Penelope Floofy escorted Kate Cameron to the door, mincing and tiptoeing between the shards of once-prized porcelain that carpeted the floor. Kate Cameron had calmed down and was back to her usual self: the picture of up-to-the-minute disdain.
As a servant held open the heavy gilded glass door, Kate Cameron tossed her head and announced flippantly, “So long, Penelope. Be sure to have my cosmetics ready by next Friday-” she looked at her designer watch “-at 4:43 at the absolute latest!”
“Yes, we shall be certain of that,” Floofy said grimly as she forced a so-called smile and saw a smugly swaggering Kate Cameron out the door, across the plush red carpet, and into the waiting black limousine.
“Absolutely certain,” she muttered to herself, and pounded up the velvet-covered stairway to her sister’s room.
She flung open the door to find her sister lounging on her eggshell-blue canopy bed holding a leisurely conversation with… someone? Floofy wasn’t sure who.
“Make sure I add enough garlic concentrate?” Fillafella was asking, idly twisting a few strands of her dark, curly hair. “Well, I have to admit, it’s always worked in my experience– and yours! Remember that time we gave Penelope our Eau d’Allium perfume?” she asked with an impish smile.
How could I forget? Penelope thought, irritated. And of course she’d be talking to that Marie LaPointe.
Marie LaPointe was one of Fillafella’s most intimate friends. She was a perfumer who designed celebrities’ signature fragrances – including those of Floofy and Fillafella!
Unfortunately for Floofy, she was also past mistress in the fine art of pranking, and whenever a particularly pungent prank was played, Penelope knew Marie LaPointe was at least partially to blame.
“Polly Fillafella!” she snapped. Her sister immediately sat bolt upright and dropped her phone in the process. “Oh! Sister! I was just-” Penelope strode up to her sister’s bedside and picked up the phone.
“Why, hello Marie! I’m afraid your conversation will have to wait. I need to have a little chat with Polly. Uh-huh,” Floofy answered smoothly, glaring at Fillafella the while. “Goodbye.”
She threw the phone at her sister (who caught it in one hand) and barked,“I need to know what in the universe you were thinking when you promised a whole new makeup collection to Kate Cameron!” Floofy thundered, emphasizing Oscar Martin’s spokeswoman’s name with two stomps of her cream-colored satin pumps.
Fillafella sprang off her bed to face her sister. “First of all, my dear Penelope, the reason I took it upon myself to promise Kate Cameron that cosmetic collection is because I have a very splendid plan– one that might just show Kate Cameron what we’re capable of. And the reason I was talking to Marie is because it involves a bit of pranking expertise.”
Floofy heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, what is your plan?” she snapped impatiently, tapping her toe on the marble tiles and stepping even closer to her sister.
“I’d love to hear your excuse for promising dozens of hours of hard work on my part making beauty products for Kate Cameron when all she wants is to steal the formulas of our cosmetics!”
Floofy’s face was bright red and she was breathing hard.
“If you would listen to me for just a moment, you might find out I never dreamed of giving Kate Cameron a set of our best makeup.”
Penelope raised her eyebrows and was just about to say that not only had Polly dreamed of it, she had actually done it, but her sister continued.
“What we’re going to give her is a set of our worst makeup: a sample of all those dreadful cosmetic catastrophes we’ve managed to cook up. Not anything dangerous, you understand, but decidedly unpleasant.”
“Why, you ask?” Fillafella went on, excitedly seizing Floofy by the shoulders. “Kate Cameron admitted she was looking to steal the formulas for our cosmetics! If we gave her our usual finest-quality products, she’d probably take samples of them and have them analyzed, thereby revealing all the secret ingredients in our winning products so Oscar Martin could use them in his horrifying excuses for beauty products.”
“But if we provide Kate Cameron with failures,” Fillafella continued animatedly, “she has one of two choices: making Oscar Martin’s products even worse than they already are by implementing our failures, or returning to Oscar Martin empty-handed!”
“Do you like the plan?” Fillafella asked.
“I have but two things to say, my dear sister,” Floofy said sternly, holding a finger imperiously in the air. Then she smiled radiantly.
“Firstly: you really are almost as fabulously amazing as I – your plan is genius. And secondly: let’s get to work!”
So they did.