Her blood-red nails strummed rapidly against her expansive chin; powdered and overly made-up, her look created a reaction that encouraged others to stay away, thus creating yet another layer between her and the world around her. But what need did she really have for this world? It's not where she belonged; she resided here to find the acceptance she could never obtain from her own people and to defeat the nemesis that refused to be destroyed.
Thus she struggled to fit in: the surroundings, the industry, and chiefly, her skin. She was bothered this night and you could tell. Her glare could melt the flesh of another if she didn't break away her gaze. How tempted she was to unleash that power on the twit that just took her trophy. She felt the rumbling in her stomach; a hunger that had been fed a steady diet of gin and regrets all-night, tempered only by the bitter salty tears that she drank in to quench her thirst and quell her appetite. She was hungry for revenge- she didn't like people taking what she thought was rightfully hers.
With the commercial break over and the audience beckoning, she began the transformation, shifting her shape to fit the image they all still saw, the image she believed would get her the reward she sought, the Grammy. But the spell was breaking, more of her true self was showing, she hoped they'd all just chalk it up to weight gain... Ursula (queen of the world under the sea) once again transfigured into Mariah.
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