Monday Night

Monday Night
The thumping base of happy hardcore fills the apartment. Three girls sit in a circle and a cloud of smoke circles above their heads which bob in time to the music. “I know this pretty rave girl, always think about her, and when she say I do me I feel her go right through me” the girls sing in a wonderfully enthusiastic, yet off key chorus. The loudest of the three is Maggie. Maggie is in her early twenties, but constantly exudes the persona of a young child in a candy store, yet she can be serious at times. These time are just very few and very far between.
All her life, Maggie has found outlets of “not seriousness”. When Maggie was younger this manifested itself in theatre. In Theatre Maggie was able to be weirder than ever, which was done to the sounds of laughter, applause, and on occasion, crickets. One such occasion was when she played the part of a not only a talking, but a singing and dancing pea. There really is nothing funnier than a 5’7” tall girl painted green, wearing what looked a humongous green sparkly ball, with a green bowler perched atop her head, to top it all off.
In theatre Maggie had some of her most loved memories, but all good things must come to an end. And after doing back to back shows for over three years, and being a part of theatre since she was four, Maggie stopped completely, and has not preformed in a show since. Surprisingly this does not depress Maggie, for theatre people are mean and obnoxiously competitive. It has been like a vacation for Maggie not to be surrounded by so many high-strung, diet soda drinking, shit talking carb watching, yet still lovable theatre people.
“Here Mag’s”, Brittany, the redheaded girl to the right of Maggie says as she exhales. A huge goofy smile spreads across Maggie’s face, “Thank you”, Maggie says as she comes out of her techno dance zone. Brittany leans back and brushes her freckled arm against, a fading brown button that has been carelessly tossed on the couch. It is covered with a light smattering of condiments, and a lovely dusting of lint. The shirt looks as if it were designed for a fancy safari, including gorgeous pleated breast pockets. Above the right pocket the word, “Zinburger” is embroidered in a once white thread that has dulled with time.
Zinburger, a burger and wine restaurant sunk their claws into Maggie over a year ago. Since then Maggie has gone through extensive brainwashing, all basically boiling down to “its not only okay to bend over and take it, but you should like it.” Even though Zinburger is slightly pretentious Maggie really enjoys her job. At Zinburger Maggie is not only allowed to make crude jokes, be loud, and incredibly goofy, but encouraged to do so. Daily Maggie and the cooks exchange a witty banter of insults, flirtation and “children cover your ears” kind of jokes.
The sound of smokers cough fills the air and through gasps Maggie says, “Here James”, to the girl on her left. After Maggie has regained her breath and quenched her considerable thirst she leans against her apartment wall and smiles that goofy smile.