What It’s Like, Looking Like George Clooney

fiction by Jason Edwards

I know what you’re thinking.

You’re thinking: this guy right here, he looks just like George Clooney.

I get that a lot.

My dad looks like George Clooney. My mom looks like George Clooney.

Which makes me wonder about my dad.

My sister looks like George Clooney, which is weird, because I don’t even have a sister.

I called him up. I called George Clooney, and all was like, hey man, how many of my grandparents did you sleep with?

And he’s all: at the tone, the time will be one, thirty five.

Asshole.

I had an imaginary friend when I was a kid, which was cool, but last week he tried to friend me on Facebook.

Awkward.

He’s always imaginary poking me.

But what really sucks is his Farmville score is higher than mine.

Asshole.

George Clooney called me a few months ago. I figured he was pissed because I used his picture on my Facebook account. But I answered the phone anyway, and he’s all like, have you considered switching your cell phone service to AT&T?

Which was weird because I don’t even have a phone.

My sister calls me all the time.

She called me once and said, George, just remember, cell phones cause brain cancer.

And I’m going to call you once an hour to remind you of that.

But the jokes on her because I don’t even have a cell phone.

Or a sister.

It’s not easy looking George Clooney.

This is going to shock the ever-lovin’ heck out of you, but I don’t get out much.

Women come up to me, and I’m thinking, here we go with the George Clooney nonsense again.

And they’re all like, can you please leave the women’s locker room, immediately?

What the what? I was just looking for my sister.

I go to restaurants. You ever been to those? Nice.

I go up to the hostess and I’m wearing a hat, hoping she won’t recognize me.

She says, how many in your party?

And I say, It’s not my birthday.

No, she says, how many will be dining with you this evening?

I just shrug. I don’t care, as many as you want.

So she takes me to a table and I sit down and I say don’t worry. Just because I look like George Clooney, I’m not going to skip out on the bill.

Can’t promise the same for my imaginary friend.

Oh, did I mention? He looks like George Clooney too.

I mean, that’s what he tells me. I’ve never actually seen him.

I think he has the hots for my sister.

I can’t rob banks.

They’ll think George Clooney did it an innocent man would go to jail.

Not cool.

Can you imagine how awful it would be? For George Clooney? In jail?

All those anal rapists, saying, George, George, do some of that Oceans 11 shit and get us outta here.

Cause they’re in jail, they don’t know about the sequels.

And you know what sucks most about rape?

All of it.

I learned that on an afterschool special.

And don’t worry, I’m not going to make a joke about my imaginary friend raping my sister.

Not cause it’s not funny.

I just can’t think of any.

I’m dating this girl, and thank god, she doesn’t look anything like George Clooney.

Because that would be like having sex with a mirror, which I’ve done, and let me tell you, it’s not as fun as you would think.

The pillow talk afterwards was really awkward.

And when I didn’t get a call the next day, it was a real bummer.

But my girlfriend, now, she’s great. She looks like Jennifer Aniston.

Which was an easy switch for me because I actually used to date the real Jennifer Aniston.

It was pretty good for a few months, but when she found out we were dating, she dumped me.

But she stills sends me a birthday card/restraining order every few weeks, so we’re cool.

She’s very cute about it. She disguises it as a flyer for lawn services.

I’m guessing she does that so the postman won’t know who we are.

Although when he catches on that I don’t have a lawn, the jig is up.

Or a mailbox. Being homeless and everything.

But back to my girlfriend. She’s great. Except when she flirts with my imaginary friend.

You know what I mean. She laughs at his jokes. Asks him where he buys his imaginary clothes.

Pokes him on Facebook.

But other than that, and the fact that she doesn’t exist, she’s wonderful.

She’s an amazing cook. She makes this vegan steak tartar. It is out of sight.

I’ve lost ten pounds just thinking about it.

She gave the recipe to my sister, which was awkward, since my sister is a vegetarian, not a vegan.

When I was dating the real Jennifer Aniston, we used to get into fights about what to have for dinner.

I’d say Jen, Honey?

And she’d walk off the screen and I’d have to talk to Joey.

Who never talked back.

Asshole.

So it’s a good thing we broke up. I mean can you imagine. What if we’d gotten married?

And the real George Clooney’s girlfriend reads about it, standing in line at the supermarket?

She’d think her boyfriend got married without telling her.

And marrying someone without telling them is not a good idea.

Been there, done that.

Just ask my imaginary friend.

He got married to Stacy Kiebler. I have no idea who that is.

But she and I are friends on Facebook, so there’s that.

Anyway. I should probably let you go.

Just wanted to let you know what it’s like, looking like George Clooney.

What time will it be at the tone, did you say?

Thanks.