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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Young Adult · #1037086
The continued unrelated adventures of a borderline racist and his friends.
Beautiful Jerk by Porkchop Longmeadow
Episode II

I drove over to the place where she said she'd meet me. Sure enough, my girlfriend, Flawless Orphan, was waiting outside with a bag of posters and crap and beckoning me to come in. She had pleaded with me to make me go to this convention for a long time, and it was only when she gave up that I decided to go.

Me and Flawless had been going out for about 3 months. We had met when she started buying a lot of stuff at the small CD store uptown where I worked. We definitely didn't have the same tastes in music, but I was lonely and she seemed to have a good personality. Plus, she mentioned later, she thought that dating a Pisces would be very good for her. Soon, we started to go to all the big clubs that I could afford on my salary at the time, which usually added up to some dank looking jazz clubs with strict B.Y.O.B policies.

Flawless liked to always try and be at the height of fashion whenever she went out, and it seemed like every time I saw her, the top she was wearing got tighter and tighter. As we walked through the lobby to the convention hall in the hotel I arrived at, she looked as though she was at least a slightly B-list celebrity. This hotel had been bought out for the evening for a small celebration for movies that had received Oscar nominations over the past 10 years. It was not the biggest public turnout; most of the space was taken up by video cameras and news anchors reporting on the overall history of movies and to provide social commentary. Flawless had a mild interest in film and I naturally went with the only free option to set up a romantic evening. It sucks being broke in Los Angeles.

I left her to go to the bathroom. “Okay, I'll wait for you over at that empty booth we passed on the way in.” I took my leak in the urinal, washed my hands, ant went over to the front of the hall. When I got over to the empty booth, she wasn't there. I could tell she had been there, though, because her perfume was ridiculously strong and potent. So I waited for what seemed like about 10 minutes when she came almost running up to me, flushed and really excited about something.

“Jerk,” she panted, “guess who I just met.”
“Me.” I said. “You just met me a split-second ago.”
“Brad Pitt.”
Her words were coming out all garbled and it was hard to tell what she was saying. “What?”
“Brad Pitt. Brad fucking Pitt. C'mon,” she grabbed my arm and pulled, “I want you to go and meet him.”
I pulled back while trying to keep step. “Whoa, wait, Brad Pitt? You met Brad Pitt here?” Then I blurted out, stupidly, “Why do I have to meet him?”

She turned around quickly and told me, in a slightly strained voice, “Because I want to show you I'm not lying. But I had a real good time talking with him. And he told me,” she said, “he told me I was COOL.”

I walked along trying to explain to her, “Flawless, celebrities aren't allowed to talk at these things. They're only allowed to sing the autographs-” But as I was talking, I was pulled right up to a small booth right at the back of the hotel and I was pushed right in front of Brad Pitt's face.

No one said anything for what seemed like three minutes. I just stood there. Flawless kept trying to get me to say something, but we both kind of just stood there suffering the awkward moment. Eventually, Flawless took me by the elbow and marched me outside the hotel. She got me to where we were just barely out of the range of passerby and said, “What the hell was that?! I just put you in front of one of my major crushes and you just stand there like a piece of furniture!”
“What did you expect me to say-”
“ANYTHING!! Jerk, he said I was COOL. I could've finally got some celebrity friends instead of the idiots I hang around all the time!”
I scrunched up my face a bit. “Is that the only reason why you moved to Los Angeles?”
“Why else would I move to this over-congested hellhole?”
“H'm, you're right.”

She went back inside and tried to make things right with Brad. However, I still had the keys to her car in my front pocket. I removed the plush kittens from the dash and drove off, leaving her stranded. After I got about 5 miles away from the hotel, I finally stopped trying to hold a straight face and just laughed myself stupid. I couldn't stop. Then, I pulled the top off the middle of the front seats and pulled my cell phone out, and dialed the number, trying very hard not to laugh.
The voice picked up, “Hello?”
“Is this Brad Pitt?”
That was all it took. The voice over the line cracked up and said, “Dude, she totally bought it.”
“Is she still standing out there?”
“Oh, she is MAD. You should have seen it. First, she found out that her car was gone, and then she came back in and I was nowhere to be found. She flipped. We caught it all on camera, too.”
“Oh, man. Burn. Total burn. I am gonna be in so much trouble for this.”
“You were right, though. That was one good crackup. When we sell this to VH1, we;re gonna be rich.”

We didn't say anything for a few seconds, then I said, “I think I should let you know that I loved you in 'War of the Worlds'”.
“Um...that was Tom Cruise.”
“Gotcha, loser!”
Then I hung up, threw the phone out the window, and laughed like a lunatic while driving over the horizon.
© Copyright 2005 Porkchop Longmeadow (gloomhippy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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