Lacey is Cheap, Not Expensive Truthfully Explained

Lem begins. He’s angry. He dares you to call him a demon.

*he smiles*

“Lacey has some old money. It’s genuine and it’s crass to say so, but she does have it nonetheless.” begins Lem.

*cough* “You should clarify that you’re not talking about sex here. It sounds as if you are.” says a former classmate of his.

“Right. I’m talking about social class.” Lem says.

He goes on.

“But she’s cheap.” *he smiles*

“How is she cheap? …It’s in her way of valuing honor and commitment more than money. In the way she prefers a plain vanilla ice cream cone to the most expensive treat on the menu. Louis Vuitton monogram to Hermes. …A cheaper house and another somewhere else over one expensive new home. Staying home and raising her kids over earning more money. Vintage Emeraude more than new $500 niche. Gladiolus over roses. Cutting her own hair over spending thousands in a salon. One nice car and less waste. She buys expensive things sometimes and that’s what stands out to some people. But it’s very strategic. And people who want her to be less intelligent than she is don’t want to see that.” He chuckles.

“Lem’s getting too angry to talk.” Michael explains.

“I’m not angry at her.” Lem clarifies.

“People need to stop meddling with my business.” says God.

“Was that really God?” Lacey wonders.

“Perhaps if there are lies being told they need to stop.” says Louis.

“So what’s that like? I never did hear. Being without Rockefeller or farm?” asks Lacey.

*Louis laughs*

“We had a farm too, but it wasn’t the same.” says Louis.

“No. It’s different when it’s your main home and the source of your income.” says Lacey.

“It was a huge farm.”

“It still is.”

“You told people about that to do what?” asks Louis.

“To point out the ugliness of our lives. To genuinely warn people who were consistently competing to not compete with me or to be very careful competing with me because they were likely only embarrassing themselves. Like when someone has lipstick on their teeth and you try to be kind and tell them… But also to mock the ridiculousness of it all. I said it in a crass way to purposefully make myself the bad guy to spare their feelings.”

“I know.” says Louis.

“But I think what I missed was that they possibly didn’t and are not representing their true opinions of me or everyone else. And instead were covering for each other’s egos. I thought they really were delusional, confused and genuinely condescending. Not covering.”

“They seemed toxic and genuinely insane in their grandiose self-perceptions from start to finish.” says Louis.

“Yes. Of course.” says Lacey. “Prejudiced against the Midwest and blonds and women. I was too nice. Too…friendly. I must be lying and covering up for something!!! Like in the movie Fargo, yah!”

*Louis rolls his eyes*

“You barely have an accent. Barely.” says Lem.

“I know. And the way they’d comment it was as if it was almost monstrously thick.”

“I can hear your accent!” said one hater to me. It wreaked of regional condescension, but I’m sure she’d deny it.

“That was class shaming right there.” says Lem seriously.

“Exactly!” says Lacey. “And that’s the sort of obnoxious, baffling commentary I’d read everyday. It was like being genuinely snubbed by your current hired hand. And the more I protested the weirder and more pushy they got. …And I always tried to assume the best – like they might be wealthier than it seemed – but it got really, really old after a while. And after I was too depressed and sincerely hopeless and exhausted and…*she shakes her head* and they became too creepy I snapped.”

“Like how?” asks Lem.

“Like they’d start imitating the way I talked. My sentence structure style. Which is purposefully odd and my signature as a writer, to some degree. Or my frequently used catch-phrases. Or the way I wore my pants. Or the tone or style of my photos and captions. They topics I discussed. My actual signature fragrance. My actual ex-husband. Etc.. Etc.. Etc..”

“It’s actually creepier and more demonically influenced than you realize. These people were essentially acting like zombies when they did that.” says Harold.

“Zombies?” asks Lacey.

“Yes. They weren’t cognitively entirely attune too what they were doing. It was somewhat subconscious. And it was also intentional but in a trance-like, altered state. They were being somewhat controlled. To attack you. To freak you out. To control you.” says Harold.

“Can you imagine!!!” says Michael. “Yet what’s baffling is that they were soo sophisticated. Soo kind. Sooo aware!”

“I’m starting to get it.” says Lem.

“We sheltered you.” says Rose.

“They sheltered more than just me. How long has this been brewing?”

“Almost 100 years.”

Lacey is shocked.

Suddenly this has gotten dark.