Val sat in his oversized leather couch with a jar of marshmallow topping in one hand and a can of peanut brittle in the other. Without breaking view on Top Gun, the movie that made him famous, Val grabbed an ever succulent piece of peanut brittle and effortlessly scooped up a mound of marshmallow topping on top of it and in one fluid motion, slipped it in the space between his once shiny veneers he had gotten years ago to appease a movie producer.
“I’m getting full”. He thought to himself.
Several months ago, Val had embarked on a path of consuming anything that didn’t look threatening that now made him look like a sweaty, fat walrus without the tusks. He wasn’t getting the same roles in movies that had once made him the guy girls wanted to be with and the man who guys wanted to be. He used to date other celebrities, he used to make his female fans swoon and he used to have great hair.
He used to be awesome.
Now he was just fat.
He looked especially fat in the picture of him that was snapped as he rested his laurels on the sandy beach in front of his property after a rough day of surfing in St. Tropaz. It was a private beach on which he sat, made especially for celebrities of his stature. Unfortunately, those people put in place to ensure Val’s privacy, didn’t realize that harmless woman pushing a 50’s style baby carriage were actually two paparazzi hell bent on catching the rumored “suddenly obese” Val Kilmer in a wet suit.
They made a pretty good pay day that day.
“That ain’t no baby” Val screamed in his mind!
“Assholes” he thought.
It was at that moment that he hungered for some smothered cheese fries and a Monte Cristo sandwich from Denny’s.
Spittle accumulated in the sides of his mouth and his stomach growled almost angrily.
“TOODLES!!” he yelled while bits of spittle flew from his mouth.
Almost immediately, his effeminate assistant descended from sliding down the fireman’s pole Val had installed several years earlier just because he was rich enough to do it. Toodles cowered beneath Val’s line of sight while he reclined on his oversized couch. He took Val’s order extremely carefully… knowing from past experience that if he were to screw something up… he may not see the sun for several days. Upon completion of his order, Val summoned Toodles to get him his foodstuffs as fast as possible. If he were back before the point of no return, Val would not “make it rain” on him.
After tiring from raising his voice in order to acquire his food, Val fast-forwarded through a Top Gun scene in which Tom Cruise really takes up a lot of screen time.
“Scientology”, he thought, “What a joke.”
If he had been doing something less mind-numbing than repeating his lines and reliving his glory moments as they emitted from the television, he might have noticed the cell phone in his pocket vibrating once to indicate a new text message.
It wasn’t until he leaned forward to pour himself another glass of melted malt balls that his phone fell from his pocket and nearly underneath the coffee table.
It had been a while since he had leaned forward to pick something up. He carefully slid himself across the couch while trying to keep his head on the same plane as he had had it in for the past 12 hours. A slight change in sea level for Val could result in severe nausea, vomiting or even death.
Upon successful recovery of his cell phone he noticed at that point he had a new text message. He pressed the “read” button.
It read “Loved you in ‘At First Sight’”.
Not recognizing the number, Val mouthed the words “Who the hell is this?” to himself.
Several minutes earlier and several hundred miles to the east… two gentlemen giggled to themselves at the creativity of their text message.
“I bet he’s like ‘Who the hell is this?’” laughed the one gentleman who obviously knew his way around a gym, had drank his fair share of beer that night and smelled remarkably good thanks to his Old Spice deodorant. “Maybe he thinks it’s Mena Suvari!”
“What’ll I do if he calls back?” shot back the other gentleman suddenly realizing what had just transpired. “We just text messaged VAL KILMER!!” he said with a small twinge of fear in his voice. There was something suddenly frightening to him about this whole episode. Val was a man with power and men with power can hire people who can reach around the globe using only their mind and crush the skulls of the innocent if they want. If Val wanted, he could do that to find the two of them.
“Dude, calm down.” said the better built gentleman. “It’s a harmless prank. Val doesn’t care. He’s probably sitting there wondering what hot girl is on the other end of the phone sending him text messages! Let’s have fun with this. What are we going to say if he calls or texts back?”
This not-so-well thought out idea of texting the celebrity whose phone number he’d overheard a drunken Val Kilmer utter while attending a Washington DC election party suddenly made the other gentleman start to sweat. His sweat mixed with the patchouli he’d bathed in several hours earlier making a sort of smell that made you want to say “sweet monkey balls what’s that smell!” His well tanned face and arms started to quiver with a sort of nervous excitement. He suddenly felt like he had to lay some cable.
“Why does that always happen when I get nervous?” he thought to himself.
Despite the nervous excitement the well built gentleman had… his deodorant kept him dry and smelling good. He also did not need to lay cable, rather… he had to break the seal.
After the sweet smelling deodorant gentleman returned from emptying his bladder, he saw the patchouli gentleman reading his phone in a heightened state of nervous energy. He read the text out loud, “Val just asked ‘Who is this?!!!!!!!!!!!!!’”
WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? WILL VAL CALL THE TWO GENTLEMEN? WILL THE TWO GENTLEMEN COLLAPSE UNDER THE PRESSURE OF TEXTING A CELEBRITY? WILL I GIVE YOU VAL KILMERS CELL PHONE NUMBER TO TEXT HIM YOURSELF? STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO TO FIND OUT!!