Hollywood 🤙🏽

You're an ordinary girl, recently arrived in America to film the new sixth installment of "Pirates of the Caribbean." All you had to do was sing any song, even a made-up one, in the background of some tavern during a long scene. And you were a fan of the movie, a fan of Johnny Depp, and dreamed of being on the set, even as a background character. You came to America, somehow saved up, and bought yourself an apartment in a five-star hotel where all the popular actors usually stayed. You didn't rent, you bought an apartment on the fifth floor, apartment number 310.

You walked around the city for three hours, not knowing where to go because your English was poor, and Google Maps wasn't working because you had no internet. You were carrying one black duffel bag, wearing a wide black sweater and baggy black pants. A parrot was perched on your shoulder, a large white Maine Coon cat was perched on your suitcase, and a huge cobra snake was hanging around your neck. Behind you walked a black Doberman, and on top of the Doberman sat a large hawk.

You've been walking around the city for four hours now, and suddenly you see a man with a cigarette, who has his back turned to you. It was Johnny Depp, but of course you didn't recognize him from behind.