". . . There she is: your ideal. . ."

Belatedly, I realize that I will never be Miss America. I'm pretty - and could be pretty enough if I was willing to put in the amount of work it would take. I'm talented as all hell. I can even be considered to have a "good personality" if I choose to be in the right mood. Unfortunately, there's an interview portion. It would go something like this:

Interviewer: If you could have one wish granted, what would it be?

Romie: Frankly, I'm just waiting for the proletariat to rise up and demand their freedom from the multi-national monopolies that manipulate the myth of the free market and pervert any sense of social responsibility. They are the enemies of Truth.

Interviewer: (strained smile, nervously glancing at the camera) So you would wish for world peace?

Romie: I suppose there could be peace after the revolution.

. . .

Also, I'm married, which apparently means I'm no longer beautiful or a good ambassador and don't deserve a college scholarship even if I put Vaseline on my teeth so my smile doesn't stick.

[Incidentally, the title comes from the rather terrifying song sung at the pageant. The full set of lyrics can be found here.]