OK, I read your comments very attentively, with an extreme seriousness. I made one shorts-list, then a very-short-list, then an one-person-list.

And the winning of competition Neutrogena is

PRINCESS SOSO!

And this for several reasons:

1. They do not expect fall.
2. Corollary of the point n 1, I burst out laughing.
3. Nice effort of writing. Initial situation, disruptive element, events, element of resolution, final situation.

Congratulations to her! Congratulations to others also, they do not prove themselves unworthy, and thank you for having participated!

Princess Soso, you are going very quickly to accept a mail demanding your mail co-ordinates under 3 h otherwise I spin price to somebody else.

And for others, here is its history:

In 2000, I was 20 years old. The class. I had two licences of English and of Italian. The class. I lived in England. The class. And I had a new lover. The class.

An English lover, musician, older than me, clever short whom of pride for a baby louloute as me.

First party both in picoler and to have fun embrace each other, they make knack which Beno t XVI condemns strongly and they fall asleep on his chesterfield at about 4 h I wake up type at about 7 h 30, pulled by my mouse's bladder which contains 2 litres of vodka the new lover deeply sleeps I am in another dimension especially when I realise that I have court in half an hour Except that I am not in the category raises (type which could dry) it is me her teacher! Impossible to miss course I drag myself from the chesterfield and I realise that my position of beddy-byes would have made the fine weather of video gag. I kept my glasses of contact therefore I have blown up eyes way tchernobyl. I go to the bathroom to try to take back human form Which says lover artist, says mown said lover mown bathroom. Small bathroom without window and without light (I suspect the bulb of having grilled in 1987). I take out from my bag my small etui "emergency-making-up" (who must p ser two kilogrammes) and I try to make forget agonies of the vodka and my mine blissfully happy and delighted ambience I have a guy, I have a guy, I have a guy thanks to the key-brightness of YSL, my compact powder Chanel and in my blush sublime Nina Ricci who makes my so pink cheeks as the simple of new born one. I add a dark grey eye-shadow (just like that, this will not spoil with my rings), some mascara and a bit kohl the whole, eyes blown up in 2m so obscure as a speech of UMP. Fortunately that I am one pro of the make-up who crosses its life in Sephora.

I go out of the bathroom, try to smooth down my dress which smells the man and the alcohol I write a small word on the packet of cigarettes of the lover who sleeps (I had seen Carrie Bradshaw making this ^^), donation t want to wake you up I' m off to work. Call to me. xxx PS: great night!

I run at top speed up to the high school where I teach French "pupils" who are quasi my age old I arrive to the minute, essoufl e, sweaty but proud border to be able to juggle between my life of the night and my life of work.

I survey corridors, my legs are at the high school but my mind remained at the lover's Those that I cross stare at me, turn round when I pass I imagine that I sport this incredible brightness which have the women who have just made love.

A knack has there nevertheless which is faulty The look of people more means but that this brothel for god' s sake! that waouh the French chorus girl simple percentage bloody hot!

I who thought to beam with happiness in spite of my quasi sleepless night and the mark of the ribbed chesterfield on the right cheek

For this, I would not have should merge my blush and my eye-shadow, both hyper choupis in their small quasi identical round boxes

I therefore crossed the half of the city and a sideboard filled with my colleagues and with my pupils with a limit blush fuschia on eyes and eye-shadow anthracite on cheekbones

I resembled a travelo, bloodshot eyes. Feat VINCENT MCDOOM. Dracula.

Naturally, no lingette under the hand (I am going to need a helper as Monk) and my pupils gave me at the turn of the year of good "John Lewis" for courts of making-up.

Arsehole.