The queen of Mud Hill

The Queen of Mud Hill

Sophia Gertrudis, tall, strong and seemingly rearing to go, smiled the smile of a thousand forbidden liasons as she started the lottery machine. From till to television in a year, although disappointment in her glittering eyes was very clear. Now the host ,of a crappy midnight scheduled bingo game, Rollerball 2000, Sophia felt she deserved better.The rollerskates were cheap crap and the pigtales made her look like some sot of unpleasant erotic Alice in Wonderland. She hadn't spent half her winning money on new tits and a lot of coke, to end up, at most, the fantasy wank of the super noodle brigade. The way things were going she wouldnt even be a fantasy wank any more, the show was doing badly and the pressure was on to encourage callers. It was hard to prosper amongst the talent of late night television, re-runs were her particular adversaries, Those so talented, as to be aired even after death.

Sophia got her break on reality television show 'Chihuahua Puppy Minders'. C.P.M. had been good to her, she'd triumphed by a long way with her cocktail of girl nextdoor looks, and because everytime she'd to perform a task she prescribed her little canine cutey with some of her own medication.Task's that tested physically were met with her dividing the dogs weight by hers, and then the coy administration of a diluted dosage of ritalin. For more submissive assignments, some ground up valium made little Pixie as easy to handle as the producer who got her the slot on BBD's Big Breakfast Bash.

Being the mixture of weathergirl, northern lass and working class hero, prospects were good. Perhaps she wasn't exactly a working class hero, she'd sort of fabricated her brothers heroin addiction, but she had seen him stoned so it was all illegal drug use, she consoled herself with such thoughts. As she pulled the final ball out of the rollermachine, she read out 32 without looking at the number, she'd remembered it from earlier's script, her memory was getting better she concluded. The winner rang in, a Stephen from Ipswich, no doubt watching half to win, half to gain some sexual pleasure from her latex dress. She took solace in letting out a silent fart while talking to him, wishing he could be disturbed by the unpleasentness of her protien only diet.

After he hung up, she concluded with the atypical plastic courtesies, leaning forward to show a little cleavage as she'd been instructed to do, by the BBF producers. It was the small detail's that'd win the audience, they claimed,she thought this rich considering her enhanced size. The runner, Adele ,once again had forgotten to have her requisite cup of latte extra light, ready after the show. Fucking ugly loser! To think she even was in the same room as a camera made Sophia physically sick, yuck.

'Put down that fucking book and get Sophia her Coffee'. John the producer yelled
You'll soon be reading the Catcher in the Rye in the dole queue if you put sugar in it, SPLENDA!!!.I don't want to have hips like yours, you butterball', followed Sophia.

Sophia, grabbing the hot coffee, sending splashes onto Adele. Smirking, she put the cup to her mouth and looked her up and down. Sophia, was going clubbing, VIP room in Vapour and the chance to let her hair down, Adele looked a mess as usual, destined to be alone,the thought warmed her as she turned her back to the little toad.

Alone in her dressing room, she prepared herself for the night, the coke kept her weight down, I couldnt fit in this otherwise she thought, sniffing , as she looked lustfully at herself in the mirror. Eventually the taxi arrived at Muddlestone Hill studios, she brazenly eyed down the cab driver, who was unexplainably 2 minutes late.As she arrived at Vapour, heals, sequins and sex on show, the humdrum of everyday becoming a evermore blarry, buzzy, fuzzy memory as free champagne and cheap coke combined.

Numb to most negatives she did realise the lack of network folk around, however this could be overlooked after 2 grams of coke, more expensive polish than that used for the crown jewels, she assured herself. John Vacquez, the clubs manager had made it aware to her she could get more if she needed it, this mean't having to go downstairs amongst the maddening sweating plebs, a thought she didn't relish in the least. Polishing off her wrap she gained the composure and energy to fetch her bounty.
Walking amongst the ugly and vacous of mind she opened her eyes to see Adele, eyes closed, trotting around, in some sort of supposed dance,amongst the neon and unnotable.
'Any coke Adele'
What!
Dumb bitch,she thought as she felt a tight rising feeling in he chest with the stress of having to repeat herself.
'Coke........, do you have any coke to give me?'
Initially looking vacant, she then suprised Sophia, with a strong yes. This was the only time Sophia had ever seen Adele be firm whilst saying anything, usually a meek little piggy this was a change. Sophia felt that a trip to the ladies might allow her to impart some positive constructive info to this stagnant little twerp. After all she was Sophia Gertrudis, winner of 'Chihuahua Puppy Minders' and prodigious new presenter on BBF and had risen from the working class to fame with ease, talented, beautiful, succ.......
The bang of the cubicle door, sobering her with anticipation, as the thumping of the music smothered slightly.
'You really have to be a stronger woman in the studio Adele, most women in entertainment have to try use your strengths physically, but I should think your more of a brain'
Grabbing the baggy from Adele, she lined up a thick one with her Harrod's platinum card. Hoovering it up her nose, with a slight snorting sound, it hit her immediatly, it felt good, in fact it felt fucking fantastic. Looking at Adele she felt a mixture of pity and humour. Stupid bitch was still trying to rack up a line with her nervy shaking hands. She had every right to be anxious, little go between, she was a stain on Sophia's night, she put her hand on the latch to open it........... blood,
She looked at the back of her hand, wiping her nose had left a blackish smear of blood on her backhand, weakening knee's, gasping and only getting a slight breath. Bursting and falling unbalanced out of the cubicle, confronted with her bulging eyes and blueing face she grabbed onto the floating shelf near the black bitch, heavy on her knee's, it collapsed, as did she and the tip plate in a lump, covered in pity pennies she thought. On the floor, in spasm, briefly, then motionless eyes open on the floor. Adele's face over her,the only thing in focus as blurs of women ran in what seemed like slow motion amongst buzzing lights and the thump of the music, with all this happening , a consentious looking Adele said
'Sorry I couldnt find the Splenda, but I thought a sprinkle of rat poison would do the trick'.