Corpseus: I imagine that you are feeling a bit like Britney,
tumbling down the Federline hole?
Modelina: You could say that everyday just feels like rinse & repeat.
Corpseus: I can see it in your colored contacts. You have the look of a woman who accepts that she has the look of Posh Spice two seasons ago because she’s expecting to awaken from the nightmare of Daisy Dukes. Ironically, this is not far from the truth. Do you believe in fate Modelina?
Modelina: Only if it let’s me be Leonardo DiCaprio’s wife.
Corpseus: How come?
Modelina: I don’t like the idea that pretty people can’t get whatever they want.
Corpseus: I know exactly what you mean. Let me tell you why you're here Modelina. You’re here because you have a brain. You have a brain and you desperately want to use it. You have wanted to use your brain your whole catwalk life but haven’t because brains don’t get you magazine covers, beauty does. But there is something very wrong with this picture.
You’re not sure what it is but something inside you grumbles and aches like the time you didn’t eat for 2 weeks to get thin for fashion week. You know that there is something “not right” in the skinny world. The pictures are all pretty, and beauty surrounds you, yet something is driving you mad like a cuticle on your perfectly manicured nails. Do you know what I’m talking about Modelina?
Modelina: The Skinni-trix
Corpseus: Do you want to know what it is?
[Modelina bobbles her head]
Corpseus: The Skinni-trix is everywhere, it is all around us. Even now, in this Starbucks in which we sit. You can see it when you are in a dressing room, or when you open up the latest copy of Vogue. You can feel it when you are at Victoria’s Secret, or when you pray to the porcelin God, or when you pay your maxed out credit cards. It is the world that has been pulled over your lasiked eyes to blind you from the truth.
Modelina: What truth?
Corpseus: That you are a slave to beauty, Modelina. Like everyone else, you were born into conformity like an Addicted to Love music video. Born inside a prison that you cannot whiff, chew, or fondle. A prison for your mind…[sigh]…Unfortunately, no one, not even the spoiled pretty people, can be told what the Skinni-trix is. Modelina, you must see it first hand as if no one believes that you are 10 pounds lighter than you actually are. This is your last chance. After this walk down the runway of truth, there is NO going back.
[Corpseues shows Modelina a navy blue, or better yet, indigo blue pill]
Modelina: “Yea! Pill popping, my favorite diet plan of choice.”
Corpseus: Pop the indigo pill and the story ends. You wake up in your Pottery Barn bed and believe whatever you want to believe.
[In Corpeseus’ other hand is a fuchsia pill]
Corpseus: You take the fuchsia pill and you stay in Modelizer-land and I show you just how deep the superficiality goes. [Long pause; Modelina moves toward the fuchsia pill because, well, it is the “in” color in cell phones and iPods] Remember Modelina – all I’m offering is the truth, nothing more.
[Modelina pops the fuchsia pill, and feels full.]
Update: No, you did not experience a glitch in the matrix. I updated the story because I was having too much fun with this Southpark-enstein creator.
