Becky was just on her way out to the shops, when a note flipped through the letter box. One of the local community groups were having a jumble sale, and were asking for bags of old clothes from houses in the local area. Becky being of a charitable nature, and in no particular hurry, she decided to postpone her shopping trip for ten minutes while she went to the attic to find some things, while it was fresh in her mind to do so.
In the assortment of bin liners and boxes in the attic she found a startling array of clothing from her life; old, fleeting fashions she had worn once and then put away, garish, tacky garments she had bought in a fit of enthusiasm only to regret doing so once she'd got them home, perfectly good clothes that had simply become old and worn, and a selection of uniforms she had worn as a girl and in past jobs.
She began sorting through the heaps, before coming across her old, but favourite, school uniform. She went to put it in the box, only to be struck with a sudden feeling of nostalgia. That uniform held so many memories; she felt it would be a shame to simply throw it out. With this train of thought, she suddenly had an itching desire to try it on once again.
She sought out and put together all the parts of the uniform she could find; the pleated green and mauve tartan skirt, tidy white blouse, the old school tie, the thick green tights and dark green cardigan, decorated with the school logo on the left lapel. Rummaging about, she also located her old school shoes, smart grey blazer and the light grey hat, daintily decorated with a red ribbon. She took the whole lot down to the bedroom.
She was surprised to find that most of the uniform still fitted as she changed into it; the shoes were decidedly tight and uncomfortable, so she took them off, and the skirt, supposedly calf length, now came to the knee, but was otherwise quite comfortable. As she looked at herself in the mirror, memories of her schooldays, good and bad, flooded back. One in particular, however got her thinking.
On the day she left school, all the girls in her year had planned to have a mass food fight the afternoon before breaking up, in order to mess up the uniforms they would no longer need. This was stamped upon by the teachers who had no intention of seeing their girls end their schooldays in such an undignified manner, and took steps to foil the plans by confiscating all messy foodstuffs found on the girls, and keeping a very close eye on them right to the final bell. As the girls all parted at the end of school, the chance passed.
A mischievous thought struck Becky. There was clearly unfinished business here, and she decided that the time and come to finish it. She changed back into her normal clothes and finally set off to the shops.
When she returned, it was with a bag containing an assortment of items she had bought basically on impulse at the supermarket; six cans of tinned soup, of assorted flavours; a family sized bottle of orange juice; four cans of baked beans; a two litre carton of custard; two bottles of foam bath, one pink, one green; a can of shaving foam, razors and a three litre bottle of milk. Her excitement mounting, she went back up to the bedroom to change.
As she looked at the uniform, she had a further thought. She had waited six years to do this, and felt the event called for a little ceremony. The uniform at present was looking old and musty; how much better it would be if it was as neat and smart as when it was new. Her excitement fueled further by the self-teasing, she took the uniform downstairs, and thoroughly washed and ironed it, and carefully hung the garments up and left them to air. That night, she went to sleep buzzing with anticipation of the morrow’s activities.
The next day she woke much earlier than usual, in a state of excitement she had last experienced as a girl on Christmas day. She had a light breakfast, showered and put on the school uniform. She carefully brushed her hair, and placed it in a tight bun, on top of which she put the school hat. Carefully neatening the creases in her uniform, she looked at the tidy, smart figure in the mirror, her heart pounding. It was time.
She fetched her bag of groceries and a can opener, went into the bathroom, sat down in the bath and put in the plug. Reaching into the bag, dizzy with excitement, she pondered what to use first. She finally took four of the soup cans; one can of green pea soup, one of potato and leek and two cream of tomatoes. She poured the potato and leek and one of the tomato soups over her head, feeling it gathering in the brim of the hat and dripping over the edge on to her shoulders. She removed the hat and filled it up with the other two cans, before placing it back on her head. The soup gushed down around her head, running down the collar of her blouse and blazer and filling up the V-neck of her cardigan. Wiping the mess from her eyes, she took the bottle of milk and emptied it over her head in one big motion. The milk spread out as it hit the crown of the hat, and showered down around her body and into her lap, filling the pockets in her blazer. Opening the four cans of beans, she topped up each of the pockets, pressing them shut so that the mess spurted out and down her sides and from her breast pockets. Remembering the inside pockets, she filled them up too, and with a big patting motion spread orange goo around the inside of her blazer and her cardigan. She removed her hat, and tipped what remained of the beans over her head. The bottle of orange juice completed the saturation job on her blazer. She took it off and concentrated on the rest of the outfit.
Her cardigan was covered around the midriff with beans, tomato sauce running down to the waistband of her skirt. She could feel the soup inside her cardigan soaking through to her skin, through her blouse. She opened the two remaining soup cans (both vegetable), poured one into the front of her cardigan the other all over her skirt. Opening the carton of custard, she poured it carefully over her stockinged feet, up both legs, relishing the custard soaking through her thick tights around her legs, coating the front of the skirt and pouring the remainder around her shoulders. With this she stood up, stepped out of the bath and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her cardigan was dripping with goo. She could only barely make out the tartan pattern on her skirt through the gunge, and she left a slimy yellow footprint wherever she trod. Giggling, she turned back to the bath.
The mess used so far lined the bottom of the bath. To this, Becky added the two bottles of foam bath and sprayed the contents of the shaving foam can in on top of it. She was left with a bath of gunge some two inches deep, which she lay down in face first, before rolling around in the slime. Ending up on her back, she turned on the bath taps and lay back as the bath filled up with water. It mixed with the mess already in the bath, so that when she turned the taps off, she was lying in a bath full of a wonderfully thick, slimy liquid, topped with mountains of bath foam and swimming with beans. Becky wallowed in the mixture, loving the feeling of her soaked, slimy school uniform playing around her body. She turned over, got to her knees, gunge pouring off her clothes as she rose, and plunged her head down beneath the surface. She emerged with her head covered with mess, turned back over on to her back, and pulled the plug. She rejoiced in the feeling as the mixture gurgled away, draining down around her legs and body, leaving only the dregs, pools of liquid trapped around her lower back and behind her shoulders and herself covered thickly from head to toe in the gunge. Her clothes, weighed down, tightened against her body and her every movement left in it's wake a gooey residue. She lay back for some time, ecstatic over the mess. She then got to her feet, put her blazer and hat back on, feeling the inside of the blazer become gradually saturated by her wet clothes as she did so. She looked at herself again in the mirror, laughing hysterically as she neatened the uniform, straightened out the skirt, adjusted the line of her hat and stood in a mock cutesy pose, feet together, hands behind her back, face beaming. She gave a little curtsey, sending slop spilling on floor, then turned and rinsed off under the shower.
Well, she thought. They won't be wanting this outfit for the jumble sale now. Good. That leaves it for the next time I do this... maybe next time with friends to help me....
