Scribblings

Just a collection of various stories I began with no intention to finish, or answers to writing prompts. Enjoy! Please visit my author page on FB! facebook.com/author.anrisaryn Also note, some of these may be removed later if I feel the urge to expand on them!

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34. The Film Star (fanfiction)

 

          Life had always been hard for Patrice. She always found herself left behind, wearing her glamorous dresses and elbow length gloves, occasionally topped with a shimmering tiara. Her career hadn't gone far; she starred in a few short films without much profit. Butch Cassidy and the Dust-mop Kid, The Day after To-mop-mo, and even Dusty Dusty West. She was growing tired of this gig.
          Every day, the Mr. Broom would come by, picking up nice dust bunnies at those swanky Hair Balls for the big films. Miss Mop would usually come after her, picking out the tougher stain boys for her famous mop-fia and hiest films like Beowulf Broom and Ocean's Lint-leven. 
          Patrice simply stood by and watched as she was passed over again. She wondered if her film coating was even worth looking at. She barely made a difference on the kitchen floors, unlike those mud spots that always got picked up first.
          But, one day, a new man came to town.
          He was much thinner and cleaner-looking than Mr. Broom or Miss Mop. He had a look about him that said young and ambitious. He caught her eye the second he walked into the studio that day, his green jacket a stark contrast to her brown dress.
          "Patrice Film?" he said, extending his hand in greeting.
          "Why, hello," she said politely, extending her's in a delicate manner that encouraged him to kiss it. Which he did, much to her delight. "That would be me."
          "I have just the job for you," he said with a grin, releasing her hand.
          "Oh, you have?" Patrice's face lit up in expectation.
          "You'll be the next biggest star under the couch!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.
          "But, I don't even know your name!" she argued.
          "It's Swiffer. P. G. Swiffer."

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