Source: Open Happiness by Pilot2Kid
The List (Excerpt)
It is here I am hoping to locate the (very possibly powdered) Marcona almonds, but before I have the opportunity to search for them, I meet an unexpected scene. In front of me, and rushing away, is Nuttatich, her bare back sweaty in the harsh light. She is naked from the waist up, and so, it seems, is employing one of the more extreme distraction techniques I know of—one that has not been used for three years in fact. (And on that occasion, though resulting in enough benefit for the woman in question to gain second in the competition, ultimately came with significant downsides. First, she was pilloried by the religious right, from whom there were unofficial calls for her to be publicly beaten—though formal pronouncements restricted themselves to labelling her a ‘slut’ and a ‘whore’ who ‘God’ would take care of. Subsequently, she was stripped, groped, and physically assaulted by a group of men in a city nightclub. Then, worst of all, she had major difficulty finding ad sponsors and procuring any meaningful work in the mainstream entertainment industry (as would be expected of any top-three prize-winner) due in part to her infamy and in part to her unhealed physical (particularly facial) injuries (the time window tending to be fairly narrow on these opportunities). In the end, she managed only to get hired on the fringe for a fairly low-grade porn company specializing in the rape-snuff genre. All this is only to say that this strategy is very high risk and suggests no small amount of desperation on Nuttatich’s part.)
Having come upon Nuttatich from behind, I am prepared, of course, and will not be adversely affected by the sight of her naked bust. Less fortunate is Frank Marello, who swings around the opposite end of the aisle just as Nuttatich reaches it, and, as she has right of way, immediately swerves, but as he does so (and here I can just make out the surreal, almost dreamlike, expression on his face), he extends a grasping hand out and across her breasts. His movements are no accident that’s clear (I’d wager not one referee didn’t buzz for a penalty), and as soon as contact is made, the sirens sound and Nuttatich stops with a look of pure glee on her face. Now, with the game paused, everyone must stop (or suffer the same fate Frank is about to). A look of adolescent innocence continues momentarily to grace the man’s flaccid features before he regains a horrified adult composure and jerks his arms down to his side, exploding in a rush of despairing wails as from next to a two-way mirror positioned near the main exit, a door flies open and several guards with batons cannon out towards him. He doesn’t even try to run.
Nuttatich turns her head away, but otherwise doesn’t move. She must stay still until it’s over. Which it soon will be. Frank’s beating is as swift as it is brutal. The penalty for deliberate bodily contact is 30 seconds of physical punishment, and the guards make the most of it. Everybody else will get the time back except Frank, who, even if he is able to continue, will almost certainly come in last now and receive the booby prize, which takes a huge amount of pressure off the rest of us, and I expect that lifts the spirits of the other competitors as much as it does mine.
Source: The List – Paul R. Buckle Archive
