California, One Mile Outside Hollywood…Vidallia Owens sat looking out her window at the destruction that took place outside her window. Hollywood was in flames, but her mind was elsewhere.
“Did you hear that?” Owens asked her roommate, former Hollywood make-up artist Blossom Tanner.
“Hear what?” Blossom asked, looking up from her armory of billiard balls, pool cues, skis, and tennis rackets.
“I dunno,” Owens said, scratching her head. “Sounded like a guy asking for help from something.” Shrugging her shoulders, she opened the refrigerator, pulling out anything that could make a dent. She emerged with two full egg cartons, a whole watermelon, a bottle of peach schnappes, and a mayonnaise jar. “This enough?” she asked Blossom again.
“It’ll have to be,” the woman in bell bottoms and large thick glasses said. Her long hair and tendency to go “retro” made it obvious that she had been a later addition to the “peace-love” generation. Vidallia didn’t know much of her past – not even her real name. She came to Hollywood to act, covering her odd green skin with makeup, one of the reasons she had Blossom as a roomie.
Only problem in living with a hippie… Owens decided as she opened her window and began throwing eggs at the wild rioters on her street. No firearms…
Though her mind was totally focused at the task at hand, two separate thoughts tugged at the back of her mind. One, her past. The other, the man. Asking. Pleading. Needing her help.
If only there was something she could do...
