I'm Not a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!

As I looked up, I came face to face with a woman in a long, grey trench coat, and with Chestnut curls peaking out from beneath a matching fedora. She looked like a kid's comic strip idea of a spy, only this "disguise" made her look the opposite of inconspicuous on the sandy beachfront. "Wait a minute!" The woman came alive with delight, "You're Carmela Charmaine!"

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Camera Catastrophe: The Paparazzi

A Stalking paparazzi mistakes you for a famous celebrity and attempts to take your photograph. You must find a way to lose them before they get their material. Challenge difficulty: Hard

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For a moment, I felt flattered to be mistaken for a celebrity, especially one as beautiful and accomplished as Charmaine. But I realised that it was no compliment when I laid eyes on the camera hanging around the woman's neck. Before I could protest she had the wrong woman, she was already reaching for it. In that split second, I grabbed a handful of sand and tossed it right in her face. She pointed her camera away from me as she staggered back, the bright flash bursting impotently against the sunlight.

I quickly scrambled to my feet and bolted onto the beach before she could regain her bearings. I rushed past the sunbathers, who were too busy resetting their beach towels and deck chairs to notice me and my state of undress, before diving into the ocean. The sea was crowded, which under normal circumstances would be cause for alarm, but keeping everything below my shoulders submerged in the water allowed me to blend in among the swimmers, leaving everybody none the wiser to my nudity. Not even the people I recognised from my beach house collision noticed me, which I suppose meant they hadn't been paying attention to my face at the time. By the time the paparazzi woman caught up to the shore, I was already lost in the literal ocean of people.

"RATS!" I heard her shout as she stamped her foot. Clearly she had not been able to take a photo (or at the very least, not a good one), and she left promptly. Not wanting to endure leering stares as I emerged from the water, I swam away out of sight from the beach goers, and resurfaced underneath the wooden frame holding up a pier. I hesitate to imagine what I looked like as I tried to shake myself dry like a wet dog. Despite my fears that it would start raining yet again, I was relieved to find my luck was holding up. I peered out from my hiding spot and saw the streets relatively empty. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I decided to let the sun finish drying me off, and emerged from the safety of the shade.

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Succeeded: Laura escaped the paparazzi before she could snap an incriminating photo.