The Life and Death of Stacy III
By
Kristen Bealer
Stacy:
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of
And it抯 about time, because those
winter fashions did not go with my
skin tone.
Now is our hair extra luminous;
Our nails buffed to perfection;
Our outfits coordinated and slenderizing;
Our pores really tiny and cute,
But you can抰 see them, right?
Popularity has been our goal;
And now, instead of sitting around at home
Every weekend, like some kind of loser,
We have dates every single night and weekend
And even some weekday afternoons.
But I, that have a slight asymmetry in my shoulders
That is very painful for me even to mention;
I, that wore stretch pants and a slip dress,
And one time even that butterfly clip;
I, that get that look from Mom and everyone else
Whenever I say something stupid;
Mousy, stressed out, pushed around by everybody
Just because I抦 nice and say 揈ep!?a lot,
And that so timid and afraid to speak up
Even Mr. O扤eill thinks I have no spine;
Why, I, in this time of fashion and popularity,
Don抰 want to spend the rest of high school
As Sandi抯 sycoph梥eeco梥icka?o:p>
Kissing up to Sandi all the time.
And therefore, since Bret Strand never called,
And I thought he抎 ask me out again but he didn抰,
I am determined to be president of the Fashion Club,
And bring back long skirts, but not too long.
Plots have I laid, gossip scandalous,
By writing on bathroom stalls and passing notes,
To set my friend Quinn and the club president
To totally hate each other抯 guts.
And, if Sandi be as shallow and vain
As I am smart, two-faced, and sneaky,
This day should I tell everyone that Brooke
Said that
Quinn called Sandi an unfashionable bitch.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Quinn comes.