Thursday, September 19, 2013

Dave's Thoughts of the Day: September 19th

It is about Midnight as I write this.   Congratulations to Kenichi Ebina for winning "America's Got Talent" this year.  Way to go!

I'm very seriously pondering Kenichi's headline act at the MGM Grand.  I could use a trip to Vegas anyway.  Let's do it.

Tomorrow -- San Diego.  I'll meet my buddy there and we'll see the Dodgers play the Padres.  More to come, but enjoy your Friday!

Check the Daveblog archives!  and check out the latest posting of "The Lost Society."  Wrote this quite a while ago, so here's your next episode, number 6.  See you all on Monday.

We Want to Be Models! (#006)

            Thomson, Jenkins, Martinez, and Kelvin rounded a corner and, lo and behold, they discovered a building that offered the entrance to the modeling agency.
            “We are going to be stars!” Martinez cried.
            “Hell, yes!!” Thomson cried, “Gimmie some, gimmie some.”
            Martinez and Thomson collided with each other.
            Kelvin interceded.
            “Shh!” Kelvin said, “We have to be very, very quiet.”
            “You sound like Elmer Fudd, Kelvin,” Jenkins quipped. “We have to be very, very quiet, we’re hunting rabbits.”
            Martinez sauntered over to the door and opened it for everybody else.
            “After you, gentlemen and gentlemen,” Martinez announced.
 (continued after the jump)

            Quickly, we go back to Hewitt at his apartment building…

            Hewitt just climbed up the flights of stairs that led to his floor.  He went down the hallway, his feet setting off creaks in the wooden floor.  Hewitt carefully inserted his key into the doorknob once he got back to his apartment.
            Upon insertion, Hewitt’s door opened.  The door, as it turns out, was not completely shut.
            Also, Hewitt was surprised to see Clifton, Alomar, and Miller, kicking back, settled in Hewitt’s couch watching NBA summer league basketball.
            “Not YOU guys again!” Hewitt cried.
            “Oh, snaps!” Clifton exclaimed. “We weren’t supposed to be here when you came back.”
            “No, huh?” Hewitt asked sarcastically.
            Miller jumped out of the couch and quickly took out the pile of potato chips and popcorn he had hidden under the coffee table out front.
            “We didn’t mean to invade… on your privacy.  I apologize for eating all the food, but you gotta know that I get real hungry sometimes when I’m keeping track of things,” Miller jittered on.
            “Will you get out of my house, huh??!” Hewitt moaned.
            “Yes, we are going,” Alomar said, “Um, let me take this beer, huh?”
            Hewitt barked at Alomar, shooing him away.
            “You owe me for that beer, Alomar!” Hewitt screamed out into the hallway.
            “Bye y’all,” Clifton said, “I’ll try to ask for your permission next time.”
            Miller simply climbed out the window.
            “What the hell is so appealing about going out the window?” Hewitt asked.
            Hewitt lumbered over to his office.
            He went back into his seat to continue working on his prized gumball machine.  This time, the wall in front of him was plastered with little televisions.  Wall to wall TVs full of action.  Today, all the monitors were tuned to news channels.  More refinements were made on Hewitt’s invention in the meanwhile…

            Back to the Modeling Agency…
            Thomson, Jenkins, Martinez, and Kelvin (we can’t forget him) were standing in line at the Modeling Office.  The people in front and behind these four included other aspiring losers who didn’t look much like those in Clothing and Perfume ads.  There were some fat, soggy individuals with crater faces.  Others were a little older and more wrinkled.  Most people, though, were young, average-joe type characters.  They were fairly good looking, as were Jenkins, Thomson, Martinez, and Kelvin.
            “I got to strike a pose,” Jenkins said, leaning back, placing his hand on his head, and jetting his hip out, the way some women do on a catwalk.
            “Jenkins, you look like a fruit,” Thomson said.
            “Too lame, dude,” Martinez added.
            “I’d like to see you guys do a better job,” Jenkins challenged.
            “Ohhkay!” said Thomson and Martinez.
            Martinez tilted his head up and leaned his head forward, showcasing it.
            Kelvin, who was drinking a can of Pepsi, took his can and showcased it with his two hands.
            “I got one,” Thomson said.
            Thomson jetted out his groin.
            “Yuk!” Jenkins cried.
            “That’s what some of them do, especially in those tight pants,” Thomson said.
            “I thought tight pants were from the seventies,” Kelvin remarked, “They’ve got to stop that, bro’”
            “Hee, hee,” Jenkins laughed.
            A creaky lady came up to see the assembled foursome still in line.  She brought a clipboard, and she was wearing frazzled brown hair and freaky square spectacles.
            “All right, boys,” she said, “I’m going to ask you a few questions.”
            “No not now, ma’am,” Kelvin said, “We’re busy in line trying to get to the modeling agency guys.”
            “I’m from the agency,” the lady said.
            “Which one?” Jenkins asked inquisitively, his eyes bulging out.
            “I’m from FD and C Modeling, with them,” she said, pointing to the table at the beginning of the line.
            “I’d like to ask you some questions,” the lady continued.
            “Go on ahead,” Thomson said.
            “All right,” she said, going on, “Now, how much experience do you have in modeling?”
            “Dude, I got lots of experience,” Kelvin said.  “I got model play-doh, got model trains, model airplanes...”
            “She’s talking about US as models,” Jenkins said.
            “Wow, I’m not a very good model,” Martinez said, “I eat lots of junk food and I don’t exercise much, kids should look down on me.”
            “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” the lady said to Martinez.
            “No, I really do eat lots of junk food!” Martinez replied.
            “I meant about the modeling experience,” the lady said.
            “Between all of us,” Jenkins said, “We have as much experience as an amoeba.”
            “You got that right,” Thomson said, “This is our first time, but Martinez is right about the eating.  –he DOES eat a lot!”
            “How do I stay so thin?” Martinez asked himself.  “It’s magic!”
            The lady passed along some forms.
            “Could you fill these out, please?” the lady asked…

            Soon enough, the boys were able to fill out their applications.  As they went further along in the line, a few noises were heard off to the side, just behind a nearby door.
            Someone shouted “-And stay out!” behind the door.
            The door opened.
            A hat with a little paper on the side of it was thrown out mercilessly.
            Then, Tomlin spun out into the hallway like a top, falling flat on his face.
            Jenkins noticed Tomlin immediately.
            “What are you doing here, Tomlin?” Jenkins asked.
            “Who, me?” Tomlin replied.  “I was just here.  Hey, what are YOU guys doing here?”
            “Oh, we know what we’re doing,” Martinez said, “What are you doing?”
            Tomlin said, “No, what are YOU doing?”
            “No, no,” Jenkins interceded. “What are you doing?
            “I know what I’m doing,” Tomlin said.
            “Doing the things that have to be done,” Thomson interrupted, “Answer the question, already.”
            “Okay, okay,” Tomlin admitted.  “I came here to audition and be a star.”
            You, a star?” Thomson asked, “You must be on crack!”
            “Well, I tried,” Tomlin said.  “See I got here and cut in front of the line.  I busted into that office and delivered a big monologue.”
            “A monologue?” Jenkins asked.
            Tomlin continued, “Yeah, I said, ‘To be or not to be?  That is the question!  ‘Tis not a matter of what money is worth, but rather, is it worth the money?  Do we go on forth to help ourselves and our brothers?  The answer?  No!  What have your brothers ever done for you, except piss you off?  The solution is to fend for ourselves and ourselves alone!  Alone!!  Out in a Whisk and…’”
            Thomson got out of line and pushed Tomlin out the door.
            “I’ve just had enough of you, paperboy,” Thomson said, “Leave us alone and go write something.  We’ve heard enough of your yapper.”
            Once Tomlin was gone, the rest of the of model candidates clapped loudly.
            “Nothing to it, fellas,” Thomson said to Jenkins and company.
            Thomson went to get back in line, but he didn’t have an opening.  He stepped towards the left, Martinez blocked him (there wasn’t many openings along the line, anyway).  He stepped to the left, Jenkins cut him off.  Moved around, jittered and all, trying to find a spot, but everyone denied him.
            “Hey, c’mon let me back in here!” Thomson said.
            “Oh, no, no!” Jenkins said.  “You got out of the line, you gotta go all the way to the back!”
            “Say what?” Thomson cried.
            “Yeah,” Martinez said, “You got yourself right out of the line, we’re not gonna let you cheat your way back here, get in the back!”
            “That’s crazy!” Thomson said.
            “You heard the man!” Jenkins screamed, “No spot for you!!  Get in the back of the line!”
            “This is wack, dude!” Thomson said, “I’ll get you back for all this.”
            “Ha, ha, we win,” Martinez said.
            Thomson retreated all the way to the back of the line.  He had to leave the main entrance, go around the corner of the big building and go out about a block down the street before he could find the end of the line.  An old bat of a lady punked Thomson for the last spot anyway, putting him even further back.

            Meanwhile, back at the apartment…

            Hewitt was still getting the finishing touches on his beloved gumball machine.  He assembled some cosmetic parts to round off his work for the day, and now he was finished.
            Satisfied with his work, Hewitt rewarded himself by going out to the kitchen and taking out a container of ice cream.  He went over to his easy chair, put down the tub of ice cream (with a spoon stuck in it) and got the remote.
            He turned on the television in front of him.  It was a widescreen unit (all set for the future) complete with fine stereo speakers.  The TV was situated on top of a little TV/VCR cabinet.  He also turned on the DSS receiver that was just below the television and next to his DVD player.  On a larger cabinet next to the television, there were some stereo component systems, including a digital audio receiver, a tuner, and a CD player.
            It was an average Joe’s dream.
            What channel would it be this time?  Channel 268?  The 405 channel?  Channel 2, 4 or 44 or 404, or maybe even 4,004?!  Maybe Hewitt would just put the damn thing on RANDOM and let the computer decide what channel to watch.
            -but Hewitt had an agenda.  Knowing that sports was on his mind, he put it on none other than ESPN.  As luck would have it, there was nothing on.  What does anyone expect to see on a Saturday afternoon?  A quick run of the channels revealed to Hewitt a baseball game somewhere in the channel 300’s.  It turned out to be a grueling slug-fest between the Cleveland Indians and the much-hated New York Yankees.
            Hewitt dug into the ice cream next to him.  It was a fun game, but Hewitt wouldn’t enjoy it for long…
            “Knock, knock, knock,” went a banging by the door.
            Hewitt got his handy remote control for the door.  A push of the button, and the door opened.
            “Hello??  Hewitt?” a voice said.
            Hewitt looked back.  A short, skinny, fashion freak with blonde hair.  Yes, it was Cassie, one of Mallory’s cohorts.
            “Uh oh!  Not you is it?” Hewitt moaned.
            “Oh Hewitt, I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeed your help,” Cassie said.
            “Oh you need help, all right,” Hewitt bickered, “Mix in a few tubs of lard, huh?”
            “Oh come on, Hewitt, I’m proud of my figure,” Cassie remarked, “It won’t be long, I promise.”
            “That’s it!” Hewitt capitulated, “I’d better turn off the TV.”
            Hewitt flipped TV off as well as the receiver.
            “So what happened, now, uh…?” Hewitt asked.
            “I’m Cassie,” she said, annoyed.
            “Wow, you all look the same,” Hewitt commented.
            “My car broke down, see it over there by the window?” Cassie said.
            “Let’s go check,” Hewitt said.  Hewitt went over to the window to take a peek.  Down on the street, he saw a car at the end of the block smoldering with smoke.
            “Oh no,” Hewitt muttered.
            “Is it bad?” Cassie asked.
            “You dope!” Hewitt snapped, “It’s not only bad, we gotta put out that fire!  Hurry up!  Let’s get downstairs!”
            Cassie and Hewitt bolted out of the apartment, rushed out the stairs, sped out the main entrance to the apartment building and flew down the sidewalk to the smoldering car.
            Hewitt frantically edged around the front of the car.
            “Quick I gotta open up the hood!” Hewitt cried.
            Cassie gave him his keys.  Hewitt was handed a ring that had enough keys to make a keyboard.
            “Good God!  Are you a freaking locksmith?!!” Hewitt screamed.
            “It’s in there somewhere,” Cassie whined.
            Given enough time, Hewitt was miraculously able to locate the right key.  He quickly opened the front door of the car, and then popped up the hood.  Hewitt next rushed over to the hood, propped it up and found a little napkin burning on the air filter.
            Hewitt ran into the apartment building.  In a moment he ran back out with a little cup of water, with Cassie clutching herself in fear all the while.  Hewitt splashed the little cup of water onto the napkin, but it didn’t really do anything to quench the fire.
            “Damn, that didn’t work, did it?” Hewitt admitted.
            Hewitt went right back to the Apartment building, came back out with a blanket, and then flopped the blanket right onto the engine of the car.  It worked.  The fire was put out.
            “Whew!” Hewitt said.  “I got the fire out, ma’am.”
            “Wow, thank you!” Cassie said with gratitude.
            “Now let me check what’s wrong with the car.”
            Hewitt looked into the car.  Hopefully the fire didn’t adversely affect anything.  Other than that, the car looked quite swell.  In fact, he couldn’t find anything at all wrong with the car.
            “What is this?” Hewitt asked, “I don’t see anything wrong at all.”
            “There isn’t,” Cassie replied.
            “What the hell do you mean, ‘there isn’t’?” Hewitt snapped.
            Mallory, Christine, and another woman by the name of Amanda rolled around the corner to find Hewitt transfixed by the supposedly broken down car.
            “Hi Hewitt,” Mallory sang with a menacing grin.
            “What?” Hewitt cried at Cassie, “You mean this was a trap?”
            “Yep,” answered Amanda, another blonde, “It was a trap and we fooled you.”
            “We know all about your hum drum ways,” Mallory said, “and your grunge look.”
            “I like my look,” Hewitt cried in defense, “I don’t want any trouble.”
            “Oh no, no,” snickered Christine, prancing around and putting her hands on Hewitt’s cheeks.
            “This is no trouble, Toolboy.  We’re fixing you up.”
            “Fixing me… up?” Hewitt wimpered.
            “You got it,” Mallory replied, staring into Hewitt’s face with a look that says “we’ve got you now.”
            “Oh you know what time is,” sang Cassie, jetting her hips out and putting her hands on them.
            “Fashion Emergency!”
            Hewitt had the look of fear.
            “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” cried a conquered Hewitt whose scream could be heard all across the Central Coast.


            Jenkins was waiting by a desk, along with Martinez, but not Kelvin nor Thomson (who was still around the corner outside at the end of the line).
            “Is he taking long enough?” Martinez groused.
            “Hey!  There’s other people in the line too.” Jenkins yelled towards the door to the recruiting office.
            Inside the office, a recruiter was interviewing Kelvin.  Kelvin slicked back his hair as he sat comfortably in a plush little chair next to the big desk.  It looked almost as if Jay Leno had been interviewing Kelvin on his “Tonight Show.”
            “Okay,” the recruiter requested, “Now I want to you act out a scenario.”
            “Whoa, I get to act?” Kelvin asked.
            “Yes,” he said, “Now pretend you were stuck on a beach and you found someone drowning.  What would you do?”
            “Okay,” Kelvin said.  He got up off his chair and went out onto the rug.
            “Uh oh,” he said, “There’s someone drowning.”
            A pause.
            “Keep going,” the recruiter said.
            “Oh yeah,” Kelvin agreed.  “She is in trouble.  What do I do?”
            “Wait,” Kelvin cried, with his hands out in front of him.  “She’s got a can of Pepsi with her.”
            Kelvin pretended to be running towards the ocean.
            “Noooo!  Don’t die!  You need to drink your Pepsi,” Kelvin cried, “I’m gonna save her.”
            “Hoof hoof hoof.”
            “Don’t worry, lady,” Kelvin said, banging across all the bookshelves and knocking down things.  “I’ll save you, c’mon let’s go!”
            “No God!! She doesn’t deserve to die!!”
            Laughing, the recruiter said, “Okay, that’s all right.  You did a good job!”
            Kelvin stopped.
            “Thank you, don’t mention it,” Kelvin said.  He opened the door and left.
            Outside the office, Jenkins, and Martinez were eagerly awaiting their turn…
            “How’d it go?” Jenkins asked Kelvin.
            “Oh, it was awesome, bro’” Kelvin answered, “They made me do this improv thing, and I was at the beach rescuing this chick who was trying to save a can of Pepsi.  I couldn’t let that can go to waste.”
            “Whatever, man,” Martinez commented.
            “Hey, why are you acting?” Jenkins asked. “I thought this was a modeling gig, and how come they didn’t tell you if you got the job?”
            “Dude, not so many questions!” Kelvin cried, shrouding himself from the badgering.
            Jenkins looked back at that lady who was with them earlier.
            “Say, ma’am,” Jenkins asked, “do you know why they get us to do some acting?  Isn’t this a modeling place?”
            “It’s a modeling and acting agency.  We’re just looking for versatility,” said the lady.
            “Hey, lady,” Kelvin asked.  “Can I wait over here?”  He pointed out to some chairs by the hallway.
            “Sure, go ahead,” the lady agreed.
            Kelvin headed toward the seats and sat down.
            It left Jenkins and Martinez alone.
            Jenkins heard a beeping on his watch.
            “What’s that?” Martinez asked.
            “Lemme see,” Jenkins said, eyeing his wristband.  “Oh God!! Oh Good GOD!!”
            “What’s wrong?  Is it bad?  Is there an emergency?” Martinez asked.
            “Oh, ohhh!  The Red Sox have just scored four runs in the 5th to go ahead 4-2 over the Tigers.”
            “My god, Jenkins, you have no life!” Martinez bellowed, just turned off.  “You’re following your little baseball games on that stupid watch?”
            “You’re just jealous because you don’t have one,” Jenkins said.
            “Okay… I admit it,” Martinez admitted sheepishly.
            Outside and around the corner, Thomson is still waiting.  Grumbling down the street as the line moves along (albeit not very much), Thomson eagerly awaits his turn to shine.  Meanwhile, Anderson walked right along the sidewalk, eventually running into Thomson.
            “Well, if it isn’t our superstar wannabe?” Anderson joked.
            “Hey, how did you know, man?” Thomson asked.
            “I’m auditioning too, but I’ve got an appointment,” Anderson replied.  “Well good to see some competition, although I might say it may be feeble.”
            “Yea, well I just say ‘what the hell’?” Thomson said, “You’re gonna be a shoo-in to get some camera time.  You’re one bad ass mo-fo’.”
            “And indeed, I got the Mo’ to back up my fo’,” Anderson quipped spinning around.
            “Too smooth brother,” Thomson said, “Hey, wait up!  How come you get to go ahead so fast?”
            “I reserved way ahead of time,” Anderson said, “This is my big break.”
            “Get out,” Thomson remarked, “You mean I didn’t have to wait in this long-ass line?”
            “No, see, this line is for the walk-ins,” Anderson grinned, “Have fun waiting, now.”
            Anderson left Thomson to go on ahead into the building.
            Once inside, Anderson proceeded straight to the modeling recruit desk, greeting Kelvin along the way.
            By the time he got there, he asked for his appointment, and a woman at the desk arranged to have a recruiter come to take Anderson for an interview.  After that, Anderson went over to Martinez, the only one still in line as Jenkins was currently in the office.
            “Hi again, friend,” Anderson said to Martinez, “I come in peace.”
            “Far out!” Martinez said, “I don’t believe it.  It’s really you, Anderson?  I thought you were too good for the big time.”
            “It’s me, all right, fat and beautiful,” Anderson replied.  “Hey, let me show ya’ something,”
            Anderson signaled for the piano player off in a corner somewhere to start playing.
            “Maestro!” Anderson ordered.
            Then, Anderson started singing some stuff in Italian.  He sang a couple of verses of a song and then stopped to let the piano man go on with a piano solo.
            The people waiting in line applauded Anderson after his singing.
            “Thank you!  Thank you!  You know I’ve always wanted to know everyone that I meet.  You know, you and you and you over there, and especially that fat guy right over there,” Anderson said, pointing to people in the line.  “Because if there’s anything the world needs, it’s more fat sages like us.”
            “Hey,” Martinez said, “Who’s that piano guy over there?”
            “That’s Wade,” Anderson said, “He’s everywhere, and he’s a great piano player.”
            The lady with the clipboard returned.
            “Mr. Anderson, we’re ready to see you now,” the lady said.
            Anderson left to attend to the recruiter.
            Jenkins came out of the office, meeting Martinez along the way.
“Say, who was that just now out here?” Jenkins asked.
            “That was Anderson?” Martinez said.
            “ANDERSON?  You mean that Anderson?” Jenkins asked.
            “Yes, that Anderson,” Martinez replied.
            “Yeah, and who’s that Piano guy?”
            “That’s some guy named Wade, see?” Martinez pointed out.  “Anderson told me about him.”
            “Uh, does ‘Wade’ work there or something?” Jenkins asked.
            “I guess so, why don’t you go ask him?” Martinez said as he departed toward the recruiting room.
            “Uh, okay,” Jenkins acknowledged.
            Jenkins waved at Wade by the piano.
            “Hi there,” Jenkins said.  Jenkins then went over to talk to the piano man.
            “Hello there,” Wade said.  “Nice to meet you.”
            “Thanks, and likewise,” Jenkins said as Martinez entered the office for his recruitment session.  “What do you do here?”
            “Oh, I’m only here temporarily,” Wade said.  “You could think of me as a piano man for hire?”
            “Are you serious?” Jenkins asked.  “That’s wonderful!  I’d love to have you aboard to work with me on some stuff.”
            “Really?” Wade said, “What could you use me for?”
            “Background music, ambiance, as a means to an end, presentations, color, you name it.” Jenkins offered.
            “That sounds great!  I could do that,” Wade agreed.
            “Just think, Wade, we could be big!” Jenkins said.
            “I hope so, I’ll be more than happy to do gigs for you.” Wade replied.
            “I’ll call you up sometime, huh?” Jenkins asked.
            “Sure, here’s my telephone number,” Wade agreed as he wrote down his number on a small piece of paper.  Jenkins took the paper and slowly walked back towards the recruiting office.
            Martinez left the office and stopped where Jenkins was.
            “How’d it go?” Jenkins asked.
            “Well,” Martinez said, adjusting his hair.  “My hair was on, my looks were on, the moves were on.”
            “Did you get the gig?”
            “Oh,” Martinez stopped. “He said he was going to call me later on, if I got it or not.”
            “Hey, you might make it, Martinez,” Jenkins cried.
            “It’d kick ass if I did,” Martinez admitted.
            Jenkins pretended to look like an interviewer.
            “How does it feel to be the new hot supermodel on all the magazines and newspapers?” Jenkins asked.
            “Oh, it’s hot,” Martinez said.  “I’ve got style, looks, and range: the whole package!  I just hope that I don’t get forced into those TIGHT LEATHER PANTS [he was looking over at Kelvin] and speedos.”
            “Oh, that’s too bad,” Jenkins joked, “The world would have loved to witness your miniature package.”
            Martinez blushed and punched Jenkins in the shoulder.
            “C’mon,” Jenkins laughed, “Let’s go back to the car and I’ll take you home.  C’mon Kelvin!”
            Kelvin got up off his chair.
            “Aww, bro’ you mean it’s over?” Kelvin asked.
            “It’s over, let’s go home,” Jenkins replied.
            Kelvin, Martinez, and Jenkins walked over to their car, but they first saw Thomson grumbled in the middle of the line on the way over.
            “Ohh, dude, you’re still here!” Kelvin barked.
            “Ha, ha, ha,” Martinez said, “How’s the view from outside?”
            “You’re cold jackasses, you know that?” Thomson said.
            “Look, we’re sorry you had to get punked like that,” Jenkins replied, “So don’t get out of the line next time.”
            “Do you still want to go through with this,” Martinez asked, “or do you want to come with us?”
            Thomson observed the long line ahead of him.
            “Hell, these suckers aren’t gonna get jack,” Thomson said, “Why am I wasting my time?  Let me come with you.”
            “Entre,” Jenkins coaxed, opening the door to his car.
            “Mercy,” Thomson said.
            “Don’t mention it,” Jenkins replied.
            Everyone else also piled into the car, cramped as it were, and with that, they went off driving.

            And as they all talked and sat and roused with laughter, the car featuring Jenkins, Thomson, Martinez, and for good measure, Kelvin wedged somewhere between them, down Santa Barbara’s scenic urban culture.
            Shortly, the car stopped off by a corner in town someplace, and Jenkins elected to park there.
            Each man got out of the car.
            “Before I take you home,” Jenkins suggested, “Why don’t we stop here and get something to eat?”
            “Okay,” agreed Thomson and Martinez.
            “But I’m not hungry,” Kelvin whined.
            “You’ll be hungry when you get there,” Jenkins countered, brushing off the complaints.
            To each and all, they strolled down the street.

            In a beauty salon down that same road, Christine, Cassie, et. al. were dolling up a vivacious beauty strapped nicely to a salon chair, drenched in makeup, and burdened with hair curlers.  It was Hewitt!  Yes, that Hewitt, who no sooner than he was turned around, saw his friends went sauntering past the front window.
            Then, his buddies came back and stopped to get another look.  Hewitt could plainly see that they were overstuffed with laughter, literally collapsing, rolling on the ground.
            Moments later, they stepped inside to get closer to Hewitt Miss America.
            All of them tried to eke out a quick one-liner.
            “Shut up!!” Hewitt snapped.  “All of you!!  Don’t even start!!”
            “But you’re so beautiful!” Jenkins quipped.  “Be my bitch, sexy!!”  That one leaked out of him.  He couldn’t help it.
            Hewitt jumped out, breaking the straps that held him, and roared after Jenkins, Martinez, and everybody, as they scurried away laughing.

*The End*

UPDATE (3.19.2002):  Note that, in this episode, Cassie was the skinny waif and Christine was the headstrong lady.  BUT in reality, it was supposed to be the other way around.  The roles must have been interchanged sometime between here and episode ten, but let it be known that, for this episode, EP 004, and present episodes (#010 and on), Christine is the twig and Cassie is the bitchflap.  The names were just mixed up.

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