“Mug look look! Do you like my eyebrows?! It’s taken me 2 hours to get them even!”
Mug knew the right answer to this, for she had followed teenage make-up faux pas’ since SBB had greeted her one morning with eye lashes that looked like tarantula legs on steroids or a potato that had gone to seed. The rights of passage had meant that SBB handed her shit make-up baton down to Leroy who also caked her eye lashes AND troweled the foundation on – including on her lips – and ‘set it’ with hairspray. Mug wondered how they managed to open their eyes and whether they would develop muscles in their eyelids strong enough to pull a lorry, which would win them a place in the Guinness Book of World records and if so, at least there was an obvious purpose to this black crusty eyed look. But these… these meaty arches which now greeted Mug, took trial and error to a whole new level. She knew Roo would grow out of excessive make up one day, but how many years of family and friend gatherings would she have to sit through where she would coo about how fabulous her monsters were, while these fucking ridiculous slugs were staring at everyone like the new elephants in the room? Would she have to call friends in advance and ask them to hide the salad in case these snack happy bad boys decided to feast on something other than Mug’s perception of what was beautiful and aesthetic? Would slug pellets work in ridding them?
“Mug – do you like them?!” asked Roo proudly, like she had sketched two little rainbows with the end of burnt matchsticks.
“I’m not really a fan of make-up” said Mug honestly “and you don’t need to wear a scrap of the stuff”
“OMG – you don’t like them?”
“I didn’t say that…I’m just saying that I love you the way you are. And anyway you mocked a girl who had eyebrows like this not long ago.”
“Yeah well I like them now.”
Mug was screwed. Roo had detected that Mug couldn’t stand them and this therefore meant one thing: that Roo must persist for at least two years in drawing these fuckers on to effortlessly piss Mug off daily. And so it was that this happened.
Mug dropped Roo at school and watched her meet her friends who all had an uncanny resemblance to each other, and as they walked off they merged into a Where’s Wally mass of long hair, orange faces, thick eye lashes and slug eyebrows. ‘Maybe they’re holding a Lettuce Festival?’ thought Mug. But Mug wasn’t sure. Maybe she just hadn’t received the email.
Eight months later after adopting these new eyebrows, Mug received an email asking students to stop bringing their slugs in, because the school was all out of salad… sorry: ‘apparently’ they had a no make-up policy. ‘How the fuck have they only JUST noticed that students are wearing make-up’ she thought. ‘Why have they allowed them to get used to slapping it on?’ She hoped they would ban it and tackle this school rule properly because this would shave off two hours of screaming that she’s ‘not going to school’ because they won’t go right. Alas the school didn’t pursue it and Mug had to wait the two years before Roo decided to value extra sleep over drawing garden pests on her face each morning.