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)
8.8.2001
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.
Then…
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment