A foxy tale: Episode 6

A collaborative serial by Jessica Perini and Catherin J Pascal Dunk

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Episode 6

Jambeau observed his reflection in the green room mirror. He looked pale, he thought, and
with the broken tooth, a touch dangerous. Gangsta? Apart from the ridiculous jumpsuit, of
course.

Maybe he should get some tattoos with the payment from today—lean into a bad-boy
look? It could be his new signature style.

He looked around for his clothes, but could see them nowhere. They had been filthy. It was a
result of his having had no fixed address, for quite a while. Maybe someone had mistaken them for cleaning rags—or for rubbish.

The thought that he probably had to walk out of here dressed as he was, like some sort of
giant bedtime toy slash harlequin—it bothered him. It was at odds with his nascent self
image.

And where was the creepy fucking beanie baby? Javier had said it was Sol-something. And to ‘guard it with his life’. Fuuuuuck. He couldn’t see that, either.

Rewinding to his catwalk debut, Jam recalled the humiliating tumble. The rose had gone
missing at that point, certainly. He couldn’t remember about the toy.

Jambeau’s mind was acting a bit weird, to be honest. Could have something to do with that white powder his agent had urged him to sniff—to calm his ‘premiere’ nerves.

Despite having lived on the street, Jam had—till now—kept his nose clean, using it only for
the most natural functions. He’d accepted the powder politely, thinking he’d just pretend to
take it and then discreetly dispose of it, onto the floor.

Unfortunately, Jambeau’s body had chosen that very moment to initiate a sneeze, and the
huge inbreath in preparation for that sneeze had caused Jam to ingest the drugs—mainly through his mouth.

This, in turn, had led him to follow up the sneeze with a prolonged fit of coughing.

Which had only just subsided in time for him to ‘strut his stuff’. Leaving absolutely zero time for the nouveau model to practise walking—in the nightmarishly long garment that he’d been assigned to promote.

Jambeau, flakier than usual, kept trying to gather his thoughts.

What to do now? Where to go?

Only a few words would solidify:
Bean bag baby. Guard.

With your life.

TOBE
CON
TIN
UED

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