Betty Box began her evening by first finding a frilly to wear over her freshly moisturized and opacity-reduced brown skin (tips on saturation). She thought the particular little magenta/purple she decided on complimented her favorite green foundation make up. From the frilly came, in her mind, the obvious addition of fish net stockings. At last, she was able to turn her attention to her face, already coated with her signature green foundation. "Ooo, la la, mon cherie! What do you think of this lip color?" A silent question to the mirror which Betty Box answered aloud, with relish, "Oh, yes, oui, oui! Paint those lips, and then attend to your eyes." Finally, coiffing her lovely hair, Betty Box proclaimed herself ready for a night of...nothing, at least, nothing until she applied her beauty mark, for she knew all men love beauty marks. (As her dresser, my challenge was to trust her judgement that all things would come together in the end.)
One interesting thing about Ms. Betty Box, aside from the fact that she is rather boxy, is that she happens to be the sister to the famous Betty Boop. Ms. Box, however, never quite got the hang of that "boop, boop, be doo" that helped make her sister such an entity, a female force to be reckoned with (I reckon). Of course, there is also the fact that Ms. Boop is simply endowed with assets lacking in Ms. Box, a fact that Betty Box hotly denies, though she suspiciously comforts herself with lots of chocolate, indeed, has a raging love/hate relationship with the theobromide. Some have even conjectured that it is her fear of increased boxyness, aka, chocolate poundage, that causes her to hate poor "theo".
Ah, but we were discussing Ms. Box's preparations for her grand night out. The beauty mark perfectly applied, Ms. Box sashayed back and forth a few times, and then, grabbing her purse, off she went. (And now comes, likely, the most interesting thing about B. Box -- she has occasional visions of a maniacal chocolate bunny, a bunny which chases her demanding to be eaten. Funny as it is to hear, the visions always give her a frightful fright.) Off she went, into the night, out on the town. Some dinner, no dessert, some dancing, no date. Still, all was well, when, out of the corner of her eye, Ms. Box spotted the dreaded "Lapin de Chocolat". (I suspect her mind was working over the lack of dessert.) As is typical of her bunny spottings, "Lapin de Choc" gave her a toothy, menacing grin and commenced to running her down. The chase ensued. Betty Box's heart aleaped, her feet abounded, but, as fate sometimes has it, she got herself all stuckered up between a couple of innocently bystanding trees. (Her boxyness has always been a bit of a problem.) Just as "Lapin" was fixing to jump into Betty Box's screaming orifice, SPLAT! Fate, again, randomly caused Ms. Box's grief. From the heavens, or so it seemed to little Betty Box and her bunny, an orb of immense proportions dropped down on them, ending their little lives. It is only this narrator (suppose that's what I am) that knows what occurred, that this was all a rather ludicrous exploration in fear, fate and randomness, and what befell our unfortunate Betty Box and her imaginary enemy was merely a large bouncy ball.
Narrator's note: In the above diatribe, I believe five of the reflective essay questions are answered. Tools used on this project included the eye dropper, lasso, polygon lasso, paint bucket, opacity reduction, line, paint brush, rectangle/ellipse and...I can't remember the rest. Cheerio!
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