. . . And Fifty Cents For Your Soul

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     'Mad Dog' Jansen stomped down the polluted beach, kicking driftwood and whatever else got in his way with his size 14 combat boots. He smiled for a moment at the memory of how that pansy quarterback for the Saints had looked after he'd 'accidentally' snapped his throwing arm, the pain in his eyes before he'd passed out. It had been a clean hit but Jansen knew he'd angled himself to inflict the maximum amount of damage.

     The ref couldn't say anything and the other team were too concerned about their fallen leader to go after him right then. When he came back to the sideline the coach told him to hit the showers as he didn't want a war on his hands when the other team came to its senses. Jansen knew the coach would really rather send him packing but the owner had personally signed him and most of the other renegade players that made up the highly successful but despised team.

So Jansen found himself killing time before the plane ride back to the west coast. Time was his enemy, it reminded him that he was away from the only thing that brought him any satisfaction. There was no way he could take the heels and dresses on the road. One whiff of his predeliction and his career would be over. He remembered the last time that had happened nearly fifteen years ago.

     He'd been 15 and puberty had been slow to arrive. He'd always loved women's clothes but he was totally enamored of Marilyn Monroe and he'd convinced his mom to let him dress up as her that Halloween. He remembered the white dress they'd found at the thrift shop and the long blond wig his mom borrowed from the beauty shop. That was the good part of the memory. He also remembered what happened when he'd appeared in school.

     The girls laughed and the boys flipped up his dress and howled when they saw he was wearing panties. Then one of the girls recognized the costume. She'd seen "The Seven-Year Itch" and told the guys that Jansen was trying to be Marilyn Monroe but there was a major problem with his costume, Marilyn wasn't wearing panties when she wore that white dress. The guys rectified that despite his struggles and for the rest of the day whenever the teachers weren't looking someone would flip up his dress until he couldn't take it any longer and ran home. He vowed never to dress up again. He also vowed revenge on his tormentors.

     The next year his mom married a football coach and they moved to another school district. He changed his last name to match his new step-dad and when puberty hit him and he bulked out his step-dad taught him the game. He found he had a talent for the game and it allowed him to get back at all the guys that had made fun of him. His team crushed the team from his former school and he personally sent two of his tormentors to the bench.

     He sought out the girl who'd humiliated him and with the help of a little date rape drug he used her and left her - minus her panties in front of his old school. That was a mistake, the feel of the panties aroused old feelings in him, ones he'd fought so hard to suppress. He began to dress again but found his new bulk made it nearly impossible to find anything to fit him. It wasn't until he'd made the pros that he could have things custom made and sent to a PO box under an assumed name.

     So here he was stuck on a dingy beach while his wardrobe was a couple of thousand miles away. He looked at his boots and wished they were the 5 inch stiletto's back at his apartment. And while looking at them he spotted a pretty bottle stuck in a pile of sludge. The pain returned and he took it out on the nearest object - the bottle.

     He crushed it under his foot and nearly fell over when a woman appeared in front of him picking glass out of her clothes and hair and trying vainly to remove the sludge. She gave the mortal who'd freed her a dirty look but was compelled to offer him his wish.

     Jansen wasn't sure whether to believe her but figured it was his one chance to get what he finally wanted and made his wish.

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     Later back in his hotel room he stood in front of the mirror and waited for the change to occur that the genie promised him. As he did so he realized he was changing and there in front of him was Marilyn, in a stunning chartreuse Pucci dress.

     Wait - he recognized that dress! It was the one Marilyn was wearing at her funeral!

     And as he looked he realized the changes were continuing as the flesh sloughed off his body and the dress began to deteriorate until only the corporeal remains of his desire were left. His last thought before his body crumbled to the carpet was that he had gotten his wish; he looked just like Marilyn did - now!

Note: The title comes from a quote attributed to Marilyn Monroe:

     Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.

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Comments

I'm just sorry...

erin's picture

...that this spooky little gem doesn't qualify for the All Souls Day contest because of being part of a series and having a continuing character.

Nice one, Commentator, one of your best .

Hugs,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Uh...

Actually, modern embalming techniques r good enough that Marilyn probably looks mostly the same as she did back then.

Ooops

What's with the ungrateful genie? That was a pretty nasty thing to do, even if the big lunk smooshed her bottle.

On the other hand, he wasn't the nicest of big lunks, was he? Still, death is a pretty harsh sentence under the circumstances. And, not all that educational.

From another point of view, one wonders how a genie stuck in a bottle for several centuries even knew about Marilyn. Or why or if she'd be omniscient about the character and history of the lunk.

For that matter, if she really wanted to punish him, there's a character in an H.P. Lovecraft story who ventures out from his confines at the full moon only to discover to his own befuddled astonishment, after looking in a mirror, that he's a walking corpse from a crypt, which kind of explains the extreme non-merriment of the guests at the party he's just crashed. Talk about feeling unwelcome!

Macabre 'Mad Dog' Marilyn

terrynaut's picture

This is a fine tale. The only thing I wish is that you waited to post it on Halloween. It would've been perfect to read late on Halloween. :)

The story isn't long but I think the length and content are perfect for what it conveys.

Horror! Oh the horror. *shiver*

Thanks!

- Terry