In the First Sixty Seconds

An ambassador. It sounds rather pretentious, doesn’t it? I’m not a real ambassador. An influencer? No, I’m probably considered a bit too old for that. What am I? I am an actor of stage, film, television drama and several incredibly lucrative voice-over spots for well established brands and household names. Seriously folks, a voice-over job is impossible to turn down. For a morning’s work, at worst possibly a couple of extra hours the next day, it is easy money. This is especially evident, when comparing the income versus effort ratio, against any other medium I am involved with. Of course, I need the other roles, to be considered for voice-over work in the first place. You can’t have one without the other!

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Tina’s Party

I met Adam at Tina’s party. He’d showed no interest in approaching me, so I went straight up to him and said, “Did someone tell you it was a fancy dress party?” He looked me up and down in a dismissive manner and rather loftily sniffed his nose at me! “It’s a nice outfit,” I told him, “French royal court, early eighteenth century?” The feathers, silk stockings, blue velvet and lace appeared absolutely immaculate and expensive.
“It is my own interpretation,” he replied, “but you’re right on the money. I’m impressed.” He stepped forward and then back again with swagger, before taking a slow, theatrical bow. This vision, together with the white foundation, rouged cheeks and lipstick, caused an idea to pop into my head.

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Con

Mike enjoyed working in the garden, out in the clean, fresh air. On a warm, overcast summer day like today, under cool shade provided by the cherry tree, he found the light reflection from his laptop computer screen, tolerable. True, working outside meant he had to put up with noise pollution from the neighbours. However, classical music streamed through decent loudspeakers served as an antidote, creating an aural backdrop acceptable to work to.

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High Hopes

“I’m guessing you must be Melvin! Hi, I’m Summer.” Confidence oozed out deliciously from the blue-haired young woman, as she crossed the courtyard in several long strides. Sat next to the marble fountain, Melvin looked up from the patch of ground he’d been staring at, as if brought out of a daze.
“Yes! Hi there, Summer I presume?”
“Isn’t the villa just beautiful?” Summer spun around three hundred and sixty degrees with her face turned up towards the sun. “As a student, I used to help with picking grapes in the vineyard, during college break.”
“Well, you know I’ve lived in the area for five years, not more than twenty kilometres away and I had no, idea, such a place existed.” Melvin stood up and looked around, surveying the architecture, “I must say, it’s impressive.”
“Yes, yes it is.” Summer watched Melvin shuffle left and right, his hand horizontal on his brow to shade his eyes against the bright sunshine. She felt her enthusiasm drain away. She trusted her gut instinct, at least during an occurrence like today, feeling it dominate her head and heart so decisively. “Look, lets get a coffee,” she suggested, “there’s a kiosk over there with tables and chairs set up nearby.”
They walked together in silence, like an old couple with nothing left to say to each other. Melvin sunk his hands deep into his trouser pockets, playing with his keys and some loose change, while Summer compiled a list of reasons in her mind.
“Let me get them, what will you have?” Melvin said, pulling out his wallet from a back pocket.
“No,” Summer replied, “I’ll get them, what would you like?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay, well if you insist,” Melvin glanced at the blackboard menu, “flat white then, thank you.”
“Flat white?”
“Yes please, two sugars.”
“There’s sugar on the table, in the bowls, slim packets of sugar.”
“Oh, yes, so there is.”

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From Station To Station

Two innocent souls, from a chance meeting, quickly form an intense friendship. Several days later, following a sweaty bonding of bodies driven by mutual carnal desire, they had come to regard each other as lovebirds.
We join them, yet another day later, at Obsomba station, located on the Northern Criss-Cross Line. In the golden hour before the setting of the sun, we find ourselves needing to ask, has someone had a change of heart?

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