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Constance 'Connie' Plum
Mortal Life
So what is a day in the life of Constance Plum like? Nowadays life for me would appear to be boring. I currently work as a secretary for Richard “Dickie” Gimmel, accountant and all around geek-boy. I answer phone calls and file shit while I get his High Nerdiness, Gimmel his coffee (1 cream, 3 sugars). Every afternoon at 3pm I go into Dickie’s office to dictate (he giggles every time he says dictate) things for him. Dickie then finds something to drop on the ground so that I will have to pick it up and he can have a quick eyeful of my sweater monkeys. I then go back to my desk and finish the dictation and prepare for the next day’s appointments.
I know exciting huh? I work for a male chauvinistic nerd who demeans me if he can. I go home to a tiny one bedroom apartment which I share with my hamster Felix. Without seeing me you would think I was homely as sin. Well I am not. Ok I am not Giselle…never will be… but I have pretty good looks with my Italian and Hungarian background. In the old country my dad’s ancestor’s last name was Pluminelli, not a common name so when my great great grandparents came over, the person processing my family on Ellis Island shortened it out of convenience. So my family is originally from New York, but due to “family operations” my Dad moved to Carcosa, met Mom, knocked her up and bing bang boom I was born. A year later my parent’s perfect child and sister Susan was born.
Growing up I was the black sheep of the family. I was always in detention for something in school while Susan was on the honor roll. While I was trying to maintain my spot in the top 80% of the class in community college, Susan was getting married to a lawyer and had two perfect kids. I, on the other hand, got passing grades and finally received an associate’ degree by sleeping with half the male faculty. I could memorize anything that was in front of me or in a lecture but when it comes to essay tests or labs I couldn’t just regurgitate information (which was most tests for me) I failed so I needed the additional “help”. At the time I really didn’t care. It’s like my family didn’t expect anything better out of me. My parents were once again disappointed when I couldn’t get a decent job, and viewed their financial contribution to my education a waste. So I blackmailed my cousin Guido into getting me a job in his bail bonds office. (His real name isn’t Guido but he is a walking stereotype so that’s what I call him.) It’s important for a “family” like ours to have someone who’s nose is clean and has a business like Guido’s when a family member got in trouble. I just happen to have vital information on Guido that would make the family unhappy.
I “worked” as a bail enforcement officer and my main duties were to round up FTA’s (failure to appear) to take them to jail to either revoke their bail or to reschedule their court dates and bail them out. Think of me as Beth from Dog the Bounty Hunter with 80 pounds of tits removed, dark brown hair, wearing pencil skirts and high heels. Ok so I was nothing like Beth let alone anything like a bounty hunter. Mainly I got lucky rather than capturing anyone with skill. By lucky I mean I would land male FTA’s by being a naughty little census taker with a penchant for sex and when I got to the bedroom I would slap on the cuffs as part of the seduction and then light them up with my stun gun. After that it was just a matter of dragging their ass to the car and taking them in to the police and receive my body receipt to take in to Guido to exchange for a check. Technically I was one step away from being a prostitute only the cops paid me and the guys never really got to finish.
One of my FTA’s was Dickie. He had been up for a lewd act. Translation…he whipped it out outside a bar and peed in public and had been bonded out after he got sober. Problem was he thought the charge was ridiculous and decided not to go to court, so I was called to get him. It all went down like normal except for the fact that after I took him in to the police station and got him bonded out again, he was infatuated with me. Like a nerdy little lap dog. I was kinda used to people having some sort of reaction to me after bringing them in. Some guys were amused or turned on, but mostly the guys were pissed at me. Unfortunately you can’t judge a person by what they were charged with. It is a lesson I learned too late.
I was assaulted as I was entering my apartment one winter evening. He was masked but I could tell he had been a former FTA by the way he was talking to me and what he chose to say. He proceeded to rape me though I managed to put up a fight. I was mostly frightened but outraged. In my family it had always been ingrained that no one gets away with disrespecting us. When he was through with me he laughed and headed out of my apartment. I got up and thought enough to put a robe on and chased after him. I caught up to him at the top of the stairs as he was heading down and just leapt on top of him. The next conscious moment I had was waking up in the hospital. I heard my parents speaking about how this might have never happened if I wasn’t such a screw up. It pissed me off but at that point I knew they were right. I walked out of the hospital with a broken right arm and clavicle and covered in bruises. The man who assaulted me lived too and was charged with rape. Last I heard he had run into the wrong people and got himself killed. Rumors were that friends of the family got their revenge for me. I honestly don’t know if that is true or not. Frankly I don’t care.
I got out of bail enforcement and Dickie being the stalker he was offered me a job as his secretary. How could I pass it up? A quiet job in an accounting firm isn’t gonna get me beat up and raped. I still keep my stun gun in case Dickie decides to pull something but what is he gonna do? Give me a paper cut? My new job made my mother happy and to continue to try and make her happy I decided to go back to church. In the beginning I went only to balance my checkbook and for the jellied filled donuts that my mother always bought at Giovinni’s Market afterward. After awhile scriptures that talked about the wrath of God and anything that reminded me of God’s justice began to resonate with me. It affected me so much so that I began to volunteer for victim’s advocacy groups. Seeing so many women living in battered women’s homes hardens your heart a bit. Seeing so many men get away with it made me even more angry.
In my free time I began working on “cases” where abusers would get a slap on the wrist for their crimes or would continue to contact their victims and cause them grief. I guess I really didn’t know exactly what I wanted to accomplish. What I did do was follow them to bars and around town. Anytime I had the chance I would find a way to anonymously harass them. Whether it be letting out the air from their tires to informing neighbors that this guy beats up women or anonymously calling the police on them for infractions of the law I made sure their life was a living hell as much as I could within the law. I had learned my lesson about being obvious. I picked up some pointers from a detective and never once went out looking the same. I acquired wigs, different styles of clothing and I have wide variety of make up and eye contacts. After awhile I could walk past the same guy two nights in a row and he wouldn’t know I was the same person. To this point I have never been caught or approach by one of the guys I have gone after….although there has been a guy I have seen frequently. I think he can see through my guise. I guess I am gonna have to approach him and check him out. He seems a bit dangerous but I am not gonna let myself get jumped again.
Other Pics of Connie
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Retainers
 Jose Velasquez |
Apartment Layout
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Vehicle
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The above represents OOC Information