Not a lot of introduction this week as I am pressed for time now that school has started! This week’s winning Meme comes from a lass called Marie. She’s the lucky winner of a $5 gift certificate to Amazon and a copy of CAGED by Amber Lynn Natusch! Congrats, Marie! We’ll be in touch soon!
Next weeks Mega Meme will be based on the photo at the BOTTOM of this post and you can submit your stories via email to firstname.lastname@example.org or use the form below! (further fine print can be found in the caption of said photo) Winner will receive a $5 gift card to Amazon!
Here’s her winning entry to last week’s nerdy Mega Meme!
If there was one thing I learned from the six years of dressing in cosplay attire it was that some people believed that I may have had a mental disorder. When I first began my family kept my weekend entertainment all hush hush from the entire world. My father was thoroughly embarrassed and stopped talking to me five years ago. He demanded that I stop playing make-believe and search out honest work, but what he didn’t seem to understand was this wasn’t my job. It was my life. Cosplay is about expression of art, self and honoring those who blazed the path for fans such as myself. No matter what others believed I was proud that I belonged to such an open community that is costume play.
Today on my way to the Dragon con, I stopped off by the local bagel shop for my usual chicken salad on sesame seed wheat. I had on my Storm Troopers costume, a particular favorite of mine, and the lady behind the counter was a new hire. When I entered the store her face flushed and the almost immediately I watched as all the blood drained from it. I smirked, but with my helmet on there was no way for her to see it. I continued forward, sauntering my way toward the counter. Adjusting my fake gun on my shoulder, I discovered that it was hooked onto a piece of the costume that made it dig into my back and that was bothersome.
I snatched the gun once to free it, but it didn’t help. So I put all of my weight behind it in the second attempt. It worked however, when my finger slipped on the trigger the rapid fire sound of bullets sounded like an attack of galactic proportions.
The new clerk screamed, “Oh my god, please don’t kill me.”
She fell to the floor and scurried through the back storage door, shutting and locking it. I was thoroughly mortified. I stepped around the large glass deli counter and knocked on the door.
Her scream turned into a screech as I heard her yelling that she need the police and blurted out the address to the bagel shop. I assumed at this point she was on the phone with emergency dispatch alerting them to a robbery in progress.
“Shit!” I said under my breath and then through the bolted shut door I asked, “Miss, can you hear me?”
I realized after another screech from the almost neurotic woman locked in the small room beyond the doorway that I had my voice distorter engaged. The sound that came out was far from pleasant.
“The police are on their way. You stay the hell away from me!” She threatened.
Fear began to control every sane thought in my head. What was I supposed? If the police showed up they would believe that I was trying to rob her and arrest me. The local law enforcement in this neighborhood followed the beliefs of “Shoot first, ask questions later” so there was only once choice left for me.
I turned around, retraced my path through the restaurant and the bolted out the front door.
Apparently a patrol car was in the vicinity and responded quickly to the dispatched robbery in progress call. They spotted me rushing out and yelled for me to stop. I couldn’t think straight and a voice inside my head urged me to get the hell out of there now.
My adrenaline kicked in and I ran faster in that moment than I did back in high school when I was an all-star on the track team. Too bad I forgot they were in a patrol car. The policemen were upon me faster than I could believe.
The marked unit whipped around the intersection that lay before me, effectively cutting of my path. I sidestepped the front end of the vehicle and veered off down the adjacent alleyway.
“Stop you son of a bitch.” I heard a loud threatening male voice order, but I just could do as he instructed.
I continued down the dark alley that led straight through toward my freedom. I pushed myself harder and within ten feet of the opening I saw the flashing strobes of a second police unit.
“Dammit,” I mumbled through the heavy headgear.
“One more step and I will shoot your sorry ass.” The driver of the additional patrol car advised.
With no more options, there was nothing left for me to do except surrender. Like a small child asking the teacher for permission to use the restroom, I raised my hands high above my head.
“Follow my instructions carefully and you won’t get hurt.” The dominating male voice stated. Knowing that my voice distorter would only piss him off, I offered a slow nod acknowledging that I understood.
The officer continued, “Turn around, get on your knees and place both hands above your head.”
I obeyed and within a moment was forced down on the ground. Three large bodies immediately began pulling my arms behind my back, but the gear was too thick to get the handcuffs around my wrists. After cussing me for everything I was worth they ordered me to stand – slowly. After managing to hoist myself back up to a vertical position a second officer walked me toward the back of his patrol car.
“Place both hands on the back of the car and spread your feet.” He said and once again I nodded my response.
The first officer approached me and asked, “Why in the hell did you run?”
I shook my head knowing that he couldn’t understand me, but it only pissed him off. He repeated his question with a harsher tone. In order to keep from becoming a victim of police brutality I answered his question. The voice distorter did not provide him with the answer he wanted since it completely transformed my words into garbled noises.
Jerking me off the car, the officer shoved my shoulder, spinning me around and demanded that I answer him without the electronic voice. I nodded and pointed to the button at the side of the head gear.
He reached for it slowly and when it was disengaged he said, “Now, tell me what you thought you were doing back there.”
I said, “I was getting a bagel.”
His eyebrows lifted in shock and he crossed his large arms over his chest before he said, “Is that so. Then tell me this. If you were only getting a bagel,” He lifted his hands and air quoted with his fingers and sarcastically continued, “And you weren’t robbing the place then why in the hell did you run?”
I pondered the question and there really was only one explanation.
I said, “Because you were chasing me.”
I was spun around so quickly that I didn’t see the blow that knocked me out and subsequently kept me out for over an hour. Waking up in a general population jail cell with thirty other men staring at me was the low point of my life. I decided at that exact moment that the life I lived and loved was too dangerous and vowed instantly that it had no place in a world where “Pride in the Past. Progress in the future” did not include Storm Troopers.