At first you dont realize who he is. Just another random guy, short black cropped hair, sunglasses hiding his eyes under thick, long eyebrows. He smiles at the waitress as she politley ushers him to his table. When he sits across from you, it hits home. Something is very distinct, very familiar, but you cant quite put your finger on it. When his date (or you assume it's his date, until you see the incredibly large glimmering rock on her hand) arrives, all you notice is that she is absolutley stunning. Her blonde hair perfectly accenting her perfect smile and incredible body.
Yet you think nothing more of it and continue your meal.
As the waitress comes back to fill your cup, you again look up from your paper. You see them both, talking, bent over the table, grinning like young lovers grin and whispering sweet words across the table as they hold hands. His glasses now lay on the table, but his back is mostly to you, and again, all you notice is the stunning young lady. You think nothing more of it and continue eating, asking the waitress to bring you some desert as well.
After a particularly good piece of chocolote cake, you are now presented with your bill, cheerily by the young waitress as she has put a happy face on your paper and underlined the part about gratuiuty. Blatency here in Los Angeles is the norm, and even especially in resturants, where the waiters and waitresses are all just actors looking for that one big break. She departs, leaving you to finish up. You look in your wallet, dismayed by the unfortunate lack of dollar bills that always comes soon after your bills are all paid, and plop down a ten. After thinking better of it, you take it back and plop down a five. "She only refilled my cup once" you rationalize, trying to shake the feeling that, yes, in fact, you are a cheapskate.
You grab your jacket and prepare to leave when something itches in the back of your brain. You see that face in your mind, the face of the date with the large engagement ring, the face of the man with the sunglasses and then boom, it hits you. You turn, almost in slow motion to see his back still sitting away from you, off in his corner table, near the lovely painting of a villa and a woman drawing from a well. He awaits the return of his gorgeous lover who has apparently exited for the restrooms. You see your chance.
You make your way across the room, briskly, hoping to just catch a glimpse of the face of the man you think you recognize. "I mean, it's LA, sure, it might be him after all. And that would mean that girl, of course I recognize her... its..."
And you run right into her.
You fall backwards, almost hitting a busboy, watching helplessly as the world decides that it needs to teach you a lesson in gravity. But you remain upright, relived to see she is as well. A man in a black jacket and black sunglass and a shaved, goateed black bald head quickly seizes you, holding you up, yet begining to drag you away almost instantly. It is her. You look over to see, and you are right again.
Bethany, the worlds most gorgeous model/singer, and Chris Duncan, mega movie star and part time pro wrestler are watching in slight confusion and slight amusement as you are carted off. Chris kisses her cheek, whispering something that makes her giggle as you suddenly see the sunlight, rudely stabbing rays into your eyes.
The large man is throwing you out. And you didnt even get an autograph.
But just before you are heaved into the busy LA streets, unable to move without that powerfull grip just getting tighter, a hand comes to the mans shoulders. It's the Maitre 'D. Oh yeah, no one forgets when you haven't paid yet.
As the large man sets you down, you stumble through your pockets. You know you had your wallet on you, you remember plopping down the (horrible, horrible) tip, and thinking to yourself that you think you can get by using the Mastercard this week to pay for lunch. Yet it isnt in that back right pocket. No sir. Nada. Nothin. Zip. Zilch.
"Shit."
You see the look in the Maitre 'D's face. He knows what you are going to say, but he already doesnt believe you. You can see the look in his eyes, you can feel that he just wants to tell the large man to just go ahead and kick the crap out of you.
And God knows he would enjoy every second of it.
"Scuze me, I think you dropped this."
That voice is unmistakable. You dont have to turn around to know it, you've heard it countless times before as it is, but you do anyway, in fixed wonder. Chris Duncan is holding out your wallet.
"And dont worry, lunch is on me, Sparky. Now why don't you come over here and tell me why you decided to test my beloved Bethany's balance skills, eh?"
Thus you go from being ejected from the room to having one last piece of cake, this time with two of the most famous people in all of Hollywood.
This is you, if you are lucky, in the year 2007.
You like? I figured I would have fun with my profile, might end up using my roleplay skills to write some fun stuff here once in awhile. So yeah, anyway, I'm Chris, and hopefully, I will be able to make good on that very large claim to fame that I have decided to write for myself. Either that or I will be living in a box and be asking for change while talking to my invisible friend Harry. So yeah, this is my little page and I hoped you enjoyed it. Oh yeah, I LOVE YOU BETHANY!
Monkeys rule.
