‘We were exopressed by your design,’ Iffer dixed. ‘You can get to trav immedion if you troobit.’
‘Yeh,’ I said, ‘I donti mind.’
‘We’re looking for cutting-edge only,’ he said. ‘We need the mozzy finergistic ideas. ?Do you tink you can do that.’
I wantied to say, ‘I spend all my days doing that,’ and also ‘yeah but, the greenvressis ting was just a trilly flukeyfluke’ but thort I had betternot. ‘Yes, !cloof, I tink I can,’ I said instead.
He ponted his vaddervanilli through the void wards an infcubby. I climbed in. Ixes were floating round me. I played with the trols. !Olk, it was powerful. Thousands of ixes sped past me. A tiny movement of my bluv would spin a chosen one wards me and it would hangin the smogga fore me, pretta to be bellidged. I pulled sunrays, decos, jewls, colours, fects exof the smogga. It was totallon zorbing. It felt like there was no limit to my creativity.
My best vlady’s design that day was a semi-pouted mouf with tallic piercings all the way round the whorl, short vressis dyed in spiralled stripes and set into stiffened points, with a fluffy vintage merkin on the mons bove them. My best men’s design was a stamp vaddattoo vadderight, foncy vlu spiralling dotted lines spreading from the vadderbase up to a feathudd clutch, which is a tallic studded ring gripping the last three centimetres. The feathuzz were quite small and black, and fanning out in a way that vhances and acts as a ministention in one. This all gainst the backdrop of off-blondish vressis, reverse dip-dyed to be black at the bottom, all set with doosment-pulsing tiny white lights.
Hours sped by. All I know is, it dinti feel like vail. Not at all. It was the best fun I’ve evah had. Felt like I was in a tastic, cloofy slozerix where everyting was easy and creative thorts were there for the picking. Must have been bout five when everyting vanished and the door to the infcubby slid open. I climbed down.
Iffer was there. His vaddervanilli did a little bow, and he bluvanded me a berrycoction. He is a very polite man. I felt wobbly. I was darskpeering bout, I could hardlon bleppa anyting. I sat on a red bench next to a vlady with a stonishing normous furled moufleur, and tubed. Miley, I was hungry. Another couplof designers came over to sit and tube their coctions too.
A mod with bouffed dreadlocks tombing round a splayed vaddermouf turned to me. ‘?How did you learn to design like that.’ They had set their voice to tinny buzz so they sounded like a robot.
‘I …my doptive was into shwervistory…she vailed in a shwerv-seum. I would help her with the splays. I just reallon got to troobit.’
The vlady with the normous furls turned to me too. ‘?Do you tink plakkiplaits are a fokka look for this week.’
?Simple enough questiquest, you would tink, righteon. NOT, lollos. Everyone around me seemed to be leaning in to hear what I had to say.
‘?Plakkiplaits,’ I asked.
They all leaned in closer. There was a strange silence round us.
Nobody, not even the mozzy bitchybitch people, should be at the mercy of plakkiplaits, so I felt like it was my duty to give them truinf. ‘Plakkiplaits,…’ I said firmlon, ‘are completelon daygolass. They were in such glut six months back, and were so bangup with the lowers, in truinf, everyone is totallon ovah them. You’d have to be tasteless and massively exoshwerve to be siddering them right now.’
As I dixed these last words, the vlady next to me started softclapping her vlips. She dinti say anyting, just turned wayway. The others too had little spasms dronging on with their moufleurs and vaddervanillis. They dinti appear to be tubing any more. I looked round me. Everyone was spasming quietlon.
It seemed a bit funny, so I started vlatting. ‘Why is everyb…’ My words dried up as I turned round and caught bleppof what they had alpretta bleppaed. A vlady, sporting the most stonishing moufleur strapped up with randomlon-angled strips of plak and hung with hundreds of layered, skinny plakkiplaits in vlu, orange and gold, stood at the big glass doors into the void. She just tadarsed there, still, silent. It was Yana.
!Oh, mouthing, spitting Miley. !?What the nostrils had I done.