Goldilocks and the British Accent

17 | Liar liar.

Goldilocks 🚺

"I'm Rick O'Malley and I can tell you confidently that everything Mrs Victoria has said is false," he says, a cool demeanour on his face.

The auditorium is still silent and the air is tense. Maybe everything about Rick was a lie but the fear he instilled was undeniably true. He hadn't even said much and the audience was already overcome with anxiety. I had to give it to him, he was a good antagonist.

"I did post those pictures," he continues, staring into the crowd, "but not for the purpose of paralyzing Mrs Victoria's campaign. Not that it wasn't already paralyzed," he chuckles and some members of the audience follow suit.

"I posted those pictures to show Canada how... incompetent Mrs Victoria is. She can't control her family and as you can see," he points at her dress, "she can't control her own wardrobe. How much more a country?"

The audience begins to mumble here and there and I shake my head. The phoney audience couldn't even make up their minds. One minute, they're supporting Mom, the next they're sucking up to a tyrant.

Rick smiles, obviously content at the audience's change of attitude. He leans towards the microphone. "Now what if I tell you that I didn't post all the pictures? What if I tell you that those pictures and videos you saw were only the tip of the iceberg that is Mrs Victoria's campaign?"

He reaches under the podium and pulls out a laptop. A cord connects the laptop to the projector. "When I was putting out these videos on the internet, I saved some of them," he pats the laptop and smiles at it, like it's his key to victory. "This laptop contains the ugly truth. It contains the videos I didn't post."

At that moment, it was like my heart had finally given up. Inner goldilocks had also given up. She couldn't even find it in herself to behave irrationally or feel sad or feel anything at all. Somewhere down, she knew this day would come. This was her reckoning.

"Remember what I said," Theodore whispers softly beside me, "hold on and trust me."

I sigh inaudibly. I couldn't even trust myself.

Mom stares at Rick, a slight frown on her face. I can see her confidence beginning to waiver.

Rick looks up at the crowd and smiles, his finger hovering over a button on the laptop. "I believe after this video, we should all know who Canada's next prime minister should be," he says before bringing his finger down on the button.

The projector immediately beams a light at the white screen at the front of the auditorium. I take in a breath as the video begins to play.

The first thing I notice about the video is that it's black and white and that it's slightly unclear, like that of a street camera's.

The second thing I notice about the video is that the figure at the centre is not me.

I squint to get a better view. The figure is short and bald. The figure is not even female.

The real shock hits me when the figure turns around and I realise that the figure is in fact Rick O'Malley himself.

"What?"

It was the only word I could think of and as I scan the faces in the audience, I can see that they are just as confused as I am. Even Rick doesn't seem to understand what is going on.

In the video, Rick along with five other people are walking down a pavement. They all seem to be laughing. It takes me a few seconds but I finally realise that he's drunk. His strides are lousy and there's an empty bottle in his hand.