So I saw "This Is The End". Yes, I realize that it had real-life actors portraying themselves in name, but they were really playing characters in a fictional movie. I had an idea while watching, what if there was a girl that was in the close-knit friend group that is Seth Rogen, James Franco, Danny McBride, ect.? How would she come into play in the movie? I thought it could be funny. If people review, I'll keep writing! Please review if you like.


"Jesus, Blake. What's the big deal? Just come tonight! It'll be fun." Seth's voice barked in my ear.

I held my phone away from my ear at his loud voice. I rolled my eyes as I walked around my house, then gripping my iPhone tightly to my ear. I flopped onto my bed and laid down, sprawled out lazily, watching the ceiling fan swirl above me. My head was hanging over the end of the bed, my hair falling over. I bit my lip, huffed, and barked back at my friend, "Because the last time I went to a party at Franco's house, he got drunk, smacked my ass, pissed on me, and wouldn't stop talking about his art."

Seth laughed into the receiver, his infamously ugly laugh making me smile. He croaked, "You're still not over that? That was one time."

"Me and James fight every time we're together!" I argued, "You know how we are. Remember that time during Pineapple Express? We got in that fist fight on set and Danny had to step in and hold me back? Yeah, you know how James and I are, Seth."

"That was hilarious," Seth snorted, "Or that time when the two of you had a fight at the 127 Hours premiere in front of all the paparazzi...or at the Milk premiere...or at the Oscars after party..."

"Yes, I remember, Seth." I interrupted, putting my hand over my face in frustration, "It's not my fault James is a pretentious stoner asshole who's got his own head up his ass, no matter how much I love him."

"Says you." Seth retorted.

"Says his butt buddy." I replied, laughing.

"Says his fuck buddy." Seth shot back at me.

"Seth!" I snapped.

"All joking aside, Blake, you really need to come tonight. It'll be great!" Seth said, enthused.

"Is Dave going to be there?" I asked, arching my eyebrows.

"No, he's shooting in New York this week." Seth replied.

"Fuck. That's the only Franco I love." I said, laughing.

"Look, you're in our little gang and if you don't come it wouldn't be the same. All the guys are expecting you to go. Everyone's gonna be there. And I think it would hurt James's feelings if you just fuckin' ignored his invite like that. You guys may hate each other but you're still close. And what better thing do you have planned for tonight? Getting stoned by yourself and watching Titanic alone in the dark again?" Seth snorted.

I bit my lip again and looked around, then muttered into my cell phone, "No..."

"Or what was it last time? The Lion King?"

"Shut up!" I laughed.

"Hah! Exactly." Seth said, "I got some great weed, some vodka, some great shit. I know you want to come. And I've got a surprise for you. So if you don't show up at Franco's house-warming party, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Is that a threat?" I said playfully, sitting up on my bed, my hair flipping back over my face as I did so.

"It's a promise." Seth chuckled, "But really, come. Or you'll be fuckin' lame."

"Bullied by Seth Rogen," I said, getting up and going to my closet, "My life."

"That's fucking right. Now go get ready, do whatever you gotta do, and meet me at Franco's in thirty minutes." Seth said, and hung up.

I sighed and threw my iPhone onto my bed.

Here I was, Blake Reid, reasonably successful actress, being bullied by my friend into going to a party. That's what you get when you have friends like Seth Rogen, Danny McBride, James Franco and the whole gang of stoner actors.

I'd known Seth and James since I was in a few episodes of Freaks and Geeks when I was eighteen. I was friends with Danny from Pineapple Express and when I was in Tropic Thunder. I knew Jonah Hill and Craig Robinson through the three idiots: Danny, Seth, and James. We had a mischievous little group of friends, and sometimes I wondered why I was the only girl. I was a reasonably popular actress, mostly known for Judd Apatow movies, and occasional serious roles, but I was pretty much associated in Hollywood with the clowns I called my friends.

And, not to mention the infamous fights James and I always had. The paparazzi ate that up, and it was always published in magazines like Us Weekly, OK! Magazine, Star, People,and more.

Sometime's the tabloids like TMZ, E! Entertainment News, and Entertainment Tonight would say we were dating.

A few times I'd be at the grocery store trying to buy some groceries and I'd see a whole stand of tabloid magazines with pictures of James and I fighting on them. People in the grocery store would stare at me and ask if I was the real Blake Reid, and I'd regrettably say yes. Then they'd ask about the Reid/Franco feud. It was infamous, our public fights. But then we wouldn't fight, and everyone thought we were dating. But secretly, I loved it when people thought that.

It was a love-hate relationship.

Really classy.

Maybe I should have a group of girl friends.

But then again...nothing was more fun than partying with the losers I call my friends.

I became extremely close to the boys instantly, and had been for a while, but James and I were a whole other story.

We teased each other constantly; whether it was when I had to play his girlfriend in Pineapple Express, when we would hangout at parties, or at his or my movie premieres. We'd known each other for years, and we were always at each other's throats.

We'd hooked up three times, twice when we were drunk.

One of the worst incidents to date was when I'd gotten so unbelievably drunk that I agreed to bet Danny that I could be sexier than the girls in the Blurred Lines music video. To prove it, I'd given James a lap dance with Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke playing at a party and I blacked out and fainted on top of him.

Not many girls can say they've given a lap dance to James Franco and during the middle of it fainted on him.

The worst part was that Danny had recorded it on his cell phone, and so did Jonah and Christopher Mintz-Plasse. And then they put it on YouTube, and went viral.

And then it was all over TMZ and every entertainment outlet.

Best friends ever.

The guys never stopped teasing us about it, always commenting on how James and I were "fuck buddies". I'd shoot Danny or Seth a look and they'd shut up, then crack up.

Hundreds of girls would consider it a blessing to call herself a close friend of heartthrob James Franco's and be able to go to his parties.

I'd always had this thing for him, but we also annoyed the shit out of each other.

Seth said 'everyone' was going, so maybe the party wouldn't be too bad. I sucked it up and ransacked my closet, grabbing a pair of black leggings, gladiator sandals and a simple white, flowing tank top. I didn't bother fussing with my hair and left it down. I slapped on some foundation and mascara, grabbed my purse, threw my phone in and headed out.

I walked out of my house in the Hollywood hills and hailed a taxi. Living in California had its perks. It was a nice night out, a bit cool but warm. Seth had texted me James's address, and I read aloud the taxi driver James's address and sat back, regretting that I was going out tonight. If I had it my way, I probably would've invited Jonah and Seth over to watch a stupid movie and smoke, but whatever.

All I could think about as I watched the city lights as the taxi drove through Hollywood was, This party better be worthwhile or I'll end you, Seth Rogen.

The taxi cab pulled up and I stepped out, handing them a few dollars and shutting the car door. I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the house and marveled at its size. It was at least twice the size of my house, ultra-modern and absolutely gorgeous. I could hear the loud music even outside the house. I slung my bag over my shoulder and huffed, taking a deep breath before going in.

I arrived at the fogged glass door, and I could hear the chaotic ramblings from inside. Before ringing the doorbell, I debated just turning around and retreating back to my house. Was it worth it? I guess so, as I went against my better judgement and rang the doorbell with a wince. I stood there on the front step awkwardly, running a hand through my hair, pushing the blonde whisps away from my eyes.

You'd think that after all these years I'd get over the butterflies in my stomach, and that I'd be over him, but I was still into him.

The door swung open, revealing a very excited James Franco.

"My main bitch!" James exclaimed holding his arms open for a hug, his charmingly wide grin welcoming me.

I gave him my sassiest, smuggest look, "My favorite douche-bag."

"I thought hurricane season was over!" We said in unison, repeating our absolute favorite line from Pineapple Express.

He laughed, grabbed me and hugged me, and I did the same, hugging him tight, feeling the warmth from the cardigan he was wearing. "You came. That's my girl!" He exclaimed.

We both let go and he let me in. The house inside was gorgeous, very artsy. He shut the door behind me.

"I see you're wearing another one of your fashionable cardigans," I said mockingly, eyeing him up and down, "Sexy."

He was wearing another one of the obnoxious grandma-looking cardigans he always wore and I teased him about. God, I did have to say, he looked cute.

"I know." He said, grinning and shrugging. "What do you think of the house?"

People crowded the house. It was a massive party, but the house itself was brilliant. Art hung from the walls, and the furniture was gorgeous. I looked over to the right of the door, where a giant penis statue stood. I whipped around to look at him.

"I love the house, James. But, uh...penis?" I questioned, jerking my thumb to the statue.

"I think it adds a certain masculinity. It's art." He said, proving himself pretentious as always.

"I think it's a giant penis." I retorted, arching my eyebrows at him.





"Penis art."

"If you say so." I laughed.

"I think you like it, Blake." He retorted back, wagging a finger at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and said teasingly, "Not yours."

Before the two of us could start going at it, there was a knock at the door. James turned to answer it, still giving me a sassy look. Seth stepped in, grinning as usual.

"Seth!" James exclaimed, embracing him, "Glad you could come, bro."

"I am, too. And look who's here, too." Seth said, putting his arms out and grinning at me.

I gave him an attitude-filled glare, "I was threatened by my jackass friend if I didn't show up."

"That's right," Seth laughed, dragging me into a hug, crushing me against him, kissing the top of my head. He reeked of weed and cologne.

I laughed and hugged him back, "Okay, Seth. Okay. Time to fess up. What's the surprise?"

Seth beckoned to the door, and Jay stepped into the doorway.

"Jay!" I yelled, running to him and jumping onto him, hugging him. He hugged me back tightly.

Jay Baruchel, my co-star in Tropic Thunder, and friend. One of the most awkward people I knew, but adorable all the same. He never quite fit with our little group of idiots, and I always felt bad about it. I feel like he thought that we were too close and that he couldn't come in, but all we wanted was for him to feel welcome. We'd gotten pretty close when we filmed Tropic Thunder together. He looked bothered, though, but smiled at me through it once I let him go of our embrace.

"Hey, Blake." He said, "It's fantastic to see you."

"Same here," I exclaimed, smiling brightly at him. "I didn't know you were in L.A."

"I told you I had a surprise." Seth said, smiling at me.

"Hey, Jason." James said, standing closely beside me.

"It''s,'s Jay." Jay muttered uncomfortably with an awkward smile.

"James." I said, giving him a "are you stupid?" look for calling Jay the wrong thing.

Of course he'd get Jay's name wrong, even after meeting him about fifty times.


Tipsy by J-Kwon throbbed through the party and the house, setting the mood perfectly for a Franco party.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four
Everybody drunk out on the dance floor
Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more
Like she a groupie and I ain't even on tour
Maybe cause she heard that I rhyme hardcore
Or maybe cause she heard that I buy out the stores
Bottom of the nineth and a nigga gotta score
If not I gotta move on to the next whore

James slung an arm around me and pulled me close to him, "Jonah and Craig's over by the table waiting for you guys. What do you say we grab some beer and light up?"

Everyone agreed and I looked up at James with an arched eyebrow, "I'll grab some vodka from the fridge. Roll one for me, alright? I'm gonna go put my bag up in your room. All I need is for Michael to rifle through and steal my shit."

At the same time, the two of us looked over to the other side of the crowded room to see Michael Cera snorting lines of cocaine and smacking Rihanna's ass, who in turn slapped him, hard, across the face. We stifled a laugh, and I slinked out of James's arms, walking towards the stairs.

"Okay, I'll roll one for you. But if you're not downstairs in a minute I'm smoking yours!" He called after me, that dumb grin on his face.

"Don't you fucking dare, Franco!" I called over the music, a small smile on my face as I walked through the crowds of party guests, over to the ultra-modern staircase.

I looked down to the crowd as I walked up the staircase and he smiled at me and shrugged. I laughed and descended up the stairs and to James's bedroom, throwing my purse on the bed. I flopped down on his bed and threw off my shoes. I got up, took a deep breath, and left the room. I

After all this time, I was still into him.

Nevertheless, what was going to happen tonight was going to change everything.

Reviews would be lovely!