Marisa Welch Posted July 22, 2023 Posted July 22, 2023 Saturday morning in the city; bright clear skies, sun beaming, 74 degrees, and the smell of hot garbage permeating the air. Suddenly a statuesque blonde is seen pounding the pavement in 7-inch clear pumps. Adorning her curvaceous body, a neon pink halter top and cut up denim daisy dukes. As she comes closer into view it’s revealed to be none other than the Sex Metal Barbie herself, Marisa Welch-Mac. She does not look to be in a good mood. She ignores the catcalls and the fans who recognize her asking for pictures as she continues stomping down the street. In her left hand is what looks to be a black t-shirt. She quickly hangs right and enters a small post office. As the door jingles behind she stops and holds up the t-shirt to look at it. She smirks and mutters to herself under her breath…. Marisa: Call me “petty betty”. Marisa: I knew that cricut machine would come in handy for something. She prances in line, waiting behind two people. She looks around awkwardly. Marisa: Damn I wish I didn’t break my phone. After a few moments her turn is up and she steps up to the desk. She flails the t-shirt onto the counter. The post office clerk looking at it interestingly. P.O. Worker: Hmm, that’s an interesting tee. Big fan of Mickey D’s? Marisa: Don’t ask. But no, I barely eat that garbage. I’m sure the person this is going to is though. I need this packaged and shipped with the fastest rate possible. And I don’t mean to be rude, but can you make it quick please. I have to head to the Verizon store and get a fill for these nails all within the next 2 and a half hours. The clerk raises her brows and nods. She quickly packages the shirt and slides an address slip for the recipient towards Marisa for her to fill out. She begins writing the recipient’s name, ‘Maria “Sue Plex” Reese-Buteo’. She fills in the address and slides it back to the clerk. P.O. Worker: Alright, that will be 20 dollars even. Marisa pulls out her black Am-Ex from her back pocket and hands it over. After the transaction, Marisa quickly begins to strut to the exit. Marisa: I don’t need a receipt or tracking slip. I trust it will get to where it has to. Thanks. Marisa has a giggle not long before her expression changes back to that of disgust as she exits the post office. 1
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