Synopsis: Celebrity paranoia...

CAUTION: This story contains strong language...

His name was Larry R. Simons, and he was a big deal.

Larry was kicking back today, he deserved it. He'd decided to spend the whole day without once turning on the television, tuning in the radio or reading a single magazine. He was fed up of seeing or hearing about himself - believe it or not, all this fame was beginning to annoy him. Besides, the partying had been getting a bit much for him lately. There are only so many free-loaders one man can take, before you just want to be with only your close friends, or completely alone for a day or two.

I can't even go to the local store for a six-pack, he thought to himself. I always get spotted by some underage, tarty bit of stuff who claims to be a big fan of this and a huge fan of that, unbuttoning a further few buttons on her blouse, thrusting her undersized breast towards my face.

No thanks.

He just wanted a little bit of peace and quiet. Time to himself. Was that so hard to ask? He sat idly in his back garden, the jumbo oversized swimming pool glistening nonchalantly in the morning sun. He thought about his last movie, SILENT STRANGER - the latest box office smash. What was it...three...four hundred million on the first weekend? Hell, he'd lost count. No bother, he could always think about the album, one of the most eagerly anticipated musical ventures since the new Dylan album. It was only two weeks from launch. Things were getting hectic.

Maybe he should be looking over the latest lot of notes from the autobiography - SIMONS SAYS?

No, no. Today was a day of rest. It was Sunday, after all. Although, he thought, looking up at the ocean blue sky, devoid of clouds on this fine summers' day, it wouldn't really be a day of rest without some brewskis.

With that thought, he made up his mind and made for the store down the street. I'll just have to bear the attention for twenty minutes. That's all.

Stepping warily on to the street, he made a quick scan of his immediate surroundings. No reporters - a good start. He was a little surprised there weren't the usual groupies desperately hanging around outside.

Must be having a day off as well, he assumed. Oh well, a little space to breath today!

He passed a couple of people on his walk, it was mainly the dog walkers at this time, cheerily whistling no tune in particular and speaking non-specifically to their faithful companions. What they didn't do, however, was look up at Larry when he walked past. There was the odd nodded greeting here and there, but none of the double-takes common with celebrities of his stature, when your average member of the public will realise they are in the presence of a Camera King, a Silver Screen God, or just a person infinitely more interesting and better off than themselves. No, there was none of that.

Must be the light today, Larry assumed again. I'm sure they'd recognise me if we'd passed in the opposite direction. Then that way I wouldn't have to see their face, ugly as they all are...

He approached the corner to the main street, mentally preparing himself for the almost certain onslaught of the regular folk. He brushed the floppy lock of his fringe to one side with a practiced flick (it was long, but not too long as to be considered unfashionable) and wiped the corners of his mouth. Hey, if he was going to get hounded, there was no harm in looking good in the process.

The street was bustling as usual, most were on their way to church, dressed in their best with hair plastered to their heads under hideous hats of varying shapes and sizes. Larry went to church sometimes, to 'keep up the right image,' his agent had told him. But not too much, else he could look mildly obsessive, and that simply wouldn't look right. It was all about keeping a fine balance.

No one really seemed much interested in whether he was going to church or not, it seemed. Most gave their good mornings and carried on, to this shop or the other, to see their sister, brother, mother and God knows who.

Okay, obviously these guys aren't all that cultured, he mused. Someone will stop me in a minute. I'd bet my bottom dollar on that. I better put on that smile, that winning smile. The one they all love. That'll keep 'em happy.

But they couldn't care less whether he was smiling or not, most just carried on their business. As boring as that is! They're just killing to speak to me, I bet!

He passed a group of youths outside the store, deliberately slowing down a tad just to make sure they saw him.

'Hey, mate,' a bald, down right ugly teenager slurred. 'Can ya get us some smokes?'

This was the last thing Larry expected to hear. 'I beg your pardon?' his eyebrows raised.

'He knows we ain't old enuf,' the bald one pointed through the window, in the general direction of the storekeeper. 'You gonna get us some fuckin' smokes or wha?'

Larry didn't bother wasting his time answering, and just entered the store, hearing the familiar ding! of the bell above the door.

Uh oh, he stopped briefly. Teenage girls, three o' clock!

With a deep breath and a fresh smile, he walked to the beer and wines section of the store, opposite the group of giggling girls. He bent suggestively to pick up a six pack - the girls remained oblivious.

'Ahem,' he cleared his throat as naturally sounding as possible.

One of the girls, complete with mini skirt and crop top, turned to him. A pink bubble of chewing gum burst on her lips.

Here we go, he thought.

'Whayawant?' the girl said quickly. And rudely!

'Erm, nothing,' Larry said, confused. He began to walk off to the counter, looking momentarily over his shoulder to see if they looked after him, but they had become engrossed in whatever conversation they were having prior to his entrance.

As he approached the counter, the radio played out the hourly news. It skimmed over the vague areas you normally hear in news. Terrorism this, politics that. I know what they wanna hear about. Let's just get to the point shall we? This'll make 'em talk.

But no, the celebrity segment of news breezed over Fergie's new album, and concluded on Britney Spear's second attempt at rehab.

What the hell is this? Larry's confusion began to escalate.

'Can I help you, mate?' the storekeeper made Larry jump, and he almost slammed the six pack on the counter, much to the look of disapproval, 'six fifty, mate.'

Larry placed a ten firmly on the counter, looking the storekeeper in the eye. 'Do you know who I am?' he queried.

'Uh?' the storekeeper was busy handling the till.

'Are you deaf?' Larry was becoming angry. This wasn't right, they adored him. What kind of sick game was this? 'I said do you know who I fuckin' am?'

The storekeeper stared lazily up at his latest disgruntled customer, 'Should I?'

This question didn't help Larry's state of mind, 'You're damn right you should! You never turn on a TV in your life?'

'Mate, I don't know what you mean. Would you mind, I got other customers waitin',' the storekeeper turned his attention from Larry to one of the girls that had joined the queue behind him. He looked hopefully in her direction once more, but was greeted with another bubble of chewing gum and an ugly sneer.

'Unbelievable,' he stammered as he charged out the door of the shop.

He looked around him again, at the busy street. No one batted an eyelid, no one knew who he was, and no one cared.

Very fuckin' funny, sweat emerged on his forehead, which he didn't immediately notice. He yanked his phone out of his jeans' pocket and punched in his agent's number, the one he knew like the back of his hand.

After a few rings...'Hello?'

'Gloria! Am I glad to hear your voice!' he yelled down the phone. 'Listen, something weird is happening, I-'

'Who is this?' the voice cut in.

'You know who it is,' he laughed. 'It's Larry. Larry Simons.'

'I think you have the wrong number.'

'No, Gloria, you're not listening-'

The phone cut out from the other end, and Larry threw the phone into the road in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

He looked this way and that, trying to work out what this crazy world had turned into. A world where they didn't know who Larry R. Simons was. He stormed off further down the street, to the electrical store.

He reached the front window and stood there, mouth agape. The array of varying sized television sets showed a good twenty channels all at the same time. Not one of them was about Larry. He was used to seeing his face in that window when he drove past in the Beemer.

What the hell is happening? He slammed a fist against the glass, which creaked worryingly in reply.

He ran to the centre of town, working up a much bigger sweat in the process. He reached the clock tower, and he stood in the middle of the open shopping area, almost spinning in circles trying to look at the reaction of everyone who passed him. Most just carried on walking, some even arced around him, avoiding the smell of this seemingly crazy individual.

'Look at me godammit!' he screamed. 'It's me! God-fuck-it, you know who I am? Larry R. fucking Simons! Look at me!'

This seemed to encourage more to do just the opposite, even walk a little faster to get away from him.

This is a nightmare, he dropped to his knees...



...and jumped bolt upright, the bed sheets clinging to his moistened skin. He was breathing heavily. He was in his room, and he jumped out of bed, naked and frantic. He almost knocked the empty cans of the used up six-pack off the bedside table.

He thrust open the curtains and let the sun pour eagerly into the room, which soaked it up gladly. On top of the blinding sunshine, he saw the flash of cameras and heard the giddy screams of schoolgirls, skipping school for the chance of a brief glimpse.

They got a glimpse, alright. They got more than they could have ever dreamed from looking into his window that morning.

And you're welcome to it, Larry said, smiling.


Author's Note: Not sure about that ending...

[Bluejay]

I really liked this. It grabbed me right away and kept me going. I wanted to know what was going on. Definitely a Twilight Zone feel... The pace was good - it built slowly but steadily, getting more intense as it went along. I like the way he switched from not wanting the attention to being miffed that he wasn't getting any.

A few minor glitches:

He just wanted a little bit of peace and quiet.

...there was no harm in looking good in the process.

Regarding the ending, I think it's ok. It's a little abrupt, though, coming right after the culmination of all that tension. I really wanted to know what his state of mind was. I got the impression he was happy with the attention again, but I could also see him ending up back the way he was in the beginning, feeling momentarily happy but ultimately infringed upon, as if the dream was quickly forgotten.

And, of course, being completely odd, a six-pack on the nightstand might be a completely inexplicable touch...

But it's fine the way it is. Whatever you're happy with, really...

A truly enjoyable one. You have a good knack for drawing the reader in and making the story a worthwhile read.

[Corneac]

I really enjoyed that mate. I love your writing, it's always peppered with subtle witticism and believable characters. This story drew me in form the start, I was hooked until the very end. Which is strange for me, because through a lot of stories I find my self losing interest fast a mind begins drifting off...I especially enjoyed the originality of your storyline and the egocentrism of your character. Brilliant.

In regards to the ending. I' terrible at endings, so any advice that I'd give you would be frankly, terrible advice. But I'm sure you'll come up with something witty and amusing. I agree though the current conclusion does seem a little rushed and bland.

Your very good at balancing out your story...between the description, character development and plot. It all works together really well. Your pace is excellent, fast, yet flowed naturally. An exquisite piece of writing, that I enjoyed from start to finish...great writing, man..

[Laughing Man]

(\__/) Fear the rabbit!!!!!
(='.'=)
(")_(")

Good story, I almost read over it, glad I didnt.

Thank you guys, really glad you all liked this one. You know, it's the first one I hand wrote, and all your comments mean so much to me i'm tempted to leave the ending as it is but i'll see what i can do...

Added a little bit to the end for your suggestion about the six pack j. So it sort of reads like he'd drank a little too much the night before, causing the nightmare. Hmmm, i think it works better.

[Bluejay]

I like it! Nice touch. It ties it all together a bit.

[Solman]

I really liked the story. It has a good balance of prose and story without one dominating the other. The theme definitely reminds us to appreciate what we have. Be careful what you wish for, you may get it! Great stuff!

With regards to the ending, I felt it was decent, but it kind of brought the story to an end quicker than it should have. I think having a character "wake up" from an awful situation is a classic plot mechanism that is used over and over many times and I feel is getting a bit worn out.

I don't have any concrete suggestions for another plausible ending, but when I was halfway through the story, I figured logically that Larry must be in a dream and is going to wake up because the reality he was experiencing was way to twisted to be "real" based on his life as you described it in the beginning. Perhaps there is another "deeper" explanation that might even draw out the story more and make Larry's "adventure" even bigger, or dare I say, grander.

Good job overall!!!

[Ambrose]

I enjoyed the whole what's-happening-to-me thing. Though I will admit, I expected more from the ending. The dream is too easy an out. Even not explaining anything and just having him go crazy would have been better, but maybe that's just me.

I like the way you write Duncan. You don't overstate things, which is pleasantly refreshing around here. I especially liked the bit about him trying to get the attention of the teenage girls and getting brutally rebuked. I could just feel his embarrassment there.