Kennith Chadwick – United Kingdom – Devondale

‘It’s bloody raining again!’ Kennith inwardly raged. Which was strange because he was English born and bred, and if anyone was made to live in a cold wet climate it was an Englishman. Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes that was the tell-tale byproduct of his daydream, he finished his inner sophistry, and lazily arose from the leather lounge perpendicular to the slowly crackling fire and its opposing raindrop dappled window.

Trudging over to the window of the cottage on his country estate, he tousled his short blonde hair and yawned out, “I guess its brandy o’clock somewhere!”

Casually obliging himself, he reached for the decanter and a tumbler before pouring himself a generous lashing of the 75 oaken aged brandy, one of his many favorites. Contentedly choosing to sip it whilst surveying the verdant green and sodden surrounds of the cottage.

He mused to himself out loud “It’s about time to touch base with Penelope, I think.” Having finished with the brandy he shuffled in his woolen Burberry slippers to the archaic telephone residing on the table in the connecting hallway. The rotating dial of the phone itself was of a vintage that would have made Graham Bell himself nostalgic.

Dialing Pene’s number, Kennith thought of her coming dinner party and how to get out of it, it wasn’t as if he didn’t like Penelope, quite the opposite in fact, but it was just that she had two perennial hangers on.

The two barnacles in question were Duncan and Edwina, which both seeming to possess equally annoying yet juxtaposed, grating laughs. If that was not bad enough they had the abrasive talent of nattering on about the latest environmental and welfare causes which Kennith wholeheartedly opposed down to his very marrow.

Unfortunately for Kennith if he ever wanted get access to Pene’s ‘rose garden’ he had to politely tolerate their inane chatter, which he had managed thus far to do with grace and aplomb.

However being roped in to a prolonged dinner with the two offending parties as well as other likeminded do-gooder beatnicks, was far more than he was willing to bear! Especially when the ruddy stinking rain offered no opportunity to ‘get some air’.

When the phone finished ringing a slightly nasal lilting voice came down the line. “Hello Pene speaking!”

Just hearing her voice instantly improved Kennith’s mood no end, “Hey Pene - Kennith here, sorry to disappoint but just thought I should let you know I’m not going to be able to make dinner”

He could almost hear the frown forming on her face when she shot back, “Don’t you dare welch on me Kennith Chadwick! I let you know about this weeks in advance!”

Soldiering on against her mounting ire he replied, “Look pene I would love to, I desperately would, but the Jag has blown a gasket again and my mechanic won’t have a replacement till at least a fortnight.”

Strictly speaking he hadn’t the foggiest idea what ‘blown a gasket’ meant but he had heard his mechanic mention it at some time or other and it sounded like the sort of thing that his car would potentially do. Inwardly thanking ‘Gus’ his overcharging duplicitous bastard of a mechanic while the conversation at large proceeded unperturbed.

Her voice almost jumped an octave in consternation as she replied, “What, no! This whole thing was set up especially for you and Edwina”

He did a mental scream of horror at this latest revelation ‘not only does she not see me as a potential lover, she’s trying to set me up with that horse faced do gooder EDWINA!’

Rallying admirably, he responded whilst trying to keep the shock of her unwitting treachery from his voice. “Oh that is such a shame, but you know how these things are Pene, terribly sorry. I’ll make it up to you some other time.”

But before he could end the conversation Penelope’s good natured betrayal sunk to previously unknown depths, as she rejoined, “Not to worry, I’ll just pop by and pick you up!”

Kennith not being the sharpest spade in the grounds keepers shed, blanched at this unforeseen turn of events as he stammered, “H-honestly Pene you shouldn’t go out of your way, there will always be another time.”

Replying in a no nonsense tone she replied readily, “Nonsense! It’s no trouble at all! I’ll see you at 5:30 on the dot!”

Following her damming pronouncement the line went dead, having not left him with any reasonable avenue of escape.

Looking aghast at the offending telephone receiver he began to curse at it “Bugger! bugger! bugger!”

Massaging his temples with his fingers, he could not for the life of him figure out why life was so unfair! Polishing off the remainder of his brandy, he soporifically moped about the cottage until the appointed time was almost upon him.

Summoning up previously unknown and untapped mental reserves, he gathered himself up and did the only thing any self-respecting upper middle class English man at the age of 28 would.

He got dressed and made himself presentable for a ruddy dinner party! All the while convincing himself that having survived aunt Margeries 68th birthday, he would just employ the same battle plan he had at Margie’s, for this no doubt equally harrowing encounter:

1) Never be without a drink.

2) Smile when uncomfortable.

3) Use the bathroom when the subject of anything remotely political is broached.

4) Have grounds keeper William call halfway through professing an urgent and completely unavoidable family emergency.

With his resolve cemented and presentation affirmed in the bedrooms free standing mirror, he exited afore mentioned bedroom and traversed the staircase to contact the Grounds Keeper, William, to help establish his escape plan.

Having promised him an extra paid day off for his troubles he finished the call only to hear Pene heading down the crushed gravel drive in her oston vartin.

Grumbling about the rain once more, he headed toward the front door as she began to toot the horn in announcement of her arrival. Exiting his cottage he brandished his umbrella in an attempt to keep his dinner attire from being sullied before quickly entering her passenger side door. Briefly he shook his umbrella just outside the car in futile effort to dry it before giving up and stashing it in the back seat in defeat.

Pene greeted Ken in her usual fashion, with a peck on the cheek and a chipper “isn’t this just the dreariest weather we’re having this season!”

With a weary and rueful smile Kennith replied, ”Isn’t it just” which seemed to meet her expected requirements of agreement to depart.

Perfunctory pleasantries exchanged, Penelope accelerated at a not so leisurely pace, down the graveled drive, and all the while the car’s engine was accompanied by the rain’s pitter patter on the windscreen.

The wipers relentless struggle against the deluge managed fill the silence between the cars two occupants, as their thoughts continued to diverge.

Pacing through the verdant green country side bisected by laneways, rock walls, hedgerows, their progress was overshadowed at every turn by white impenetrable barrier that were the low hanging rain clouds.

Kennith finally plucked up the courage to break the silence by broaching the topic of their impending destination as diplomatically as possible. “So Pene, I’ve been meaning to ask. What ever gave you the notion that Edwina and I would make a good couple?”

Apparently baffled by his question she responded, “Why ever not? I mean, your single, she’s single and let’s face it Ken, you’re not getting any younger.”

Attempting the reasonable approach he replied, “Well for starters I like being a one man band at the moment and secondly if I was to give up bachelordom, she would most certainly not be my first choice.”

The Unspoken part of Kennith’s reply was that he would rather be called a ruddy commie and painted red than be saddled with Edwina and that was the whole kit and caboodle on the matter. Yet ever the consummate diplomat, he persevered with ‘peace talks’.

Stolen story; please report.

Taking on an educative tone she insisted, “Ken it’s not about first or even third choice where marriage is concerned, it’s about what’s practical. I mean she comes from good stock and so do you so it’s only a natural conclusion for one to make.”

Kennith exercised extreme self-control and resisted the urge to open the car door and jump out whilst it was still in motion.

Breathing deeply, he attempted another plan of attack. “Well as it turns out I just so happen to fancy someone else entirely”

Clearly thinking she had found some juicy gossip she inquired, “You don’t say… go on you sly scallywag, tell aunt Pene who this lucky girl is.”

He was stunned silent for a moment, not having the faintest idea how today had turned out so terribly. Being put on the spot, he felt there was nothing else left but to either, stay silent and be subjected to Edwina for all eternity or fess up.

Putting aside his doubts and fears he commenced the potential self-sabotage of his only long lasting opposite sex friendship, discounting dear old mumsy of course. “The thing is pene I-”

Mercifully Kennith was saved from his impending self-sabotage by a prickling sensation that was instantly followed by a blinding flash of blue-ish white light. While he was still attempting to recover his eyes by blinking rapidly he heard a monotonic synthesized voice:

“Greetings ‘Human’ 00,020,869,472. You have been transferred to a personal elevation re-education session for practical assessment and aptitude testing, please prepare yourself.”

Kennith having no real firsthand experience with being physically moved without his express consent, attempted to right this intolerable wrong with his god given skills of polite acerbic-ness “Now see here old ch-”

Michelle – USA – California – Los Angeles

Michelle grudgingly rolled over to check her persistently vibrating phone she groaned with tired exasperation “uuurrrrrgh you triple-hijueputa!”

Her millions of twatter followers would probably be in uproar over her lethargic and completely un-lady like outburst, she though sluggishly, as it was in almost complete opposition of her public persona, but in her private opinion.

They could go fuck themselves.

She was late again for her second PR event of the month and her manager Frank, the soulless tarado, was never going to let her hear the end of it. Sure it was only a singular interview in relation to her most recent movie and only the fifth one in her pre agreed upon press schedule, but it was with the famous video blogger ‘Slone-The Film Buff-Malone’.

Being the Prima Donna that she was, Slone would probably be all smiles and cream right up until she tried to ruin Michelle’s career, for the perceived social snub of keeping her waiting for more than 5 fucking minutes!

Was it Michelle’s fault for staying out late and drinking too much with Joseph, her on again off again socialite boy-toy?

Well sure, but why the hell did other people always have to expect her to be on her A game and give up her days for them?

Just so she could spew the same recycled movie tag lines the studio signed off on years before the film was even released!

Honestly, she didn’t even see why people where dumb enough to believe half the mierda she was paid to spew out, but then again she was paid ridiculously well. However it should not have to mean that she was required to like it.

Grumbling to herself in Esperanto expletives, she finally got around to answering her annoying ass phone with a surly, ”What the fuck do you want Frank?”

His voice oozed out of the speaker. “Michelle baby, now I hate to be a downer but this is the second time we are late for a PR booking”

Holding the phone further away she put in on speaker and massaged her temples in silent suffering. As the silence dragged on she realized she was expected to reply and said, “Yeah yeah I know already, also stop calling me ‘baby’ you punta! I just lost track of things last night and well you know how it goes…”

As if the lul in conversation and expletives were water off a ducks back he continued brightly, “Sure thing sweety, by the way the twatter fans just loooved those drunken blurry snaps you uploaded! Pity they were mostly G-rated… though whatever your doing keep doing it because you went up 50 thousand followers overnight!”

Michelle groaned loudly, and it was not just down to her killer hangover. Like so many pain wracked mornings of shame before, she would have to trawl her social media accounts and do some sober picture pruning.

Again.

Rejoining the conversation, she snapped “I told you not to call me fucking ‘sweety’ either you chupamedias!”

Finally getting her not so subtle warnings to knock it off, he relented “Ok ok…. sorry honey, but I really didn’t call to congratulate you on the follower bump. You really are late and as I said, I hate to be ‘that guy’ but if we ditch another PR thing the studio could legally void your contract”

That little bit of information managed to wake he up better than a shot of double espresso ever could. “THEY’LL WHAT?!?!?!” she demanded.

In an almost pitying tone he replied, “Like I said sugar, I don’t like being the bad guy but we really are almost in breach of contract so you better get it together or we are both out of a gig”

Overcoming her initial annoyance she tried to shift her hung-over sleep deprived brain into business gear. “Hijo de mil putas! They can’t do this shit to me, fucking ME!? IM MICHELLE ROD-FUCKING-RIGUEZ, WITHOUT ME THERE IS NO FILM! THOSE PIECES OF CAQUITA DE LA VAQUITA THINK THEY CAN JUST CUT ME OUT COMPLETELY!?!!?!?”

After all the shity rom-coms she had to put up with for the past few years this was finally a periodic drama she was half proud of. Press was press but she really didn’t want to give up being able to brag about the movie publicly…even if most of what she said would be paid attention to by her stalk…er…fans…it was part of the tradeoff but to give that up after being this close to the finish line!?

Entering damage control mode, he offered, “Just calm down baby cakes, we are still in the gray area of being ’late’ which is neither there or missing it completely so we can still salvage this, but it really is time to get those beautiful feet of yours some skates on…”

She began to see red. “NO FUCK THAT AND FUCK YOU CARA DE MONDA! I’M THE ONE WHO’S GONNA WALK! AND WHEN I DO I’LL TAKE ALL THE RIGHTS TO THE SCENES IM IN!”

She could almost hear Frank cringing in response on the end of the line, but he was an A grade polla, so why should she care? However, what frank had to say next gave her some serious pause.

“Ahhh Michelle darling let’s be real here for a second…you know the contract you signed paying you all that beautiful moolha right?”

“WHA- Umm ahhhh yeah, so what?” She was starting to have a terrible sinking feeling.

Having curbed her anger he furthered, “Well as always sugar plum, the devils in the detail and once production is wrapped the studio owns all rights to the scenes regardless of who’s in them. The only reason they will reshoot a scene or 86 an actor out completely is when that person becomes a liability to public decency or something more extreme. So..uh.. unless you plan on inappropriately touching someone or worse your gonna have to suck it up and get ready quick, like REALLY quick.”

Her stomach was in freefall and coupled with her god-awful hangover was starting to give her an acute case of nausea.“Wait, wait what th-“

But frank wasn’t letting her build up steam again. “Good talk honey bunch, I’ve sent the usual driver so see you at the PR event in 20, k toodles!” And with that he hung up.

“CaaaaagGGGGGAAAaaaarrr…..”She moaned to the no longer present Frank on the end of the line.

Collapsing back onto the bed in morose defeat she began to seriously question her life decisions that brought her to this point. Putting her existential crisis to one side for the sake of the almighty dollar she got to work.

Having a 5 second shower, she toweled off and blow dried, then donned a modest yet revealing, baby blue blouse paired with some designer pale denim jeans over her more publically acceptable than last night’s underwear.

Hopefully the makeup team for the PR event would be able to hide the bags under her bleary eyes and she applied some eye drops in a seemingly futile attempt to cover up the bloodshot whites.

The buzz of her disheveled penthouses intercom announced her driver’s arrival. The spell of the mirror induced self-reflection having been broken by the chauffeurs’ arrival, she grabbed the only remaining bottle of water from her fridge.

Taking a pill from the medicine cabinet and chasing it up with the water, she closed her eyes to finally focus on slipping into a pair of light beige sandals then grabbed her Bulche and Habana handbag before exiting her semi-new home toward the lift.

Bracing herself against the impending *ding* that signaled the lifts arrival after she roughly jabbed it’s button, she groaned in response.

Settling against the elevators wall she almost completely ignored the arrival of another resident of the building. Donning over large black Moochi shades in a vain attempt to remain inconspicuous she leaned in silence against the elevators cool metal as it descended to the ground floor.

The lift’s third *ding* of it’s short trip brought her hangover further discomfort and signaled her freedom from its confines.

Exiting the lobby the driver gave her the smooth practiced ushering, that whilst inviting to the car that was his charge, managed to keep him somehow unobtrusive and polite.

‘That’s gotta be some kind of honed skill’ she mused.

Having tried to acclimate to the ride share service Goober, she only now truly appreciated this difference. Well that and the fact that a chauffeur would have the common sense not to talk her ears off, or worse yet try and get her fucking number!

Settling into the back seat she closed her eyes for a moment and the car began to accelerate away from her penthouses building, nimbly dodging through traffic of downtown LA. Her consciousness becoming hazier from the pain killer she recently imbibed brought on a trip down memory lane.

As the buildings blurred by she reminisced about how she started from humble beginnings of a single parent household, living in a shoe box of and apartment. Then to the sacrifices and compromises she had to make over the years.

Eventually her mind rested upon the traumatizing fallout with her mother over control of her financial assets. Her face began to contort in discomfort and budding anger at how terribly the relationship had ended, years having gone by without even so much as an email. Then the endless self-justification took over in fast forward to her most recent behavior and the anger began to take reach a boiling point when she though about how she had been shoe horned into her current predicament.

Just as she was about to retrieve her mobile from her handbag to give Frank the cara de mi huevo izquierdo, another piece of her mind!

Then her head split in a flash of blue-ish white light.

What followed was full body tingling sensation like when she smoked too much of a good thing, it was near instantly accompanied by a monotonic synthesized voice:

“Greetings ‘Human’ 00,710,864,632. You have been transferred to a personal elevation re-education session for practical assessment and aptitude testing, please prepare yourself.”

No longer in the car and attempting to get her bearings in the all-encompassing white void she now found herself in, her ire only grew “Now see here cara de panocha! I don’t know what game you’re playing! But I want my phone call and my fucking LAWYER!”