Kira Seamon

“Hey, we’ll let Huckleberry enjoy his lunch. Speaking of something, if you are in a better mood now, come with me to the Rainforest Room. I have something to show you. I wanted to wait until you calmed down because it means a lot to me, and I hoped you might be happy for me. Here, come with me.”
He led her back to the previous room, which had amazing, rare rainforest plants in it.
“Check this out!”
He tossed her a magazine that said Horticultural Digest on the cover. Holly neatly caught it and opened it up to the dog-eared page.
Blaring across the page in huge font was the title: WILLIAM SMITH, THE RAINMAKER OF SHELLESBY COLLEGE’S FAMOUS RAINFOREST ROOM. It was a five-page spread with big glossy photos of the Rainforest Room sprinkled throughout the article.
“Five, count ‘em, five pages! That’s my record. Until now, they’ve only given me four. Check it out: I’m the Rainmaker, baby! Let it rain, let it rainnnn!”
William stomped around in make-believe puddles on the floor. He picked up a garden hose lying along the side of the room and held it upright like an umbrella.
“I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain. What a glorious feeling. I’m happy again.”
Holly squealed with laughter and applauded.
William jumped up on a large over-turned pot and shifted the hose to now play air guitar while he repeated the verse.
“William, there is no air guitar in that song!”
“There is now, baby!”
Holly exploded again in laughter, clutching her sides.
After a few more seconds of air guitar, William jumped off the pot and lowered his voice considerably.
“Thank you, thank you very much,” William said in his Elvis impersonation.
He now held the garden hose like a microphone and said, “My next song is dedicated to my beagle, my very own hound dog, my Sweetpea. Sweetpea, girl, this is for youuuuuuu.”
He now launched into Elvis’s famous “Hound Dog.”
“You ain’t nothing but a hound dogggg.” With this, he also twirled the hose by holding it tight two feet from the nozzle, then twirling the nozzle in little circles above his head like a lasso.
“Work it, William! Work it!” Holly screamed in laughter.
He did some choice hip swivels as he sang “Hound Dog,” sending Holly into peals of laughter.
“William, stop! Stop! Where are you? I can’t see I’m crying so hard!”
William dropped his voice even lower and more dramatically.
In his best Elvis voice, he said, “Well, if you can’t find me darlin’, I’ll find you.” He dropped on one knee and gently picked up her hand.
“Thank you, thank you very much,” he said in Elvis mode.
“My next song, I dedicate to my one and only, to my Holly-Dolly. Little prickly pear, this one’s for youuuuuu.”
He now launched into Elvis’s famous “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.”
“Take my hand, take my whole life, too, for I can’t help falling in love with you.” With that, he gave her hand a soft kiss.
He then jumped up onto an empty potting table and spun around once on his butt, then pushed himself the length of the entire table, and slid off the far end.
“Loose, footloose!” William picked up his garden-hose microphone again and kept singing. “Kick off the Sunday shoes . . .”
He sang the entire song, and then Holly exploded in appreciative applause.
He was breathing heavily and had a million-dollar smile on his face.
“Hoo-wee, that was fun! I am so sweaty now, hoo-boy!”
He splashed some water on his face, and then shook his hair.
“William! When are you going to enter that karaoke contest at the coffee shop in town? They’re paying $1,000 to the winner of their contest. No one can beat you! That was unbelievable!”
“That was fun.” William laughed. “Are in a better mood now?”
“How can I not be? You are THE best!”
― Kira Seamon, Dead Cereus

“You’re at the captain’s table, so to speak. The Berkeleys are here, as well as the big donors and some from the administration.”
When Holly heard the name Berkeley, her heart sank. Just my luck, she fumed, can I never get my time in the sun without Ivy stealing all the limelight?
As she sat down, she noticed she was seated directly opposite Ivy.
Ivy was already enjoying the soup, and Holly looked at her with chagrin.
She looked breathtakingly beautiful in a dark blue dress with large diamond drop earrings. As she looked up to her father to tell him how much she enjoyed her soup, Holly caught sight of her face.
She had on the most flawless makeup, far more advanced than Holly’s attempt earlier.
Next to Ivy, Holly felt like a grubby orphan who hadn’t seen a washcloth in years.
“She even has on lip liner,” Holly said under her breath in a mixture of admiration and bitterness.
“Holly, Holly. Earth to Holly. Holly, the server wants to know your drink order, baby. Please tell him.”
She realized the server must have asked her a question, and she was so lost in thought about Ivy that she hadn’t heard.
“Iced tea, please, light ice, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Holly waited until the server left, and then whispered into William’s ear.
“I feel so ugly. She’s so beautiful. This is the worst thing that could happen. Being seated opposite her, and so now you’ll be admiring her perfection all dinner long. Just kill me now,” Holly finished with a sigh.
“Where’s Ivy?”
“She’s right across from me, silly!”
“Where? I don’t see her?”
“She’s over . . .” Holly broke off and looked into William’s eyes.
His eyes told her everything she needed to know. They were warm and loving, and she knew he was trying to let her know that he only had eyes for her.
“I don’t care about Ivy. Not one microscopic millimeter. It’s you I love. So, please try to enjoy yourself and forget about her. It’s a big night here, and I have a lot to do with the donors later. Please don’t make me distracted and worried about you and your jealousy of her. I am yours, and that’s the end of it.”
She gave him a loving smile of thanks and decided to eliminate Ivy from her thoughts. She turned to her left and was delighted to find Heather sitting next to her.”
― Kira Seamon, Dead Cereus