Welcome to Fashion Vale {Welcome to Night Vale}

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

Mere seconds after Cecil had hung the phone back up into its holder attached to the wall, a quick knock was heard from the door. "Carlos, be a doll and get that for me." He ordered with a careless wave of his hand, walking gracefully to the opposite side of the room where a tall mirror stood with lights along its reflective perimeter. Cecil watched Carlos (who was opening the door as instructed) behind him through the mirror and pretended to adjust his highly fashionable deep purple scarf he had designed himself.

"Yes. Um.. Are you sure this is what I am supposed to be.. Modelling? I don't know, it just seems rather feminine. Okay. First day on the job, sorry. Okay. Thank you." Carlos closed the door holding a hanger in one hand, gulping as he turned to face Cecil. The outfit was wretched. Disgusting. Girly. Sparkly. Frilly. Purple. And it came with... Matching bedazzled high heels that looked disgusting and tightly uncomfortable.

One thing that every single being in the history of EVER knows, is that you are NOT supposed to wear tight short shorts with stilettos, no matter what the occasion. Especially if you are a man that hasn't shaved your legs in about, oh, I don't know... Ten years? No. That was a lie. YOU ARE A MAN, YOU DO NOT SHAVE YOUR LEGS. Ever. Unless that is the sort of thing you're into, then sure, go right ahead. No one is stopping you.

Carlos stared at Cecil in disbelief as he stepped out from behind a closed door moments later wearing the denim cut off shorts and a fear struck expression, "What are these??" He asked incredibly as Cecil nearly jumped up and down with happiness that was clearly shown through his face. "Oh, don't you just love them? Purple is, like, totally your colour, oh my god! They show off your legs magnifiquement!" He shrilled, gasping as he grabbed the heels and passed them over to Carlos with an unfading grin. "Put them on, I want to see!"

Carlos winced as he took the velvet purple shoes with diamonds on the toes and slid them onto his feet, standing in front of the mirror with terror in his eyes. Although, dear reader, it is impossible to deny that his legs looked pretty amazing...

"Oh... My.. You.. You are perfect! Just one tiny thing, you can't wear that shirt. It's all wrong. Wrong colour, style, design, blah-- just take it off and throw it in the bin where it will hopefully engulf into flames and reappear somewhere that is not here." Cecil said far too dramatically, checking his leather watch strapped to his wrist. Ten minutes.

"Oh no oh no oh no oh--.. Oh." When Cecil lifted his head after the nearly fourth "oh no" Carlos was shirtless. Shirtless, reader, SHIRTLESS. And not the gross kind of shirtless, the really awesome kind where muscles and stuff poke out of dudes arms and abdomen.

"Neat." Cecil said completely on accident, unsure of where the word came from.

"Neat?" He asked himself as he scurried to the side and grabbed a bottle of water, trying to get his attention off someplace else. For gods sake, the hottest guy in the world with the most perfect hair was standing in the same room as him wearing only stilettos and something that resembled a denim speedo! He had eight minutes. Time was ticking by fast.

Carlos was too busy looking his "outfit" over to realise Cecil's dark blush. It was terrible. Cecil whirled around on his heel to face him once more as he smiled and rubbed his hands together slowly, stepping up in front of his new model with the red fading from his cheeks. "Now, for your hair, I think we should--"

"Mr. Baldwin!" He was interrupted by the bloke on the other side of the door. Again.

"Dammit, Billy! What do you want now, I am busy, don't you know?" Cecil shouted as his arms hung down at his side and he turned to face the door.

"Well, it's just.. Time for Carlos to go on. One minute." Steve announced in an ashamed, quiet voice before quickly walking away.

Cecil glanced to the shining face of his watch before allowing his eyes to widen in alert as he gripped Carlos by the hand (completely on purpose) and pulled open the door to lead him out, "À l'étape!"

Which was French for... 'To the stage.'