Well, would you look at that! It’s not even a whole month yet and I’m already posting another installment of my chapter by chapter review of Tyra Banks’ “Modelland”! The world must be coming to an end!
When we last left the Bellas, Dylan was running away from the W.O.W. class to probably eat her feelings, and Tookie and Naomi Campbell stand-in Shiraz Shiraz have gone chasing after her so she doesn’t eat her own weight in pies or something.
They end up chasing Dylan into a plaid cube that smelled strangely of wet fur. There are so many lesbian hipster jokes I could make right now but I will resist from doing so.
Once they’re inside the lesbian hipster cube, Tyra doesn’t hold back with the body torture that she seems to be really fond of. Really, really, really, really, really, fond of.
“Tookie grabbed hold of her ankle and felt a warm flow of blood trickling to her foot.
…And then, suddenly, a shining claw reached out again and struck her mouth. Rip!
The familiar tricle of blood dripped down her chin.”
Sometimes, I feel like “Modelland” would have been much improved if Tyra just wrote it like one of those “Saw” movies. Just torture porn page after page. Like a modern day Marquis de Sade, except with the ability to smize.
So who are these tormentors that keep clawing at Tookie and the gang? Why, cats, of course! After all, models ply their trade on the catwalk, eh, eh? Tyra is just a wizard at word association or something.
Further proof that Tyra is a Poet Laureate in the making:
“‘Whatchoo lookin’ at, nosey?’ a vocie scoffed. ‘Can’t I bathe in peace without your ugly butt staring at my beauty and my booty?'”
This is in reference to a cat washing itself, by the way. Just in case it wasn’t clear to you guys.
More and more cats start materializing from the shadows of the lesbian hipster cube, and Tookie starts noticing that the feline faces look human. Which you have to admit is hardly the craziest thing she’s encountered inside the lesbian hipster cube, because the damn cats are talking to her.
Even more curiously, Tookie notices that the cats don’t just have human faces, they look like former Intoxibellas. Tyra starts a roll call of Intoxibellas that, judging from the way things have been progressing, will absolutely have no bearing on the plot at all.
“A lot like the Intoxibella Anka, who was a favorite at Cappucina fashion week.
The tabby looked like hyperactive Fiona from Icylann.
‘You look like Intoxibella Phara!’ Shiraz exclaimed….”
And then Zarpessa and Chaste also find their way inside the lesbian hipster cube, because why the fuck not? One of the cats then pees on Zarpessa because why the fuck not?
“‘I want this pretty one right here!’ Then, to everyone’s horror, it squatted and urinated on Zarpessa’s feet, marking its territory. “This one is Mine. Mine! MINE!'”
I mean, we all know that those cats used to be former Intoxibellas. Was that some sort of lesbian ownership ritual or something? Are they in an actual lesbian hipster cube?
Pretty soon all the cats start ganging up on them and that scene from the excellent Swedish film adaptation of John Ajvide Lindqvist’s “Let the Right One In“. You know, this one:
I mean, once I’ve got that in my head, how else do you expect me to concetrate on anything else?
Anyway, the BellaDonna makes an appearance looking like an oversized lion’s face, and Tyra once again displays her skills at alliteration, as the BellaDonna calls the inhabitants of the lesbian hipster cube “pathetic, paltry pussycats”. She also berates the cats for “being such catty wenches”. Eh, eh?
The cats are herded back into their pens, but not before dropping another L-bomb on Tookie.
“‘Watch out, De La Creme. This kitty-cat got a taste of your sweetness and wants more of your cream!'”
I wish this weren’t the words on the page, guys. I really do wish that.
