Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #19

At the premiere of the newest talkie, All This and a Bag of Chips, everyone who was anyone in Hollywood showed up at Grubman’s Vietnamese Art Deco Movie Palace and Taqueria. Milling about in the crowd of artificially young and beautiful was the ravishing (according to her press release) Oscaretta Meyer, star of the recent hits Mildred Pierced and How Lonesome Was My Valley.

Fred, the Fashion Photographer: “You look stunning, Oscaretta! Can I get a picture?”

Oscaretta, the Supposed Actress: “Of course, Freddie dear. It’s only right that I share my treasures with the world. How can the little people be happy if I don’t give them joy?”

Hedda Flopper, the Movie Columnist: “Oscaretta, who did your hair? It’s divine.”

Oscaretta: “Thank you for asking, Hedda dear. I’m sure my millions of fans will want to know this. I hired a fabulous stylist from Paris, Henri de Kilowatt. I told him to make me look electric and I think he did an outstanding job!”

Just then, a bolt of lightning shot out of the otherwise clear sky and scored a direct hit on Oscaretta’s startling head apparatus. Within seconds she was reduced to nothing but ash and a few defiant sequins.

Hedda: “Well, I guess the interview is over.”

Suddenly, Oscaretta’s now-former publicist, Kellyanne ConJob, came rushing up from who knows where. (Well, we actually do know. She had been off flirting with a burly stagehand, because sometimes a woman has very specific needs. But this detail really does not contribute to our story, so we’ll officially leave her provenance murky.) Kellyanne addressed the gathered columnists and photographers. “I’d just like to state for the record that this tragic event had nothing to do with Oscaretta’s recent struggles with addiction and poor choices.”

The columnists and reporters just stared at her. Everyone in Hollywood had addictions and did stupid things. There was no story in that. Keep going.

Kellyanne did, improvising as she realized that if she did enough spin with this situation, she could win the affection of the next up-and-coming starlet with dark secrets, thus maintaining her own revenue stream. “And I should point out that if Oscaretta had not been here to sacrifice herself to the lightning bolt, then the orphanage across the street could have burned down. She did it for the children!”

Hedda, dubious: “That’s not an orphanage. That’s a gay bar.”

Kellyanne smiled arrogantly. “Well, you have your truth and I have my alternative facts. Let’s see which one of us gets the attention of the voters in rural America.”

Deep inside the darkness of the gay bar, which was still shuttered because the cool people in Hollywood don’t dance until well after midnight, Donald reached over and shut of the generator (made in China, just like his clothing line) that he had used to create the fake lightning bolt. The he whipped out his encrypted cell phone and hit speed dial #1. “Sergey? Mission accomplished.”


25 replies »

  1. Don’t lose that stylists card! It’s a flashlight! No, it’s a sex toy! No, it’s an amplifying antenna! No, it’s swag from a proctologist’s convention in Analheim! No it’s what Kellyanne wanted from the burly stage hand! No, no…It’s Pootin’s Viagra enraged manhood disguised as an electric Ice Cream cone!! Run, run. If the Vietnamese disguised as Russian waiters in speedos and William Shatner’s hairpiece don’t kill you the radioactive tacos will!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Damn. Where’d you get the photo of the first actual sighting of a unicorn/human hybrid? Isn’t that the big secret the lightning bolt was supposed to suppress? Or ol’ Dump hiding in the gay bar has advanced stage palsy and we’d best be locking up the red button or we’re ALL gonna be toast sooner than later.

    Alternatively the poor woman was impaled after doing an alfresco impromptu version of “Puttin’ on the Ritz” and there was a small mishap involving the cane of one of the less handy dancers…

    Liked by 1 person

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