Inverted Stereotype Story Excerpts
A couple short excerpts from an earlier CW story this year (One that's only 4.25 pages rather than 16):
The beginning of the story:
Albert Morenas lounged on the locker-room bench, a cheerleader draped over each shoulder like a coronation robe. While the rest of the Woodview High Wombats wriggled around like minnows, suiting up for the last game of the season, Albert swung his foot onto the bench, the solid arc of his calf forming a bridge over one girl’s thighs. She quivered with delight. Slipping on a rakish grin, Albert stretched back his bare foot, his undulating toes an invitation that the slender girl was eager to accept. As the first girl rubbed her thumbs into the soles of his feet in sensuous swirls, the second turned aside with an angry huff. Another player was beside her in an instant.
“Hey Fi, you can rub my feet.”
“Knock it of, Greer,” Albert barked, flipping his head back. “Come on Fi, I’ve got some tension in my trapezius.”
Fiona pounced on his neck like a puma. Tom Greer shoved himself upright with a grunt of exertion that sounded suspiciously like “Ass.”
Annoyed by her sudden lack of attention, the other girl jabbed her thumbnail into the arch of Albert’s foot, which catapulted backwards.
“What the hell, Maggie?” he yelped, but settled as she ran her fingers through the thick pelt of fur on his leg.
“Tell us about the time you won the field goal competition, Al,” said Maggie.
“Or when you crushed West Parsons 42-0!” Fiona squealed.
“How about that time you won Best Spirit Dance?” said Greer, an ugly squeeze in his right eye, “That’ll be the crowning glory of your high school career.”
“Shove it, Greer,” said the wide receiver; “Everyone knows that Al would be wearing your jersey if it weren’t for that bobsledding injury freshman year.”
Greer sulked. Unfazed, Albert sighed.
“You girls have heard these stories a thousand times. I’ll tell you what. If the two of you meet me behind the bleachers a few hours after the game-”
“Morenas, you’re still not ready?”
Albert’s head snapped up to see his coach towering in the doorway.
“Aw coach, I was just-”
“More dressing, less groping, Morenas.”
“But they were the ones doing the groping-”
“Now!”
Shaking off the cheerleaders, Albert leapt to his feet.
“Sorry, girls. Duty calls.”
With a quick wink, Albert grabbed the giant wombat head and popped it on. As he strutted toward the field, Fiona’s rhinestoned finger punctuated the air.
“Albie, your paws!”
Removing his oversized mask so he could see his feet, Albert noticed that they were still bare. He looked back with a sheepish chuckle, hoping to make this endearing.
“Silly me. You lovely ladies head on out, and I’ll see you on the field. Then maybe after the game, we can all go down under.”
The end of the story:
A slow smile spread across Greer’s face, and Albert jerked with an involuntary shudder.
“Everything’s fine, Morenas. I have a whole career ahead of me; I’m getting a full ride to play at Penn State. What’ll you be, your college mascot? Nobody cares. Fiona’s gonna end up a pro cheerleader, and Maggie’s going to MIT. What about you? Your grades suck, you’ll never be able to play, and you have no skills to speak of. This is it. You’re finished.”
Albert said nothing. Greer shrugged.
“So that’s that. You go out and enjoy your last game, and soak it all in. I really mean that, too. Savor it. This will be the last time you matter.”
Greer stepped forward, taking Albert’s limp hand in his own.
“It’s been real, man.”
Allowing Albert’s hand to swing back to his side, Greer pulled on his helmet and jogged from the room.
Alone beneath the neon lights, Albert sunk onto the bench. As he fumbled on one furry foot after the other, he could hear cheers and chatter above him, like static on a TV set. Funny, how he’d never noticed before. Doing his best to ignore it, Albert did a few stretches before retrieving his oversized wombat head, its blank eyes staring back at him above its goofy grin. A few bubbles of laughter burst from his throat. It really was ridiculous.
Ready now, Albert slipped the mask over his head and marched into the bright glare of sunlight. The applause had the crackle of a firing squad.
The beginning of the story:
Albert Morenas lounged on the locker-room bench, a cheerleader draped over each shoulder like a coronation robe. While the rest of the Woodview High Wombats wriggled around like minnows, suiting up for the last game of the season, Albert swung his foot onto the bench, the solid arc of his calf forming a bridge over one girl’s thighs. She quivered with delight. Slipping on a rakish grin, Albert stretched back his bare foot, his undulating toes an invitation that the slender girl was eager to accept. As the first girl rubbed her thumbs into the soles of his feet in sensuous swirls, the second turned aside with an angry huff. Another player was beside her in an instant.
“Hey Fi, you can rub my feet.”
“Knock it of, Greer,” Albert barked, flipping his head back. “Come on Fi, I’ve got some tension in my trapezius.”
Fiona pounced on his neck like a puma. Tom Greer shoved himself upright with a grunt of exertion that sounded suspiciously like “Ass.”
Annoyed by her sudden lack of attention, the other girl jabbed her thumbnail into the arch of Albert’s foot, which catapulted backwards.
“What the hell, Maggie?” he yelped, but settled as she ran her fingers through the thick pelt of fur on his leg.
“Tell us about the time you won the field goal competition, Al,” said Maggie.
“Or when you crushed West Parsons 42-0!” Fiona squealed.
“How about that time you won Best Spirit Dance?” said Greer, an ugly squeeze in his right eye, “That’ll be the crowning glory of your high school career.”
“Shove it, Greer,” said the wide receiver; “Everyone knows that Al would be wearing your jersey if it weren’t for that bobsledding injury freshman year.”
Greer sulked. Unfazed, Albert sighed.
“You girls have heard these stories a thousand times. I’ll tell you what. If the two of you meet me behind the bleachers a few hours after the game-”
“Morenas, you’re still not ready?”
Albert’s head snapped up to see his coach towering in the doorway.
“Aw coach, I was just-”
“More dressing, less groping, Morenas.”
“But they were the ones doing the groping-”
“Now!”
Shaking off the cheerleaders, Albert leapt to his feet.
“Sorry, girls. Duty calls.”
With a quick wink, Albert grabbed the giant wombat head and popped it on. As he strutted toward the field, Fiona’s rhinestoned finger punctuated the air.
“Albie, your paws!”
Removing his oversized mask so he could see his feet, Albert noticed that they were still bare. He looked back with a sheepish chuckle, hoping to make this endearing.
“Silly me. You lovely ladies head on out, and I’ll see you on the field. Then maybe after the game, we can all go down under.”
The end of the story:
A slow smile spread across Greer’s face, and Albert jerked with an involuntary shudder.
“Everything’s fine, Morenas. I have a whole career ahead of me; I’m getting a full ride to play at Penn State. What’ll you be, your college mascot? Nobody cares. Fiona’s gonna end up a pro cheerleader, and Maggie’s going to MIT. What about you? Your grades suck, you’ll never be able to play, and you have no skills to speak of. This is it. You’re finished.”
Albert said nothing. Greer shrugged.
“So that’s that. You go out and enjoy your last game, and soak it all in. I really mean that, too. Savor it. This will be the last time you matter.”
Greer stepped forward, taking Albert’s limp hand in his own.
“It’s been real, man.”
Allowing Albert’s hand to swing back to his side, Greer pulled on his helmet and jogged from the room.
Alone beneath the neon lights, Albert sunk onto the bench. As he fumbled on one furry foot after the other, he could hear cheers and chatter above him, like static on a TV set. Funny, how he’d never noticed before. Doing his best to ignore it, Albert did a few stretches before retrieving his oversized wombat head, its blank eyes staring back at him above its goofy grin. A few bubbles of laughter burst from his throat. It really was ridiculous.
Ready now, Albert slipped the mask over his head and marched into the bright glare of sunlight. The applause had the crackle of a firing squad.