Short Story: The Hunger Pangs (Part Two)

For those who missed it last time, read Part One of this parody written by a student.

And now ...

Part Two: Oooh! Burn!

I’m whisked off to the Crapitol with Pita (a.k.a. Justin). I wear a Hamburjay pin that the mayor’s daughter, Padge, gave me as a token. Right now, we are getting prepared for the fashion show part of the Hunger Pangs. It’s a preliminary event where we have a chance to garner support from the audience. So we must dress to impress. District 12’s stylist, Cinnamon, along with his three assistants, Larry, Moe, and Curly, come in.

“Hello, we are your stylists, and I assume you two are my contestants?” Cinnamon asks.

Pita croons, “And I’ma be your one guy, you—”

“If you say I’m going to be your number one girl, you’re dead meat,” I warn Pita. “But yes, Cinnamon, we’re your contestants.”

“Great! So, I was thinking. District 12 is all about coal, right?” Pita and I nod. “So, I was going to set you two on fire!”

“We can’t go nowhere but up from here!” Pita sings. I roll my eyes.

“That’s what I was thinking, too!” Cinnamon exclaims. “What about you, Katnip? Do you approve?”

“Why not?” I give in to his plan. Pita resumes singing his Justin Bieber songs.

“He even looks like Justin Bieber!” Cinnamon notices. I agree; Pita does look like Justin with his mop-top but he has blue eyes and Justin has brown. If he wasn’t so annoying, I might actually like him.

***

The fashion show is later that night. Pita has a black suit and I a black dress. Both doused in gasoline. Cinnamon assured us the flames wouldn’t hurt us when he lights us on fire. I look at the other contestants’ outfits. District 4 has kiddie pools circling their waists. District 3 has matching Herbie costumes. The District 2 contestants look like two rubies; even the guy is wearing red lipstick. District 11’s contestants having matching apple tree costumes. Pita and I will totally kill these people. Each district marches on the stage, and finally, District 12 is called. We are always last. Cinnamon strikes a match and sets us on fire.

“Pita, do you feel hot?”

“You’re the coolest girl I know!” Pita belts out.

“I don’t feel really cool now.” Sweat beads on my forehead. People cheer for us as we float onstage. “Okay, now it hurts,” I exclaim. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Pita is screaming as well. I search for a source of water and head straight for District 4’s costumes. I jump at their waists into one of their kiddie pools. Ahhh. I feel so much better.

“Thank you,” I say to the shocked girl from District 4. Pita is still on the stage flapping his arms like he has wings. “Pita, you dolt! Come over here!”

“I’m coming for you!” Pita sings/screams. He jumps into the other contestant’s pool.

“Oooh! Burn!” the girl says, but then the audience starts clapping. Pita and I get out and bow. I’m going to kill Cinnamon for this. What if those Crapitol idiots actually figure out it wasn’t an act? Pita and I would be so dead. The good news is that we had extra layers under our costumes so we didn’t get burned badly; it just felt like a sunburn.


* * * * *

Next time ... Part Three: William Tell.