The Hunger Games (Writing Contest) [CLOSED]

Asher Lamping-Interview

Before I write anything further, I just want to make sure you know that "this" contained a dark grey jacket with a black dress shirt and dress pants. The belt was orange. Then there was the bloody tie, which was also orange. I'll describe the outfit better in a minute. I just want to give you an idea.

"I don't wanna wear this!" I all but shrieked. 

It was a manly shriek, mind you. It was so manly, it shouldn't really be classified at a shriek, really. It was a masculine shout. A totally tough war cry. No, wait, I screamed in my head. No! No, I didn't scream! I calmly said that. Yeah! I was so calm. Calm like the ocean. Wait! Not calm like the ocean! I was, uh, relaxed. Yeah, relaxed! That's what it was. I was as relaxed as a taunt string. Wait, no. Just... forget I said anything.

(My mind told me to say I had lost it. I did NOT lose it. Ever heard the saying "You've lost your marbles"? All my marbles are carefully arranged in the marble bag my mind currently has possession of. I am sane and in control of myself. For the most part.)

Let me rant about the tie though. This particular tie, okay, was on a murder mission. Like, this tie had obviously killed before by the way it effectively held me in a chokehold. I want to know who else this mafia tie had attacked, honestly. When I finally run out of breath, I want my gravestone to say "beware the serial killer tie who kills awesome kings of the universe, like Asher Lamping, who lies here with no neck because the same damn tie crushed it brutally and who was the best king of the universe and oh, Asher, there was never a better king of the universe, we all hail the late king of the universe". Every single word of that. If it's not on there, I'll come back from the dead, with or without a neck, and personally carve it myself. Or wring the neck of whoever should've put that on there. This is all I want in life. Or is it death? Now I'm confused. 

Unfortunately, I managed to undo the knot before I passed out, so no fancy gravestone for me. 

At least the last thing I would've seen had I actually died would've been a handsome young man. Did I forget to mention I was standing in front of the mirror? 

I have to admit, the outfit really did suit me. Get it? 'Cause there was a suit jacket? Aw, c'mon! That was totally funny.

The jacket could be worn like an actual jacket, slung lazily across the shoulder, or not at all. We (my designer and prep team) decided across the shoulder. The look we (they) were going for was casual and comfortable and like a bad boy who doesn't have a care, who knows he's attractive but won't say it in your face. 

They also put a streak of orange in my fringe and that along with the tie made my violet eyes pop. The orange belt was to make me look a little less tall. When someone's eyes travel up and down you, they'll stop on an adornment or bright color that grabs attention, thus breaking the flow and you suddenly seem a little shorter then if you were in something without flashy colors. 

The black pants were tighter then normal dress pants. My designer assured me that this was not to show off anything other then my long legs, which are apparently one of my better features. So I got to seem less long and gangly while also keeping my good looking legs. 

The shirt was long sleeved, but it did nothing to hide lean muscles in my arms and chest from working at the docks. My stomach muscles didn't get the same attention but I'll comfort them later. 

While I do admit I was a hot sight, I'll also admit I was hot. As in "omg it's so hot in here, I might actually start stripping right here, right now because I'm sweating so much" hot. You should feel lucky, ladies. I went through torture so you could swoon. You're welcome. 

"I'd rather wear Nikaya's dress!" I said. "At least then I'd get a breeze where it's needed!" I added, gesturing at my thighs.

My designer stared at me, a creepy smile spreading slowly across her face. The prep team were catching on and their grins were almost contagious.