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Wednesday's Child
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Wednesday's child is full of woe.
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CLAIRE
Gender: Girl
Origin: French and Latin
Meaning: Clear; bright; famous
While six-year-old Claire Lyons abided the excruciatingly long wait in front of the Minskoff Theatre Box Office by indulging herself with the nictating splendors and lambencies on the forty-fifth street of New York City, she was enlightened of the embodiment of theatricals, fancying herself on Broadway as Belle of Beauty and the Beast.
This exposure was further nurtured and nourished, sustained by her desires of debut and wistful hankerings for fame.
Claire Lyons would be clear, bright and famous.
--C--
Late night contemplating on the words to say
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When Judi Lyons relinquished her position as housewife and mother and stripped herself of her mediocre lifestyle, blights and banes plagued the Lyon's family—particularly Jay Lyons. His fascination with the euphoria, the paradise, that his escape provided for him fringed obsession; an addiction adjacent to his infatuation with television (Judi Johnson's Hollywood Juice). Worries and woes wane when Claire and Todd's worthless father is slouched on the stained carpet (for they had to auction their furniture in order to pay their bills) with a plastic cup of pale ale clenched in his fumbling hands, deploring his rampant state of mind. It's all Judi's fault. It's all Judi's fault. It's all Judi's fault. It's all Judi's fault.
It's all Judi's fault.
--C--
Got to set the record straight
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Because Jay is no longer the "conservative yet fun-loving BFF" (William) and Todd is "a son of a bitch" (Massie), the residents of the Block estate had concurred that they can no longer support the Lyons family (those who remain) physically, mentally, and financially.
However, William is willing to reimburse "the good years when you did so much for me, Jay" by bequeathing a foster address, subsidies for Octavian Day Country, and the love and affection America's most beloved sweetheart deserved.
--C--
I can't pretend I'm alright
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Derek Harrington and Massie Block are coddling and cosseting. His gropes under her lavender blouse and grazes behind her dangling amethyst earrings elicit the green monstrosity within you, but the jealousy dawdling beneath your delighted guise is discernible by only Claire who responds with a question about your summer escapades.
"How were the Bahamas, Danny?" A blatant blush blossoms like a bridal pink rose. "Was it extravagant? Did you meet any famous celebrities?"
She is stuttering and stammering, silently scuffling with the sobbing that will soon succeed. At times, Claire's endearment is excruciatingly exhausting to endure.
"I bet you meet celebrities every day," you mutter. You acknowledge the instance in which you were to suffer the remaining thirty minutes of Claire's hopeless attempts at flirting and she were to weep and wail because of your lack of attention, her petty friends would maim you (namely MASSIE). Whereupon, if you were to rebuff Claire's futile advances and she were to bawl and blubber, the Pretty Committee would luxate your ligaments anyways.
You choose the latter.
"I guess America's Hollywood Sweetheart isn't so sweet after all. I mean, that's why you were in this week's issue of People along with Conner Foley and the rest of his mates with a piece of cloth barely covering your thighs and breasts and a bottle of Bud Light?"
Claire trembles with trepidation, terror twisting her diction with hems and haws. "I-I-It wasn't really my fault—I'm serious! Abby suggested a b-birthday party for Conner and she said that I really needed to really 'loosen up, babe' but I…I told her that I couldn't because I really, really, really didn't—believe me, Danny!—want to with her and anyways I had to…"
The points of Massie's pomegranate nails crawl the length of Derek's toned-from-years-of-sports arm, fondling and fingering his taut muscles.
The green monstrosity rants and roars, ravaging all reasons not to rip Derek's straw mane from his dandruff-infested scalp. But you're Danny Robbins, invisible boy, so you interrupt Claire's raving rambling, instead, with an sensible subterfuge about pink lemonade.
Pink lemonade is your favorite. The sweet tang that impelled you to squeeze your eyes tight, tight, tight so flares and fusillades of color swaddled you in a sour stupor.
Pink lemonade is Claire's favorite as well, furthering heartening her hope—her destiny—of their Lovers in Paris romance.
--C--
I give into the night
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Everyone is enamored by the eulogized Massie, her elegance, extravagance and exquisiteness.
(Including Danny Robbins)
But Massie is an immature individual with no idiosyncrasy who idolizes icons like Aubrey Hepburn, Tinsley Carmichael and Blair Waldorf because she is insecure about her own identity.
(Claire knows)
--C--
She's got me on the edge, I'm slipping
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"Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Who do you like?"
"Promise you won't tell?"
"Is it Cam Fisher?"
"Promise not to tell?"
"Promise."
"Danny Robbins."
--C--
Try to look away
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Abby Boyd's Victoria Secret bra is suspended from the ebony tiles of the nightclub by Conner Foley's beer-drenched locks. Conner is sprawled upon the bar with Jim Bean, a martini and two tequilas. His girlfriend's Oscar de la Renta sheath is slouched underneath the many empty champagne flutes, crushed cans, and beer bottles. Claire's nervous eyes water with apprehension from the cigarette smoke. The mahogany bottles brimming with temptation manages to justify the morality of the situation.
Claire carouses, capers, cavorts with the Budweiser can.
Their crusade, conducted by seventeen-year-old Abby Boyd, is comprised of curves, curses, and careens whilst the passengers flounder in their euphoria.
Crash.
--C--
But she stares down inside me
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She's dead.
And it's your fault.
--C--
Wednesday's child is full of woe.
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If Danny Robbins had never exchanged three quarters for pink lemonade, would Claire's massive crush have been rekindled?
Would Claire have followed Danny around like a lovesick puppy?
Would Claire have fallen as far when she realized like everyone else, Danny is infatuated with Massie?
Would Claire have crawled back to her celebrity "friends"?
Would Claire have succumbed to alcohol?
Would Claire have been in the passenger seat while an intoxicated Abby drove?
Would their car still have crashed?
Would Claire still be dead?
If only Danny had never obtained a can of pink lemonade.
--A/N--
:)