AN: What, another fic? Aren't I trying to juggle enough? Yeah, I am, but I can't
resist a good idea. Okay, okay, I can't resist any idea. This one won't be
updated as constantly as Sacrifices but it'll be an odd fun fic to add to from
time to time! =) And no, this isn't my first foray into Humor. It may seem that
way but, yeah... Enjoy... Review... Have me committed... LOL

All the usual disclaimers apply... As usual.

****************************** Lights, Camera, Action! ****************************

I've never really gotten into all that New Agey stuff like some movie stars. I dunno.
I mean yeah for everyone who does... Herbs and crystals are pretty cool and all and

Well I've seen real magic.

Let's just say when other people think of it as Faerie God Mothers and Sleeping Beauty
I think of it more as, well... Tall, slender, arrogant, and a pain in the ass.

Yup, that pretty much covers it.

You see I've seen real magic, up close and personal. I've seen real magic and have had
it bite me in the butt. So sue me if I'm biased. I used to be all dreamy, in love with
fairy tales and imaginary Princes. I used to be captivated by the thought of Unicorns
and Goblins.

Take my word for it. I've met Goblins. They smell, look funny, and their King, their
King is the before mentioned pain in the ass. I haven't met a Unicorn yet but I bet
there's something wrong with them too. Maybe their horns double as a laser. Maybe they
poop tarantulas. The world will never know.

Or at least, hopefully if the world finds out, it keeps me out of the secret. Ignorance
is bliss, unless your boyfriend is sleeping with your room mate and then it just sucks.
College wasn't exactly a fun time for me.

And who am I? Moi? Sarah Williams, nice to meet ya. Yeah, I know. Doesn't ring a bell.
Let's try Sarah Elliott. There, that's better.

Yes, I'm Sarah Elliott, THE Sarah Elliott. At twenty nine I'm a knock out and a
millionaire a dozen times over. The biggest paid actress in Hollywood, the girl with
the smile LARGER then Julia Roberts, yeah, eat your heart out. I've starred in over a
dozen movies without a single bomb. Yeah, I'm just that good.

I'm also stressed out, emotionally drained, and tired. I didn't start acting seriously
until I was twenty four and out of college with a useless History BA. History may seem
interesting to a select few but beware, before it sucks your future and parents' money
away... it's a trap. No one can make a living off a History BA without wearing tweed
sweaters and working in a library.

I shudder to think about it. I hate tweed.

Anyway, at twenty four I surprised the world by landing a spot that most actresses would
kill for, the new Bond Girl. Okay, okay cheesy I know but I followed it up with a
Spieldberg and that kind of convinced people that I meant business. Things just kind of

Instant fame's not all its cracked up to be, its better. Hell yeah, lots better. At
least at first. I was never a child actress so I never had to suffer through that
inevitable dry spell that everyone goes through when they stop being cute and aren't quite
drop dead gorgeous yet. Just a simple name change and viola, I was famous.

I remember when things used to be so cool, so new to me. I think I even used to scare
the stalkers. It was all such a novelty. I mean, me, little ol Sarah Williams with
stalkers. Who would have thought?

It was a bad year last year though. I made four movies, starred in, four movies. Two shot
simultaneously. I came home one night and found my boyfriend and fellow actor of two years
passed out in our bed with the woman who was currently playing my mother. He had
apparently been taking tips on how to get dumped from my ex college boyfriend. Can we feel
the sarcasm here?

Things got a little ugly in the settlement. The charges against me were dropped but he got
to keep our angelfish.

The US court system is really screwed up. If a girl feels the need to hit her lying,
scheming ex on the head with a frying pan it isn't anyone's damn business but her own. The
judge didn't quite see it that way.

Anyway I was perilously close to a nervous break down. My manager kindly found this
wonderful cabin far away in the Rockies that I could spend a couple of months at, sort of
like a retreat. Well, not really. I sweetly told Mike that I would fire his ass if I
didn't get some down time and real rest. I think it was the frying pan that convinced him.
He may never enter my kitchen again.

I'm crushed. See the tears? Yup, that's more sarcasm.

I've been hiding out here for about eight months now, about six months longer then I
planned on. Its nice, relaxing, and I'm bored as hell. I just can't seem to get motivated
to go back though and that bothers me. I love what I do.

Anyway I haven't exactly gotten in touch with my spiritual side, or tried to contact the
dead. I'd probably have to spend a few more months in the cabin before I attempt that one.
I'm not real big on New Agey. Unless it involves a six foot tall masseuse named Robert
who could bench press a Honda. That's right a Honda. I don't like my men too muscled.

And go clean your filthy minds out. I'm just an admirer. Besides, I'm good friends with
his wife Irene and Godmother of their adorable three year old daughter Jasmine. Jasmine
has me wrapped around her little pinkie. And Irene could bench press a hell of a lot more
then a Honda. I'm not sure how. She's about three inches and twenty pounds smaller then
me. Think delicate and you'll get your nose broken but that's about the perfect word to
describe her... besides the whole Wonder Woman thing.

I pay Robert about as much as I make. He'd be filthy, stinking rich, okay, okay, even
more so, if I spread the word out about him to a few of my movie star friends. He'd also
stop working exclusively for me.

No thank you. Okay, okay it might be a wee bit selfish but Robert likes only having to
work weekends to make enough to feed a family of hungry elephants. It gives him time
to finger paint with Jasmine and hell, who would want to pass that up? No sarcasm here.
That little witch could probably be the youngest President based on her smile alone.
It can melt hearts, and send the nearest authority figures running away, screaming like
little girls, whenever she, that smile, and her beloved finger paints head towards the
white walls of her room...

It's a good thing Robert only works weekends. For the world, not just me, honest.

My phone rings and, after hesitating for a moment or two, I rise from my balcony over
looking the peaceful, uneventful mountains, and head inside the cabin. I cradle the
cordless phone to my ear with one slim shoulder as I absently rifle through my almost bare

Great... an orange, ketchup, and something, something that has evolved into its own
intelligent civilization during its imprisonment in a tupperware container. Oh, and half
a tuna fish sandwich. Of course, since I can't remember the last time I had tuna fish the
sandwich probably isn't the greatest idea.

So, orange it is.

I try to concentrate on Mike, yes, who else would be calling me?, as I grab the fruit and
start to peel it. "Sarah, are you paying attention? Have you heard a word I've just said?"

"Humm?" I wince as Mike explodes in my ear, predictably.

"Why the hell do I put up with you?" I shrug, unseen, as he ends his rant and pop an
orange slice into my mouth, cursing as sticky juice dribbles down my chin. I've
forgotten how messy these things can be.

"Because I pay you more then anyone else is willing too. Because I enhance your career.
Because you love bragging about your biggest client to your golfing buddies. Because..."

"Shit Sarah, lay off. Leave a man some pride." I smile into the receiver.

"Never." Mike sighs into my ear, theatrically, if dramatically over done. I should know,
I'm the Drama Queen. All bow to me...

"You really are a controlling bitch sometimes, you know that right? And stop smiling
at me!" Mike knows me too well.

"Okay, okay, I'm paying attention now, really, I am. Was this a social call of do we
have business to discuss?" Mike snorts and its my turn to sigh. As if he's ever thinking
of anything else but money. I swear, the man's going to be buried with his grubby little
fingers clutching dirty dollar bills.

"I have your next job sitting in my lap." Great, a new movie. I'm torn for a moment
between throwing a fit or giving into curiosity. As always, curiosity wins. I'm in a funk,
not dead, and only death could damper my curiosity.


The orange pauses on its way to my mouth. "Okay Mike, let's hear the pitch, then we
deal." He chuckles, mercenary, on the other line and the newest battle of wills between
us begins.