This week’s Flash Fiction Foray challenge is to write a short story inspired by the song “Jealous” by Labrinth.

I’m not even going to attempt to capture the raw emotion of Labrinth’s singing in my offering, so instead here’s a light hearted view of jealousy itself. Once again, please accept my apologies for going way over the word count.

*****

Jealous

“Daaaaahling,” trilled Singer, kissing the air above Actress’s shoulder, “I’m sooooo thrilled about you Bafta nomination.”

“Mwah, mwah, Singer, I just know you’re going to sweep the board at the Brits this year.”

Model tottered through the door on impossibly high heels. “I simply adore your new single, Singer daaaaahling. Take no notice of those awful accusations in the Current Bun – we know you sing on all your records. Mwah!”

“Mwah!”

“Mwah!”

“Model, daaaaahling, your hair extensions are divine. No one would ever tell they’re not real.”

“And your Botox treatments are going sooooo well, Actress. Who wants a face that moves anyway?”

Snatching up a plate from her dressing table, Actress would have looked outraged had her over-Botoxed face been capable of expressing emotion.

“Catering!” she screeched. “One lettuce leaf, not two, you moron. How can I maintain my beautiful size zero figure if you double my daily calorie intake?”

Catering stepped out of the shadows where she’d been waiting quietly with Hair-and-Makeup and Wardrobe, grabbed the offending lettuce leaf and stuffed it in her mouth.

“FAT COW!” shrieked Singer, Actress and Model in unison. Dancer pirouetted into the room and burst into tears.

“Daaaaahling, what is it? Have you been sacked from Strictly? We all know you didn’t really sleep with the politician you partnered last year…”

“No!” wailed Dancer. “Far worse than that – you called me fat!”

Singer, Actress and Model giggled prettily behind perfectly manicured fingers.

“Not you, daaaaahling. Caterer. Stuffing her fat face on lettuce.”

Dancer’s crocodile tears vanished in an instant. Smoothing her hands over her Stella McCartney dress, she looked over at Wardrobe and sneered, “What are you looking at, you jealous bitch? This dress cost more than you’ll earn in a lifetime.”

“Mwah, mwah, Dancer, you’re sooooo funny.”

Trademark pouts in place, surrounded by surly bodyguards, Singer, Dancer, Actress and Model sashayed down the hallway, the clack-clack-clack of Jimmy Choos gradually fading into the cheers of a thousand fans and the click of a thousand press cameras. Catering, Hair-and-Makeup and Wardrobe watched as the heavy doors closed behind the four celebrities who currently had the world at their feet, then fell about with helpless laughter.

“Jealous of them? Really, daaaaahling?”

“Sooooo thrilled for you – and everyone knows they hate each other.”

“And everyone knows they’re jealous as hell of each other.”

“If that’s fame and fortune, you can stick it.”

Catering looked at her healthy size ten figure in the mirror and smiled approvingly. Turning to her two dearest friends, she draped her arms around them and said, “Come on, ladies, that lettuce leaf’s given me an appetite. I hear the local Italian restaurant’s giving away free garlic bread with every bowl of pasta, and I’ve got a fat cow reputation to maintain.”