Exactly 400 words. Sawyer/Hurley - sort of.
Rumor Has It
Sawyer was hot. The sun-roof was open, and he’d removed his shirt, but the interior of the car was still stifling. He wiped his brow. It struck him that he was in danger of sunburn. The Factor 12 was on the back seat. He groaned, turned around in the seat, and reached over towards it. It was tantalizingly out of reach and he leaned over further, stretching his head out uncomfortably over the back of the seat. An insect bite on his flank began to itch and he reached for it, wriggling until he could get his right hand to the itchy spot and scratch for some small measure of relief.
Liz Hurley stared gloomily into the mirror of her penthouse suite. There was no denying that her perfect body wasn’t quite as perfect as it had been. She still looked stunning in her bright red dress, but there were the unmistakable signs of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. A bleak future loomed ahead of her. It seemed that ‘Austin Powers’ would remain the peak of her film career, and she’d be forced to eke out her existence with voiceovers and straight-to-video B-movies.
She threw down the half-empty bottle of vodka. The prospect of sinking into obscurity filled her with dismay. Why persist with such a futile existence? She walked to the window and looked down at the ground far below. “Goodbye, cruel world,” she intoned emotionlessly. However she couldn’t face looking at her fate, and so she turned around and leaped backwards from the high window.
Sawyer was just about to stop scratching and reach again for the suntan lotion when Liz Hurley landed on the roof of the car ass first, burst through the sun-roof shredding her dress in the process, and her butt struck him on the head. The impact slammed his throat into the seat back and broke his neck instantly. His dying body slumped limply, save for his hand still feebly scratching reflexively at the insect bite. Liz Hurley escaped virtually unscathed, only her clothes torn, and she lay jammed into the back seats kicking her legs high and squealing in shock and alarm.
A passer-by heard the noises, noticed the car rocking under the impact, and assumed a rather different cause for the motion and the cries. He shook his head. “Lucky bugger,” he said, recognizing Liz Hurley. “Bloody odd position, though.”