The Movie Star's Story

Cuba, my beautiful Cuba! I've called it home since 1959. We all used to party here in the 1950s. In case you don't know, I'm a movie star, a comedic actor and comedian who was very famous in the 50s, 60s, and 70s. I used to hang out here with the Rat Pack, Marilyn Monroe, and so many others.

I even went on stage once with Jerry Lewis at this theatre!

These were the salad days.

I decided to move here because things were getting dry in the States. Comedy was changing. There was no demand for a comedian like me. Here, the people still loved my crazy antics.

So, I moved to this house with my wife and my Hollywood riches and bought this fabulous house, where I still live.

My wife, however, passed on three years ago

Here we are five years ago, happy as can be

I also have a great collection of cars from the 1950s. They still run and you can even get parts for them here!

The truth of it is money, a great house, and cars can't buy happiness. Things stated going downhill in the late 1980s. Fewer people were coming to my comedy shows. I began getting booed and called a washed-up old joke of a man. I used to always get approached on the street for autographs and photographs, and now no one ever recognizes me.

The other night I was walking out of a club where I just performed and some punk jerk muttered some profanities and spit in my face. Had I been younger I would have leveled him, but I just walked away. These people today have no respect.

Yeah, I know that I sound like a pathetic old man, but a movie star without his fans is a big nobody. Let's face it, the 1950s are over, I need to move on. I do my farewell act tonight and then I plan to drink myself into a stupor with a toxic Mickey Finn rum and expire from this world.

I've been taking a lot of walks lately to think.

I saw the t-shirt man again.

I've seen him many times during the past few weeks.

I'm beginning to think he's following me. Could he be a fan? Or maybe he's a thief and I'm an easy target. I better be careful.

After I bought my toxic rum mix from my friendly neighborhood pharmacist, I turned the corner and almost ran into the t-shirt man! I tried to avoid him, but he insisted on talking. He actually knew who I was! We chatted for a minute and he agreed to come see me perform that night. I still wasn't convinced that he was a fan, but what did I have to lose. Even if he did rob me, I wouldn't be around in the morning to find out.

We each went our separate ways and not more than two minutes later as man, who clearly looked like a detective, stopped me. He showed me a photo of the t-shirt guy; he called him "the Academic." I told him that I talked with him and that we were going to meet that night where I perform. I figured by telling him I would have at least one more person in the audience.

That night I performed magnificently! I didn't get the greatest responses, but it felt great.

Afterward, I sat down with the Academic and we talked about life here in Cuba. He somehow seemed to understand my situation and said that he feels stuck in time too. After two glasses of straight rum, I reached for my special glass. It was then that the Detective showed up, so much for seeing my last performance! He and the Academic exchanged words, something about going back home. I didn't hear much because I was more focused on my drink. I felt myself getting weak and before I know it I was horizontal on the floor. I faintly saw the Academic stand up and kneel next to me putting something on my head. As I rose above my lifeless body I saw that it was one of his t-shirts. On it were charicatures of me, Milton Berle, and five other comedians. I smiled. So, he really was a fan.