LJ Idol: Exhibit B -- Week 0: Introduction of Yunie Baby
There was no light down here. No real light, anyway, only the weird amber of the sodium vapor lamps, that never felt natural. Other than that, there was grey concrete, oil stains, and cars, lots of cars.
She did NOT like it down here. Not one little bit. She liked it even less than a cobra likes a ravenous mongoose. Which isn’t much at all. Underground garages were SCARY.
But this is where the instructions said to come. She looked at the index card in her hand, and there it was:
Go to the bottom of the parking garage on Shepard Place, and look for the door marked 2B. Press the button.
Why come here? Why follow mysterious instructions printed on an index card left on her desk at work? She wondered this as she searched for the door. But still her feet carried her forward.
It smelled odd down here, that acrid, gasoline-y smell that nearly chokes you. The cars here all seemed ancient, starting to rust. She slipped on a pool of some mysterious dark liquid, keeping her balance only by snatching at the hood ornament of an old Buick. When she pulled herself upright, the ornament came off in her hand.
Gingerly, she set it down on the hood, hoping no one had seen. She continued on.
“Maybe the door won’t be there,” she thought, or perhaps hoped. “Maybe I won’t be able to find it. That would be good: then I could say I looked and looked, and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty or anything, and I could get out of here and back to my nice, normal life, and everything will be...”
She turned a corner and paused. In the wall in front of her was a set of grey metal doors, the number “2B” clearly outlined in scratched black paint. On the wall next to them was a panel with a single button.
In dawning horror she realized: they were elevator doors. The button glowed faintly beside them.
If there was anything she disliked more than an underground parking garage, it was an elevator. They were fine as long as they worked right. It was when they stopped working that it was bad. Especially if she was in it.
For several minutes, she hovered by the doors, deciding whether to push the button. Could she do it? Would she? Finally it was the smell that decided her: anything to get away from these awful fumes.
She pressed the button.
The elevator responded immediately. With a great resonant shriek the doors pulled open. The light inside flickered on and off.
It took another several moments to will herself to step inside; stalling for time she hoped it might close its doors and go away. But it waited, patiently.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold inside. Without her touching anything, the doors closed behind her.
She shut her eyes, waiting. The car did not move. The light flickered irregularly. Why didn’t it move?!
It was with a flush of embarrassment that she realized she had never pressed a floor button.
As she did, she noticed the griminess of the elevator car: the ill fitting woodgrain finish, the odd stain across one wall that looked older than she was, the loose wires spilling like entrails from one panel near the floor. The elevator seemed to move slowly, with an odd vibration as it descended.
Descended. It suddenly occurred to her that she was moving down. Into the earth. From the bottom floor of a parking garage.
Where could she be going?
The ride seemed to take forever. With a jolt, the car stopped. She waited for the door to open.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The light went out and stayed out. Was she stuck? What happened to the light? Why didn’t the door open?
She was about to scream when the door suddenly opened with the same shriek as before. Beyond there was only darkness.
And a strange thudding. A musical thudding.
She stepped out of the elevator and towards a door. And behind that door, there was...
A karaoke club! And all her friends! Drinks, lights, a microphone, words on a screen, and the entire collection of K.C. and the Sunshine Band songs to sing along to!
She did leave until hours later.
So, this thoroughly ridiculous bit of story was an introduction to yuniebaby, who told me about herself that she 1.) doesn’t like underground parking garages, 2.) or being stuck in elevators, 3.) but DOES like singing karaoke. (She also told me some other things, but I couldn’t work them in.) However, the K.C. the Sunshine Band thing was my own contribution. Hope you enjoyed!!
She did NOT like it down here. Not one little bit. She liked it even less than a cobra likes a ravenous mongoose. Which isn’t much at all. Underground garages were SCARY.
But this is where the instructions said to come. She looked at the index card in her hand, and there it was:
Go to the bottom of the parking garage on Shepard Place, and look for the door marked 2B. Press the button.
Why come here? Why follow mysterious instructions printed on an index card left on her desk at work? She wondered this as she searched for the door. But still her feet carried her forward.
It smelled odd down here, that acrid, gasoline-y smell that nearly chokes you. The cars here all seemed ancient, starting to rust. She slipped on a pool of some mysterious dark liquid, keeping her balance only by snatching at the hood ornament of an old Buick. When she pulled herself upright, the ornament came off in her hand.
Gingerly, she set it down on the hood, hoping no one had seen. She continued on.
“Maybe the door won’t be there,” she thought, or perhaps hoped. “Maybe I won’t be able to find it. That would be good: then I could say I looked and looked, and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty or anything, and I could get out of here and back to my nice, normal life, and everything will be...”
She turned a corner and paused. In the wall in front of her was a set of grey metal doors, the number “2B” clearly outlined in scratched black paint. On the wall next to them was a panel with a single button.
In dawning horror she realized: they were elevator doors. The button glowed faintly beside them.
If there was anything she disliked more than an underground parking garage, it was an elevator. They were fine as long as they worked right. It was when they stopped working that it was bad. Especially if she was in it.
For several minutes, she hovered by the doors, deciding whether to push the button. Could she do it? Would she? Finally it was the smell that decided her: anything to get away from these awful fumes.
She pressed the button.
The elevator responded immediately. With a great resonant shriek the doors pulled open. The light inside flickered on and off.
It took another several moments to will herself to step inside; stalling for time she hoped it might close its doors and go away. But it waited, patiently.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold inside. Without her touching anything, the doors closed behind her.
She shut her eyes, waiting. The car did not move. The light flickered irregularly. Why didn’t it move?!
It was with a flush of embarrassment that she realized she had never pressed a floor button.
As she did, she noticed the griminess of the elevator car: the ill fitting woodgrain finish, the odd stain across one wall that looked older than she was, the loose wires spilling like entrails from one panel near the floor. The elevator seemed to move slowly, with an odd vibration as it descended.
Descended. It suddenly occurred to her that she was moving down. Into the earth. From the bottom floor of a parking garage.
Where could she be going?
The ride seemed to take forever. With a jolt, the car stopped. She waited for the door to open.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The light went out and stayed out. Was she stuck? What happened to the light? Why didn’t the door open?
She was about to scream when the door suddenly opened with the same shriek as before. Beyond there was only darkness.
And a strange thudding. A musical thudding.
She stepped out of the elevator and towards a door. And behind that door, there was...
A karaoke club! And all her friends! Drinks, lights, a microphone, words on a screen, and the entire collection of K.C. and the Sunshine Band songs to sing along to!
She did leave until hours later.
So, this thoroughly ridiculous bit of story was an introduction to yuniebaby, who told me about herself that she 1.) doesn’t like underground parking garages, 2.) or being stuck in elevators, 3.) but DOES like singing karaoke. (She also told me some other things, but I couldn’t work them in.) However, the K.C. the Sunshine Band thing was my own contribution. Hope you enjoyed!!