Trick-or-Treating (A flash fiction by Katrina Tulloch)

Here's my first draft of a short story for the Black Forest Writing Seminars. It's brand new and I'll appreciate feedback!

Don’t pick one with a lot of mirrors. You’ll get caught. Mirrored ceilings? Don’t be stupid. Have some common sense. Pick a place with a bar that juts out, like this one. Or lots of tables and chairs. The busier, the better. And don’t think you’ll hit the jackpot on your first try. Even if you get the bag, people carry the most useless things. Especially Americans. Especially American women.
Like this one time, not kidding, it was a Coach bag (designer bags never disappoint) and a blonde teenager from Arkansas. She had every lip thing you could possibly buy. Lip gloss. Lip stick. Lip balm. Lip “venom,” I don’t even know what the fuck that is. Lip glaze. Lip liner. Then a map of Freiburg. These pink plastic sunglasses. And a separate case for her eyeglasses. Sometimes you’ll get a duo – those eyeglasses that go dark in the sunlight, so when you go inside, you look like a blind person. Dump them if they’re not your prescription. Pens, pencils, all chewed up on the ends. Those blotting rice papers by Neutrogena that suck the oil right out of the pores on your nose for €5.99. Old movie tickets. Coupons. Coins. A condom – no! Two condoms. I remember because one was chocolate-flavored and one was banana-flavored. I laughed when I thought she could have a banana split night if she wanted. Old pieces of Orbit gum melted into gooey pink blobs. Tweezers. Rarely literature, but sometimes. A phone full of useless contacts, remember to chuck the phone always! They can trace that shit; you don’t want to accidentally get the bag of some Italian heiress and have the mafia on your ass. But then there’s the wallet. And that’s why you want this job.

What was that about mirrored ceilings?
Her eyes were wide. Christ. This girl was a moron. The only reason I agreed to teach her my art is because she’s a struggling actress and I have a soft spot for struggling actress. Her biggest role was Fairy #5 in The Tempest. Mine was French Whore #2 in Les Miserables. Ensemble girls gotta stick together. Develop a knack for being a prop and that’s really all you need in this business.

Also-- you look like one of those neon frogs you’re not supposed to lick. Do you want to get caught? Don’t stand out. Wear beige. Wear gray. From now on, neutral colors. Now go sit down next to those kids that just walked in so you don’t stand out like a fucking jelly bean.

She nodded, grinned and hopped off the stool. As she wandered around the bar, I pulled one of the menus from a pile on the counter. Off she goes. They grow up so fast. I couldn’t believe she needed a lesson on clothing, it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But no, she insisted on looking like candy, down to the acid green nail polish. Like a little Junior Mint.
I ordered a coffee and a salad.

Junior approached the table next to an eccentric hipster couple. A huge Pakistani guy, about 6’8,” sat across from a scrawny Japanese girl talking in fast French. Young and distracted. An excellent choice. Junior Mint seated herself behind Yoshi. Damn, in full sight of Muhummed. A liability, perhaps, if she got caught. But his electric blue skinny jeans would slow him down if there was a chase. Kids these days wear the dumbest things.
I saw the prize. A bulging, denim shoulder bag covered in Domo and Hello Kitty iron-ons sat under Sushi’s chair. Not bad. I sipped my coffee.
One minute in, Junior made her first mistake. The leg of her chair blocked the purse’s strap. She knew it. She lifted her chair up far too loudly and Konichi-wa turned around. I froze. That’s when the waitress got in my face with the salad.
Praust tu noch atwas?
Nein.
Some more dressing?
Nein.
Okay, just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right over there, she pointed.
Her nametag read “Felicity.”
Great, I nodded vigorously.
My view was restored. Finally. The couple was talking again. Wait. Where was my fork? Goddamn. I never forgot the utensils when I was a waitress. Not once. I was a damn good waitress. Until the end anyway, but everyone has to start somewhere. And this is a much more profitable career.
After a useless glare at Felicity’s back, I returned my gaze across the bar. Junior stiffly gazed out the window while trying to edge her chair closer and closer to the bag.
What the hell was she doing? Don’t just sit there and stare off into space. Order something! I tried to motion to her with my coffee. She didn’t notice. Oh my god, she’s actually going for it right now. She hasn’t been sitting for three minutes. This is ridiculous. I released the handle on the coffee cup. It shattered. Pakistan looked up at me. Junior jumped and shot a look my way. Felicity sighed.

Café Bathroom
OK. First thing’s first. You gotta calm down and wait. You’re in full view of Aladdin out there so don’t use your arms or hands at all. No bending over. Tying your shoe is a dead giveaway. It’s all in the feet. The strap is lying out there in the middle so sit on the edge of your chair and feel around with your heel. Keep your chair close to hers. Don’t get the strap stuck on the chair leg again either. Pay attention to the details. If you make eye contact with me, I can let you know when you’re close. Take your time or Harold and Kumar will start to notice you. Got it? And make it look like you’re waiting for someone -- order a cappuccino or something, you’re an actress for chrissakes. Now go.

This girl had a lot to learn. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. Stringy bangs stuck to my forehead. I had no reason to sweat, but steals are always nerve-wracking. The first time I took money out of the Applebees cash register was the sweatiest I had ever been.
I had it planned all night long, the day after we got robbed. Those guys got away with over €500. They were good too, swooping in glamorously in their plastic, dime store Sarah Palin masks. I was agog. It just made sense. They haven’t been caught since.
All the restaurant’s finances were messed up, so the timing was right. I won Waitress of the Month so they trusted me with closing up. Only a little bit at first, ten bucks here, twenty bucks there. I logged the register on my closing nights, so only on nights I didn’t work did they discover missing cash.
First Juan got fired. Then Alexander. Then Christina, which was a shame because I actually liked her. She snuck ice cream with me twice a week. But, I mean, girl’s gotta eat. I left the restaurant after a couple months and dyed my hair red.

The first time I stole a wallet was in Starbucks. I had an awful day, it was over 100 degrees out and I got two bills I couldn’t pay for in the mail that morning. Standing at the back of the line for a small green tea (the cheapest thing on the menu), a guy tried to charge through the line and knocked me almost clean off my feet.
Lo siento! An exchange student. He dashed out, his iced coffee sloshing everywhere.
A brown wallet had fallen out of his bag in the mad rush.
No one saw.
When I got to the counter, I ordered a Venti Cookies & Cream Frappuccino with whip and two of those jumbo corporate muffins. It was €9.39. His passport read Luis Barcia-Varno, 27, Cuba. He was loaded.
I washed my hands.
When I came back out, Junior’s chair was empty. The Domo Hello Kitty bag was gone too, but no one had noticed. They started laughing at something. Sashimi had a high-pitched laugh, the way anime characters do. Prince Ali was booming.

Strauss St.
Junior fidgeted by the yellow post box outside. The denim purse was positioned on the ground between her feet.
Did they see me? Are they coming?
No. You did good. Let’s go.
Like a kid on Halloween, Junior ripped open the bag.
What did you get? I felt like a mother.
Junior’s brown eyes sparkled as she peered down and pulled out a pink iPod.
I’ve always wanted one of these!

My Obsession on the Way to Freiburg, G

Germany in two days!!!

HERE is the map of Uni Freiburg's main campus, where I'll be taking writing workshops and staying in Germany (click).

Check out those departments! Institute of hydrology, Medieval archeology, Slavic languages and meteorology, all on just the main campus! I feel like my little bubble of Allegheny College has severely skewed my idea of what higher education can be.

I am so fucking excited.

Also, up there in Platz de Universitat III, there's a Cafe Senkrecht, which according to Google Translate means "Cafe Perpendicular." It probably actually translates to Southside Cafe or Down Cafe, but I am calling it Cafe Perpendicular and that's that.

Wheeee new country! Wheeeeee learning, exploring!

Cool things

Lightly salted chips. Having a job. Stealing company water bottles. Calling your girlfriend "Dude." Licking neon frogs. Helicopters.

Girl on the Radio

I did my first WARC show last Thursday. I don't think it was very good, but I want to do more. The WARC Office is a wonderful, wonderful place. I didn't have a key but a friendly staffer walked by and let me in with his key, rescuing me from my frettage around the campus center.

(Not to be confused with "frottage," which Colin just told me means "sexual touching.")

I did not know what to do. I sat on the WARC couch for 10 minutes, waiting for my partner, not wanting to touch anything, break anything, destroy the beauty around me. And it is beauty, such beauty in that office. All the color, the band stickers, old photographs, stolen McKinley's pepper shakers, etc, in a chaotic, lovely mess. It was everything the Overkill music issue should have been, right there on the WARC walls.

I had never been in there before.

After 15 minutes, I could no longer refrain from touching the candy-colored packages inside the CD bins. There was a boombox on the desk. It wouldn't hurt to play one disk. I judged CDs by their covers.

THE Brett Bacon was kind enough to eventually come by and show me how to start my show. I did a pretty piss poor job, considering I wasn't ready for the end of any song, and let a few seconds of dead air seep in between selections as I scrambled to play something new.

I don't know shit about music. I listened to and loved my parents' old stuff until 8th grade (Nat King Cole, The Platters, Roy Orbison...) when it became apparent that it wasn't cool to listen to such things in 2003. A rather nasty experience cut me off altogether when I tried playing Sinatra at my birthday party and the pretty girls went, ewww, wtf is that?, and immediately put on Green Day. I stopped liking music and just listened to whatever my friends did. Sad, dark years.

My own two hours on air and a collection of college student-approved music to play with is like cocaine and freedom.

I played She & Him, Radiohead, The Brunettes, The Mountain Goats, Overkill, and several other bands I had never heard before, but only because their album covers were groovy. A ridiculous medley of indie folk, metal, and doo wop.

More to come with WARC adventures, now that I have an idea of what I've gotten myself into [which is rare]. In the meantime, here is Guitar Update #2.