Up in Smoke
I write silly. I’d rather write serious. After seeing “Spotlight” take the Oscar as best picture, I’ve decided to try investigative reporting. I started in earnest right after the Governors Ball party. I awoke Tuesday morning draped in the same slinky red neckline plunging dress worn by Charlize Theron the night before. After swallowing two aspirin and some pride, I started my investigation looking for Charlize Theron. She had to be around. I was in her dress. It would be a wonderful thing to begin the new day by giving back this beautiful Tom Ford dress to its rightful owner.
I didn’t know whether she wanted the dress back or not. But one thing I knew for sure. This dress could not be separated from the $3.7 million worth of Harry Winston diamonds that I sorely needed to pull off this new look on me. Don’t get me wrong. I looked pretty good. And I was confident that Charlize looked okay just draped in diamonds and no red dress. It still was a cause for worry. I had to find her to see the surprised look on my face when I found her. My phone rang.
I got my first local investigative story. Charlize would have to wait. I hoped she wasn’t too cold without her slinky red dress. But I had no time to change. This investigation demanded my full attention first. After a few tentative steps in Jimmy Choo heels, I made my way to the high school. The wolf whistles and catcalls slowed me down. I arrived in the school office five minutes late. I got detention. It wasn’t the first time. I got right to the point.
“Why did you cancel the marijuana talk?” The school administrator stared back. I tried again. “Why did you cancel the marijuana talk?” The administrator stared more. It was getting unnerving. “Why did you cancel the marijuana talk?” The administrator spoke. “I’m happily married.” Now I caught the staring heebie-jeebies. Finally I eked out, “What?” The administrator cleared his throat. “I’m happily married now. We can’t go back to the way we were, Stevie Nicks.”
Geez, I must look hotter than I thought. The administrator had a point. We didn’t want to start “Rumours.” I stayed on investigative track and said to my supposed long lost love administrator, “Okay. No funny business. We’ll leave it at, our time together will never be forgotten.” He nodded agreement and said, “Sharon Stone, what brings you to town?”
My basic instinct told me to run. Instead, I barraged ahead. “What brings me to town is to investigate why the talk titled, “Are we the Next Colorado?” was cancelled. The event sponsored, by the Laguna Beach Community Coalition is a group of school, health and law enforcement representatives initially organized to reduce youth drug and alcohol abuse. The administrator lapsed back into his staring contest. I stared back. He stared some more. We became lost in each other’s eyes. When suddenly, he broke the spell and giggled, “I’m hungry. Got the munchies. Someone brought in some delicious brownies. Come on. Join me.”
I didn’t go with him. I was dressed for a Danish. And really, how could I afford the calories and still hope to fit into my slinky red dress? My first investigative story went up in smoke. Who cares, I must find Charlize and recover the diamonds.
Crantz tells the Indy that serious readers should know that a similar event is scheduled on March 21. The March 10th event was cancelled due to subject redundancy. But the subject geometry is still cancelled forever.
