The Best Scandal Ever HTML version

It was hot in the slate blue classroom, even for California. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat,
adjusting the blue woollen poncho he habitua lly wore during his public events at his damp neck.
Metal chairs ground against the linoleum floor as his audience prepared to leave, clutching folders and
now lukewarm water bottles.
He used a finger to lift a blonde tendril of his long hair over the neckline from where it was sticking to
his skin, rubbed his chin, carefully avoiding smearing the coconut oil that concealed the worst of the
sun damage and scoped the room. Four, maybe five possibles?
People often commented on his youtube channel that he was clearly feeling the cold because of his
vegan diet, but the reality was that Sam the diet expert was fat. He had been even fatter before he had
given up food but even on a liquid diet – the fact could not be escaped. Sam, the leonine and now
rather eccentric last baby of a plump late mother, was born to be delic iously cuddly.
At school as a teenager, he had been teased mercilessly about his weight and manic inability to stop
talking. His short neck made this look worse than it really was. He hid his pain by out-ta lking and at
least trying to out-perform his classmates, and apart from the occasional spiteful exchange with the
more popular blue eyed Aryan jock loving girls, managed to escape the worst effects on his self-
confidence, enjoying his college years as a musician before the plane crash stymied his post-college
career in the uber-masculine world of railway construction. As such, a formerly corpulent and over
talkative hippy geek became the internationa lly famous yippy health guru and motivationa l expert –
Sam Redwood.
“Thank you so much, Sam, you‟ve changed our lives forever.” Sam heard this every day.
The elderly couple were quivering slightly as they looked at him, damp eyed as the diminutive wife
described how her frail looking, quiet husband had suffered colon cancer and recovered from a
terminal diagnosis thanks to Sam‟s work. Sam nodded and smiled and noted the thirty five year old
blonde behind them.
“I‟m so happy to hear that. It‟s so nice to meet you both. I‟m so glad I helped.” The usual response
whilst he waited until today‟s prize reached the front of the queue waiting to shake his over-warm
hand. He quickly reached for his cold glass of water before the slightly overweight, sweating blonde
got to him, beaming and battering eyelashes with unfortunately clogged mascara.
“I‟m such a huge fan of yours, Sam.”
“Really? That‟s good to hear! Are you rushing off anywhere, or do you have time to wait while I
pack up?”
Sam liked girls. Sam liked lots of girls. Girls in every town he spoke in welcomed Sam on the same
one night only basis every time he visited. Indeed, Sam would sometimes have to make excuses to
avoid some of them, they were so keen. Never in his life previously had he dreamed that one day he
would have the pick of quite so many women, and many of his former school mates looked on with
envy at his legendary lifestyle and success with women. This one wasn‟t on his „ten‟ list, but she was
a little imperfect, which he liked, and extremely keen to get to know him, which he liked even more.
“Is that true, that you‟re the richest hippy in the world?”