Helena took three items out of a lovely box, sitting the lovely fliers and the gorgeous personal business cards the management of Enchanted Weddings Inc, taking the lovely dress into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her -she had her own place, but you never know who’s gonna show up at unexpected times. Slipping the dress on, she carefully pulled on the shoes and swished one way then the next. She then proceeded to go to the other side of the apartment to put on her make up, in the bathroom.
She had to look lovely, after all. Who would want to accept fliers from an ugly bride? It would do the place an injustice. Thus, she took her time, doing her make up -though she did not cake it on, she used it to emphasis her decent features. The thing that took the most time was her hair. Though it did not take her more than half an hour. She had put her hair up in an elegant bun on the back of her head, with wavy tendrils of hair cascading down the sides of her face like a halo, for a lovely and sophisticated look, while still putting in the flowery accessories in her hair.
She, picking up the fliers, blew her precious baby Skoll a kiss, and told him not to chew anything up while she was out. She proceeded out the door and locked it behind her. She headed over to the elevator and took it down before exciting the apartment building and started to strut effortlessly, she was used to heels, one hand holding up the dress and the other holding the fliers. With all intent to boldly hand out a flier to every person she meets. And of course, with the intent to tell them that Enchanted Wedding Inc. sold lingerie and other such lovely items as well.
Luckily for Helena, she wasn’t shy. This job wouldn’t phase her in the slightest. It’s not like she would be ‘working the streets’. She was just going to go all the way around town passing out fliers to whoever she could get to take them, even if that meant batting her eyelashes or unabashedly sticking a flier out for any passing by person to take. As long as she got them out there -without making people want to avoid the shop, she’d do what was necessary to get rid of all the fliers on hand. Well, almost anything.
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Re: Advertising [Multi-open]
Inhale. Exhale. He didn’t need a cigarette. He quit smoking two months ago. He didn’t need the smooth and subtle tingle on the tip of his tongue, rolling up and over his taste buds. He quit smoking. He quit. Standing downwind from a couple of smokers made him reconsider all his inner mantras. Strength. Determination. Why had he quit smoking in the first place, if he loved the sensual act? Oh yes—he had cancer.
“Take a picture, chink.” He tore his eyes from the wisps of smoke and looked into the face of an irritated young man. The man must have thought Xiao had been eyeing the women instead of their cigarettes. Xiao almost wanted to correct the man, but he stopped himself. Xiao smiled and nodded several times, playing the part of the simple-minded Chinaman with nothing better to do than bow down to some preconceived notion of white supremacy.
Without the smokers, Xiao had no reason to linger on the barren street corner. Tucking his gloved hands into the pockets of his black peacoat, he lowered his head against the harsh wind and stepped into the salt-stained crosswalk. The first car stopped just short of the line, but the next car drifted right into the white-lined space. Xiao had to swerve around the front bumper to reach the other side of the road. He turned to look back at the cars, but the light had turned green and both frontrunners blended into the flow of traffic.
He had never liked crosswalks or major intersections, things that he never worried about in Vancouver. In Vancouver, he had a chauffeur. He had a driver for his Mercedes or his Jaguar or his limousine. None of that mattered when he found out he had less than a year to live. His money couldn’t buy him his life.
“Vancouver Sun,” he barely mumbled to the man behind the newsstand. He pulled a few crumpled bills from within the satin lining of his coat pocket and stuffed them into the vendor’s outstretched hand. He’d always read that paper, always right before his first cup of coffee.
Xiao moved toward the edge of the newsstand and flipped open the front page. There were images of local politicians and news about the possibility of pipe lines, but he focused on a smaller section dedicated to his former employer. Apparently, the corporation hired a couple of specialists formerly employed by Goldman Sachs. Scoffing, he raised his eyes from the fine print and looked right at a bride standing on the street corner. Two possibilities went through his mind in quick succession: One, the woman decided to spend her wedding day doing charity work; two, Harper Rock had interesting prostitutes.
“Take a picture, chink.” He tore his eyes from the wisps of smoke and looked into the face of an irritated young man. The man must have thought Xiao had been eyeing the women instead of their cigarettes. Xiao almost wanted to correct the man, but he stopped himself. Xiao smiled and nodded several times, playing the part of the simple-minded Chinaman with nothing better to do than bow down to some preconceived notion of white supremacy.
Without the smokers, Xiao had no reason to linger on the barren street corner. Tucking his gloved hands into the pockets of his black peacoat, he lowered his head against the harsh wind and stepped into the salt-stained crosswalk. The first car stopped just short of the line, but the next car drifted right into the white-lined space. Xiao had to swerve around the front bumper to reach the other side of the road. He turned to look back at the cars, but the light had turned green and both frontrunners blended into the flow of traffic.
He had never liked crosswalks or major intersections, things that he never worried about in Vancouver. In Vancouver, he had a chauffeur. He had a driver for his Mercedes or his Jaguar or his limousine. None of that mattered when he found out he had less than a year to live. His money couldn’t buy him his life.
“Vancouver Sun,” he barely mumbled to the man behind the newsstand. He pulled a few crumpled bills from within the satin lining of his coat pocket and stuffed them into the vendor’s outstretched hand. He’d always read that paper, always right before his first cup of coffee.
Xiao moved toward the edge of the newsstand and flipped open the front page. There were images of local politicians and news about the possibility of pipe lines, but he focused on a smaller section dedicated to his former employer. Apparently, the corporation hired a couple of specialists formerly employed by Goldman Sachs. Scoffing, he raised his eyes from the fine print and looked right at a bride standing on the street corner. Two possibilities went through his mind in quick succession: One, the woman decided to spend her wedding day doing charity work; two, Harper Rock had interesting prostitutes.
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