Dying to Be Famous
Chapter One
Know why I hate TV? Two words: pineapple roasties.
I was in Hawaii in this glade right off the beach. I've never been to the Aloha State but if it looks anything like it did in this dream I was having, I'm adding it to my must-visit list. Feather it in there alphabetically right before Iceland and Kenya.
Anyway, the sun had already set, but this bower was well lit with torches. I was reclining in a hammock while a trio of dusky Polynesian maidens offered me a series of native delicacies. The girls looked like they had stepped out of a painting by Gauguin during his Baywatch period. I wrinkled my nose at each of the dishes. Everything was a variation on poi (which, it probably goes without saying, I've never tasted), but to me it all looked like the kind of gruel that even Oliver Twist would turn up his smudgy nose at.
My obdurate refusals were clearly distressing to the ladies. Pleasing me was very important to them. Finally, one smiled and said, "I know what he'll like." She whispered something to the other two, who began giggling while covering their mouths and glancin ... read full excerpt from Dying to Be Famous ebook
