You hear Ginuwine’s “Pony” playing in the background, as three rich-white-girls-you-love-to-hate stand dissecting their gorgeous faces in the bathroom mirror, picking out the tiniest flaws. “Ugh I hate what my stylist did to my hair. Curls make my face look so fat,” one of them says. “What? I love your curls. At least you don’t have freckles!” And then from the stalls behind them erupts a GEYSER OF FECAL MATTER, splashing all over their designer dresses and onto the mirrors. They all have freckles now. Continue reading A Crime at the Prom