My 5 Random words series is where I am given the words and challenged to write a short story incorporating them. A recent suggestion was
George Clooney, petticoat, ski shoes, Africa and potato stock.
The mind boggles, but this is what I came up with. Enjoy. 😀
There was total havoc on the set. The star, George Clooney, had decided he didn’t want to do any more coffee commercials in Mediterranean settings. He felt they should try somewhere different, perhaps Africa with elephants and lions in the background. He could offer his cup to a lady on a nature reserve while they discussed animal conservation.
The financial director was having sleepless nights over the impact on his budget, the producer was worrying about the effect of the sun on his sensitive skin, and the film crew were thinking what a great opportunity to get some wildlife photos for their own portfolios.
After days of discussion it was finally agreed that the shoot would take place in Switzerland. Knowing the sight of the action man on the slopes would set many female hearts aflutter, the publicity people immediately got working on a designer brand of ski shoes bearing his name.
All was going to plan. The venue was set and the date confirmed. Lily heard about it from her best friend Greta, who just happened to be going out with someone from the production crew. The girls had already booked a ski break, and both being great George fans could hardly believe their luck when they discovered filming was to take place in the very village where they were due to stay.
They knew security on the set would be tight but Greta’s cousin had the contract for the on-site catering. She had promised to sneak them in as assistants; they might even get the chance to serve the great man themselves.
Lily had already packed her suitcase with trousers, warm socks and waterproof jackets but this tremendous opportunity called for something a bit special. She needed to stand out if she was to attract the attention of the gorgeous George.
She decided to go for the 60s look, flared rockabilly mini dress, high block-heeled shoes and her long hair tied back in a ponytail. It was a struggle to fit in the ra-ra petticoat but somehow she managed it. All packed and ready to go Lily and Greta could barely contain their excitement as they took off for their skiing holiday with a difference.
They spent a few happy days on the slopes before the film crew arrived and they took up their part time employment with the catering crew. Everyone was friendly and it didn’t actually feel like work, although Lily realised her ensemble wouldn’t be appropriate for someone involved in food preparation. Disappointingly, George had only been seen from a distance and didn’t use the canteen set up to keep the crew fed.
So near and yet so far, but all was not lost. On the final night of filming they were told there would be an after shoot party, to which they were invited. Lily could hardly contain her excitement; her special outfit would come into its own after all. Splendid in her regalia she was immediately accosted by the sous chef who had taken a fancy to her.
Every five minutes he would pop out from the kitchen with some titbit to tempt her, even though he was supposed to be working. Mainly it was vol au vents or bits on sticks but then he appeared with a large steaming cauldron of potato stock, touching her on the shoulder as he passed, and making her jump. Swinging round in shock her hand caught the pot and before she knew it her beautiful outfit was covered in a steamy, brown mess.
Crying more in distress than pain she dashed into the backroom and stripped off, ineffectually trying to get the spreading dark stains out of her dress. It was pointless. Just as she decided she might as well go home she heard an uproar from outside, with shouts of ‘Great job, George,’ ‘Pleasure working with you George,’ and ‘May I have your autograph Mr Clooney?’
Great. Not only would she have no chance to meet her idol, but she would have to sit out the party in a back room, in her underwear, until her dress dried off. She was so wrapped up in her misery she didn’t hear the door quietly open behind her until a deep male voice said ‘I do apologise, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.’ It was Him.
Suddenly realising her lack of clothes Lily flushed bright red. Always the perfect gentleman George wrapped his jacket around her shoulders before leading her to a chair. Taking her hand he asked quietly ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
Who would ever believe her? Forget the ‘I once handed George a plate of stew’ story.
The actual ‘So there I was, sitting in a private room, semi-naked, with George holding my hand and putting his arm round me’ story had a much better ring to it.