By Harvey 'Roseboy' Kindlon, to Megan Fox
I was a big admirer of your work, but no more. You have humiliated me one too many times. Ignoring my precious floral gift was one thing, but then having me fly to New York to meet you, only to refuse a meeting because of Michael Jackson's death, was a step too far.
The next time you see me will be many years from now, when I am a fully pubic fine figure of a man. You will be old and haggard, perhaps already 30 and close to death. You will now wish that hot young boys wave roses in your face in the street, but that time will have passed long ago.
But then, as you leave your non-entity celebrity 'party', you will spot a dashing young hunk in the crowd, brandishing what seems to be another rose, with a smile on his handsome face. "Could it be?", you will ask yourself, "is that young stud who I so cruelly snubbed really back again to declare his admiration for my fine body of work? Truly, I am blessed".
As you step closer to accept the flower, you and I will share a brief, meaningful smile, you totally unaware that this time, it is I who will be having the last laugh. As you reach for the flower, it will squirt water and possibly even my urine into your face.
That's right! I have fooled you and your crummy 'Hollywood career' with a simple joke shop novelty! NOW don't you wish you'd just stopped to say hello that time? Don't you wish you'd got over the death of Michael Jackson (who come on, admit it, you didn't really even like) a little quicker?
Yes, all those thoughts and more will rush through your feeble frame as hundreds of paparazzi capture my revenge on camera (they were only there for other, bigger stars, as you are now a has been, but took the picture anyway as it was funny. Many did not even know who you were).
But it will be too late. Too late.
TWEET THIS!
0 comments
Post a Comment