SRU Friends are Thicker than Wishes
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SRU: There She Is free porn video
SRU: There She Is
By Heather St. Claire
January 14, 2012, Planet Hollywood Resort and Casino, Las Vegas, the 91st
Miss America Pageant
Cheryl Whalen thought if her heart was to beat any harder, it would
explode right out of her chest. The 20-year-old Miss Washington wished
that her body-hugging, floor length silver evening gown was just a shade
looser so it wouldn't be quite so hard to breathe; but then she realized
that it was nerves, pure and simple, that were the cause of her
difficulty.
And why shouldn't she be feeling nervous? Yes, everyone whose paths
crossed hers always thought of her as an usually poised and mature young
person, with a wisdom beyond her years, but darn it, the moment she had
dreamed of and planned for and worked toward for fifteen years was about
to arrive...or was it?
Yes, Cheryl had dreamed of being Miss America since she was five years
old. The bedroom of her home was filled with trophies, sashes, plaques,
certificates, tiaras and crowns...all the paraphernalia of a life spent
on the pageant circuit.
Now she stood at the brink of the moment, the crowning moment. Most
people used that phrase in a figurative sense, but in Cheryl's case, it
would also be the literal truth...or so she hoped.
She was holding hands with Lisa Gibbs, Miss Kansas, a statuesque
brunette. They were the two remaining contestants for the title of Miss
America 2012. The flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm her; she kept
telling herself to focus, and to breathe. But she couldn't stop the
thoughts racing through her head:
....even to make it this far is fantastic, a wonderful honor...but who
ever remembers the runner-up?....I'm a blonde, Teresa (the reigning Miss
America) is a blonde, will they choose two blondes in a row?...but Lisa's
from Kansas and Teresa's from Nebraska, maybe they won't want two in a
row from the same part of the country?....when will they stop talking and
get on with it? Please?....
Finally, she heard co-host Chris Harrison's voice through the fog:
"...the moment is here. The moment when we find out which one of these
ladies will be the ninety-first Miss America and which will be first
runner-up." He turned to co-host Brooke Burke. "Brooke, will you do the
honors please?"
Brooke Burke tucked her microphone under her arm as she opened the
envelope with the winner's name inside. She read the name on the card to
herself. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, she took the
microphone in hand again and said: "Your Miss America 2012 is Miss
Washington, Cheryl Whalen!!!"
There was no holding back now. The tears flowed freely; they were tears
of joy, yes, but also tears of relief, and of vindication; vindication
that thousands of hours spent on the pageant circuit had paid off in a
dream come true. Teresa Scanlan, the reigning Miss America, pinned the
crown on her head, someone handed her a bouquet of roses, and then the
taped voice of Bert Parks came over the loudspeakers:
"There she is, Miss America, there she is, your ideal....."
Cheryl waved to the crowd. She spotted her mother and father, triggering
a new flood of tears. She knew how proud they were at this moment. She
knew none of this would have been possible without their love and
sacrifice. Then she glanced at the front row and saw the most curious
sight.....
Lone Pine Mall, March 29, 1997
It was a gray, dreary Saturday, not uncommon for the Pacific Northwest at
this time of the year, but it seemed particularly depressing to Charles
Wilson today, coming as it did after a couple of days of sunshine. But it
didn't really matter to him; it only helped him to solidify a decision he
had been moving toward in the weeks since his mother had died.
He would end his life.
He really didn't see a point in continuing the charade of living. With
the passing of his mother, he had no immediate family left. He was an
only child; his father had left shortly after his fifth birthday, and his
mother had never remarried. He had never forged a close relationship of
his own. He was in a job that was neither personally fulfilling nor
financially rewarding. Thirty-eight years of this was enough. More than
enough.
Charles had reached the decision on this gray, damp morning as he sat on
a stone bench near his mother's grave. The headstone had been placed that
week, and it was exactly as he wished it. He had maxed out his Visa card
to pay for it, but that really didn't matter now.
At the moment, he didn't yet know how or when he would carry out the
decision, but he felt in his heart that there was no turning back.
On his drive home, he passed the Lone Pine Mall. Something compelled him
to stop and wander inside. He thought he might pick up a book at
Waldenbooks....no, if he was to stay on the path he had chosen, he didn't
want any lengthy distractions. A magazine or two would be sufficient.
Charles rounded the corner that would take him to the bookstore and then
he stopped abruptly. The Waldenbooks that had been there on his last
visit to the mall two weeks earlier was gone. In its place was a strange-
appearing storefront for something called "Spells 'R Us." Curiosity, and
annoyance, carried him through the front door. He didn't even notice the
soft tinkling of the bell above the door. He wanted to know what the heck
had happened to his favorite bookstore.
For the second time in a couple of minutes Charles was brought up short.
This time it was by the sight of a strange looking old man with a long
beard wearing a tattered bathrobe. A wizard's hat sat atop his head.
"What happened to the Waldenbooks that was here?" he asked with an
annoyed edge.
"It's not here at the moment," the Wizard said.
"I can see that," Charles said with a sigh. "So what is this place, a
magic shop?"
"Exactly right, Charles," the Wizard answered.
Charles was preoccupied enough to miss the fact the Wizard had addressed
him by name. "Magic, huh? Can you make me disappear?"
"Why yes," the Wizard said gently. "I can do exactly that." He reached
under the counter and produced a small glass bottle with a milky liquid
inside. There was a cork stopper in the top of the bottle. He extended
his hand towards Charles and said, "This will take care of things. Five
dollars, please."
Charles found himself reaching into his wallet for a five dollar bill
almost automatically. He took the bottle in hand and peered closely at
its contents. The Wizard spoke again: "For this potion to work, you must
consume it immediately." Charles looked at the Wizard skeptically, but
something told him to follow the strange old man's instructions. If he
dropped dead on the spot, it would be up to him to clean up the mess.
Carefully, Charles removed the stopper, tiled his head back, lifted the
bottle to his lips and drained its contents. The flavor was a bit chalky,
but not unpleasant. He thought it had a slight hint of peppermint. All at
once he felt a tingling all over his body. "So is this it?" he asked. "Am
I going to die now?"
"No Charles, you're going to live." At that moment, Charles felt a
strange sensation. He seemed to be shrinking quite rapidly. He was aware
of the exact numbers, but later learned he had gone from five feet,
eleven inches tall and 204 pounds to three feet, four inches tall and 36
pounds. He had also changed in another profound way.
He was now a she.
The new girl glanced to her right and caught sight of her reflection in a
cracked and slightly cloudy mirror that was propped against the wall. She
was astonished and transfixed by the sight. She couldn't believe how
pretty she was; an oval face with large sparkling blue eyes, full lips,
framed by soft blonde curls. She was wearing a white dress with red polka
dots, red tights, and white Mary Janes.
She looked up at the Wizard and asked. "What have you done to me?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he said. "I've put you on the path toward achieving
your fondest wish, Cheryl."
"Cheryl?"
"That's your new name, my dear, and you better get back out to the mall
quickly. Your parents are already quite upset about you wandering off."
"Parents? What are you talking about?"
The Wizard stepped in front of the counter and placed a hand on the
child's shoulder. "No more time for explanations! Now go!"
The girl stepped out into the mall, totally bewildered. As she looked
around, she saw a young couple racing toward her. They both appeared to
be about thirty years old. The woman was pretty?she thought it was the
way she would look as a grown up?and the man was handsome in a gentle
way. Not rugged, but manly, with broad shoulders and strong arms that
were even now reaching to scoop little Cheryl off the floor.
"Honey," Cindy Whalen said. "Why did you wander off like that?"
The girl immediately burst into tears. "Oh mommy, oh daddy, I'm so sorry.
I'll never, ever, never do that again, I promise." She had never laid
eyes on these people until this moment yet she knew they were now her
parents.
On the ride home, and in her bedroom (a little girl's paradise, full of
stuffed animals, dolls, pink wallpaper, sheets and bedspread), Cheryl
found her mind overwhelmed with questions. Who was that strange old man?
How had he known of the longing he had never shared with anyone, even his
dear mother?
The questions wouldn't stop racing through her brain. It was all very
strange, but very wonderful, yet she wondered how she was going to
function and fit in as a five-year-old when she still had the mind of a
38-year-old man.
The Wizard had anticipated this issue in crafting the potion for Charles.
He didn't lightly erase a person's past identity, but after carefully
weighing the pros and cons, he decided this would be the best move in
Charles', or Cheryl's case. The emptiness and pain was simply too much
for a young child to carry around with her, and she deserved to start
over with a clean slate.
In his wisdom, the Wizard made the elimination of the memories gradual,
almost imperceptible except over time. Her parents noticed Cheryl
watching CNN with rapt interest the day after the incident at the mall;
but within a few days her attentions were happily focused on the Rugrats
and Muppet Babies.
Her memories of her past weren't completely gone when Cindy settled in
with her parents on the night of September 13th that year to watch the
1997 edition of the Miss America pageant. Although her time as Charles
was becoming more cloudy and distant, she suddenly remembered a time when
she five years old and sitting with the woman she now thought of as her
first mother to watch the 1964 pageant on their big black-and-white
Zenith TV. Charles had seen how watching the program brought joy to his
mother's face, something that had been mostly absent in the weeks since
his father had moved out.
Young Charles had looked up at his mother and asked hopefully, "Could I
be Miss America someday, mommy?"
His mother laughed. It wasn't meant to be a hurtful laugh, but it stung
deeply nevertheless. "Oh no, son. Miss America is only for girls." The
boy's cheeks had reddened and he didn't speak for a long time.
Now, a third of a century later, the same scenario was playing itself out
again. Cheryl looked at her mother and said, "Could I be Miss America
someday, Mommy?"
"Of course you can, sweetie. If you work hard and believe in yourself,
you can be anything you want."
That night marked the beginning of Cheryl's journey....a journey that
would culminate in sweet fulfillment fifteen years later.
January 14, 2012, Planet Hollywood, Las Vegas
The new Miss America did a double take as she spotted the strangest
looking old man sitting in the front row. He had on a cone-shaped hat, a
long white beard, and seemed to be wearing a bathrobe. How, Cheryl
wondered, had someone so strange ever gotten a front row seat for this?
Then the veil of forgetting was lifted, just for a moment, and Cheryl
remembered everything. And she smiled at the man who had made all of her
dreams come true.
Nadine
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