A Room with a View

Selection

By working in a prestigious international school that has gained an alarming surge of popularity between the upper and middle classes of my humble southern home, I am able to observe the oddest specimens of man/child and pointed toe pubescent mothers. The hours i work  in front of a computer screen double checking applications and attached documents in the admissions office takes a turn for the bizarre due to the fact that this sector is adjoined to the primary office where the evaluations take place. The postulants breeze through the doors dressed in over-priced baby couture with their reptile companions and long blonde haired barbie dolls, the living representation of such artifacts come behind them in miniscule steps. Pony hair mothers with sleek manes ready to be on show tip toe in Christian Louboutin heels to their child’s 8am appointment- they are packed in tight to secure minimal breathing and accentuation of their post-baby body curves. Some exude an infinite amount of glamor, where as others cringe of desperation only the tight gripped forehead of Nicole Kidman could know. Perfumes smelling of lilacs, lilies and roses, the musky husk of men’s cologne all swirl by polluting the air with desperation masked as a French flower field in May. Children throw tantrums at the mere tasks of having to select a sticker or a rubber farm animal figure, the selection process is too daunting the pressure has accumulated and perhaps they feel that this too is part of their selection process…

“If he picks the pig he’s a damn fool!”

Fists of fury pound the ground, a shrilling cry brakes the barrier of sound.

Good God…when is it lunch time?