Chapter 8: Get On With It!
WOO-HOO! I got my Internet connection back! You know what that means? More Modelland
! In fact, today I'm going to do two posts on this liveblog to make up for my Schedule Slip
Why am I celebrating?
The narrator staggers drunkingly into the story, contributing nothing. We get an exposition dump that could have easily been from Tookie's point of view.
It takes place all over the planet, of course — on the sexy beaches of Terra BossaNova, on the strip of Striptown, round the Taj Gardens in Chakra — but there's nowhere like Metopia for the most authentic experience.
So . . . it takes place in Not!Brazil, Not!Vegas and Not!India?
The narrator tells about "The Aftermath." I shall summarize: not being chosen to be a magical model is so traumatizing that young girls who aren't chosen often go insane and try to reach Modelland on their own. They invariably die in the process of crossing the "Diabolical Divide".
My personal theory is that the giant floating eye can shoot lasers and uses the girls as target practice.
The plague is worse than the one you might already be familiar with — the B one. Bubonic, that is.
In the intro, the narrator talked like the reader was one of the many inhabitants of Modelland. Now, the reader is being addressed like they are unfamiliar with Modelland. Who is the narrator supposed to be talking to?
Is the narrator schizophrenic?
. . .
Holy crap, the narrator is Lizzie.
[Bubonic] plague induces seizures, fevers, chills, gland swelling, the upchucking of blood, and the decomposition of skin while one is still alive. But I will take the bubonic plague any day — for if it's caught in time, it can be outed from the body with a simple swallow of one of the two "mycins": genta or strepto.
Gentamicin and Streptomycin aren't taken orally. They're given by IV or injected into the muscle. And even with treatment the mortality rate is still 1-15% (without treatment, it's a whopping 50-90% mortality rate). That's not being "outed by a simple swallow." It took less than 2 minutes on Wikipedia for me to learn this. However, I'm in a good mood, so I won't call this a blatant mistake. (She did
get the drugs names and symptoms of the plague right.)
We're told the reason that the "Pilgrim Plague" is worse than the bubonic is that 100% of the girls who go insane and try to reach Modelland on their own die.
Bubonic plague has killed millions throughout history. And we are being told that the greater tragedy is that a handful of girls who (essentially) commit suicide over losing a modelling competition. Sure, it's awful that the girls are dying, but methinks the narrator lacks perspective.
Now, doesn't that send Shivera shivers all the way down to your sky-high stilettos?
No. No, it doesn't.
The narrator wanders off.
The De La Crème's arrive at LaDorno, and we get to see another display of Ci~L stuff.
The ravishing Intoxibella's intoxicating eyes entranced Tookie, pulling her in.
The superfluous narrated narrative disgusted Lady Momus, sickening her. I have Old Shame
fanfics that have better worded than this!
Tookie sees a guy selling Exodus handbags and feels guilty. Not that it makes her do
anything. Poor Lizzie. She deserves a better friend than Tookie.
Amazingly, there are actually some protesters at T-DOD.
WOMEN, DON'T WALK! IT'S ALL A SCAM! T-DOD'S A CROCK. A PHONY EXAM!
That's what I've
been saying. Nice to now some sane people do exist in this book.
We get a long, long list of the types of girls who are there (homely, riveting, short and tall, etc.).
Tookie's mother helps Myrracle put on make-up in the car, reminding her that she has to walk and not dance. Mr. De La Crème then narrowly beats another car into a handicapped spot. I think this is supposed to make him look like a jerk, but I'm pretty sure that missing an eye is a legitimate handicap.
There are video screens showing "approximately one thousand other cities" all over the world that are also participating in T-DOD. This makes me feel sorry for the people in time zones where it's the middle of the night.
One screen showed girls standing atop a frozen lake in the town of Palinian. Others displayed candidates milling excitedly in a cleared-out sugarcane field in Kwaito, pelt-wearing leaders dancing ceremonially around them. A third depicted a massive crowd of young ladies gathered around an auto racetrack in the city of FiveHundred.
With all the stereotypes running around, I wouldn't be surprised to see Apache Chief or Black Vulcan.
Three obelisks randomly appeared in front of the mountain six months ago. One if ivory, one is gold, and one is covered with spots. They've been dubbed the Obscure Obelisks.
Mrs. De La Crème calls them ugly.
I don't think they're ugly. Tookie gazed at them in wonder. I think they're architecturally interesting. Unique. A mystery.
Since Tookie is the main character, she's probably right.
Then a bunch of underage girls start stripping in public.
I'm completely serious.
Most of the girls were changing in the open, their body parts exposed for all to see.
And this is being broadcast worldwide! (And you thought showers in gym class were embarrassing!)
Thankfully, Mr. De La Crème brought a tent for Myrracle to change in, so she's not forced to expose herself to the world.
Mrs. De La Crème opens Tookie's bag. You'd think this would blow Tookie's cover, since she'd been packing to run away. You'd be over-estimating Creamy's intelligence, though.
"The pillows are perfect for Bellissima to nap on. And ... green bananas ... Tookie, you didn't!"
Those bananas? They were supposed to feed Tookie and Lizzie for a week. Considering that the two have been planning this for months or years, you think they'd be better prepared.
Tookie helps fasten Myrracle's dress, which has hundreds of buttons on the bodice. Tookie tries to talk to her mother, in hopes of not
being sent to work as slave labor in the factories.
"Tookie, your father has made some hard decisions, but he is my husband, and I have to honor them."
Oh, please. Don't do this blame-shifting BS. You don't give a damn about Tookie or anyone but yourself. Even your obsession with Myrracle is just a way of vicariously living through her.
The SMIZE sucked onto Myrracle's face, wiggling itself into place, and rested above her eyes, its undulating colors creating the most magnificent eye-shadow effect Tookie had ever seen. Tookie resisted the overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke the SMIZE.
My precious . . .
Myrracle was a stunning girl, but the SMIZE made her beauty otherworldly. A smidgeon more stunning than the 7Sevens Tookie had seen the night before.
Mayor Devin Rump the Sixth begins talking in order to stall and make us wait until next chapter for T-DOD to start. (Tyra has to get this book to 576 pages somehow!)
Members of the Quadrant Councils of Peppertown, PitterPatter, Shivera, and LaDorno and their spouses stood on the side stage. Each councilmember's wife was decked out in the products his quadrant's factories were famous for.
Why is it that everyone we see in a position of power is male? Is there some rule in Modelland that women can't have any power unless they're pretty enough to be supermodels?
During the mayor's speech, Myrracle nervously asks Tookie if she looks okay.
Tookie looked at her sister, suddenly feeling a protective and loving rush. It wasn't Myrracle's fault their parents were horrible people. Myrracle might not have been the best sibling, but she was all Tookie had.
Aw. That's sweet. Shame we couldn't have focused this chapter on Tookie and Myrracle's relationship instead of this T-DOD preparation nonsense.
More speech to fill up the pages, and then fireworks are set off behind the mayor.
: After 8 chapters of build-up, we finally get to T-DOD. Will Myrracle go to Modelland? Will Tookie finally develop a backbone? Will the story continue to have more padding than Dragon Ball Z
Tune in to the next exciting episode of Modelland: A Blind Sporking
to find out!
I hate it most when a terrible story shows tiny signs of being good, like with that small tidbit of a relationship between Myrracle and Tookie. I just reminds me that even a blindingly stupid story like this could be passable if the author gave a damn.