Saturday, October 24, 2015

Frightening Friday: Rosemary's Ugly Baby

Oh, god, he's so ugly.















Oh, hi. Have you been there long? I was just sitting here in a velvet smoking jacket with a raven perched on my shoulder with this book of terrifying tales on my lap, twiddling an imaginary mustache around my finger.

I'm describing it in great detail because it's pitch dark in here, and I know you can't see a thing, so I want to set the scene like a good storyteller should. Just know that if you hear any squawking, it's likely the raven perched on my shoulder. And if you hear any rustling of pages, it's a page of the book of terrifying tales in my lap being turned. If you smell imaginary mustache wax, know that it's my imaginary mustache being twiddled furiously. Finally, if you sense anything fabulous in the vicinity, it's me looking fierce in this velvet smoking jacket. (I look seriously fierce, like a cheetah in a smoking jacket.) 

The reason I invited you to this completely dark haunted mansion deep out in the woods, past the haunted gun factory and the haunted herpetarium and the haunted pizzeria and the haunted Haunted House, Hayride, and Fright Carnival, sponsored by Pepsi, is to tell you a terrifying tale that will chill...you....to....the....core, just in time for Halloween.

Are you ready?

I can't see you if you're nodding, so please answer with, "Yes, I'm ready," "No, I'm not ready," or, "Please repeat the question so that I may fully understand."

...

I can only assume that the silence means you are still nodding.

I'll just begin, I suppose. Let me know if you were in the bathroom when I started and need me to repeat any of the important parts.

Here we go with....


ROSEMARY'S UGLY BABY

Rosemary was not an ugly person. Her plastic surgeon saw to that. So it mystified Rosemary to no end that the tiny infant that had just fallen from her immaculate vagina into the arms of the extremely  handsome obstetrician who had impregnated her 9 months before could look so.....unbecoming.

"Oh, HELL NO," said Rosemary.

"I know," said the handsome obstetrician. "Woof."

The baby was extremely ugly, like his head was made from a stupid potato or something. Even after they hosed him off, he looked like the Gerber Baby's throw up.

"What do we do?" asked Rosemary.

"I don't know," said the obstetrician. "But we can't take him to the club like this. We'll be a laughingstock."

"And forget about that champagne brunch to help fund the Champagne Brunch Throwers Club."

"He's not fit to be seen by those Champagne Brunch Throwers, to be sure," said the handsome obstetrician, wringing his perfectly manicured hands.

It was decided, after several upcoming fundraising events were mentioned, that the best course of action was to try giving the newborn a makeover.

So Rosemary had a quick vaginoplasty, and Dr. Handsome changed out of his scrubs and into a tailored suit, the new parents set off for Bergdorf Goodman.

"Excuse me," said Rosemary to the first sales associate she saw when they arrived at the store. "Can you point me in the direction of the department for the clothes for babies who desperately need a makeover?"

The woman gave her a condescending look.

"Take the down escalator," she said, pointing.

So the couple went down, down, down, to the sub basement of the Bergdorf Goodman, where they outfitted all of the unsavory young customers: ugly babies, ugly toddlers, and rat kings.

There wasn't much of a selection.

"Oh, look, a Stella McCartney fabric swatch," said the handsome doctor, who I'm embarrassed I haven't yet introduced as Reginald.

"And here's a bikini marked down 25 percent, some expired hair dye, and a single loafer," said Rosemary.

"PERFECT," said Reginald. The couple purchased their items for $735 (a steal!) and left the store.

Within hours of arriving back at their townhouse, the couple had made over their baby. He had a brand-new hairstyle, a new outfit that Rosemary claimed was perfect for beach season, and a single loafer. The couple decided that he looked so good, they simply must invite all their friends over for a cocktail hour and baby examining.

It didn't go as well as expected.

"Oh, god, he's hideous!" screeched Rosemary's second cousin twice removed, Elsa Davenport. "But I love that fabric swatch. Is it Stella McCartney?"

"I'm not a fan of that hairstyle. Blond highlights are so last year," tutted their next-door neighbor, an elderly woman who definitely worshipped Satan.

"I'm loving the bikini," said their mustachioed friend who owned a restaurant that served nothing but toast points and empty ramekins. "But he should really try some cardio to tone up his abs."

"I don't think he looks that bad. At least he's quiet," said another aristocratic friend, cradling the baby, but realizing five minutes later that she had swaddled the loafer.

The next morning, the parents did the only thing they could do. They drove out to a local park and left their ugly offspring on a picnic table for a family of bears to find and raise. Then they got a dog.

The baby was fine. Don't worry. The bears were really good parents.

THE END