Creative Portfolio

“The cup” - Short Story Challenge 2022

According to the World Wide Web, menstrual cups are the most environmentally friendly product you can use during your period. If you don’t know what a menstrual cup is, I recommend you ask the good ole internet yourself before reading ahead. Warning: It may be graphic.

A few weeks ago, I decided to try one out myself after seeing endless ads online and walking by them every time I grabbed a box of tampons at Target. I thought “What the hell, it’s 20 bucks, how bad could a piece of silicone that gets shoved up my vagina be?” I’ve stuck larger items up there, so a bendy, bell-shaped blood catcher was nothing. At least a cup served a purpose, which I can’t say about any of my ex-boyfriends.

I got home, put the box under my bathroom sink, and called my agent. Harry’s the kind of guy who takes meticulous care of his nails but wears a suit three times his size and thinks pretending to like yoga will land him a girlfriend. The message he left sounded urgent, but when I called back he sounded like he was asleep, or getting a foot massage. Just a biiit too relaxed for having just said, “Call me, I’m about to make all your dreams come true.”

Fat chance he managed to erase my student loan debt or snag me a date with Adam Driver, but I called him back anyway.

I’ve been working as a stuntwoman for five years now, and my last gig wasn’t exactly filling in for Gal Gadot in Wonder Woman. Most of my jobs are on shows no one watches. Once, I was in an animal rights commercial, and they hired me to vomit on screen. Not as glamorous as I had hoped, but it pays the bills and for my addiction to buying crap off of Instagram that I’ll never use. It’s like the new version of QVC except with more guilt. Luckily, having grown up Catholic, guilt helps me sleep at night better than lavender oil, weed, and Ambien put together. At least guilt never led to me knocking on my neighbors door in a bra practically gargling a piece of cake. Fucking Ambien.

“Sooo, what’s up?” I asked Harry.

After rambling on about how he had to sit in the dropoff line at his kids school for 30 minutes that morning he finally cut to the chase. “I assume you know who Zoe Saldana is, ” he said, winded. It sounded like he was eating something that was still wrapped in plastic.

“Uh…you mean Zoe Saldaña? With an eñe?” I asked, wondering why I ever hired this man.

“What’s an enyay? That Kardashian husband?” Harry said.

I can’t believe this giant buffoon is my agent.

“Nevermind, yes, I know who she is. Did you see her at your yoga class or something?” I asked.

“No, but she saw you on ‘Jaws: Down Under’ and wants you to be her stunt double in the new Ridley Scott movie,” he said, sounding completely serious even though the sentence itself was batshit insane.

“What. The. Fuck,” I whispered into the ether.

I knew there had to be a catch. No way Zoe Saldaña chose me, a literal nobody, out of the hundreds of stuntwomen she has at her disposal.

“Apparently, the original stuntwoman landed on her head during a scene that required her to jump off of a building and she’s now in a coma,” Harry explained.

Great.

“Also most of the film was already shot, so they just need you to come in for one last fight scene because they can’t find anyone else who fits the part on such short notice,” he continued. I didn’t mind being the desperate choice when the alternative was sitting in my apartment watching mukbangs.

“I’m in,” I confirmed.

The next two weeks were spent training harder than I’ve ever trained before, even though the scene was simple and a total of 30 seconds long. I met the cast, started rehearsing almost immediately and to my surprise, they were impressed by my performance. Zoe was friendly and always smiling. Her presence was palpably calming, even though I was visibly shaking when I met her. I must have looked like I had seen a ghost when she first walked in. Either that, or like I was having an intense orgasm.

Three weeks after I got the call that changed my life, I also got my period. Just in time for shooting day. As in, the morning of. I woke up, instantly felt the blood gushing out of me, and jumped out of bed. With all the prep and stress of the shooting, I completely forgot to check my period tracker app, forgetting that my period existed at all. I ran to the bathroom and frantically looked for tampons.

“Fuck!” I yelled out loud. I also forgot that I threw my tampons out when I bought the cup in an effort to rid myself of plastic and be a good person or whatever. Perfect.

I slowly opened the cabinet below the sink in my bathroom and saw the box. If this had happened on any other day, I would have probably been relieved and even heard the sound of angels and seen a magical light shining on it. But the sound that played in my head was much different - more demonic, loud shrieks as I lamented my complete lack of preparation.

There it was, a period cup that I had no idea how to use. I didn’t even research it because I was so wrapped up in the movie. I opened the box and watched a few YouTube videos on menstrual cup prep and insertion. Apparently, I had to sterilize it by boiling it before use. Even better.

With 30 minutes until I had to leave the house, I filled a deep bowl with water, put it in the microwave for a few minutes and threw the cup in once it was boiling. I’m cringing just thinking about the half assed job I did at sterilizing it, but I had a date with my future.

Once a few minutes had passed, I washed my hands, grabbed the cup with a clean paper towel and ran to the bathroom. The tutorials were simple enough, so I played around with it - squeezing it, stretching it, getting to know this purple piece of silicone that would soon become closely acquainted with my insides. I suddenly became overzealously confident. I looked at myself in the mirror and reminded myself exactly who I was.

“I’m a badass bitch who’s about to shoot a scene as Zoe Saldaña’s stunt double. Stick it in and GOOOOOO!”

I squeezed the cup, stuffed it up my hole, and ran out the door. Everything felt fine, so I decided to stop worrying about it and shift my focus completely on my job that day: to get punched in the face and kicked in the ribs.

Did I mention that the wardrobe for my character was a little black dress and heels? Because the wardrobe for my character was a little black dress and heels. Another detail I forgot to take into account.

The crew was ready for me as soon as I walked in the building, so I rushed to my spot and waited for the other stunt person to arrive. The scene required me to ambush this guy (Ted) at a coffee shop, fight for a few seconds, and drag him outside by his hair. When we were both ready, I heard “ACTION!” from behind me and suddenly felt a shift inside...me. I panicked, and stood there like a statue. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know exactly what.

“Is everything okay?” the Director, Ridley-fucking-Scott asked.

“Y-yes, sorry, nerves, but I’m good to go now,” I responded.

“Roll!” he yelled back, clearly displeased.

I ran into the coffee shop, grabbed the character's neck from behind and started dodging his punches. I eventually took one to the jaw and felt my knees buckle a bit more than during rehearsals. As was scripted, the punch was hard and I landed on the floor. I took a few kicks to my mid-section before doing a kip-up, landing strong with my knees bent and punching him back a few times.

Something was off about the cup. It didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t fix it while shooting the scene. Zoe was there. Ridley was there. I was going to finish no matter what, even if it meant feeling more uncomfortable than I had prepared for. I repeated “I’m a badass bitch” over and over in my head and just as I finished the last “bitch” I felt a pop. Uh huh. The period cup was no longer inside of me.

Still, I didn’t stop. I grabbed Ted by the hair, and started dragging him toward the door. Only this time it was…different. I knew the cup was out, but I also knew I had underwear on and I thought it would buy me some time. Nope.

The next ten seconds were the longest ten seconds of my life. Ted’s head was underneath my body and between my legs as I dragged him while he kicked and screamed. Without realizing it at first, all of the squatting and jumping I had done made the underwear, that I believed would save me, completely useless. The cup shot out toward him, and my menses splattered all over his face. Everything happened in slow motion, but I could hear Mozart’s “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” scoring this moment that I was certain would be the end of my career.

Zoe, Ridley, and just about everyone on set let out audible gasps while Ted ran out of the room. I ran out behind him toward my trailer and looked for tampons, pads, diapers, a fucking hat - ANYTHING. I was mortified, but I knew I had to go out there and try to reconcile.

I heard a knock on the door and it was Zoe. She came in to comfort me and I told her about how it was my first time using the cup. The fiasco leading up to it all.

“I love the cup! I’ve been using it for a few years, but damn girl. You didn’t even test it out first!?” she asked.

I laughed. “Yeaaaaah. This is the worst day of my life. And poor Ted.”

“We’ve all been there…sort of. Just remember there’s times when it’s good to go with the flow…and times when it’s not.”

Did Zoe Saldaña just launch a period joke at me after my bloody cup spilled all over a dude's face? That was the cherry on top of the heaping pile of shit that had become my day.

Still feeling humiliated, I walked back on set with Zoe and for some reason everyone applauded. Ridley said he admired me for not leaving altogether, and that he wants to work with me again. He walked up with his arm fully extended and handed me a zip lock bag with my used cup inside.

“Everything’s fine, but please take this far away from me,” he grimaced.

I closed my eyes and reflected on how somehow, some way, inserting my period cup incorrectly and its entire contents spilling on a fellow stuntperson's face ended up being good for my career.

Zoe walked up to me and handed me a tampon.

“Here. This should stay in place,” she said.

“Ha. Maybe,” I replied, wondering why it was taking so long for Ted to wash my blood off his face.