Once Famous

By Harry Chong

Rory Sheboygan is young, and handsome. He's rich, famous, and beloved all over the world. Though he's no ordinary celebrity, he is a triple threat: an actor, singer, and even book writer. But life isn't as peachy keen as it seems. Sheboygan's life feels vapid, and empty. Being hounded by paparazzi, and fans is only appealing for so long. He finds that the only thing that can make him happy is a woman, a woman named Clarissa.

 

Problem is, she isn't that into him. His fame, the glitz, and glamor is a huge turnoff. Sheboygan then has a decision to make: give up his fame, and be with Clarissa, or continue living his vapid, empty life. Though it isn't so simple as Sheboygan must take the help of a scientist to travel into another world, a world where he isn't a celebrity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harry Chong
• Release date: May 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223918783

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: SHOW, DON'T TELL

Rory Sheboygan was the most famous man alive on planet Earth. He was a famous actor, singer, and book writer. He didn't actually write his books though. He only pretended he did. He was the ideas guy and he hired a ghost writer. Still, the public thought he was an intellectual that wrote his books, and there was no stopping him. He was a train. He was a celebrity train.

He was going through the world, totally unstoppable. He was literally more famous the Jesus Christ himself. Kids didn't know who Jesus Christ was, but they sure knew who Rory Sheboygan was. He was a space pirate, a ninja, a Holocaust survivor, and even a Tyrannosaurus rex. He was everything to everyone, or so it seemed.

But this life of his was not as people thought. Yeah, sure, he had all the money he needed times a thousand, he had women eating out of the palm of his hand, and he got respect that he didn't deserve. What was wrong with his life? Well, it was all so tiresome. And Rory Sheboygan did not think he deserved the fame that he had. He didn't think himself worthy of the prizes that the world gave him.

Maybe a silly complaint, but he wished that things had been a little more difficult for him. The ease that he had in his career made him scratch his head, and he felt it was all about luck. Which it was. How did he get his big movie role in the Rising Fireball? He went to a movie set to help his friend, and then the lead actor got into an accident. So, he replaced him. He got the role by accident. In his first movie, he became a movie star. He was  barely 20 years old. He won an Oscar for a movie he didn't even give a damn about. It all happened so fast.

The man has imposter syndrome. He felt like an imposter. And he got everything he got, so fast, and so hard. It was amazing. But he didn't get everything he wanted. Did he? He didn't. Rory thought the fame would get him her. You know, the woman. The one. The woman he had loved since he was in high school.

Rory's fame had the opposite effect, it instead made him intimidating to Clarissa Bodega. Clarissa Bodega was an introvert, and never wanted to be in the spotlight. She wanted to lead a quiet, peaceful life. And Clarissa Bodega did not like the fact that Rory was a promiscuous man. A real James Bond character, sleeping with everyone he met.

Well, this was wrong. The tabloids made it all up. They even persuaded the public that he was in a relationship with his first cousin. Obviously, at least obvious to Rory, he was not. Who would do such a thing? Not Rory. No to banging cousins was his philosophy. He was not from Alabama, and would never ogle even the hottest of his cousins.

Well, Rory had it all except that one thing he wanted. The love of his life was not interested in him at all. One time he convinced her to go out on a date, and she literally ran away. He got surrounded by photographers, and as they pushed inward, Clarissa got freaked out, and slipped through the two dozen people, and ran away.

Rory was embarrassed, and when they asked why she'd run away, he said that she had diarrhea. That wasn't good for Rory's relationship with Clarissa Bodega. That made things worse. Well, he wasn't a writer, obviously, he didn't have a good reply to what they were asking, and that's how it was. Though Rory didn't think it was so bad. I mean, well, why should one be embarrassed about essentially being sick? It's not your fault your body couldn't hold in its shit.

But Clarissa didn't care for what Rory told her, and she firmly decided that they should be friends, or never see each other again. Rory took the friendship instead of totally cutting out Clarissa from his life. He entered the friend zone. He never thought he'd leave it.

I must say though, Rory wasn't someone who couldn't be friends with women. He had plenty of platonic relationships with unattractive women, and that was totally cool with him. He wasn't a puss hound at all. The image he had in the media was false. It was as false as Donald Trump's hair. I'm pretty sure it's a wig. Someone needs to pull on that thing. If it's not a wig, damn, I admit I'd be impressed.

CHAPTER 2: PAPARAZZI

Tonight, Rory was coming out of his mansion. One of many mansions he had, but this one was a special one since it was in the armpit of California, aka Los Angeles. He loved that damned palace of his because it was once owned by one of the Beetles. It was bathed in history, and cocaine. I don't know why he liked it but he did. There was a bowling alley inside of it, and a giant hot tub. Rarely did people go in there to just soak themselves in the warm water. To be frank, it was the most disgusting place in the mansion. A nuclear bomb couldn't get rid of all the diseases in there.

As Rory walked down his driveway, he was confronted by photographers. They were all screaming questions at him, and barking like wild dogs. Rory put on his sunglasses. Lots of people thought he was douchey for always wearing sunglasses but he knew if he didn't put them on he'd get a seizure from all the flashing lights.

Excuse me, said Rory as he tried getting to his car. I have somewhere to go to.

How long is your wiener? said one of the photographers.

What? said Rory. I'm sorry. That's an inappropriate question. I'll never tell you.

It's small, isn't it? the same photographer replied.

It's not small, said Rory. It's... Oh, God. It's a normal, average size, okay?

That's not what your last girlfriend said, the photographer replied. She told us it was bigger than the Hindenburg.

I don't know what that is, said Rory.

Rory continued walking to his car. He tried to get through a pair of photographers, who had their cameras only inches away from his face.

Goddamn it! said Rory, losing his patience. Move out of the way, you parasites!

This was the first time Rory had lost his shit on paparazzi, usually he was nice. Despite what the tabloids told you, he was known as a Mister Nice Guy to them. They were shocked but were loving it, too. This would mean big money for them.

You're a scumbag! a photographer shouted.

I'm not a scumbag! Rory shouted back. At least, I do something positive for a living. You guys, and you all are guys, you just act like leeches. You hang on to other people's coattails. You never do anything of your own. Your lives only revolve around other people. You're a bunch of NPCs.

What's an NPC? one said.

A non-playable character, Rory replied. You know, you talk to it, and it says the same thing again, and again. You guys are like that. You do the same thing, again, and again. And any importance you have is based on the main character, which right now is me. I'm the main character. You'd be so lucky if you were even at the level of an extra. But no, you're NPCs. Now get out my way, you filthy NPCs.

One of the photographers swore at Rory, and pushed him back. Rory was so offended that he did something which he regretted to this day. He punched that damned photographer in the face. It was the hardest punch he ever threw, and it broke the man's nose. There was blood going everywhere it seemed. He was on the floor, crying, saying how he was only trying to feed his family, and that he didn't deserve to be treated like an animal.

Even Rory thought he'd done something wrong, and he covered his mouth in shock at his own behavior. He couldn't believe what he'd become. Before he was famous, he used to enjoy the tabloids, and enjoy the photographers following around the other celebrities. He kinda thought the paparazzi were a cool bunch. He would've never hit any of them.

But now that he was on the other side, he had a change of heart, and that change of heart made him give a photographer a Conor McGregor style punch. Bam! To the nose! Which was now a broken nose.

Rory was speechless. As everyone was photographing, and recording him, he got into his sports car, and quickly started it up. He pressed a remote to open his gates (the paparazzi got inside through a side door), and sped off onto the dark road.

In his car, speeding down the road, he banged his head on the steering wheel several times.

Stupid, stupid, you stupid idiot! he screamed at himself. Why the hell did you do that? He wasn't doing you no harm!

Well, psychologically he was, but not physically.

I hope the guy's okay, said Rory. He started thinking out loud. I hope I don't get in trouble. What's he gonna do to me? Sue the shit outta me? Maybe I'll have to pay him a million bucks. I don't think he deserves it though. Even though I broke his nose. I'll offer him $50,000 out of court, and see if he bites. If he doesn't, I'll double it. I'll triple it! I think he'll take it. That's a lot of money to a paparazzo, isn't it? Eh, this is gonna cost me at least $500,000.

Rory was upset, and he didn't like thinking. He didn't want to think about what had just happened. So, he turned on his radio, and started listening to the radio. He turned the knob, and found a station to listen to. He started singing along with the song, but not singing as normal. He was really getting into it, and being all loud, and crazy like he was being invaded by the music. He was shaking, moving, and his mouth was open wide. It didn't look any good.

When he looked into the mirror he was embarrassed. He decided to stop, and find the classical music radio station. As he turned the radio knob again, he heard his name. He turned back, and turned up the volume.

That's right, said the voice on the radio. "Rory Sheboygan assaulted a photographer. He broke his nose. The nose of a man just trying to feed his family. He was totally innocent are the claims, and it was unprovoked. The photographer is thinking of suing for $10 million. Not too bad, if you ask me. Sheboygan is a multi-billionaire, that's nothing to him.

What the hell? Rory shouted. I'm not that rich. What's he talking about? I'm rich, I'm not 'eat the rich' rich. Damn it. Why does the media always lie about these things?

Because it's entertaining, was the answer.

I swear to God, said Rory, one of these days I'm gonna jump off a bridge. Damn, I need a drink.

So, Rory turned a corner, and went to a bar. He parked his expensive car, which immediately got people noticed, and stepped outside. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he was spotted by adoring fans. Women specifically.

Rory Sheboygan! one of them shouted.

Hi, ladies, said Rory Sheboygan.

Rory continued walking. As he put his hand on the door handle to the bar, a lady grabbed him. She grabbed him like he was a prize. He responded by violently pulling  his arm away.

Don't touch me! he yelled. You have no right!

The whole group of women were taken aback. They gasped. They were in shock. It was true they had no right to touch Rory, but they didn't think about that. Not for a second. They saw all his movies, and bought all his albums, so they thought in the back of their minds he owed them something.

Unfortunately, things weren't adding up today, and Rory was being recorded. His aggressive behavior probably wouldn't do him any good. He tried to apologize.

Listen, I'm sorry, said Rory. I'm kinda having a bad day. Again.

I reject your apology, said the woman.

You can't reject my apology, Rory replied.

I can, and I will.

C'mon, be gracious. Take my apology.

It isn't sincere.

You know what's not sincere? When I say I love all my fans.

You what?

A lot of fans are dirt bags, and I hate them. I wish they'd all kill themselves.

You monster.

Rory started sweating. He realized what he was doing to himself. He was digging his hole even deeper. His mind wasn't in the right. He felt ill in the brain.

Pull back, Rory thought to himself.

Rory ignored the women, and went into the bar. A doorman stepped in front of the ladies, stopping them from following. This bar wasn't an ordinary bar. It was a bar for rich people, and other celebrities. It didn't allow normies, and nobodies inside.

Jesus, Rory muttered as he walked to the bar counter.

What'll it be? said the bartender.

My usual, said Rory.

Uh, sorry, said the bartender. And what is that?

Rory pounded his fist on the wooden counter.

Stop playing around! You know what it is! he said.

I don't, I'm sorry. You'll have to tell me. said the bartender.

Do you know who I am?

No.

No?

No.

How can you not know who I am? Everyone knows who I am. The doorman knew who I was, which is why he let me inside.

Listen, I'm kinda new here.

You're not. I saw you last week. I got a drink from you.

Okay, I forgot about you.

You forgot about me?

Rory grabbed the bartender's shirt, and pulled him forward.

I'll make it so you never forget about me, he said.

The bartender could only say, Uhhh...

While Rory was manhandling the bartender, there was a bright light. Someone was recording all of this. Rory let go of the bartender, and turned around.

Hey! You know the rules here! he screamed. No flash photography, no photography period! And certainly no goddamned videoing other people! This is a bar for celebrities! You should understand what I'm going through!

Rory started walking around, and prodding people.

Alright, he said, who did it? Who had the video!? I want you to delete it right now!

Rory started jumping up, and down, and screaming, WHO WAS RECORDING ME?!

Someone pointed to a girl. A teenaged girl. She was not a celebrity. Nope, she had bluffed her way in. How did she do it? She persuaded the doorman that she was a child celebrity, someone who had worked for Disney. The doorman didn't watch those Disney shows, and he didn't care, so he believed her.

Rory pointed at this teenaged girl.

Hey! You! Rory said to her.

Me? said the teenaged girl.

Give me your smart phone, said Rory.

I, uh, sorry, I don't want to.

You what?

"I want to keep my phone.

I don't want to keep your phone forever, stupid. I just wanna delete the video.

I'll delete it for you.

I don't trust you.

You'll have to trust me.

Give me your phone!

No!

Rory grabbed the teenaged girl's phone, and threw it to the floor. Then he stomped on it several times.

While he was doing so, he was yelling, Putting technology into the hands of ordinary people was the stupidest idea we ever had! All they do is use it to annoy everyone!

The teenaged girl started crying, and who doesn't like a crying girl. Security surrounded Rory. He stopped, and looked around. They asked him what he was doing. He said possibly the stupidest thing a person could say.

I'm kicking ass, and taking numbers, said Rory. With my foot.

Security scratched their heads, and then grabbed Rory, and started dragging him away.

Unhand me, said Rory. Do you know who I am?!

Bye-bye, Rory, said the bartender while waving with a satisfied smile on his face.

Rory was then unceremoniously kicked out of the bar.  I mean, literally kicked out. One of the security guards gave him a kicking in the ass to shove him outside. Rory was now on the ground while people took video of him at one of the lowest points in his life.

Rory, with scraped hands, and scraped knees, slowly got up. He glared at one of the people holding a phone camera.

What are you looking at? he said.

Nothing much, was the reply.

Rory went to his sports car, and drove away.

CHAPTER 3: BAD PEOPLE DON'T THINK THEY'RE BAD

Rory drove to another bar. This time this bar was not for celebrities. It was a dive bar. A real, slimy, nasty bar that held only low lives. It's where he belonged. He went inside (there was no doorman), and he sat down at the bar.

He looked over his shoulder, and saw all sorts of people. This is a place he used to come to when he was poor. This place was filled with miscreants, real scumbags. Drug dealers, pimps, thieves, and disgraced politicians. Although not all of them were these four things. Some of them were just the regular scumbags, like cheaters, and those who intentionally abandoned their children to become rock stars. Fact, 99.999% never became rock stars.

Wow, Rory, said the bartender of this crappy bar. You're back. From outer space.

You remember me? said Rory.

How could I forget, said the bartender. You're the most famous person who's ever been here.

Of course the bartender here remembered him. When Rory was among other celebrities, he was no big deal despite his immense fame. The normies, the everyday people, were the ones who remembered, and loved him the most. Even though he despised many of them.

Will you have the usual? said the bartender.

Yeah, why not, said Rory.

The bartender grabbed a bottle of Irish whisky, Proper 12, and poured a full glass. The bartender gave this to Rory, who immediately started drinking it. He drank it fast, too. A few seconds at most. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

That was fast, said the bartender. You haven't changed one bit, have you?

I've changed plenty, said Rory.

How so?

Well, um...

Rory thought, didn't know exactly what to say.

Well, um, he said again. Maybe I haven't changed. Maybe just the things around me changed. Maybe I'm still the same ol' piece of crap I used to be.

You're not a piece of crap, said the bartender.

What makes you say that?

Do you want another drink?

Yeah, you know it, baby.

Don't call me baby.

Sorry, toots.

Rory got another drink. He was beginning to get very drunk.

What were we talking about? said Rory.

I was flattering you to get more tips, said the bartender.

"No, you were saying I wasn't a piece of crap.

That was the flattery.

Oh, so you do think I'm a piece of crap?

Nobody's perfect is all I'm saying.

I'm a piece of crap.

You aren't. Everyone's got demons inside them. Yours are just public.

Oh, no. You been listening to the radio?

Radio? Nah, I was watching the TV.

The bartender pointed to the TV that was hanging on the wall. Rory was on TV, and TMZ was showing all the things he'd just done. His public image was taking a hit. People really don't appreciate when you're not as nice as they imagine you are. Well, maybe Rory shouldn't have assaulted that paparazzo, and stomped that girl's phone. Maybe...

God, said Rory.

It's okay, said the bartender. I'm not here to judge you.

Trying to flatter me again to get a big tip? said Rory.

Is it working?

Ah, I hate my life. 

You hate your life? Well, shit. What do you think the people who don't have what you have feel?

Pretty good.

We hate our lives! More than you!

It's not so bad being a bartender person.

I serve drinks to idiots, and ruin their livers. That's not a good life to have.

I'm not an idiot, I've written several books.

We all know you used ghost writers.

Okay, but I was the ideas guy. That's important.

The writer was the ideas guy, you were the guy with the money that paid someone to write for you.

Listen, stop pestering me. You don't know half my story. And if you think your life is garbage, then quit. Why don't you quit?

I can't quit. I'll be out on the streets. And I have a family of two dogs to feed.

Have you ever thought about getting rid of the dogs?

I'd rather chop off my left hand. Or work at a bar.

You're crazy.

You're crazier.

I'm crazy?

"Look at how miserable you are. You can quit at any moment, you have the money, yet you don't. That is insanity. You can stop being famous. All you have to do is say goodbye, and stop being in movies, and making music.