ANNIE ONESHOT - a story on Miss Hannigan


I coulda been more than I am today. Heck, I'm beautiful, delicious, clever…It's just that, well, nobody has the sense to see it…

They neva did.

The day my no-good brother was born, my papa ran away with some diva who had a bosom larger than her brain. My momma went so sick with grief that she ended up killing herself. Tossed her fat ass right over the bridge. Served her right, though. She never did treat us good. Anyways, I was left a'taking care of my brother, named Daniel after daddy. I don't think I brought him up right, but whateva. He was a crazy kid - when he was old enough, 'e would beat me if he didn't get his way. So I let him run wild. Like I cared though. I started hatin' children cause o' him. But ya gotta love yer brother anyway, so I tried, I guess.

That is, until I met the man of my dreams - Oliver Warbucks, my Oliver; the damn bastard…yeah, he was the desire of all them girls, and he was mine. I didn't care that he was poor - neither did anyone else. He was loved by everyone, for the smart, handsome fellow that he was. Because o' him, I felt accepted - all the dances, all the parties…yessiree, we were the cutest couple in town. I was sure we was gonna live out our lives together. Forever.

That is, until I found him smoochin' on that Grace girl behind my back…damn her, too. Well, it shattered my last years of school. But then again, school didn't last long back then. To take care of that heartless little brother of mine, I had to get a job sewing in the factories. All the other girls were mean to me, since I was so young - gee, 15, 16? I can't remember. But I do know that they called me "Ugly Aggie." I remember that real well. In that there factory, there was no hope - it was a dog eat dog world, and I found myself wishin' to get out more than ever by the time I was in my twenties. That's when I started drinking, and crying every night, wishin' for the life I'd left behind. By that time, the self-dubbed, "Rooster," (my brother) was somewhere tryin' to swindle someone, I suppose. I hadn't seen him for the entire time I lived in the factories, and didn't expect to. But when he showed up out of nowhere, offering me a job at an orphanage just 'cause he wanted the money I'd make, I took it.

Ha; I never did give him the money he wanted. I could play at his game, too. He left in a sulk, with me rejoicing at my new opportunity. I shouldn'ta rejoiced. Them girls that came into the orphanage were rotten - all grief wasted and sickly over the deaths of their parents; bitter to the core. I never was a good parent to 'em. I made them do the things I should'a done, because I knew they'd have to work, and they better start now or they'd get a helluva shock in the future. They hated me for it, for no reason! I was tryin' to prepare them! But naw, I began to hate the sight of them too. I would escape in the dead of night to go drinking with a few of my old buddies - I don't even remember their names, now. Too wasted and high to remember even in the mornin', I guess. I almost got arrested, a couple of times, but did it really matter? Ya only get one chance in life, and sometimes it treats you like shit, so I tried to make the best of what I'd gotten. Whoever was rolling the dice up there sure had a problem in my book, but not like I was gonna worry about that…

Okay, so secretly, I worried a little…I wondered why I'd gotten such dumb fate when others - like Oliver Warbucks now; didja hear he's a billionaire? - were so…lucky. So…blessed.

Finding a baby on my doorstep eleven years ago made me think of that again. Already cooin' and smilin', she had no idea that her parents had left her - but in hopes she'd get a better future.

Both my parents left me, not caring whether I had a better future - or not. Why should this little girl, this spunky little, "Annie", get a chance? Why should she be happier than me? Why should she have hope…? Because I sure don't. Not even a smidgen of hope. Not even a crumb.

I took her in, vowing to make sure every girl in that there orphanage knew that there was no such thing as hope, and the world is blind to everything except money and beauty and power, and no matter how hard you work, no matter the pain and sorrow ya go through, no matter the damned life you lead…most people will never have a crumb of those things.

I coulda had those things. It all depends on fate; how it decides to play its silly game. I coulda been beautiful, rich, and powerful, too…

But nobody will ever know.

review, darlings.