Julie Powers (Scott Pilgrim) by MidbossMan

"If people knew how much fucking set-up work one of these goddamn parties takes, they would realize that I'm like... the opposite of a bitch. I'm Ms. Santa Claus! I'm like the fucking hot, female, twenty-years old version of the Willy Wonka people actually watched and liked. And I'm the bitch? I'm the one who's still single at these parties? What the hell is wrong with Toronto?"

Nobody in the room nodded along with the misleading statement of Julie Powers. The brunette reclined upon her couch while what could loosely be referred to as her "friends" brought out the thematic elements of her latest theme party and placed them strategically upon every flat surface in the apartment flat. Her contribution to the party was hosting it in her flat. She hadn't bought the decorations, helped set them up, or even come up with the theme herself.

At this point in her life, Julie had managed to alienate a pretty big handful of the people she knew through various abuses, but as long as she was still willing to loan out her flat to people who wanted to mingle, she'd continue to have a social circle who wouldn't call her a bitch... to her face, anyway.

"Now I want to see the guest list. There's a guest list, right? I want to see the list and I want to make double-fucking sure that nobody named Scott, or Pilgrim, or Scott fucking Pilgrim, or Scot spelled with one T, or Pilgrim spelled with three fucking Is is anywhere on this list! And when we start, I want around the clock security watching the doors. AND the windows. We are not letting that loser anywhere near this place."

The two guys closest to her couch, understanding she was talking to them, looked at each other with "who, me?" faces. "Security? Like... what, bouncers?"

"No, not bouncers. Bouncers bounce. I'm saying if you see his stupid fucking dumb-ass face grinning at you with those round eyes and that stinking bomber jacket, you plug him and dump him in the garbage."

The two looked at each other again, dumbfounded. One whispered to the other. "Is she serious?"

"They say she's like... a super-bitch. So... maybe?"

Julie left the two wondering, standing up from her couch and walking to her window. It was cold outside-- typical Toronto-- but the sky was bright. A picturesque day like this, with temperatures finally starting to climb and snow at least getting soft, was almost enough to melt her icy exterior. Almost. She had a good feeling about this party. What could she attribute that to?

She faced the sun, adjusting her round-framed glasses as her ear-rings glistened in the light. She wasn't out for long, so instead of a jacket, she just wore a striped, long-sleeved turtleneck and cozy-fitting jeans, the kind designed to accent her ass. It was her flat and the party hadn't started yet, so she didn't need to wear shoes. Her hair was up in her trademark ponytail, the kind that somehow screamed "barista in Toronto" when worn by a brunette. If anyone was to see her now-- and not speak to her-- they might consider her a catch.

She stretched in the sunlight, pulling one leg over her head and breathing in deeply. It was one of the most impressive yoga poses she'd learned and practiced. Her hip popped, telling her she wasn't having that good of a day. "Shit!" she cursed out loud, throwing her leg down and nearly falling out her window in the process. She stopped herself, leaning half out of the window, with her balcony snagging her shirt and pulling it all the way up past her belly and just below her breasts.

"You know what? Don't even care!"

She pulled herself back into her window, fixed her shirt, adjusted her glasses, and smirked. "There's not a thing that could happen today that could piss in my latte, and you know why?"

Nobody answered. She was basically talking to herself.

"Because I am two-hundred percent sure Scott is not crashing my party!" She pumped both fists in the air, as if performing a ritual to hype herself up. When her phone rang, she answered it with an uncharacteristic, genuinely joyful grin spread across her face. "Happiest fucking barista in Toronto speaking, single, if you care, big party at her flat tonight. Who's this?"

"Uh... I do not care about that first part and that's a weird way to answer your phone. But hey, great to hear you're in a good mood! I heard there's a-"

Julie slammed down the phone. "There is no fucking way Scott Pilgrim just called me an hour before my big party." She was going to just pretend that call didn't happen. There was no way it was related to her party. In fact, the call wasn't even for her. Fucking Scott had the wrong number. That had to be it.

She needed something to take her mind off of the nightmare event that didn't actually just even happen. The doorbell answered her call, providing a much needed distraction. She pushed her way past two people carrying decorations, not watching as the two nearly tumbled out of the same window she'd just nearly fallen out of, and reached the front door. If she threw it open and saw Scott Pilgrim, she really would him, with her bare hands if she had to.

Thankfully, it was just a package delivery guy. "Julie Powers?"

"Uh huh," she answered, not looking him in the face as she took the pad and signed for her gift. It had to be the costume her friend had set up to arrive for tonight's party. "Bye!" she slammed the door in his face, then brought the package back to her room. "I'm going to pull the fuck off with this look, even if it actually is slutty Willy Wonka. What've they got for me?"