June 1-30 challenge
Day 27 Twenty-seven Sentences
June 27, 1927. On this date the United States Marine Corps adopted the English bulldog as their official mascot.
Write about any subject. You can write about a Marine, a bulldog, or an Englishman if you’d like. You can write about anything! But you must write exactly twenty-seven sentences. No more. No less.
Alternative: Write a poem with 27 words or syllables.
Holly stood next to the film director, a clipboard in her hand.
‘Cut,’ yelled Mr Spielberg, as she walked over to the set. ‘That’s it folks, lunchtime.’
The actors stood chatting to each other, tired after a long morning on the shoot.
‘Hey there, girl, make yourself useful and grab a bottle of water can you?’ The most arrogant actor that she’d ever encountered stared at her from behind reflective shades.
Holly shuffled off, reaching the trailer in record time. She grabbed a water, heading back.
She could hear the actor even from this distance, shouting at a young lad named Michael. Holly shuddered; he was a thoroughly despicable man! No wonder everyone called him Alf behind his back; A for a**hole.
Holly stepped into line at the lunch queue. Up ahead, the dishy new actor called Chad stood next to his female co star, a European model who’d decided to go into films. Holly had a crush on Chad, ever since she’d seen him in that vampire film last year, where he’d spent most of the film with his shirt off. His poster adorned her bedroom at home, and he filled her dreams.
That was why she was so pleased to have got this job, working for Spielberg himself. It meant that she had a chance to ogle Chad to her heart’s content.
In front of her the little actor named Vance smiled.
‘Hey there Holly, good to see you. How long are you working on set?’
‘All summer,’ she replied, glancing over to where Chad sat next to the model. They were picking on their salads and mineral water, whilst looking at their reflections in the glass door of the trailer.
‘There she is, just the one I was looking for. Get me a salad will you, darling.’ Alf the a**hole sidled up behind her, thrusting a $50 note in her hand. ‘No anchovies,’ he smirked, sauntering away to the rest area.
Spielberg appeared behind her. ‘Hey there Mr Cage.’ he called. The actor turned at the sound of his name. After all, he was working for one of the world’s great directors.
Spielberg put his arms around Holly’s shoulders.
‘Come and meet my daughter.’