IF ALLISON DIDN'T FIND a bathroom within T minus two minutes, it would be a disaster. A life ending, never show her face in public ever again disaster. She pulled on the hem of her formal black dress and ran, walked, around the massive coliseum feverishly searching for the girls room, while balancing in her ill advised four inch heels. The marble floors were so shiny Allison realized, she could put her makeup on by it. Frantic and starting to lose patience as well as her inhibitions, she glanced at the ocean crashing on the deserted beach a few feet to her right. It was night time, practically pitch black outside. No one would see her if she went on the beach, would they? As if being pulled by a magnetic force, Allison migrated towards the open air columns that led to the white sand beaches of the Cayman Islands. Soon, this torture could be all over if only..
“Don't even think about it.”
Allison gave her best friend Samantha a curt look and continued to drift towards the beach.
“Fine. Do what you want, but don't look to me for help when you stoop down and one of those tiny red crabs pinch you in your cooch--”
“Sam, shut up!” But it did the trick. The visual Sam gave her of a crab pinching her most sensitive area loosened the magnetism to the beach and Allison returned to the search for the little girls room at the coliseum; a massive and opulent structure designed for the get-togethers of the wealthiest people in the world.
“Yep, you'd never look at Joe's Crab Shack the same way again,” said Samantha, shaking her head and knitting her eye brows at the same time. Allison looked over and realized she'd reached her breaking point. If she laughed like she wanted to, all the primping she'd done hours before would be for naught. So, she kicked off her silver and black Kenneth Cole shoes, grabbed them and ran along the marble floors barefoot until she finally found it.
Allison slipped her shoes back on and she could have sworn she heard the theme song from Rocky as she entered the ladies room. Safe. Samantha came in a few seconds later, fixing her lip gloss while she waited. Allison appeared with a relieved look on her face.
“That was quick,” said Samantha. She didn't expect her friend to be finished so fast, with the way she was carrying on.
“All I had to do was pee.” Allison washed her hands, patted down her hair as the humidity made hundreds of tiny strands dance around as if they were injected with electricity atop her head.
“Sam, I should have worn my hair up. This humidity is wreaking havoc on my hair,” said Allison while walking out of the bathroom.
“Allison--”
“And why are these floors so slippery? You know I almost killed myself just now? What do they have, little oompa loompas spit shinning the floors every few hours? If I wasn't careful, I'd have slipped on the floor, my dress would have gone over my head and my jewels would be visible for all to see.--”
“Allison, calm down. Why do you always seem to over-react.”
“It's a conspiracy. They're trying to ruin me.”
Samantha laughed. “There's no you to ruin Kumquat. Before someone can ruin you, you have to have something to ruin.”
“I have plenty... Kiwi-”, but Allison had already lost. The game started around ten years ago when they became friends at RiverMont High School. Whenever either of them started behaving silly; either complaining a little too much, over-reacting, not reacting enough, or just being a total douche, the other one would call the other a Kumquat. No specific reason. The name sounded funny. Plus at fourteen, they could say Kumquat without getting in trouble and defend themselves by affirming that Kumquat was a fruit.
