Close Encounter of the Famous Kind

The sleek sports car pulled into a little gas station with a high pitched whine. There was a faint hiss as the driver door slid vertically up, allowing the slim man to exit the vehicle like an alien stepping onto earth for the first time.

It wasn’t far from the truth, a movie star in the middle of nowhere might as well be an exotic species.

Light glinted off designer sunglasses, half concealing his look of disgust. There were only two options at the pump, neither of which befitting a machine of this caliber. He strode into the gas station, a bell jingling to announce his arrival.

Behind the counter, the attendant sat motionless. He was engrossed in a weathered paperback novel and failed to acknowledge the presence of a customer.

Clearing his throat, the man brushed nonexistent dust from meticulously tailored clothing. This call for attention was subsequently ignored.

“Excuse me.” The potential customer grumbled, tone thick with irritation.

“Mmm.” Flipping a yellowed page, the attendant didn’t so much as send a look in his direction.

Taking off the sunglasses, he hung them from the breast pocket of his polo shirt. Perhaps the sight of his face would create the desired result. People became extremely helpful when recognition set in. There really was such a thing as ‘star power’.

“Is there any high-octane fuel at this… establishment?” He inquired, turning on the signature charm with ease.

“Did you see any out there?” The attendant asked disinterestedly.

“I did not.” He leaned on the counter, striking a pose from one of his movies.

Turning another page, the clerk grunted. “Then there’s your answer.”

Shocked by the apathetic response, the celebrity flinched as if struck. “Do you know who I am?!” He sputtered, pained by the assault on his pride.

Finally looking up, the pump attendant gave the stranger a thoughtful glance then shook his head.

“Nope. Don’t know, don’t care.”

Jaw dropping open, the man stood aghast. Who the hell did this guy think he was, treating him like a common citizen? He was Philip Harrod, the hottest actor in Hollywood! His signing bonus alone was more than this rube would make in three lifetimes!

“I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” Philip growled and stormed out of the shop, slamming the door for good measure. If only he could look up the closest premium gas station, but there was no reception in this podunk piece of crap town anyway. Hopefully the quarter tank would last him until he could get back in range of a cell tower.



“Who the hell was that just now?” Another employee emerged from the back, just in time to see the Lamborghini Veneno peel out of the parking lot.

“Philip Harrod. Came in here acting like he was all that and a bag of chips.”

“WHAT?! He was here?!”

“Yeah, guess couldn’t find the right fuel that fancy car needed.”

“And you let him drive away without an autograph?”

“After that last movie he was in? The shmuck completely ruined the franchise for me after forcing the writers to make him a big hero. He couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag.”

“Still dude, Philip Harrod!”

“He’s just a man who thinks the sun shines outta his ass. Now Jason Todd, that’s a real actor…”