QUARANFLING

_____ C A R S O N As I did my happy dance around the small open space, I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Bingo!" I couldn't care less about their glares or the perpetual scowl they cast my way whenever I looked around. I won bingo three times in a row, and they're just bitter over my fortune! "You're having a great day, Carson!" Mrs. Lowella sprung off her wheelchair in delight. I rushed up to her when I noticed her short ecstatic leaps; she may appear innocent and lovely, but she's actually quite dangerous. Also, she should not even be standing; her arthritic joints are hardly capable of supporting her body. "Mrs. Lowella, have a seat!" I laughed timidly at her. "Don't worry about me, sweetie! On my spare, I can still perform a small cha cha slide," She gave me a wink before carefully remounting her wheelchair. "You truly deserve a week in that nice hotel, honey, to unwind and forget about your worries. Congratulations on winning and defeating all of the bingo club's old geezers!" She teased my side with a friendly poke. "Stop!" I said with a knowing look. "These guys petitioned to have me kicked out of the bingo club already, remember?" I chuckled. "Oh, be quiet! They're simply envious of your beauty and youth, as well as your voluptuous seductive body—much as mine was when I was your age, if not sexier! " She performed her little shoulder dance while mockingly flipping her non-existent hair. "However, on a more serious note, sweetie, go ahead and take that voucher for yourself—DO NOT, under any circumstances, sell it or I will pinch your coochie lip!" That sounds quite gory. I winced at the strange imagination. "But—" "Nope! You've put in a lot of effort, dear. You deserve this. Have fun!" "Okay, okay, Mrs. Lowella. That's two bingo gatherings in which you'll be missing my attractive face." My shoulder nudges her. "I'll manage," she merely shrugged, casually returning to her bingo cards as the announcer seamlessly moved into another set of games with new prizes. _____ Cigale Hotel, the elegant cursive letters adorning the door greeted me. I snatched my baggage from the trunk and stomped my way to the lobby. I was initially scared to go on the fiery red carpeted floor, but I told myself to take a moment to savor the luxurious taste of victory before returning to my horrible and hectic existence. I am deserving of this... correct? Mentally, I swore at myself. Who am I to argue? I have the distinct impression that I have robbed a retirement home of a wonderful getaway in a seven-star hotel. Those senior citizens may have been cursing me restless. However, I trembled at the prospect of Mrs. Lowella pinching my—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Whatever. I confidently strode up to the cashier. "Please, if you could do me this one favor, it would mean the world to me. I am not interested in sharing a room with Dorothea Falcon. Transfer me to a different suite," As I approached the counter, a cold demanding but beautifully coated tone rang. Dorothea Falcon, perhaps? The lovely actress who portrayed Juliet flawlessly in one of Shakespeare's greatest masterpieces, Romeo and Juliet?! This gentleman may be insane for refusing to share a room with her! As a token of my appreciation, I would volunteer! This is some scrumptious gossip! Carson, snap out of it! It could be something else. Dorothea Falcon. Dorothea Falcon. "In fact, all of our suites are completely booked for the week." "Ah, f**k!" I made a sneering remark. What an obnoxious upper-class gentleman in his limited-edition Chanel logo tracksuit. Show off, tch. I licked my lips impatiently as I stood behind the raging madman, quietly waiting my turn with the voucher ticket securely clasped in one of my free hands and my bags clutched in the other. "I apologize in advance, Sir, but all of our suite rooms are reserved. If you truly wish to be transferred, please leave your phone number and I will contact you as soon as the reward booking is not used," She gave him an unaware flirtatious smile, subtly tucking an imaginary loose strand of hair behind her ear, despite the fact that her hair was perfectly styled to the nines with not a single strand out of place. I exhaled a sigh of relief when the man just scribbled his number on the piece of paper supplied to him, without any more protests. My legs are killing me, thank God. According to what I've heard, their supper buffet features lobsters! I unintentionally licked my lips and daydreamed about my future dinner plans until I missed an approaching asshole and he had to bump half of my body with his as he walked away without even apologizing for intentionally striking me. "Hello, good morning!" the same lady said as she flashed me her pearly white million-dollar smile, which I couldn't help but return. It was far too contagious, and she was rather attractive. "Hello, and a nice morning to you as well," I said reflexively as I put the voucher onto the counter top. She grabbed it immediately and verified its authenticity. "Give me a moment while I process your voucher, Ms..." she stammered. "Carson Conrad, I'm sorry," I said as I stopped chewing on my lips. I locked my gaze on my flip flops as I felt my fears rouse from their slumber. I'm not sure why I become clammy and uncomfortable every time I'm at a counter. My gaze moved over the floor as if it was the most fascinating object on the planet at the moment, until I noticed a shimmering chain dispersed across it. I quickly picked up the pieces and attempted to reassemble it, but noticed the lock was completely broken. "Hey, Carson?" The lady at the counter re-attracted my attention, and I immediately stuffed the broken bracelet into my pocket. I'm not attempting theft! I felt compelled to pick it up as it lay on the floor. "May I obtain a photo identification card provided by the government?" While I placed my passport on the counter top, she typed on her high-tech screen. She gave my photograph a brief scan, absorbing my details swiftly before softly resetting it on the counter. "This is your key for Room 4147, Carson. For ten days, you have exclusive use of the penthouse suite," she spoken professionally, as if the sentences had been rehearsed in her head. "P—Penthouse?" My voice trailed off. "Ten days?" What I was hearing astounded me. "You've made an error. I won this hotel coupon last week in a bingo game, and it stated that I'd be here for five days, costs paid," I corrected her calmly, but I was already panicking on the inside, reaching new heights of fear, worry, and anxiety. She took a double take on her screen monitor, "Indeed, that is true, but when I scanned the code on your voucher, the system indicates that you have ten days of hotel stay. Isn't this good news?" She brightened with the most animated expression I've ever seen on her. "You must be quite fortunate," she said with a wink. My brow furrows in bewilderment, but I offer her a sympathetic grin before collecting the key and waving her off. That was extremely strange, but at the very least it means I get to eat lobster for the next ten days, correct?! As I joyfully skipped to the elevator, a nasty smile gradually formed on my face. "Dinner for ten days with lobster!" In excitement, I yelped. The entire elevator travel took roughly three minutes, which was quite speedy given my floor's elevation. As I negotiated my way along the lengthy corridors lined with framed mirrors, I mentally chanted the room number 4147; it was actually frightening every time I assumed a corner turn was a mirror, only to be reflected with the heated mess that I am. After a few detours and superfluous prancing through the corridors, I found myself in front of the door with the etched numbers 4147. It's like having a home away from home. When I tapped the key card on the censor box, the door unlocked automatically. I burst through the open door with a thumping heart and did my happy dance fiercely. I tossed my baggage on the floor and moonwalked into the expansive and extravagantly beautiful living room with gold accents. The room was influenced by the Renaissance, which explains the grandiose elements on the walls and ceiling, which scream fortune, and are capped by an imperial neo-classic 18-light chandelier. This is remarkable! I feel like a f*****g princess—a modern-day princess, but still a princess! I cackled happily as I dashed across the tall rooms in search of a bathroom that ...lacked doors. It was wide open, easy-breezy open, and the first thing I noticed was the colossal golden oval bathtub large enough to fit a group of five–or a truckload of lucky charms. Personally, I'm rooting for the latter. "I'm going to put you to the test first!" I animatedly leapt in and pulled off my clothing, delighted to test the semi-pool of a bathtub. "That was refreshing," I thought to myself as I stood stark naked in front of the towel rack adjacent to the full-body mirror. I was tempted in striking a provocative pose in front of the mirror while naked—but I am far too mature for that. I fought against it and grabbed the freshly folded towel on the top rack, oblivious to the gigantic robe hanging on the wall. I could already tell it was going to be too large for me. If I attempted to wear it, it would morph into a gown with a few feet of train. I wrapped the towel around my body cautiously and slowly went into the living room, where I had dumped my suitcase. Each step became a puddle, and I made a mental note to wipe them afterwards. I sang softly to the music of LMFAO's Sexy and I know it, shrugging my shoulders as I danced to the beat. I took my rucksack, which I'd stuffed with my favorite items, and carried my favorite yellow sundress, twisting it around as I slid it over my body. "I am a mothafuckin princess!" I hissed in my best ogre impersonation voice. I was living life to the fullest, though, I made a mental note to organize my belongings in my other luggage once I'd clothed. Until I became aware of a distinct beeping noise emanating from the door. That was the first time I had a taste of death. I panicked and was unsure of which direction to choose until it was too late to move. A man entered, face to the floor, dragging mountains of bags behind him. Oh, f**k. f**k. f**k! I'm about to perish. These were my pitiful thoughts just moments before I discovered the intruder's identity.