A group of unsuspecting teens arrive to the set of a reality game show... a deserted island far from any continent. What could go wrong? They're kids after all. Told from every perspective, the dead, the alive, and the hunted. No being is expected t...
"Hallelujah!" We all cheered, clinking glasses of bubbly drinks.
Around the time of Fourth of July, all the biggest celebrities of North America are invited to this huge party... there's fireworks, chocolate fountains, and there's this tradition... The first person to get drunk has to pay for the whole thing. Sure, we're all rich, so a million dollar party is like losing a ten dollar bill for most, but it doesn't change the fact that no one wants to pay for it.
"Look man," Johnny Depp smiled, "I don't know what happened with your whole island thing, but I'm glad you were able to push it aside for this."
"What did happen to that?" George Clooney looked at me, placing his drink down on a side table. His eyebrows furrowed, and I felt a pit grow in my stomach. Clooney was one of my biggest producers... It took me years to convince him to contribute the little he did.
"Eh, you know, this and that, that and this." I shrugged.
"I'm still getting my money back though, right?" I paused at this.
"Mhm..."
"Chris...?"
"I would never lie to you, Clooney." I offered my hand to him. He looked at it before looking back at me before rolling his eyes and taking my hand. He gripped me firmly.
"Good." He and Depp walked away, leaving me alone. I wish Chef could have made it... well, I suppose it's my fault, I made him stay in the limo outside, but still. He would have loved to meet Will Smith.
After some time, Celine Dion, who was selected to host the party this year, called everyone outside. She had this huge fire pit that seemed to take the place of a swimming pool. And when I say huge, I mean absolutely gigantic. Probably like... a hundred square feet? Honestly, I don't know much math, but all I know is this is a huge fire pit.
Anyway, she started announcing her huge "Taking Chances World Tour", which I don't think many of us cared about. Sure, there were a few of us who were full on die-heart fans, but most of our hearts wouldn't be able to go on if we had to sit through a single minute of any of her concerts (see what I did there?).
I tried pitching the joke to the guy next to me, but it turns out Will Ferrall isn't much of a comedian...
Just as I started considering picking up a comedy show next, Celine set her fire pit ablaze, and my stomach dropped.
First I've been seeing dead campers in dreams...
Then drunk hallucinations...
But why was Bridgette, that surfer chic, staring me dead in the eyes while I'm stone cold sober.
My drink fell from my hands as my breath went short. Skin melted from her face, her eyes falling out of their sockets. I could almost hear a distant scream of agony. What a terrible way to die.
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"Chris!" I snapped back into reality. Everyone was staring at me... I looked around and felt like throwing up... so I ran to a nearby bush and did just that.
"Looks like someone's paying!" Celine announced after I finally came back for air. Everyone cheered as I threw up again, with the thought of owing even more money. I quickly snuck out of the party, receiving pats on the back from every individual I passed.
"Thanks for finally letting us drink, man!"
"I heard this is the most expensive party yet."
"Why is he here again?"
By the time I made it back in the limo, I was severely out of breath. Chef looked up from his magazine before rolling his eyes.
"Chris, are you serious? Don't you think you've done enough to yourself? Modeling gigs can only get you so far-"
"Shut up and drive." I groaned before glaring at him. He sighed before doing what he was told.
