Start the adventure. (Go to ¶ 1.)

What Are You Doing?

Don’t just go onto the next sentence: when you see that pilcrow sign (“¶”), you need to make a choice or start over! Otherwise, everything will be ruined forever. Use the undo ability to go back to the previous paragraph: this time, follow the directions and everything will be perfect. You can also just follow this sign instead: 

No problem, I got this, let me try again. (Go to ¶ 1.)

Are You Serious?

I told you not to go to the next sentence and you did it anyway? Fine, whatever! Ignore my instructions to follow signs and just flip this part linearly. See if I care. 

You know, it’s not too late. You can still start over and do this correct. 

Okay, let me take it from the top. (Go to ¶ 1.)

Why are you doing this? I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove. 

Please. You can still make this right:

Alright, alright. I’ll start over. I have it within me to understand how to follow directions. I promise. (Go to ¶ 1.) 

Everyone, hey! This person totally sucks at following directions! Ha! It’s totally true! Everyone, make fun of the person reading this sentence right now. And continue doing so for many, many years to come. Thanks in advance. 

¶ 1. As we know by now, art is well known for borrowing from an existing ideal. Turns out, there are rewards for sticking to tried-and-true form. When Mattel realized sales of Barbie dolls had declined sharply in the 2010s, the manufacturer had a choice: it could make a new toy or stick with its established ideal. As we know, Mattel reported an almost billion-dollar increase over 2017 Barbie sales in 2020, which was its best Barbie sales growth in twenty years. 

Barbie and/or Ken is an ideal presented here through poses, unaltered from the original standards set forth by Venus de Milo and/or David. However, those are not the only ideal ends in this story, and honestly, a lot of the others are way better. Feel free to explore your options as there are dozens of outcomes contained within this section. Prepare to pose your own adventure. Strap in the front car. If you are the type to wear your heart on a sleeve, stow it here for safekeeping now, along with hats, sunglasses and loose change. Too late: this emotional roller coaster just got started. Whoa! This is going to be loopy!

So, intelligent and astute reader, what would you like to do now? 

Get the lesson spoiled right off the bat. (Go to ¶ 3.)

Start the story. (Go to ¶ 4.)

¶ 2. The only possible explanation for you reading these words is that somehow you ignored all the very clear instructions to make a choice and that somehow, again, you thought this was a boring, old textbook where you’d sit back and simply go through the pages without a choice. This is not such a story. You promise to go back and try harder this time? You swear it? Alright, I believe in you. Go do that then. I don’t want to see you wandering back here again!

Try again. (Go to ¶ 1.)

¶ 3. Ha, right! No need to experience the story as it unfolds. I’ll tell you straightaway how the lesson ends. That’s way more fun and definitely how stories are meant to be experienced! Here’s your spoiler: 

A campus jock, super bro Ken met Barbie on the set of a television commercial in 1961. Life would be peaches and cream for the dollface couple. He served in several branches of the military and worked a series of odd-jobs as a cowboy, lifeguard, soda jerk, pizza delivery guy, and hairstylist to support Barbie financially and emotionally as she acquired all the advanced degrees needed to hold various well- and high-heeled positions. She broke through the plastic ceiling en route to the moon in 1965—four years before Neil Armstrong. Since then, she’s practiced medicine, became an engineer, geologist, paleontologist, even a rockstar. The love birds decided to split up in 2004 for reasons Ken told Greenpeace: Barbie’s corporate supply chains aided deforestation of Indonesian rainforests and peatlands native to the endangered Sumatran tiger. (You can check out Ken’s tell-all video here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Txa-XcrVpvQ.) By the way, as long as we’re on the topic of spoilers, Darth Vader is Luke’s father; also, Verbal is Kaiser Söze.

You’re lucky the Ken-Barbie story is only an ideal expectation and not reality. Well, I guess that’s check and mate, narratively disinclined reader. Looks like you still have to read the lesson. All you really learned is that despite all their seeming perfection Ken and Barbie divorce, which was statistically likely to happen anyway. They are plastic and fake, after all. The reality might seem less peachy keen at first blush and turn out happier in the end, or not. Let’s see if you can make it happen. 

Start the story. (Go to ¶ 4.)

¶ 4 Choose your character. Are you a:

Barbie? Ideally, but not really. Princesses in real life have a one-up on Barbie. The princessly tradeoff gives up free spiritedness for royal birthrights, which is perfect for one who’s a dainty blossom as easily bruised as a peach. Nah, I’m just kidding, like when you tell shorter guys to go stand atop a mushroom. This Princess is actually super ripped, and her six interests are muscles, boys, getting muscles, getting boys, kissing her own muscles and kissing boys. The downside is that Princess’ parents micromanage her life. 

Party Pooper? Lol. Wow. There’s a bunch of nice pictures you can look at while you wait for everyone else to finish reading this section. Turn to the cover and back. The end.

Pose as Princess. (Go to ¶ 5.)

Learn more about the meaning of poses. (Go to ¶ 34.)

¶ 5. You are Princess! Right now, you’re sitting in your bedroom chatting with your bestie, Toad. (Yes, his name is Toad, as in toadstool, and he is short). Don’t judge, Princess. It’s not like you haven’t kissed a few frogs in hope of finding a prince. 

Anyway, it’s 10:15 a.m. and your bestie, Toad, leaves you because he has things to do, among them getting this house ready for the crazy party your parents are throwing tonight. Who throws a crazy party on a Tuesday night? The leisure class, that’s who, among whom are your parents and their friends who don’t have to work. You have things to do too Princess. You get in a quick workout, three sets apiece of sit-ups, pushups and chin-ups, and you’re ready to start your day. What’s for breakfast?  

Ha! As if you had a choice. Your parents have planned out your whole day for weeks in advance. Mom messages you, “Breakfast is waiting downstairs.”

“Yes Mother,” you text automatically. (Go to ¶ 6.)

Snap some post-workout selfies. Breakfast can wait. (Go to ¶ 7.)

¶ 6. You scarf down breakfast, wiping your mouth with the back of a well-muscled arm, and you’re off to start your day! Time to grab this Tuesday by the horns and wrestle it into submission! Only at this point, your mom sticks her head in and says, “Princess, would you be a dear and clean your room?” “Yes Mother,” you say automatically. 

Go clean your room. (Go to ¶ 8.)

¶ 7. You’re grounded, but the photos you posted sure do look swell. More importantly, you learned dos and don’ts for fitness poses:  

  • Exercise beforehand. That way your muscles are swollen for an ideal snapshot.

  • Beware of lighting. Frontal lighting reflects the smoothest skin texture, which is no go for muscle tone. You need shadows to define shape. Overhead light is too harsh.

  • Sidewise lighting shows definition without overlong shadows cast over your face.

  • Capture poetry in motion. The simple interaction of posing with dumbbells, kettlebells, an exercise ball, yoga blocks or a jump rope will add captivating movement to make for an interesting photo composition.

  • Get physical. Poses requiring physicality (that’s balance, strength or flexibility) will also infer action. Assume the yoga tree, ashtanga sun salutation, or seated lotus pose in front of the camera; hold a sidearm plank, do a dip, pose in a ballerina arabesque or hold any ballet position (of foot/arm combo). The posing possibilities are limited only by the exercises and/or movements in your fitness routine.

The insight you gained from these pro tips is evident in your post-workout selfies, and the media uploads prove gainful, too. You get a DM from Bower’s Gym, offering sponsorship with pay for its “fitness collabo” with you. The owner wants to meet and confer in person! 

Go upstairs and clean your room as you were told. (Go to ¶ 8.)

Run past moms, tear out of the house, never look back. (Go to ¶ 9.)

¶ 8. You cleaned your room and shout downstairs, “I’m done cleaning, Mother!” She replies, “Good girl! Please sit there now and practice your postures until I call for you.”

“Yes Mother,” you say automatically. (Go to ¶ 14.)

Run downstairs past moms, tear out of the house, never look back. (Go to ¶ 9.)

¶ 9. You make a beeline for the front door without bothering to look back. Did moms see you? Don’t know, and don’t care; I can earn my own keep, you tell yourself, I’ll be an influencer for the gym, at first, then who knows where that’ll lead? Naturally, I mean, it’ll lead to fame and fortune, at least that’s the most probabilistic outcome. Wait a sec. Think this through, Princess. Who meets in person? The whole collabo with Bower’s Gym sounds a little too good to be true. “It’s a trap!” And again, maybe it’s not. Do you:

Continue on to the gym. No looking back now. “Shut up, Admiral Ackbar!” (Go to ¶ 11.)

Listen to Admiral Ackbar. Go back and tell Toad about the DM. (Go to ¶ 12.)

Hold on. I don’t really have the context for the Admiral-Ackbar thing. Who are we talking to here? (Go to ¶ 10.)

¶ 10. Admiral Ackbar is your imaginary friend. He’s also an alien anthropomorphic calamari in the Star Wars franchise. But unlike the questionably credentialed Zoidberg from the animated series Futurama or the curmudgeonly Squidward from SpongeBob SquarePants, the Admiral is a decorated starship commander who masterminded the rebel attack on the second Death Star at the Battle of Endor. His knowledge of photons and proven ability to help the Princess is well-documented in Return of the Jedi, where on realizing that the enemy must be aware of their plans and prepared to defend itself, he exclaims, “It’s a trap!” And here, too, he illuminates the interior monologue of Princess with an insightful array of photographic memories and snap judgments.

Bring up the Admiral’s report on posing physics. (Go to ¶ 33.)

Return to the story. (Go to ¶ 9.)

¶ 11. You stroll confidently to Bower’s Gym, walking in the front door, and tell the receptionist, “Hello. I was wondering if I could meet with Mr. Bower. I’m an influencer and this is regarding a social media collaboration.”

“But of course, the receptionist says, “Mr. Bower and his associate are downstairs.” The receptionist indicates the appropriate floor and leaves you to it. You adjust your hair, take a deep breath, and press “B” in the elevator. Ding. The elevator door opens. “Hello everyone!” you say, walking into the room. “Even though I am super busy, my team’s stone-cold calculation was that I could score more money more quickly in a fitness collabo with a sponsor gym, so I was able to be persuaded.” As you step into the room, Bower introduces himself. “My receptionist tells me you must be Princess, welcome! Kindly forgive the mess, my goombah over here, Tony Soprano”—. “Eh, enough with the wiseguy tenor already,” the associate interrupts, thumbing at Bower: “guy’s a regular smart aleck,” and introduces himself as “Jimmy, I’m pleased to meet you, and uh, sorry to interrupt or whatever.”

“Anyhow,” Bower continues, “he and I are converting these catacombs to an energy drink distillery.” 

“Huh,” you say. “Well business expansion is exciting.” 

Bower nods. “Alas little time about left for promo work spurred on our offer to collaborate with you. Granted, the project is ambitious, but the joint venture is completely on-brand for us both. Indeed, we need to tap into new revenue sources from streaming platform interest, upon which capital is proportionately drawn out of market share. That’s social media, where your influence is the keynote of this little collabo. Capisce?” 

“Makes sense,” you say. At this point, Bower displays a trowel he had been hiding and explains that within the brickwork he obtained a pipe (i.e., a large cask) apiece of classic boost “Super Mushroom,” original powerup “Fire Flower,” and a sparkling vintage, “Super Star,” and asks, “Which would you like to try?” 

There are a couple of memorable points during the trip. One is where your imaginary friend Admiral Ackbar told you, “It’s a trap.” The other is where you straight up say, it “sounds a little too good to be true,” and predict something must be wrong here, and aha ha what the heck are you doing here, Princess? That’s like voyaging into glacial waters circumnavigating icebergs on a ship you named the SS Unsinkable, or starting a land war in Asia, which is to say generally a bad idea.

If you’d like to go ahead and complete the It’s a Trap side quest, that’s an option. But if you’ve seen red flags, including three drink options below all leading to the the same end, and take my word for it when I say it isn’t good, then go home to study your postures and let’s party already! 

“Give me a shot of that fire sauce!” (Go to ¶ 28.)

“I’ll toast to super stardom!” (Go to ¶ 28.)

“You had me at shroom.” (Go to ¶ 28.)

Teleport home with a mild case of amnesia. (Go to ¶ 13.)

¶ 12. Okay, Princess, so you’re making a lot of very big decisions very quickly here. In the span of only two moves you decided to take command of your life and run away from home, and then instantly decided to reverse course, so instead of running away from home you are literally running back home. Maybe you want to consider your choices a bit more carefully in the future? Because later on, there’s not gonna be an “Aw, frig,” option. You run back home taking the long way this time so at least you can have a slightly longer taste of freedom, and slip in through the side door. The door opens and who should be at the threshold to welcome you home but your mom. It was a trap!

Head upstairs to clean your room. (Go to ¶ 8.)

¶ 13.  You are startled awake by a forgotten dream. You must’ve nodded off studying. And because I’m sure you want to know what you’re learning, let me give you the scoop!

Two popular handmade triangle poses are the akimbo stance, which is set by placing hands on waist, and the “excellent” gesture of fingertips touching gingerly (posed famously by Mr. Burns from the Simpsons.) 

In headshots, the akimbo stance can be somewhat problematic. Standing with arms akimbo makes your waistline look slimmer because, in the form of framing your waist, your shoulders are automatically set wider. The problem is that a headshot is only the bust image of head and shoulders, which showcases neither the slimmer waistline nor the triangle form of your elbows pointed outward. Thus, the akimbo stance gives viewers no cause to assume anything other than the very linebacker silhouette in the picture is simply a realistic depiction of your naturally wideset shoulders. Hence, every reason you had for assuming the akimbo stance is entirely cropped out; all that’s left in the viewfinder is your inaccurate bust representation.

Rather, for headshots, handmake triangles with fingertips touching gingerly. As opposed to the very-linebacker profile assumed by an inconspicuous akimbo stance, the prescriptive touch of an “excellent” gesture makes for very ladylike and/or gentlemanly headshots, in addition to which is the utility of its form giving you something to do with your hands in front of the camera, which helps dramatically reduce anxiety. Also, instead of standing frontally, turn your body 45 degrees diagonally facing the camera. The slanted stance adds depth to the composition and gives a slimmer appearance to your silhouette.

It works as good as it sounds. And it sounds great! 

Yesterday your mom said that if you get good enough at posing, she’ll allow you to perform at one of their parties. You don’t even like their parties, but the idea of a runway did get you a little excited. Of course, in her next breath she said you were nowhere near good enough and doubled the number of poses you have to learn by the end of the week. 

Study an additional posture. (Go to ¶ 14.)

Sit quietly and do nothing until mom calls you. (Go to ¶ 15.)

¶ 14.  SPOILER ALERT: The time in your room tends to drag on a bit, so I’m gonna cut this down to just highlights because nobody’s getting paid by the word here. “Brevity is the soul of wit.” You can attribute that prose to Shakespeare, and this pose is from me, the author of this twisted tale.

So, here’s some social cues for posing in group pictures and avoiding docudrama at your next family reunion, office party, benefit dinner or gala event:

Social event photos document situations involving groups of coworkers and colleagues, family, friends, frenemies, and sometimes perfect strangers in attendance at some event. This is wholesale different from social gatherings of friends and family where the entire aim of the get together is to take a photograph. The nature of social events necessitates a lack of control, where little time or thought is given to whatever picture results in a soon-forgotten story upload to social media. One thing is to forget; another thing is to forgive. And the photographic impressions made on attendees are not usually from picturesque recollections but are more oftentimes bitter remembrances of social miscues, embarrassing gaffes, or bad tastes left in the mouth. For example, standing with elbows akimbo jutted out in front of a group picture is an uncouthly invasion of personal space that sticks in one’s craw. On a rudeness scale, this culprit flies coach and crosses over the armrest. Bear this in mind, along with the following means of attaining an ideal end at your next social event:

  • Toe the line. No matter where subjects are positioned to take the group picture, everyone in the social event photo should assume a diagonal stance, facing the camera with body turned slightly inward, keep hands in view at all times in front of oneself or handmake an excellent triangle pose by gingerly touching fingertips. Single-handed exceptions. The subjects on the ends of rows outside the group are the bookend individuals; these outliers can and should assume the diagonal stance with their outside elbow akimbo. This is especially true in larger groups, where in order to fit everyone in the camera viewfinder, the group cannot form in a straight-line arrangement, stood side by side each another. Instead, the group must round inward, arched in or curving in a concave line, like the inside of a bowl or horseshoe shape. In such concave conclaves, the bookend individuals would be positioned closer in proximity to the camera relative to others, which will make them appear comparably wider. However, the bookend individuals can offset the wider effect from the assumed diagonal stance with the outside elbow akimbo.

  • Get smooshed, look slimmer. All subjects in the foreground of a group picture are closer in proximity to the camera relative to others and will look comparably wider. Though, unlike the bookend individuals, these insiders are squeezed in between others, but the compression effect entails an offsetting benefit—that is, the insider will look slimmer. The slimming effect of compression offsets the wider proximate appearance given to foreground subjects, which insider benefit is coequal to the outlier stance with the outside elbow akimbo.

  • Equal footing. The camera setup position for all social event photos should be angled at or slightly above eye level, which is the most flattering perspective overall and should be used therefor in any group shot. Also, take more than one picture whenever possible so as to ensure everyone’s eyes are open.

  • Social group strata. In lieu of (and sometimes in addition to) the concave lineup of larger groups, social event photos may require leveling, where subjects stand and/or sit in rows. Set the shorter folks in the front rows (or seated levels) and the taller folks in the back rows (or standing levels).

At this point you hear your mom calling up to you. “That’s enough, Princess! You’ve got two hours of personal time now, but don’t leave the castle!”

“Yes Mother!” you say excitedly. Any free time you get is the best time of your day. 

Study another posture. (Go to ¶ 16.)

Go have some fricking fun! (Go to ¶ 17.)

¶ 15.  It’s pretty boring, Princess! I should’ve told you this sooner, but your life is pretty boring these days, all days, really. The sad fact is, it’s boring to live in a castle with your parents where nothing interesting happens and you got big into muscles because then at least you’d have something to do while standing around bored for hours. So that’s what you do. You do arm curls until your muscles fatigue to the point of positive and negative failure, and you drop the weight. The loud clang of a dumbbell crashing to the floor alerts your mom. “Why are you not studying up there?” she yells! 

Study another posture (Go to ¶ 16.)

¶ 16.  “Well,” you say, folding up the piece of paper on social events and putting it in your pocket, “that just saved a lot of time.” You examine another note, which reads:  

A holiday photo card, Friendsgiving, and a bestie group picture are examples of social gatherings where the aim of getting together with friends or family is to take a photograph. In contrast to pictures at social events, these family and friend portraits involve teamwork, planning, and codirection. As a point of departure, consider that here:

  • Creativity rules. Show off individual personalities and weave various levels into the composition by having subjects engage in assorted interactive poses with different participant activities. For instance, one person decks the halls, someone else giftwraps, another one sips hot cocoa, somebody plays the piano, and everybody is ready to indulge in wassail.

  • Level up. Take up alternate levels through poses to add interest and make the photo experience memorable for all involved. For example, one person stands, another one reclines in odalisque, somebody sits legs akimbo on the floor, and someone else poses in ponderation (i.e., seated contrapposto), whereby shifting weight to one leg automatically frees the other leg on tiptoe, balancing on the ball of the foot, and would show get-up-and-go movement from the seat.

  • Take the drama down a notch. Leveling is particularly important to the composition of social group pictures where the composite differential in height is vast from one subject to the next. This is especially common to family portraits where the height of parents is dramatically taller than their children’s. Pare down the level of drama by having some family members pose seated on a couch and others on the floor in front; or have everyone stand upright, except for the smallest child who’s picked up and held by a parent, where child siblings touch or handhold with parent(s).

  • Triangulate off one another. Triangles are not exclusively poses. A family portrait of parents standing next to each other with their child in between forms a inverted triangle, whereby the face of each family member would make three points of interest in the shape of one symbolic form of the family unit.

Go have some fricking fun! (Go to ¶ 17.)

¶ 17.  So, the thing is, you’re not allowed out of the house, and everyone’s busy with prepping for the party. Even Toad can’t talk to you right now. You flex your way downstairs to the cellar and ask the waitstaff if there is anything you can do to help out, and while you do help them open a tricky jar, it was not exactly “fun.” Then in walks the plumber. “Here to fix the broken pipe.” He’s a total hunk, the living embodiment of David, only with a mustache and dressed in overalls. The two of you lock eyes. “Where do you need me?” he asks. You tell him:

“I need you to snake my drain.” (Go to ¶ 18.)

“Follow me, the pipe is over this way.” (Go to ¶ 19.)

Nothing. (Go to ¶ 20.)

¶ 18. You change out of your entirely unsexy Princess workout tights and into sexier Princess “Netflix and chill” tights with your favorite dress on top. You’re just pulling it on as the plumber climbs the vine up to your bedroom window when you hear Toad calling for you. “In a minute,” you reply, but a second later you can hear your mom and Toad outside your door. Your mom is asking where you are, and Toad is saying that he has already called for you. You wave off the plumber and send him back down the vine. “That was gonna be weird anyhow and a little bit pervy,” you mutter to yourself, making the final adjustment to your dress. You leave your bedroom and greet your mother and Toad waiting outside your door. “Guys, calm down, I’m here,” you say. “What do you want?” Your mom wants to do a family photo. 

“Yes Mother,” you say automatically. (Go to ¶ 21.)

Wait, actually, can Toad join in the photo too?” (Go to ¶ 22.)

¶ 19. You and the plumber start walking as you talk. He tells you, the way Seymour described it to him on the phone earlier, the pipe leak sounded like an emergency. “Seymour,” you say, “the gardener? Never mind, we’d better hurry.” The two of you make your way by unspoken agreement down to the boiler room, just in time to prevent Seymour from gassing the whole house. You find no sign of Seymour anywhere, however, there is a giant Venus flytrap plant growing out of the broken pipe. It belches, “Feed me!” Before either of you can say, “pudica,” gulp. You are devoured. The end.

¶ 20. The plumber is staring at you, his mouth slightly open, like he’s shocked too. (And Princess, I like you, so I’m going to let you in on a little secret. This whole “love at first sight” thing you’re feeling right now? He feels exactly the same way.)

“I,” you say, “I’m ...” 

Toad turns to look at you. 

“I ... I’m a twin. Yes, right” you say. “Which is to say, I have a sister who looks just me. The only difference is that I am the dumb one who walks into rooms and forgets how to speak. Hold on, let me go get my much cooler twin sister before disappearing forever.”

You close the door, take a sidestep in, and softly bang your head against the wall. Smooth move, Princess. It’s insane how attractive this guy is. You didn’t know it was possible to desire someone so badly. 

The door beside you opens, and the plumber steps in. He closes the door behind him and looks at you shyly. 

“My name’s David,” he says—"No frigging way!” you interrupt. “I’m sorry?” David asks. “No, excuse me, it’s nothing,” you say. “I’ll tell you later, please continue.” 

“Well ...  I couldn’t stop looking at you,” he confesses. “I’ve never once felt like this about anyone before.” You smile. “You should know I’m not really a twin. I’m just ... something.” 

“Good,” he says. “Listen, maybe we can talk more after I finish the job?” His hand hovers over the doorknob. Then he turns back, takes your head in his hands and kisses you hard.  

Kiss him back. (Go to ¶ 26.)

Tell him,Sounds good, Dave, catch you later,” then look for Toad. (Go to ¶ 27.)

¶ 21. You stand exactly where you are told to pose for the family photo and respond, “Yes Mother,” whenever your mom expects it. Your mom says she organized this party tonight so you can meet your future husband, to whom you are, as of a few hours ago, already promised. She set it all up, wheels are in motion, so you’ll definitely be marrying the dude you meet tonight. Also, she says, it’s a masquerade ball, so everyone will have their faces hidden! You think, this is a terrible theme to have for a party where anyone would actually want to judge how attractive people are, so this dude she wants you to marry must be fugly. 

“Princess,” your mom beckons, “don’t you think this surprise mandatory arranged marriage is the most wonderful news?”

Alright, if you keep doing everything your mother asks of you, you’re going to end up married to a stranger, and not just any stranger, but one who thinks the best way to meet women is to get their moms to promise their betrothals to him sight unseen. Do you want to get out of here, maybe start making some decisions for yourself? Or do you want to say, “Yes Mother,” automatically? 

Run past them, tear out of the house, never look back. (Go to ¶ 31.)

Say, “Yes Mother,” automatically. (Go to ¶ 23.)

¶ 22. Your mom sends Toad away. “Princess and I must talk privately,” she says. “Okay,” says Toad, leaving. “Wait, I just remembered,” your mom recounts, “you’re allowed to hear our secrets.” Your mom says she organized this party tonight so you can meet your future husband, to whom you are, as of a few hours ago, already promised.

“It’s a trap,” which, duh, I know, Admiral Ackbar aka Captain Obvious.” 

“What’s that dear?” your mom asks. “Everything okay, Princess?” (Go to ¶ 23.)

¶ 23. “Yes Mother,” you say automatically. Your mom smiles and keeps talking. She says that here in the city, all the ladies get married as teenagers. (What kind of backwater place is this? That’s feudal folklore, if not patently false. Only if you discount all the ladies of the night, including courtesans and career women burning the midnight oil, and all the spinsters and nuns, could that blanket assertion be possibly true. Moms, am I right? Plus, just because your mother got married as a teenager doesn’t mean you have to be a teen mom, too.) She says this guy she wants you to marry, Kenny, is bigtime into you based on what scant information he’s been told—mainly that you’re female and fertile. 

Toad volunteers that Ken is the greatest man in the whole world and his body is as perfectly waxed as a plastic doll. Your mom is quick to concur. “Ken does have a smoking hot bod. And it’s not right,” she remarks, “that someone so beautiful as yourself should hide from someone so banging as him.” This line of argument isn’t really working for you and it’s also hella nasty. Your mom is impervious. She continues to wax eloquent on the outstanding qualities Ken brings to marriage. “He is a book of love in need only of a cover” (that’s you, Princess, and uh, I think they call it a beard). You cannot think of a single plastic doll with whom you’d ever want to spend the rest of your life. 

Your mom asks if you can love this Ken doll, whom you’ve never met before or even heard of until now, and it would be really convenient for her if you could because, as she said, this whole thing is a setup to get you married off. What do you want to do, Princess?

Again, run past them, tear out of the house, never look back. (Go to ¶ 31.)

Say, “Yes Mother,” automatically. (Go to ¶ 24.)

¶ 24. Your mom goes on to tell you she wants you and Ken to have kids right away. You know, like she did when she was a teenager. She says you’re overdue, Princess! “If you marry Ken,” she says, “I mean when you marry Ken, you’ll gain access to his wealth and lose nothing in return by having sex with him. In fact, you’ll gain from that too,” she adds. “Because you’ll get pregnant. And then you’ll be bigger! It’s a win-win, yes or no, Princess?” your mom asks rhetorically. “Can you promise me now that you’ll go study your couple poses before the party?” 

Say, “Yes Mother.” (Go to ¶ 25.)

For once in your life, say, “No Mom!” (Go to ¶ 35.)

¶ 25. Aw, man! Seriously? Princess, I was hoping you’d want to go on a fun and exciting adventure, not agree with everything your parents said and get married to a stranger straightaway. The end. But I guess there is some adventure to be had in marrying a rich dude who your mom likes, so, um, here we go?

You behave exactly as your parents want, and you tell everyone you’ll do your best to love this Ken fellow. Your mom slips her mask on and tells you that she expects you downstairs momentarily for couple photos. 

“Oh, and Princess, if you want my advice,” your mom says, “there is one infamously bad pose you and Ken should avoid. It continues to be assumed for some reason and so keeps rearing up its head on the face of couple photos like a festering boil. It occurs where one partner in particular (typically male) wrangles the other partner (usually female) in an arm lasso round the neck. The movement shifts the burden of his weight onto her shoulders, which horseplay pushes down her posture from the neck and chest. The wrangler means to assume some “protective” posture. But it makes no difference whether he meant well. The fact is his poor tact hurt her good form and made him look bad. “If Ken tries that wrangler pose, you tell him, I said, ‘Partner, you better quit horsing around.’ That pose is more of a rodeo clown stunt than a heroic cowboy stance, anyhow, and put-downs by and between partners does not make for a picturesque relationship.” 

I am going to interrupt the story here to offer my own advice. I’m spinning a chair round to face you seated backwards. Princess, it seems pretty silly to me for you to sit here alone learning more couples poses when your partner is down the hall. Just throwing that out there. Okay, lecture over! I’m turning the chair back to its normal orientation. We don’t have to rap about your choices or advice from maternal and authorial figures anymore. 

While you’re mulling over whether to learn how to pose with Ken without him, a signal of whistling summons your attention, “Princess, hey, you dropped something,” says Toad. “No,” you say. 

“It’s your letter,” he insists, “look, it says so right there on the envelope: ‘Princess, Capital P, No Period’.”  

“It’s not my letter, Toad,” you say, “pulling it over his head. “Someone must’ve slipped it to me.” You flip it over and notice it’s got a wax seal. “It’s definitely from my mom.” 

“Do you think she dropped it by accident?” Toad asks. “Or she did it on purpose!” 

“Only one way to find out,” you say:

Open the letter. (Go to ¶ 29.)

Don’t open it, it’s got a wax seal! (Go to ¶ 32.)

¶ 26. Smooch. Smooch. In between smooches, you invite your friend David to attend your parents’ shindig with you. “Sounds awesome! And it would be an honor,” he says but then sends you a message to tell him what to wear. “Some of the waitstaff were talking about a masquerade ball, just want to confirm for tonight,” the text reads. 

Go talk to Toad. (Go to ¶ 27.)

¶ 27. You finally run into Toad stooped over and out of breath, as if he’d just ran up and down looking for you high and low as well. “Your mom,” he pants. You hold up your hand and open your mouth to speak, but before you can get a word in edgewise, Toad addresses you directly: “She wants to do a family photo and is looking all over for you.” 

Go take a photo album picture with your parents. (Go to ¶ 21.)

¶ 28. You take a can of energy soda from Bower and thank him. “Here’s to our collabo,” you say, holding up the can in front of you. You take two careful sips. “It tastes pretty good, actually,” you say. Bower offers to show you around on a tasting excursion. You have all your faculties about you after more than a few minutes, and any off-putting effect and cause for pause has still to be recognized. You begin to feel increasingly more relaxed and gradually less concerned by your whereabouts. You can still remember ...  something? You were drinking to celebrate something, right? Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been important since you’ve already forgotten it. Something inside you screams that what you are doing is insanely dangerous. You set the sus soda down and demand to know why you feel tipsy. “What in tarnation is this bric-a-brac swill you gave me to drink?” You stumble in a drunken stupor unable to resist as Bower chains you to the wall. He uncovers a wheelbarrow of brick and mortar and proceeds to wall you up in a niche using his trowel. You sober up quickly on second thoughts of escape, shaking the chains vigorously trying to break free, but to no avail. You scream for help, but Bower only mocks your cries, knowing nobody can hear you. You laugh weakly trying to pretend you’re the butt of a joke. Any minute now, you tell yourself, the TV camera will reveal the set piece, and your family (including Toad) will be waiting for you. 

As Bower finishes the top row of bricks, you begin weeping and wail, “Why are you doing this?” Bower responds just before placing the final brick: “Since you left home and won’t go back, you must be positively left here.” He drops his trowel and listens for a reply but hears only the faint jingle of chains. You are never seen or heard from again. The end.  

¶ 29. You quietly shut your bedroom door and retrieve the letter you set aside. You unsheathe a letter opener to cut an incision in the envelope without breaking its wax seal. You are seated at your writing desk and realize that guests may wander upstairs to use the restroom in the hall and open your bedroom door by mistake. To be safe, you go into the powder room inside your bedroom. Several minutes later you’re halfway through open-letter surgery. Yeah, this is clearly not the best approach. Many moments have passed since your Mom expected you downstairs momentarily. You can’t really leave now either, with a half-opened letter lying around waiting to be found. Your Mom is eventually going to notice the missing letter dropped out of her pocket, and then she is going to retrace her steps, which will lead her back to you. In effect, you’ll be left to incur the risk of mail tampering without receipt of the reward satisfying your curiosity about the contents. You decidedly rip open the envelope and examine the letter inside, which reads:

DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE CAPITAL P

Dear Princess, 

Congratulations to you and Ken on the happy occasion of your missed period! Bow-Chick-a-Wow-Wow! Oh, come now, Princess, I may be your Mother, but I birthed you. So, now that you’re officially capital P pregnant, you are expecting as am I. As your Mother, I am expecting proud pregnancy photos. To that end, I’ve taken the liberty here to spell out all my secret hopes and fears for your photo poses:  

YOUR MOTHER’S INITIAL HOPE: My wish for you is to schedule your pregnancy photoshoot during the third trimester, between seven and eight months pregnant.

YOUR MOTHER’S INITIAL FEAR: Timing is critical. And my fear, in knowing that the precise best time varies from person to person, is that we cannot say for certain when your precisely best time will be, Princess. The best hope we have is to use the seven/eight-month timeframe as a yardstick for measuring generally when in advance to schedule your professional photoshoot. If we wait till your precise best time, I fear we’ll be too late to secure the professional photographer I’d hoped, and you and Ken will find yourself out of luck.  

YOUR MOTHER’S PENULTIMATE HOPE: I hope you plan a photo announcement right after your first trimester. In lieu of a photo caption (my Penultimate Fear), use props. I have a few ideas of props you can use. For one, you could hold up your ultrasound image, or an article of baby clothing. If you must spell it out, please use a letterboard to write the message, something like “Baby Coming Soon” will work. And then feature the letterboard in your photo. Now, Princess, this is not an exhaustive list but rather some general pointers for you and Ken to keep in mind. My hope is that you both surprise me with even more creative prop ideas in your pregnancy announcement photo(s).

YOUR MOTHER’S PENULTIMATE FEAR: By the time you’re three or four months pregnant and about ready to make your pregnancy photo announcement, you won’t show a belly. My fear stems from knowing that your pregnancy photo announcement will not give viewers cause to assume that you’re pregnant, and it worries me that you and Ken will decide to write a lengthy photo caption explaining what your photo is supposed to announce but fails to do in every way, shape, and form. Analyzing a photo caption in order to understand what isn’t pictured is like analyzing the punchline to a joke in order to understand what isn’t funny. That, E. B. White said, “is like dissecting a frog. “Sure, you understand it better, but the thing dies in the process.” 

YOUR MOTHER’S ULTIMATE HOPE: An ideal pose for your pregnancy photo will have you turn 90 degrees to the side facing your body at a right angle to the camera, or will turn you 45 degrees to face your body diagonally to the camera. My hope is to see that you frame the baby bump with supporting hand gestures. If you carry twins or have a larger belly, I hope you pose with one hand overtopped the baby bump while the other hand underframes support for your belly. Another hope of mine is to see your hands centered around the circumference of the baby bump—not only to emphasize your size, but also to pinpoint the important aspect of your pregnancy photo—that is, you’re pregnant! Don’t be bashful here, Princess. Really flaunt your marital gains.

YOUR MOTHER’S ULTIMATE FEAR: My fear is that your pregnancy photos will not give viewers cause enough to assume the quantum of your gains from marriage. Please, Princess, do not pose completely frontal facing to the camera. That angle depicts a button-nosed Pinocchio lying his face off, my dear, and I fear it’s fairly ill-equipped to show the dimension of your belly.

Love, 

Your Mother

Say to yourself, “I’ll drink to that!”; tho, quit drinking before you get yourself blind drunk, go find yourself a tall drink of water. (Go to ¶ 32.)

Learn more about the meaning of poses. (Go to ¶ 34.)

¶ 30. “Instead?” Ken asks, a little surprised. “Want to catch the end of the ballgame?” “Okay,” you say, “but shouldn’t we be heading downstairs to the party?” “The game’s almost over,” Ken explains. “There’s already two outs for the home team batting in the bottom of the ninth down by a run with a man on second.” You sit down next to him on the loveseat and watch the, perhaps, final at-bat:

The crowd is on its feet. Batter steps up to the plate. Here’s the windup and the pitch. Looks like a changeup over the middle. Crack! He hits a moonshot straight for the upper deck. That ball is going, going, and gone! Game over. The home team wins in it walkoff fashion. 

“Whoop, there it is!” Ken yells as you jump for joy. “Well, this was fun,” you say. Even still, you wonder whether it will become your routine.   

Well, gee, Princess maybe you’re getting a teensy bit ahead of yourself. Try not to get stuck in a rut or go round in circles for sure. Do what you did, get what you got. That’s a good maxim to live by, and one said many times in many ways. Einstein defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” One-hundred-dollar bill cover boy Ben Franklin put it different: “If you do tomorrow what you did today, you will get tomorrow what you got today.” What you got today is all of about five minutes with Ken, so chillax.

An arranged marriage would’ve probably not been my chosen path, but you blazed your own trail, and that’s a dope story. It’d be an epic fail to go up in flames now, after all is said and done. So be cool. Wait and see what you do tomorrow before worrying about the what-ifs and worse-case maybes, which has you doing nothing. It’s got you mired in a rut of worry today so as not to get stuck in a rut of worry tomorrow. It’s got you spinning your wheels in circumspect thought today to make a go-no-go decision round and round again in circles tomorrow. Get me? Even if there were a higher chance for you to be in a state of rut or on an unmerry-go-round in the future, a worry-free minute is always worth more today than it would be worth tomorrow, according to the concept of time value of money. When you let someday worries steal your present joy, you defraud yourself in manners reminiscent of particular types of frauds that promise to protect consumers from loss of identity theft or liability for stolen credit cards. You have no cause to worry except for what’s on your own hook, that’s only if your worry concerns something you can control exclusively by yourself at present. Otherwise, stressing yourself out over what-ifs about what’s out of your hands will give you an aneurysm.

An ideal marriage (arranged or not) sometimes needs a break from the monotony of routine. The picturesque couple may also wish to renew their photogenic vows. If you and Ken do continue to pose seated on the loveseat and a time comes when you wish to change up your couple pose, crack open this book, page through and return to this part of the conversation. My advice will be right here waiting for you.

Probably the most traditionally assumed stance is the couple stood side by side one another to pose together facing straightforward to the camera. Here’s some ideas to change up the tradition and any other habitually assumed posture: Rotate your stances, rebalance postures, sit or stand at uneven levels to add interest to the composition and to create a stunning, editorial looking photo. A simple shift from the usual, which had started to feel a bit old hat, imbues couple photo poses with an air of freshness, resounding verve and a rekindling spark reflected in the eye of the camera.

Instead of the usual perspective in play, change up the camera angle and direction of the shot. Pose in alternate manners, set footwork and gestures and stances facing whichway. Divergent planes and points of view adds three dimensions to a two-dimensional couple photo, which deepened perspective gives viewers cause to assume new horizons and broader expanses. Assume complementary postures, such as the couple contrapposto, whereby the greater weight of emphasis or focus on contrary aspects would bring counterbalance and set the couple in counterpoise. Varying the camera angle and direction of the shot creates movement to add rhythm for interesting photocompositions. Use milkcrates or bay window ledges as makeshift seating, mix and match chairback seat cushions, barstools and beanbags to sit at different levels, or stand on adjacent steps up the staircase. Whatever you decide to change up, keep a gesture of connection by and between you both and be sure always to maintain that showcase of intimacy. A couple looking or facing in opposite directions while participating in handholding gives viewers cause to assume a very editorial exposé of strong unity rather than a picture of two individuals drifting apart.

Ask about mind-blowing eroticism. (Go to ¶ 43.)

Learn more about the meaning of poses. (Go to ¶ 34.)

¶ 31. You push your way past your mom and run out of the house. No way you’re staying in that loony bin. You’re sorry that your mom got married too young and that damaged her, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to stand around and let her do the same thing to you. Sorry, Mom. But you’re running away from home, literally, right now. 

You make it a few steps from your house when you hear desperate cries. “Help! Help!” A voice screams from alongside the house. You run around to see a man hanging on to the gigantic green drainpipe to the sewer. You grab hold of his arm to keep him from falling in, but he loses his grip on the inlet, and the unrelieved deadweight of his body throws you off balance and in with him whooshing down the pipe.

Ahh whoo-hoo!  (Go to ¶ 44.)

¶ 32. You set the wax-sealed letter aside and proceed down the hall to the guest room. You knock on the door. Ken answers wearing a snappy suit and introduces himself. Man, he looks great. I’ll describe his lips as being “enticing,” his eyes as being “reflective pools so deep you feel you might drown,” and his legs as being “apparently unable to quit.”   

“Hi Ken,” you say. “It’s me, Princess. Are you busy right now?” 

“Never too busy for a pretty lady,” says Ken. “Though you should know, generally my dates end up pretty, erotic.”

“Oh,” you say. “Weird.”

“Yeah, it’s like, a curse or something,” Kens says. “Just once I’d like to have a regular date without it descending into mind-blowing eroticism.”

“Interesting,” you say.

Ask about mind-blowing eroticism. (Go to ¶ 43.)

Ask about what he’d like to do instead. (Go to ¶ 30.)

¶ 33. In classical physics, the mechanics of friction and inertia elongate and compress mass. The effects of the phenomena on body mass reflect in the eye of the camera, too. Though body mass remains constant throughout a photoshoot, to exert physical pressure or inert body motion can result in the subject looking bloated or sculpted, muscular or scrawny, from one picture to the next. Thighs appear slimmer in circumference standing than pressed flatly against the seat of a chair; arms look slimmer hanging naturally down by the sides than folded, whereby pressure exerted underneath would amass to overtop. 

At bottom, avoid pressure on the torso for longer, leaner looks; add pressure for more massive might. To pose with bated breath or suck in your stomach will only put pressure on other areas. Avoid the side effect of a double chin, heavyset face, or thickset neck. Instead, just roll with it. Specifically, roll your shoulders back as you would to do a pre-workout warmup session. The rotational movement not only increases synovial fluid in the shoulder joints but also elongates the neck and improves posture (read better body language). Tilt your chin forward rather than tuck your chin inward, and lift your head from the position of lain flat on your back. These alt poses accentuate more defined jawlines and elongated necklines. 

P.S. Sometimes mass effects are implied nonfactors of applied mechanics. These massive implications are not based on exert pressure but reflected in extant lighting. For example, the dimpling of cellulitis is more noticeable in the harsh, overhead light of the midday sun, whereunder the enhanced texture reflecting in the higher contrast sunlight implies more mass despite a lack of applied pressure. 

Psst! Want to know Victoria’s Bonnie’s secret technique? Stand up on your tippy-toes to elongate your legs. This showstopper of a pose is a lifesaver in photos of the barefoot beachgoer, whose feet tend to be submerged, sometimes sunken down to the ankles, in what may as well be quicksand. 

Respectfully submitted by, 

A. A. 

Return to the story. (Go to ¶ 9.)

¶ 34. Oh, okay! Well, you’re in luck because there just so happens to be an admirable log by you-know-who reporting on that:

Unlike a less estimable gesture of contempt to flip off the other driver, the meaning of poses is generally assumed by one or another admirable posture, either (1) an open-arm welcome to exude self-confidence; or (2) a closed-off guard to show defensiveness. 

Open poses are outward expressions of power or self-importance: a puffed-out chest, the Vitruvian Man (wide stance, arms raised in the form of a V for victory); the swagger of Hans Solo leaned back with hands behind his head, looking pleased with himself; the superhuman exposé of Wonder Woman standing arms akimbo. But flounce can easily be overdone or taken out of context. To assume the smug posture of Hans Solo during a customer meeting, or in front of the boss, is no go.

Closed poses are internal expressions of self-soothing automatisms or reactions, which are oftentimes assumed to reflect some discomfort, fear or uneasy feeling. For example, posing with one arm in a wraparound your waist and your other hand touching vulnerable areas of your face or neck assumes a self-hugging posture. Contrarily, the closed pose of fashion models elevates vulnerability to a high art form or assumes flirtation by example of a model touching her hair. Closed poses can also come across as standoffish, for example: folded arms may give viewers cause to assume the self-expression of “I am a rock” or as guarded as a castle. The powerhouse triangle, posed with arms folded across your body turned diagonally 45 degrees away from the camera, is the “strictly business” opposite of Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Such a hard-boiled stance assumes the walled-up unapproachability of an industry titan from the Gilded Age, extolling the virtues of laisse-faire economics. Not only will powerhouse posturing still scare off competitors, but also it may frighten away consumers, as the closed-off appearance can give viewers cause to assume the corporate persona of a private moneymaking venture whose business operates without regard for the social costs taxed on the commonweal.   

Return to the story. (Go to ¶ 5.)

¶ 35. “Um, no. No, I’m not going to promise to fall in love with someone I never met, Mom! If you think he’s so rocking, you marry him,” you respond haughtily. Just then, a message from the butler reminds your mom that it’s late, the party has already started, guests are here, and the staff are arguing. Everything is out of control.  

“Well talk about this later,” you mom says. As you make your way down to the party, which is already in progress, your mom takes your hand and squeezes it hard enough to hurt. She smiles at the guests like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “You will check out Ken’s pecs, young lady,” she hisses at you through a smile, “and you will like them.”

You squeeze her hand back, hard enough to hurt more. “I’ll do what I please, Mom,” you say, smiling just as pleasantly as you can.

Join the party. (Go to ¶ 36.)

¶ 36. You enter the party, and everyone is wearing masks. Also, you don’t have a mask, so you have to borrow one from the freebie pile. It’s a rooster mask with a rubber cockscomb. You put it on. You are dressed like a chicken. The cock-a-doodle-doo stare of your mask also greets fellow partygoers with a perpetually woke expression. You can see also through holes in the beak. Everyone is looking at you, unsettled. You’re not sure what Ken looks like, but hopefully he is totally turned off right now. You’re about to crash your own party en route to the dance floor when Toad pulls you aside. 

“Hey, I noticed how you and the plumber looked at each other earlier,” he says, “if you want someone, Princess, and your mother says you can’t have him, that’s not her problem, that’s your thing, and you need to fix it.” 

“Love is an emotion I do experience deeply,” you confess. “Well, listen,” says Toad. “I did a little snooping, and it turns out he’s not just a plumber. He’s a physician. That’s right, Dr. Mario, specifically, David Mario, M.D.” You’re about to talk more about love when your stomach grumbles that it’s dinnertime, and you haven’t eaten since breakfast. Then, as if manna itself had miraculously rained from the heavens, a plate of Swedish meatballs appears before you. “Hors d’oeuvre?” asks the server. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do!” 

Redirect the conversation toward food. (Go to ¶ 37.)

Forget finger food! Get to the point about love. (Go to ¶ 38.)

¶ 37. “So, as I was saying,” you say, unable to get thoughts of succulent browned-up gravy coated hors d’oeuvres out of your head. “Look at these, Toad, skewered with a fragment of new potato and a single lingonberry. That is just perfect. These are the Swedish meatballs we’d eat in our dreams, if only we dreamed bigger, because wow, the flavor is so ridiculous. Nothing on Earth should taste this good. If what they say is true, you know, that there is really no such thing as a free lunch, then anything this delicious has to have some supernaturally hidden price tag attached to it.” 

“I hope that’s not a premonition,” chuckles a man wearing a unicorn mask. “Not like the ambrosia salads seen piled on luncheon tables,” he adds. “The divinely fragrant ambrosia of these preparations must surely be the food of the Greek and Roman gods.” 

You pop a meatball in your mouth and think. Hmm, a foodie and a pun lover, borrowing a magical, lust-inducing belt from Aphrodite. I like this guy already! His voice is also familiar and recognizable. You steal another glance at him and when you see him glance back, you look away blushing without realizing it. “Please tell me, you did not find that mask in the freebie pile, where I ended up with this dumb cluck,” you say. “Ha! I did though,” David says. “Want to swap?” 

“Nah, it suits you well,” you say. “Hey,” David says, “how’s about a picture?” 

“Sure,” you say, “a picture would be great.” So Princess, how do you want to pose? 

Chin up, chest out, stomach in. (Go to ¶ 41.)

Just roll with it.  (Go to ¶ 39.)

¶ 38. “The thing is that love is supposedly blind, but it can still see its way into making me do whatever it wants!” you say, personifying your emotions as an imagined third party whose tyranny preemptively allows you to absolve yourself of responsibility for your own actions. (Don’t think I didn’t notice.)  

Toad sighs. “Come on, Princess, that’s just how life works, and you’re 18 years old.”

“Speaking of work,” you say, “that reminds me. I got an opportunity to achieve financial independence this morning. Check it out, a paid collabo with Bower’s Gym.” 

Trying to put it as gently as he can, Toad asks, “Do you think this is legitimate, and how much do you really expect to earn from it?” 

“Hold that thought,” you say, noticing a man approaching. 

“Hi,” he says, “I’m Ken.” You and Toad introduce yourselves. “Hey, can you read?” he asks. “I’ve got this piece of paper here and I need to know what it says on it.”

Tell him you can read. (Go to ¶ 40.)

Tell him you are illiterate. (Go to ¶ 42.)

¶ 39. Your mom has preached to maintain good posture since you learned to walk: Stand up straight, hold your chin high, chest out, tummy in. Now, either you learned by happenstance to pose in the course of doing just the opposite your whole life, or you read Admiral Ackbar’s report on posing physics and it’s paid off in spades. I am going to assume you did your due diligence here and read the report, but I’ll leave some morsels for you on the off-chance you lucked your way through: 

A good photo pose should mimic good posture. The natural reaction on hearing “stand up straight,” is to straighten up your posture by means of shrugging up your shoulders. Since shoulder shrugs are an exercise move rather than a photo pose, and holding an exercise move is naturally uncomfortable, the tendency is to hold your breath. As you well know, Princess, holding your breath during exercise may bring temporary relief, but the short-lived fix turns quickly to more pain. Not breathing during exercise is probably the worst thing you could do to your body. And you putting your body through possibly the worst thing you could do to it for the ‘gram is not lost on anyone. The eye of the camera spies you looking like a noob at the gym. And the image capture of your pose in poor form is proof positive. 

The best means of reflecting good posture in your photo pose, as Admiral Ackbar advised you to do, is just roll with it. Roll your shoulders back, just as you did to pose with David and do as part of your everyday pre-workout warmup. For more on the photogenic perks and physical benefits related to shoulder rotation, be sure to check the Admiral’s report. 

Check the report, but only to review concepts you’ve definitely read already. (Go to ¶ 33.)

Roger that, ready to move out, set course for departure, go full speed ahead. (Go to ¶ 53.)

¶ 40. “I can read my own fortune in my misery!” you say. Ken looks at you, confused. “Okay, that’s cool,” he says, “but can you read, like, written words?” He holds up the piece of paper he’s been clutching in his hands. “If I showed you this, could you read it?”

“I can if I understand the language it’s written in, including its grammar and alphabet!” you retort, snatching the paper out of his hands. It looks like a proposal: “Will you marry me?”

Say, “Yes!” (Go to ¶ 25.)

Say, “Thank you, but your princess is in another castle.” (Go to ¶ 53.)

¶ 41. David holds up his phone, 

“Ready,” you hold your breath and chew your meatball. 

“Set,” you pose, continuing to chew without breathing. 

“Say, cheese!” Cheese ... thud

The amazing thing about breathing is that it’s so instinctual! It’s very hard, near impossible, to suffocate yourself by simply deciding to die. Even if you have the willpower to hold your breath until you pass out, the second you do your body will begin breathing for you, saving your life. Your body wants to live, Princess. 

However, your body didn’t count on your trying to breathe, talk, and eat at the same time. And on your being so terrible at it. You choke on your meatball, it blocks your windpipe, and two minutes later you are dead. If only someone had previously invented some technique to pose without holding your breath, like rolling back your shoulders. But they didn’t, and you’re dead. The end.

¶ 42. “I cannot read,” you say, lying to an almost complete stranger for your own amusement. “I am illiterate. I am, in fact aliterate, which is to say I have not even conceived of literacy before. I am so far from reading that I actually stand outside the literate/illiterate dichotomy.” 

“I thought ‘aliterate’ meant that you could read, but that you choose not to,” says Toad.

“Well, it also means that I can’t read, and I choose not to do so,” you reply. “Which I guess would be an easy choice to make, given those circumstances. Anyway,” you say, turning back to the guy who asked you the question, “what is it you wanted me to read?” He’s long gone. 

Oh well! (Go to ¶ 37.)

¶ 43 What a piece of work is this man, you think, choosing your words carefully yet intrigued enough to dabble in a genuinely fearless manner. “Pray tell,” you say, inviting a rejoinder, “how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form of moving expression and admirable action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god is mind-blowing eroticism?” 

Ken nods. “Certainly, Eros comes to mind, I mean, human bodies are pretty great, huh? The beauty of form, the paragon of poise, this quintessence of dust reflecting in the light of a softbox,” he says pointing to himself. “Someday, I’ll upload my share of prideworthy social media, maybe, an endless photo cache of pets and kids and other things to annoy people. However, I have no call to act today. My shared tags and posts develop from sheer force of will and a sense of eroticism to do it for the ‘gram.” 

“Anyway, whatever,” you say. “I’ve been worried about our couple poses, but it’s great to meet you, eroticism aside.” 

“Oh, hey,” says Ken, suddenly remembering something. “I met a photographer on the ride over and invited her to come up and show me a few erotic moves. We’ll make it a threesome! This is really, really exciting.” 

And who should knock on the door just as Ken stops talking? Why, it’s the very photographer he just mentioned! How perfect! Having her show up now keeps the narrative moving along at a fairly nice clip and avoids any awkward silence between the two of you followed by downtime where you sit around waiting for someone to show up and talk. Good work, narrator of this story, aka, me. 

The photographer introduces herself and asks if you are the fiancée whom Ken mentioned before explaining that Ken asked her to come on by and demonstrate couple photo poses. “Wow, I guess I’ve totally misread things on this count,” you mutter to yourself.

“Photo poses aim to combine beautiful movements with comfortable appearances,” the photographer goes on to say. “The ability of couples to take comfort in one another gives the partners a significant advantage over selfie takers and self-portrait subjects,” she says. “Now, I want you two to get all touchy-feely. An ideal couple photo is characterized by encouraging interpersonal touching especially in the free form of emotional expression. A kiss on the forehead, a soft touch of your partner’s face or hair are critical identifiers of your relationship, and your photo poses should relate that identity,” she concludes. “The sensual expression shared by and between partners gives movement to the overall composition and brings one another comfort, which reflects photogenic dispositions.”

“Is this what you meant by eroticism?” you ask. 

“Obv,” Kens says. “Erotic love is not just of another person arrowed by Cupid’s bow, but of the world, of food, of photodrama, of eroticism itself. Plus, I got to admit to liking the subtle erotic theme or quality of The Vampire Diaries, he says, with winking eroticism. 

“You were right,” you say. “My mind is blown.” 

Ask about what he’d like to do instead. (Go to ¶ 30.)

¶ 44. Swish, swooshCrash! 

You feel someone tapping on your forehead and wake up. “Hey, it’s me! Your plumber, the other Mario brother. The one you saved!”

“Ugh,” you sigh. “What?” 

“From Mario Bros. Plumbing, I’m Louie, Louie Mario. My brother and I came out to your house today to fix a broken pipe.”

“Yeah, I remember, you say. “Hey, your brother, I think I met him earlier. I can’t recall,” you ask, thinking geez, I must have landed on my head. “Hey, tell me again, what’s his name?” 

“His name’s David,” says Louie. “David Mario.”

“Oh, huh, thanks,” you say. Oddly enough that seems perfectly fitting. “So, the whole hanging on to the drainpipe by your fingernails, y’know, that thing? How does that happen?”  

“Uh, the thing about that is I got this sort of slippery spring in my step, if that makes sense. My brother’s the surefooted one; I, on the other hand, tend to slide. I um, am maybe a little clumsy,” he says, with an aw-shucks grin. “Oopsie-daisy, Louie, whoopsie-doodle! That’s me, heh, eh?” 

“Real pissed at you right now,” you say. 

“I’m sorry,” says Louie. 

“Way too late for that. There’s way more important stuff to deal with now,” you say. “For one, where are we?” 

“If I had to take a wild guess,” says Louie, “seeing as the passageway is a subterranean cemetery of catacombs, we should be in some kind of an underground crypt.” 

Being neither superstitious nor afraid of the dark, the two of you walk briskly along, glancing now and then toward the recesses for tombs off to one side of the old gallery. After about ten minutes, you begin to experience a peculiar, creepy sensation, as if you are being watched. On an impulse, you stop and gasp involuntarily. There, no more than a yard behind you, you hear footsteps toddle closer. You cannot help yourself from running as fast as you can, and Louie follows suit. The two of you cover about a hundred yards before stopping to catch your breath near an ornate wood bench in one alcove of the open excavation. You stoop down and grab hold of your knees. To your horror, you hear the crunch of footsteps on the gravel floor toddle within a hair’s breadth of touching your body. You are too afraid to move from your stooped position, grabbing firmer hold of your knees, and can literally feel yourself quaking in your boots. 

You take a deep, audible breath, huh-phoo. “How did I get myself here?” you ask reflectively. “Easy, some creep stood right behind you bending over,” says Louie. 

“Righto. Ew, gross tho,” you reply, “altho... huh?”

Pardon me, Princess. I am going to write myself in here to narrate on what just happened. Your fractured reply to Louie’s response came just as you realized he answered a question asked of yourself. Query how your interior voice could have possibly been spoken aloud. Look, an inner ear issue could happen after a head injury and be symptomatic of burst eardrum, concussion, mild amnesia, full-on decapitation, it could really be anything according to WebMD, so who knows? You tumbled down a sewer after falling into a drainpipe and landed on your head. You should probably see a doctor, like David Mario, M.D. (physician/plumber/super bro.) Though, start here: (1) get out alive, (2) schedule your appointment with Dr. Mario. Okay, right now you’re cornered with nowhere to run. The thought occurred that you must confront the creep, wherein your reflective question you impugn whether the way out of a predicament is however got you in it. The question then is not whether to turn about-face, but how: Are you stood up back to the wall or sat down on the bench in front of you? 

Stand up and start a fight, say, “I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass, and I’m all out of bubblegum.” (Go to ¶ 50.)

Sit down and talk it out, say, “Whoa, whoa, hold up, cowboy. (Go to ¶ 48.)

¶ 45. The entire wall turns you face to face with the vampire. “Miss me?” he says. Louie runs from the bench, “Ack! Vampire? Nobody said anything about a vampire!” he screams at you. “Nah, man, the real creep’s out there,” Costumier says. “I’m just a costume maker in here,” then he briefly recounts his movie adventures. Louie appreciates how he took the time to say something about actors wanting to look taller and how he never lets female costars run next to them onscreen to achieve that. “It works the same in photography,” Costumier says. “If the shorter costar of the couple photographed does not want to look shorter, that person should stand closer to the camera.” Unlike the image of a couple standing side by side, which gives viewers cause to assume a fair height comparison, a step closer to the camera gives the illusion of one with more height without less depth perception, which gives viewers cause to assume the one stepped to is actually taller than that person stands tall in reality. Alternatively, the image of a couple sitting (as opposed to standing) beside each other gets the same effect. In a cityscape, the curbside can be utilized for romantic couple poses under a streetlamp. Either the shorter person steps up on the curb or the taller person steps down from it. “Here’s a little ditty to help you remember, it ain’t no big thing,” he says, turning into verse: “One steps to, one steps up, sit two by two, don’t two stand up.” 

“Sweet,” you say. 

“Thanks,” he says. “So, what’s your plan now?” he asks, and you lay it out for him: Tomorrow you’re going to start a collabo with Bower’s Gym. Sometime later today, having given the creep outside fair warning to back off, you’re hoping to return here with the police and goad the creep into doing something overtly criminal against you. When he does that, you’ll have enough proof of his guilt (if not of intentionally inflicting Louie with emotional distress) to press charges against him. 

“You’re talking about a stalker,” he whispers, his eyebrow arched. 

“I’m talking justice,” you say. 

“Okay, but just FYI, your collabo is with a criminal underboss; Bower’s the real creep and a juicer, to boot,” Costumier says. “Incidentally, we’re right under his front, Bower’s Gym, and nobody’s gonna call the fuzz in this neighborhood because they know better.”  

“You talk a lot like the actor Tom Cruise,” you notice to comment upon. 

“Yeah, you look alike, too” Louie seconds. “Are you Tom Cruise?” 

“Never heard of him,” says Costumier. 

“How is that possible?” you ask. 

“Countless actors work in Hollywood. Far be it for me to know ‘em all,” he replies. 

“That is just amazing to me,” you say. “Anyhow, I’ve got no quarrel with Bower.” 

“I’m afraid you do,” says Costumier, “as you seem intent on leaving, and the way out takes you past his underground lair and up through his boardroom. Having eyewitnesses to criminal activity has always been a pet peeve of his. This is what I call ‘a target rich environment,’ and you’re a couple of sitting ducks with bullseyes on your backsides.”

Ask, “Got a better plan?” (Go to ¶ 46.)

¶ 46 “Check it out,” says Costumier, holding his phone up:

 

“Now,” he says, “you’ve got a perfect schematic to checkmate Bower in his own boardroom.” Man, you wish you knew what those little letters and number meant. 

The black king represents Bower; the white king is Louie; you are the white queen. Be careful, there’s no way to win at chess if you’re down to just your king. There are three moves you can make here. What do you do?

Move the queen ahead two squares [Qc7] (Go to ¶ 52.)

Move the queen ahead a square [Qc6] (Go to ¶ 51.)

Move the king over a square to the right [Ke6] (Go to ¶ 47.)

¶ 47. Ha! Nice try! Your friends have to choose their own adventures here. You don’t get to make life-or-death choices for them! “If you want to do that, you should let me turn you to a vampire,” Costumier says. “Then you can make thralls of your friends,” he adds, breaking the ice with some fiery advice for Louie going against Bower mano a mano: 

“A cheap shot to the groin from the fireballer Bower is a sinister tradeoff of your family jewels for fireballs. You want me to drop down to my knees, singing goodness gracious? Show me the money!” Costumer catechizes. “Let me offer two cents’ worth: The contrapposto David takes for granted is the cupped posture Venus handed. Pudica. There is no substitute.” 

“Your lines have a repetitive pattern that resonates with familiarity to the dialogue from films starring Tom Cruise, Jerry McGuire, Risky Business, et cetera,” you say. “C’mon, pull my leg, heh?” 

“Hmm. Nope. Sorry, not ringing a bell,” Costumier says.

“The name Costumier is an anagram of Tom Cruise,” you say. How do you explain that?” 

“Maybe Tom Cruise is an anagram of Costumier. Ever think about that, humph?” he retorts. “Listen, can we hurry this along? I’m late for a thing, Scient—it doesn’t matter.” 

Back to the drawing board. (Go to ¶ 46.)

¶ 48. You give Louie a heads-up nod toward the bench in front of you. You have a plan. Operation Princess: Don’t Stop Me Now is exclusively yours. Now, at least, Louie has the foggiest idea to go sit down. With one fell swoop of princessly prowess, like a crouching tiger defying the laws of gravity, you spinout in a turnaround jumper and pounce on the chairback seating, which pivots the entire wall to rotate round to a hidden room on the other side. 

You hope Louie made it in time, but your midair acrobatics landed you in a belly-flop on the bench, facing down one end, and there’s too much whirlwind momentum for you to sit up and have a look-see around the other end. You hold tight to the armrest in front of you as the bench does a perilous one-eighty from one direction, which is to say the opposite direction, to roundoff onto the takeoff powered in place by an ejection seat, which vaults you to do a handspring on the floor. “I did that purpose!” you announce. 

“It amounted to a dramatic turnabout of fortunes,” offers a voice spoke in a French accent. “Really, Louie?” you say, scrambling to your feet. 

“No, not really,” says the Frenchman, looking at you.

You smile in what you hope is a calming manner. “As you can see, I was sitting down when I landed here,” you say. 

“You asked, am I Lou, oui? My answer is no,” the Frenchman replies. “I am the Vampire Costumier!”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up, cowboy,” you say, stumbling backward into the chairback seating, pivoting the wall to rotate round again to the gallery. 

“Louie!” you say, “Boy, am I glad to see you.” You give him a big hug. He feels clammy to the touch, and you hear his teeth chatter, you pull away from your embrace to have a look at his face. “What’s up Louie?” you ask, hoping to learn why’s he got a pale complexion. “Rest assured everything’s going to be alright now, okay” you say. “I know who’s the creep following us. There’s a rando, as it just so happens, in the room on the other side of the wall. I think he followed me over on the bench from here, but I never called his bluff just to see if he really meant what he said.” 

“It was the most horrible face I’d ever seen,” Louie shudders to say. “I saw the creep.” 

Continue down the passageway thru the gallery. (Go to ¶ 49.)

Interview the vampire.  (Go to ¶ 45.)

¶ 49. You make sure nobody is around then sneak out of the seating alcove covered head to toe in gravel chalk. You and Louie consider pressing up against the wall to sidestep shuffle your way through the gallery. However, you realize that even in the best case your wall camouflage will attract attention because the creep will wonder why there’s a double sidewall in one section of the passageway. You’re too smart to make that beginner’s mistake! Instead, you stand really still next to each other and hold up your outstretched arms to pose as a new wall made of uneven height, placed directly in the middle of the passageway. It is a terrible disguise, and when the creep discovers you standing there in his way, that’s basically what he says before he murders you! He’s a creep, remember? 

“I thought you were smarter than this,” he says, killing you, “though for the life of me, I cannot remember why.” The end.

¶ 50. That is honestly the more credible choice, which makes me sad. Okay, so your beau used to be David, that’s Dr. David Mario, M.D., then you were going to marry a Ken, but now you’re with this slippery fella. This doesn’t seem like a fair tradeoff to me. Listen, kid, I like you. I don’t want you to end up stuck with Louie. How’s about this: I’ll turn my back really quick and count to ten, and when I’m not looking you...

Sit down (Go to ¶ 48.)

¶ 51. Stalemate. You and Bower spar verbally, while beside you, Louie lobs parallel insults. It’s pretty great. “Hey, are you thirsty, Princess?” asks Bower. “Because I’ve got a drink made up special for you!” 

You respond by spewing venom from your lips as you shout acrimoniously at him, “Why, did you poison it?” Bower seems surprised. “What? How did you know?”

“I guess by not being stupid!” you yell, spraying spittle against his face in reply. Bower insults you with renewed passion, which Louie belittles, thumbing his nose, ogling and making ribald jokes, and seems at once to gesture in the direction of recurrent arguments. 

“Hey!” you yell. “Big baddie, why don’t you come over here and fight me.” Bower seems reluctant. Then you tell him how much of a disappointment he’s been to his family, and how the grief and shame of having a child grow up to be a career criminal has put an invisible wall up between his parents, preventing them from being as close as they used to be, wish to be again, but never will be, somehow, because the subject is always top of mind but never broached. They go to bed in silence, growing inexorably apart by the wedge their criminal son drives between his parents, causing them to drift further into solitude each day. They’ve really become strangers to each other.

Bower hollers in rage at your savage diss and tries to come after you, but the space you occupy actually put up an invisible barrier between you. This little charade of meaningless puffery and idle threats fast becomes blasé. You’re not in a Mexican standoff but locked in a stalemate. As the record of meeting minutes piles up, you use up the insults stored in your memory bank and lose access to new source material after your phone battery dies. You strive in vain to perform mental gymnastics and fruitlessly flex your knowledge, but the exercise in futility leaves you withdrawn, bored to tears and devoid of ideas to pluck out of thin air. Admiral Ackbar catches the last thought balloon departing from your mind and disappears into the ether. You remain left behind, stalemated, cold and helplessly trapped in the eternal darkness of your own mind.

Back to the drawing board (Go to ¶ 46.)

¶ 52. Checkmate! Your queen’s gambit in the endgame scenario recreates an ideal end in a couple photograph with considerable exactitude. You stepped the boardroom in front of Louie down to the chessboard spaces of the white queen [Qc7] and king [Kd6] and built a perfect diorama across the full depth of poses in the viewfinder. 

The consequence puts you a step closer in position than Louie stands proximate to Bower. The step-in depth makes a difference without a distinction in the eyes of viewers. Indeed, Bower never sees what’s coming. 

The couple pose you and Louie assume in the boardroom gives Bower cause to assume the illusion of your height over Louie’s stature. True to bully form, Bower chooses to pick on Louie, whom he misperceives as shorter than you. Bower approaches Louie to find only that he’d made a classic bully blunder—that is, he’s mistakenly chose to pick on somebody of his own size. As Bower backpedals away from Louie, you stick out your leg to trip him. He falls over backwards, crashing hard to the floor. 

“I’m going to end this madness once and for all,” you exclaim, seeing Louie work quickly to tie up Bower in rope. This ties up with what you told Costumier before. You say, “I’ve got no quarrel with you. I would’ve accepted your offer to collabo with me.” 

“Thanks,” says Bower, “but no thanks. Would rather be ghosted if it’s all the same to you.” 

“I’m not going to kill you!” you shout at him.

“Fine. Then I’ll kill you. Or at least, I’ll keep trying over and over again. I’m not gonna stop, Princess, until you’re dead. The only way to stop me is to kill me.” 

He looks like he means it, and he’s already gotten to his feet somehow up from the floor. If you untie Bower, he’ll probably attack you. If you leave him tied up, he’ll get loose eventually and then attack you. The catch 22 situation means either you’ll be attacked by him in the near future, and he’ll attempt to murder you; or you’ll preemptively attack him now, which gives you a distinct advantage in the killer-diller battle between the forces of good (you) and evil (him). 

You turn around to ask Louie what to do. Slam! The sound of a side of beef plopped down on the floor startles you to look back. There, no more than a yard behind Bower’s lifeless body, stands Costumier wiping blood from his lips. “Evildoers are easier, and they taste better,” he says. “Born sinner, the opposite of a winner.” 

Interview with the Vampire, I knew it, ha!” Louie shouts. “He is Tom Cruise!” 

“Juicy,” says Costumier, turning the radio on. Buzz. 

Five past the hour ten o’clock on Tuesday. You’re listening to KRZM classic hip hop in the morning. Here’s The Notorious B.I.G., Biggie Smalls. 

It was all a dream / I used to read Word Up! magazine 

“This song takes me back. I used to read bedtime stories to have you sleep so soundly. Time to wake up, Princess” your Mom says, shutting off the alarm clock radio. “Toad, will you please make sure she doesn’t fall back asleep? We’ve got our big party tonight.” It was all a dream. The end. 

¶ 53. The years pass to memory like pictures in an old photo album. Then, one day, you remember that night of the party. The masquerading cast of characters. The façade your mother put up, Ken’s plastic smile. That teenage persona of yours. Omg, you think, I can’t believe I acted so rebellious! 

The dog barks at the opening front door. “Hey there, boy!” You look up as your son and daughter run into the outstretched arms of your husband. “Hey,” David says, “how’s about a picture?” “Sure,” you say, “a picture would be great.” He scoops the children up on his shoulders, and each of you returns to one another to live happily ever after. 

The end. 

Thank you, thank you, you’re too kind. Let me set the scene at the Mario household for your would-be great picture: 

You and David rush above deck at the sound of the lookout yelling, “Pirates ho!” Following his arm pointing to the horizon, you set the tripod up, asking if the children see a ship sailing directly toward them with alarming speed. “Look, kids, her disguise of a Royal flag is being lowered, while the black flag of jolly roger, with its grinning skull and crossbones, hoists unfurled in its place,” you say. “It’s pretty badass,” David echoes, which prompts a warning from you to watch his language. “Aye, aye, ma’am,” David responds. The imaginative game has piqued your children’s interest. You set the camera timer and follow David to pose yourselves for the shot. You sit on the couch as David takes a seat on the floor in front. “Whoa, would you look at her, kids,” David says, keeping the children attentive. “She’s a magnificent ship, a three-masted beauty running fifty meters long from bow to stern. She carries 26 cannons on her port side. We’ve got only six starboard guns. We need an all-hands-on-deck effort!” David announces. “Son, climb up to the top deck with me,” you say. “Daughter, get down below deck with me,” David says. “Where be that scurvy dog? Fluffy, come here, boy!” Click.  

The best means of attaining an ideal family photo is to exercise patience in maintaining the focus of young children and pets. Rather than mistakenly trying to force things, you and David came up with an imaginative story line, which grabbed hold of your children’s attention and maintained their enthusiasm to provoke their participation in the photo pose. Critically, you and David put yourselves in position first to pose for the photo, and did so at different levels I might add, before integrating your kids and calling the dog over into the shot. In lieu of narrating an imaginative story line or coming up with a game of make believe, you and David might’ve given your kids and pet an activity to do or something to keep them occupied, such as coloring books and a chew toy. Finally, as opposed to the single shot timed camera setup, there are comparably semi-automatic smartphone apps to enable better (or at least more) shots of attaining an ideal image. Those include the “live” mode camera app feature built into iOS devices, the analog smart app feature available for Android OS devices as well as downloadable app store content with burst photo technology. 

 Restart the story, try another path. (Go to ¶ 5.)

I followed every possible path for Princess through to its end. (Turn the page.)