The beautiful people

Her long, bitten nails dug into the arm of a worn out sofa. Staring into the dimly lit television screen she cursed vicious words out of her quivering mouth. Looking perkier than ever, her moronic blonde substitute was laughing and waving in front of the flashing camera, knowing how fortuitous she had been.

It was where she was meant to be, her rightful place, not that clichéd Barbie doll. Real people, that’s what Hollywood needs, not these silicone wannabes.

Walking down the narrow staircase, Carmen entered her dimly lit basement. Flicking the switch on the nearest wall, a luminous red light entered the room. Hundreds of photos were now visible, hung up, surrounding the room. She pulled a photo down from a thin wire, and smoothed its creases out, placing it on a wooden table Carmen picked up a crimson red marker pen, and drew a neat circle around the face of a young blonde actress. Pinning the picture up on the wall, Carmen drew a neat line through the actresses face and smiled at her good days work.

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