make her look like stupid loser on the internet?" bellowed Mrs. Triceratops, who crossed her legs sheepishly remembering something sweet and foul. A younger man in the copy room one night with her alone. Her most vivid memory, supporting her mind from a total collapse into dementia.

With Vanna's chastity, they planned to become rich beyond measure and when the time is right, they will use her like as a scapegoat to appease the masses during times of famine, rape her or make her bear a child. Afterwards toss her out like a common whore. "That's how noblemen did it in Japan," Mr. Accordion Ape chanted.

The only witch who may have been a decent role model, had to be Mrs. Wimbletin Alpaca Picklestick. Her voice stayed as gentle as honey, no matter how wicked she intended to be, during her pious deviation from daily worship. She wore a perfect smile no matter how angry she became. She had to be a monster, Vanna Drusilla knew at once. Although less of a monster than the others at the very least. Not until she accidentally triggers Mrs. Wimbletin Alpaca Picklestick's W.A.P. Once that happens, she transforms into monster clam and nothing can stop her from sucking everything into the black hole.

If only dementia settled sooner in the minds of Accordion Ape, the Turkey Jingleberries, and Mrs. Kimjook. They were the most vicious. Mrs. Triceratops went along with all sorts of games. Torture games are absolutely her favorite and she felt it was Vanna's duty as an esteemed member of the Toons Town Orphanage to be a happy scapegoat for the variety of daggers they threw in her direction. Those are her just desserts for being such a perfect Asperger's Virgin.

"Drusilla!"

"Yes, Mrs. Triceratops."

"I need to speak to you about your attitude problem."

"My attitude problem?"

"Yes, that's right. It's your face."

"My face? What's wrong with it?"

"Why on earth do you need to look so Kpop? Do you think you're Korean or something?"

"Not at all, I thought we established how I'm worthless virgin from China."

"Right. So Chinese women are ugly."

Vanna could not help but glare.

"Can you do something about that? No? You can't?"

Mrs. Triceratops studied her briefly with cold lizard eyes and an evil smile dancing on her face.

"Ok then, we'll need to steal your face for Kpop."

With a high pitched chuckle, Mrs. Triceratops stepped out of the office.

The deed was scheduled to commence during midsummer. Mr. Charlatan Applesauce will be the one to slice Vanna Drusilla's face off. He had the perfect blade picked out for the occasion. That old witch Triceratops promised to make them all rich with just one stupid kung fu movie, a racist pedophilic Kpop endeavor - featuring Mrs. Kimjook's 10 year old daughter, wearing Vanna Drusilla's slipped face. He was as fearsome as Bloody Bill burrowing down on a native scalp, using only deft hands, drawing a neat circle from ear to ear with nothing more than a piece of flint. Only then, might Mrs. Kimjook have a taste of that long awaited fame due for an old maid. She licked her lips greedily, as if waiting for a hot bowl of fresh dumplings.

Mr. Charlatan Applesauce and Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut visited Vanna's quarters regularly from that autumn to the following summer. Assuming her proper place, Angie as docile as ever, served haughty Vanna in preparation for the deed. They would need more than just a scalpel for this one. First, they needed to fatten her up in certain places and make her loose mass in other areas. Angie whipped her face bloody and bare with a damp cloth, counting her own blessings before the half sister she barely cared for known as scene stealer show off Drusilla. Angie would hate to be a guinea pig and so she smiled salaciously while feeding her porridge, with milk and that fairy concoction that Vanna liked so much, thinking sweet thoughts of metal cutting into her flesh. Charlatan Applesauce would be the hailing auteur of this one, nodding his curt approvals after seeing how Vanna's cheekbones got higher, eyes wider, lashes longer, nose straighter and lips fuller. He and Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut wrote the incantations themselves - with their collective magic, they could certainly turn a pig into a star. They would never force feed her a turkey leg. Instead, they would coddle Vanna gentleman like, pampering a golden goose for sweet Thanksgiving foie gras, each day, measuring the circumference of her head, plotting the slope of her silhouette and balancing out her symmetry. Angie came weekly with a wooden paint palette to color match her skin graft, erasing the blemishes, freckles and unsavory scar indentations with a snigger, making certain that Rumpus and Charlatan would compensate her handsomely for this degrading task - not that Vanna's genes had anything to do with it.

"How do you feel about her deep violet hair?" Angie asked politely.

"I like it well, Angie. You performed splendidly," answered Mr. Charlatan Applesauce, after arriving 15 minutes late to the meeting.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Charlatan Applesauce! I painted it myself. Vanna was so dirty before," Angie grinned widely.

Vanna's head and wrists were secured inside the bottom half of a guillotine, except Mr. Charlatan Applesauce had it special made Chinese style. Angie gave her the regular sideways glance, smirking through slits, as Charlatan Applesauce leaned in close enough to Vanna for a kiss, only to stop an inch away, to deliver his final note, "Not pretty enough." The wizard's words spelled out her existence like magic, in skin grafts and patches until the end - every waking hour, manic day, painful week, torturous month, until finally mid summer came.

Mr. Rumpus Sauerkraut was the first to rise when the rooster crowed. He levitated skyward, brushing Mrs. Kimjook aside, guiding her associates out of the way, punching Angie away like a football in midair, with gentle telekinetic gestures. With his wizard mind, he placed them all into bleachers to witness the slicing. Tumbling midair in synchronized choreography, they cheered and clapped their hands to be apart of Rumpus Sauerkraut's magic.

"Be grateful, Vanna," Rumpus glowered at her for insulting his wife on a daily basis. With an explosive meteorite glow, he teleported Mrs. Triceratops into the stadium. She was dressed in an extraordinarily detailed petticoat. Black leather corset with extra thorns, jingles and buckles, complete with a fully encapsulated zipper head dress.

Next, came Mrs. Wimbletin Alpaca Picklestick in a golden floor length ballgown, bejeweled, feather trimmed, complete with a decadent headdress, made by the finest pixies in China. The Turkey Jingleberries arrived on their own accord, dragging Accordion Ape in on a leash. The rest arrived by the all inclusive short bus.

Bloody Bill aka Charlatan Applesauce arrived 15 minutes late again, yet fashionable with perfect blonde hair, coiffed like James Dean. His jacket gleamed in the light, decorated with tiny medallions, delicate honors for being a World Class Playboy. There were a few lipstick stains on his long neck. He arrived beaming, with one hand his hilt.

Vanna Drusilla lied uncomfortably on a levitating Eames Lounge Chair. There was a drone telecasting her face for the final slice. Angie released her from her seasonal prison, the Chinese guillotine. She dusted her face meticulously with a featherlight brush, sweeping her offensive black sideburn wisps away, tucking the pieces of her bangs into a handsome inlay, neatly, smelling of pears and roses, just the way Mr. Charlatan Applesauce liked. Mrs. Kimjook sat in her high chair with her daughter in lap, an ultrasound magnetic forcefield protecting mother and child from any mind bending surprises out of Vanna's Asperger's mind.

The slice came calm and steady.

It happened to the side of her right ear. When his blade cut into her flesh, the pain was immediate, blood gushed out as clean as rubies, running down her neck like a river. Mr. Charlatan Applesauce worked his way around her entire head, from the cranium down to her chin and back around again.

One clean cut was all it took, for him to collect his diamond in the rough.

Vanna's face laid perched on a velvet pillow to be made ready for robotics and digital incarnations piloted by Mrs. Kimjook's daughter, while her faceless body laid still, breathing slowly, fingers clutching the black lambskin armrests of the floating lounge chair. Vanna's body made no sudden movements. Although Mrs. Triceratops did. The witch with dementia completely forgot that she was in a public arena. When she saw Vanna's face shine in the spotlight, she was overcome by cold fury. Mr. Triceratops teleported herself a short distance upwards to the very spot the sliced face rested on the velvet pillow, and tore it to pieces with her bare hands, knuckles wobbly, her entire body, a shaking cage.

It took a few minutes for her to come to. Realizing she was no longer in her proper seat, she unzipped her headdress, blinking confusedly.

"Why, Mrs. Triceratops... Do you hate Kpop? You promised Vanna's face would make us all a fortune, did you not?" Mr. Charlatan Applesauce smiled.

"She's not the diamond. I AM THE DIAMOND!!!" Mrs. Triceratops bellowed to the top of her lungs.

Vanna's floating lips remained whole. "Yes, Mrs. Triceratops?"

"WHAT? You little slut. Where is that voice coming from?" She flailed her arms helplessly, mouth agape.

"Can't we both be diamonds?"

The pieces of her torn face levitated back into place, led by an invisible rhythm all on its own. Each seam resealed itself, glowing with golden ray puppet strings back to Vanna's fingertips, her arms raised in a relaxed pose. The sliced face, almost holographic now, moved in close to Mrs. Triceratops to study her expression. "Take a seat, please." The same golden rays from Vanna's fingers bound Mrs. Triceratops' hands and feet, pushing the elder witch back into the crowd. One set of features split into two. The hologram slipped back onto the velvet pillow ready for Playstation, while the entire skin graft floated back onto the faceless head on the lounge chair, healing the seams of its proper place, completely renewed.

Vanna Drusilla levitated out of the stadium without a goodbye.

Halogen

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