Bette Davis invited Freddie Mercury to her house for a grilled hamburger.
“I must admit,” Freddie remarked
as they sat down to their burgers under a palm tree near Bette’s grill, “I
never imagined you the type to enjoy a grilled burger.”
“I appreciate a hamburger fresh
from the grill,” Bette admitted. “As
someone similarly famous, I am sure you understand the myths and misconceptions
that accompany your fame.”
Freddie nodded.
“But it is also true that fame
makes us strange.” Bette sipped at her
iced tea, and continued speaking. “I often
played to my critics. I nurtured a
reputation for being difficult. When I
traveled, I took a ridiculous number of bags.
One of the smaller bags I filled with sand. Two larger ones were stuffed with pillows I
never used.”
Freddie laughed. When he followed that by biting into his
burger, a pickle slice ejected from his burger and unceremoniously flopped onto
his plate. “Well,” he said, “that was
rather bull elephantish of me. My
apologies.”
Bette Daves waved her
hand. “No need for apologies. Pickles are tricky.” She issued a laugh. “Tell me, what makes you strange, Mr. Mercury?”
Freddie Mercury answered
without hesitation. “I am not strange for
what I have done, but strange for a peculiar genetic twist. I was born with four extra teeth in my upper
jaw. I was opposed to having them
surgically removed for fear my singing might be altered.”
“So, you embraced your
strange?”
“I did.”
“Excellent. We can do no better than that.”
—Mitchell Hegman
Note: One of the admissions expressed
above is true.
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