Danger #1 of a Celebrity:
Fans
Karma ran outside. Nice morning, few clouds, sunny, but not hot, animals were OK ( it wasn't hunting season,) something was going to screw up, BAD.
"Enora, help me!" I said. I had to do one of those damn talk shows, so I needed a lot of luck. I got into my limo and drove. Maybe I was going to get lucky and have a car crash, or something. Maybe I could get murdered. OK, maybe murder was worse than getting embarrassed in front of 90 000 people. Whatever it was, I was going into a danger zone.
So here I was, in the middle of hell,(a.k.a. New York). And what was I doing here? I was going to talk to some man-woman from Much Music. I had to be strong...
So now I was at that-interview-place-thingy. I was walking down the red carpet, fans screaming at me. Suddenly, my animal senses took over me. The people looked like huge, faceless monsters. And then the man-woman came over and tried to hug me, so I did what anyone like me would do, I kicked him in the crotch and ran.