Dont leave me. She pleaded. Please. Stay

Dont leave me. She pleaded. Please. Stay with me. She begged me. But i had to leave her. I'm sorry. I said. I really was. But what other choice did i have? Carli had said

the "Your so vain," farewell tour started two weeks ago and she really needed a percussionist with my kind of cowbell technique. Touring with a washed-up singer or true love. There

was just something about her singing that shot right through to my heart. But here I was, stuck behind the drum kit. No one ever notices the drummer, except of course

ice cream and brad pitt's spit.

Helga sighed heavily as she cleaned up the aftermath of another Hollywood party. She never would have guessed that Brad Pitt was such a drooler, or that Angelina was actually a

man. Helga knew that her life as a maid in Hollywood would be short lived but it was only temporary til she was discovered and hit the big time. She longed to see HELGA in lights--

no matter what she had to do to get there. So during the day she was a mild mannered maid, but at night, to pursue fame and money, HELGA was a vigilante crime fighter, using her

ample Viking bosoms as a sort of Trojan horse that distracted miscreants, enabling her to use her feather duster to incapacitate. HELGA's french maid outfit barely contained

the arsenal of ninja weaponry. Commando maids had infiltrated the Junta at all of the dictator's palaces. At Midnight, they cleaned house.