Michael Jackson Imagines

And then, that happened!

It’s my first day as an assistant director and I’m already exhausted. I’ve been running around since morning searching for gold glitter powder because apparently the “big star” wants it for the second leg of the shoot. And despite me toiling all morning they won’t even tell me who the ‘big star’ is, but I’m guessing he’s a big deal coz everyone’s really fussing about him, getting every little detail perfect, even our director has been stressing around since morning. Oh, and just two hours ago a car pulled up outside the studio and literally every single person ran to the entrance shouting “he’s here”, “he’s here”, except for me of course, because I had to replace all glasses with orange juice instead of red wine.  

It’s been two hours and I’m still working on the props for later. I knew that the shoot already began about an hour ago because I could hear sounds coming from the other side of the studio. There’s a stage and huge pillars. And a lot of people are moving about from here to there. 

Oh, finally, there’s the gold dust powder I’d been looking for since morning. Phew, that’s done. Now I have to see whether the giant fan is working properly. Where’s the fan though? It might be on the other side, someone might have taken it there. let me just go and check. Why do they have to keep only the shooting area lighted up and the rest of the studio pitch dark. How does one person walk from one end of it to the other. There’s a big black curtain that separates the area from the rest of the studio. I peek in to see whether the fan is there, not wanting to disturb the ongoing shoot. I spot it at the right-hand side end of the stage. It’s off, so they’re not using it. good, I’ll just quietly go over there and pull the fan back. I bend on my knee and crawl towards the fan to avoid coming into the frame. I hold the stand of the fan and lift myself up…. And freeze…. Michael Jackson is lying on the stage covered in nothing but a small white cloth

Mind you, I’m standing on the right-hand side of the stage, staring directly at him, and I mean all of him. He lifts his head up and looks at me. The woman who was bent over him also looks up. 

“And cut!” Jones, the director screams “Arya, what in the hell are you doing there?”

“huh?” I ask absent mindedly, my eyes still fixed on Michael (well, a part of him at least)

“Arya” he screams again and I come back into reality

“umm, I was just checking whether the fan was in working condition. You wanted it for the next part of the shooting”, I said fumbling around the buttons on the stand of the fan that I was holding. I pressed one of it, the fan blasted in full force and the white linen cloth, the thin thread between my sanity and insanity, that covered Michael’s crotch, flew up. I heard Jones gasp and saw the woman lick her lip. Michael pulled it down immediately and covered himself up. 

“oh, no, no, no, no, no, Mr. Jackson I’m so sorry” I started apologizing

“Arya, just go”, Jones ordered and I ran out of the room as fast as I could. 

I paced up and down the corridor. I’m going to lose my job. My first day as an assistant director and I mess it up so bad. No one’s ever going to want to work with me again. Oh no, what if Michael tells the rest of the industry to not work with me? My career is over before it even started. I will now have to go back to being a waitress. Three years of film school and thirteen years of passion down the drain in three seconds. I think I’m about to cry.