De-Illusions of Grandour

"Oh darling," she remarks, her cigarette burning a bit too close to her trout-pout. Her face is a thinly stretch canvas, without any emotional response. Her eyes are still fiery, but against the pulled skin, they seem sunken and unremarkable. Her hand waves dismissively, as she plucks the ciggy from her lips and douses it in a tumbler of gin she drained moments earlier. "I was the talk of the town," she continues. "I was the IT girl. On the cover of Vogue, Elle and any muber of other equally fabulous mags. They all wanted me. Chase, Heston...even Scooney wanted to be close to me." She sinks a bit deeper into the plush sofa, her body looking frail now, engulfed in frilly pillows and fur throws. "It was Sundance that really started me out you know," she says. "I was fantastic as the paraplegic hooker Romanoa in the inde movie Burning Bush."

I nod in agreement. She doesn't allow me to comment.

"Darling." Another cigarette appears and with a quick strike of a match, she conjures a wall of snaking smoke between us. "I didn't plan on acting. Originally I was only interested in modeling, but the industry makes decisions for you. At least that was how it happened in those days. I was so young then anyhow, barely nineteen. They called me the next Hepburned, and what can I say?" she smiled. "I was a natural. But," her smile fades. "The industry eats you, devours you, plays games with the left overs."

I open my mouth to retort. She waves her hand again mostly to clear the smoke, but partly she wants me to keep quiet.

"I know what you are going to say. And yes, there were plenty of orgies. Mary-Mary and Ashley Folsom, Colin Ferial, Britney Pikes...it was a smorgasbord of flesh. Parties completely devoted to swapping...or take-out as we referred to it. It was sinful!" She cackles with glee, and sighs reminiscently. "Good times, good times."

"Don't you believe behaviour such as that lead to your downfall? It is quite scandalous."

She squints her eyes, but aside from that, nothing else registers on her face. "Are you serious, my dear? It was that type of behaviour that kept me in the headlines for years. Well, that and my glue-sniffing addiction. I must admit, I was a wreck at that time in my life. Modeling gave me the foot in the door, but it was the film industry that blew me into orbit. Or maybe it was me doing the blowing." She breaks into another round of cackles. After a moment, she douses her cigarette in the tumbler and points a finger at me. "I was fabulous! You know it, otherwise you wouldn't have search me out for this exclusive. I'm still talked about, and I'm sure Scooney still yearns for the chance to have all of this." She gestures to her frail body and winks at me.

"I'm actually here to ask you..."

"Ask me about my brilliant stardom! I know I know, my dear. And it was brilliant. I stared with Sean Conneries, and I even passed on the elven queen Galaprill in the spoof of LOTR." She shakes her head. "Still wish I would have snatched that role up. I know you want me to tell you it all, but I simply don't have all the time in the world."

I shake my head. "Miss, I really have to stop you."

She looks at me startled, as if I have just offended her. "Stop me, darling! Stop me! That's what they all want to do. Stop me from being fabulous. Stop me from taking all the parts from them. Those little twatlets, those two-bit hangers with boobs. They all want to be real actresses."

"NO!" I shout, finally fed up. "I just wanted to ask you if you have accepted Jesus Christ as your saviour!"

"Jesus Christ? What the hell?" She lifts herself off the couch. "Aren't you from the National Buttinski? Aren't you here to document my thrilling life?"

"Uh, no," I reply. "I tried to tell you that at first. I'm with the local Jehovah's Witness Chapter."

She takes a sharp intake of breath. "The what! You are a what!"

"I'm a.."

"I know who you are. What the fuck are you doing in my living room?"

"You invited me in."

"I sure as hell did not! I'm a famous actress, not some commoner who needs to waste time with the likes of you." She reaches over and gestures me up out of my seat and literally pushes me towards the door. "Out. Out!" She shoves me roughly out the front door.

I'm dazed and confused as she slams the door shut in my face. I collect myself and reach into my bag retrieving a couple pamphlets, slipping them into the crack of the door frame. As I turn to leave, I hear her talking to herself on the other side of the entrance.

"They all want me. What can I say, they all want me."

I shake my head again and move towards the front gates. I meet up with a couple other fellow Witnesses. "What happened?" they ask, noticing my face.

"We are never coming to this retirement home again," I respond, and then stalk away, leaving them looking after me in confusion.