Acting was tough.
You put yourself out there, you put your heart and soul into the lines you’ve painstakingly memorized and rehearsed time and time again. You try and you try, emoting and projecting with every cue. You feel the characters take over you, you become the characters in front of the director. And after a long performance, a monologue straight from Shakespeare, the director looks at you and says:
“Great job, Veronica.” that fat bitch had lied, wedged into that overtaxed seat of hers, “I’ll keep you in mind when I’m drawing up the cast list.”
The nerve of Ms. Walker, casting her as anything but the lead role! Why, she’d enrolled on the premise that this stupid school would thrust her into a world of highly-connected theatre bigwigs—how was she supposed to impress anybody out there playing Lady Capulet?!
Veronica Darnell huffed angrily as she popped another bonbon ferociously between her lips, chubby cheeks ripe red with rage. With two inflated fingers, she kept one in reserve as she gnashed out her frustrations on the poor chocolate lump. Hardly taking time to swallow her first, she stuffed the second one in her mouth with a deep inhale—her lividness only matched by her voracity as she chewed and stuffed her way into a tizzy.
“I’m sorry sweetie,” Ms. Walker had told her, “I just thought Miranda was better for the part.”
That wench! That harlot! How could she, some no-name amateur, be better suited for a role so iconic? That woman, Little Miss Miranda, had less talent than any one of her porky pinkie toes—let alone enough to warrant stuffing her fat ass into Verona’s finest ensemble! That should be her getting fitted for costumes right now, instead of moping upstairs in her room eating bonbons!
Picturing the new face of treachery, Miranda Goddard, Veronica Darnell bit down hard on yet another one of the rich chocolates. How she hated her, that little… no-talent… cur!
“But I’ve got just the part for you!” her director’s monologue marched on loop inside her head, “You’ll be playing Lady Capulet—you know, the fading beauty. The aging idol. Juliet’s mother—oh, I’m sure you’ll do fabulously darling!”
Here Veronica tipped the box over her head and allowed as many chocolates as would fit to pour into her mouth. Aging? Fading?! Veronica Darnell had been drawing a crowd and filling seats since her freshman year, and here she was getting upstaged by some new face! If Ms. Tuttle were still in charge, there would be no doubt who would get top billing as Juliet!
Calming down (somewhat) Veronica Darnell tossed the empty box behind her and let out some of her frustrations in the form of a nice, curt huff.
As you can probably guess by now, Veronica Darnell was a young aspiring actress who didn’t take rejection very well. She also went out for the part of Juliet in the Buttercombe Academy production of Shakespeare’s most famous play, and found herself losing out to one Miranda Godard—someone who, until now, had never had a leading role or much acting experience in general. Which was a slap to Veronica’s deceptively slender face, if she might add.
Veronica was also a Junior at Buttercombe Academy, with a nice plump frame to show for it. She had long black hair and a well-fed figure, most of her weight settling low on her rump. Her pride was the driving factor in her unwillingness to gain weight—vowing never to be as big as most of the girls she saw heaving their bulk about around campus, all sweaty and jiggly… ugh.
Which is why, or at least partially why, Veronica had such a hard time accepting rejection. She worked twice as hard to at least look the part for many plays. And yes she had put on a few (dozen) pounds since enrollment, she was still in far better form than anyone else on the troupe—except for maybe Little Miss Miranda.
Ugh, she hated her.
She loathed her.
She despised the girl with every fiber of her being!
But there was nothing to be done. The die had been cast and, unfortunately, Veronica had rolled the dreaded “understudy.” Imagine, her, understudy to someone like that.
Veronica sighed, reaching for another box (purchased not long after she learned of her new role in the play, wisely buying three rather than her usual one). As she ripped open the plastic packaging and tore off the lid, plucking one brown little rock from the box and popping it into her mouth, the overfed understudy couldn’t help but think only of nasty, nasty things regarding Miranda.
Namely, how to make it so that she would get her rightful role as Juliet. Taking a look at her most recent treat to-be-devoured, a brilliant (quote unquote) idea came to form in her devious little mind…
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author