Useless Ideas 125-128
Useless Idea #125: Jeopardy 2262
An announcer's voice booms, "Iiiiiiiiiiiiit's Jeopardy 2262! With your host, Alex Trebek XXV!"
The lights come on in a game show studio. Theme music plays and the audience applauds as Trebek comes onto the stage and stands behind his podium.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you," Trebek says. "Wecome to Jeopardy 2262. Today's a special day here, for it was on this day, back in the year 2001, that the original Alex Trebek had the first clone of himself produced, to continue the Jeopardy empire into the next millenium. As the twenty-fifth clone in the line, I'm proud to continue that tradition..."
The audience applauds.
"Now then," Trebek says. "Let's meet our contestants, shall we? Our first contestant is a Vorlon with a penchant for genetic tinkering and fruit. Say hello to Skippy Naranek!"
The camera shows a Vorlon standing behind a podium, and the audience applauds.
"Next," Trebek continues, "we have a Shadow who's made a career of sowing chaos across the galaxy and looking like a big icky bug. Say hello to..." Trebek frowns at his card. "Man, that's a long name...You know, I'm so bad at names. Maybe you could..." He looks up at the contestants' podiums, but the one next to the Vorlon appears empty.
"What? He was just there..."
The Shadow then shimmers into view behind the podium.
Trebek chuckles. "Oh, you little scamp! Anyway, our final contestant is a resident of Downbelow whose hobbies include staggering around in a drunken stupor and sleeping in puddles of his own urine. Say hello to Bud!"
The audience applauds.
"All right, then," Trebek says. "Let's take a look at the categories. They are: Fruit, Game Show Hosts, Planetary Subjugation, Poetry of Pre-Industrial Europe, and Napkins. Skippy, the first choice goes to you."
"Fruit for five hundred, Alex," Skippy says.
"Hey, going for the big money right away, eh?" Trebek says. "All right. The answer is: The primary nutrient found in oranges."
Bud buzzes in. "What is bourbon?"
"Oooooh, incorrect," Trebek says.
Skippy buzzes in. "What is plutonium?"
"I'm sorry, no. Shadow, would you like to try?"
The Shadow shakes its head.
"The correct answer was Vitamin C," Trebek says. "Vitamin C."
"Incorrect," Skippy says. "Plutonium. But you are not yet ready for that knowledge."
Trebek chuckles. "Okay, if you say so. Bud, why don't you choose the next topic?"
"Planetary Subjugation for three hundred, Alex," Bud says.
"The answer is: The best way to force a planet to submit to your will."
Bud buzzes in. "What is 'Nuke 'em till they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark'?"
"Correct!" Trebek says. "You're now in the lead. Choose again."
"I'll take Game Show Hosts for one hundred."
"The answer is: Me, Alex Trebek XXV!"
Skippy buzzes in. "Who are you?"
"Correct! You have control of the board."
"Game Show Hosts for two hundred," Skippy says.
"The answer: A hot tub full of drunken supermodels."
The Shadow buzzes in. "What do you want?"
"Correct!" Trebek says. "Speaking of which, maybe I can talk to you about that after the show...You now have control of the board. Choose--"
Trebek is interrupted by a buzzer.
"Well, that sound means it's time for Final Jeopardy. Let's take a look at the subject. And the subject is....'Crusade'. Decide how much you're willing to risk."
The contestants scribble down they wagers.
"Okay," Trebek says. "The answer for today's Final Jeopardy is: The network where 'Crusade' will eventually air, now that TNT Galactic has apparently dropped it."
The familiar Jeopardy music begins to play, as the contestants ponder their answers and write them down. The music ends, and Trebek says, "All right, time's up. Let's see what you came up with. Skippy, we'll start with you. Which network did you say would air 'Crusade'?"
Skippy's answer appears on the front of his podium. Trebek reads it aloud: "'What is the Playboy Channel?' Interesting choice, but...wrong. How much did you wager? Ooooh...one hundred dollars--which leaves you with nada. Zilch. Zero. A big goose egg. So sorry..."
Trebek moves to the Shadow. "And how did you answer, Shadow?"
The answer appears. "'What is the History Channel?' Sorry, no. How much did you wager? One hundred dollars--which leaves you with one hundred, and second place behind Bud."
Trebek moves down to Bud's podium. "Well, Bud, you're in the lead. Can you hold onto it? Where did you say 'Crusade' would wind up...?" Trebek reads the answer. "'How the hell should I know, you condescending freak?'" Trebek smiles. "You are correct! And you wagered...three hundred dollars, giving you six hundred total, and victory! Congratulations!"
The audience applauds.
Trebek smiles into the camera. "Join us tomorrow, folks, when our contestants will be: a TNT executive, JMS himself, and a gloating anti-B5 Trekkie. Let's see who comes out of it alive! Good night!"
Useless Idea #126: A Blast From The Past
The Excalibur is flying through the void of space out near the Rim, searching for clues to find a cure to the Drakh plague afflicting Earth. Suddenly, the crew member at the sensor station says, "Captain Gideon, sensors are picking up something strange. It looks like...an escape pod...?"
Gideon frowns. "A pod? Out here? Plot a course, helm, let's take a look..."
Soon they can see the pod drifting in space. Gideon's frown deepens. "That's got the markings of Babylon 5 on it...They might need help. Prepare to grapple onto it."
Minutes later, the pod is attached outside one of the Excalibur's airlocks. Gideon goes down there, along with Dureena Nafeel.
"I'm not sure about this, Captain," Dureena says.
Gideon cycles the airlock door open, and peers into the darkness of the pod. Suddenly something inside moves. A voice drifts out to them: "Doooo be doo be doooooooooo..." And a penguin begins to shuffle out of the darkness.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Gideon and Dureena scream. Gideon seals the hatch before the penguin gets out. "Detach from the pod!" he shouts into his comlink. "Detach, and jump to hyperspace!"
The Excalibur detaches, leaving the pod to drift away...
In hyperspace, Gideon wipes the sweat from his brow. "Oh, my God. They said it would be dangerous out here, but..." He shakes his head.
"Well, at least we got out in time," Dureena says.
The bridge calls Gideon. "Captain, we suffered a minor hull breach just before we jumped to hyperspace. Source unknown, but crews are repairing it..."
Just then, before Gideon can respond, he and Dureena hear a voice echoing to them from one of the ventilation shafts: "Dooooo be doo be doooooooo..."
Gideon pales. "Oh, no..."
Useless Idea #127: Hijacked!
A jumbo jet takes off from the Atlanta airport, lifting into the sky. On board is the jet's owner Ted Turner, along with a few guests, all of them being tended to by a group of flight attendants. The captain's voice comes over the intercom:
"A good afternoon to you, folks. This is Captain Smith, hoping you'll enjoy your flight on Jane One this afternoon. We should reach New York in--OH MY GOD!!! THERE'S SOME KIND OF CREATURE ON THE WING!!!"
The passengers look around frenziedly.
The captain comes back on. "Heh...just kidding. A little pilot humor, there. But seriously, we should be...hold on, folks. Somebody just popped up out of a hatch in the floor. I didn't even know there *was* a hatch there....Uh, the gentleman is holding a gun, and is handing me a note, which reads, 'Milk, bread, coffee, cereal...'. What is this, your grocery list? What? Turn it over? Oh! Okay, uh...'We, the righteous defenders of Babylon 5, the Rangers, do hereby commandeer this vessel in the name of freeing 'Crusade' from the shackles of network stupidity. Fly to the TNT headquarters at best possible speed'. Sure thing, pal. But what's 'Crusade'? Ow! Ow! Okay, I'm flying, I'm flying..."
In the main cabin, the passengers begin to panic, as several of the attendants whip out guns, and other armed folk pop out of the ceiling. In the confusion, Turner makes a dash for the bathroom and huddles there, pulling out his cell phone. He dials a number and urgently says, "Jane? Jane, it's me, Ted! What? Yes, of course I'm still rich! Listen...the plane's been hijacked! I think they're going to kill me! I'm hiding in the bathroom and--no, I do NOT hide in the bathroom every night at home! Listen, you've got to send help. They're science fiction fans! You know how they can get! You've got to--"
Just then, the bathroom door bursts open and a man with a gun stands before him. He takes away Turner's phone.
"Mr. Turner," he says. "You may call me...Ranger Drakeson. You're going to be our guest until you reverse your network's decision to cancel 'Crusade' and restore it to its proper place in the schedule."
Turner balks. "I'm not actually in charge of the network's programming, you know. Well, except for that 'Monday Nitro'. Jane just loves that wrestling..."
Another hijacker, in Narn regalia, stares at him incredulously. "*He's* responsible for that? I say we shoot him now..."
"You can't kill me!" Turner protests. "I'm married to Barbarella!"
"And that's the ONLY thing that's keeping you alive right now, buddy!" the Narn-clad hijacker says.
Drakeson waves the man off.
"Besides, I don't even know what this 'Crusade' is..." Turner says.
"Allow us to enlighten you," Drakeson says, as they haul Turner back out into the cabin and put him in his seat. "Crusade is only the single greatest achievement in the history of mankind. When it finally airs, it'll set standards so high that--"
"Wait a minute, this show isn't even on the air, yet? And it's already been cancelled? Wow, it sucks to be you. But why go to these extremes? Why didn't you just write letters to the network?"
The Narn-ish hijacker sneers. "Letters are for the WEAK!!!"
Turner turns to Drakeson, points at the Narn-ish man. "Who *is* this guy?"
"That's Ranger Rick," Drakeson says.
"What, like that kid's animal magazine?"
A female hijacker leans in toward Rick. "I *told* you everyone would think that..."
"Shut up!" Rick bursts. "It's a manly name, for a manly man!"
One of the passengers says to Turner, "Sir, I'm a 'Babylon 5' fan as well, and I've got to say that we're not all as extreme as these people. I apologize on behalf of the rest of us..."
"I see," Turner says. "Well, I'm not familiar enough with this 'Babylon 5' to really care one way or another. What's it all about?"
"Well," Drakeson says, "it was the dawning of the Third Age of Mankind..."
Awhile later, Turner shakes his head. "And Bester was actually manipulating Garibaldi the whole time? That *bastard*! You know, I think I *will* give programming a call, see what I can do about this whole mess--"
"I think I've heard quite enough," a new voice says, and everyone turns to see a man pointing his gun at Drakeson. Other armed newcomers pop out of the floor and train their weapons on the B5 hijackers. Several of them are wearing pointed rubber ears.
"Where do you people keep popping out from?" Turner says, looking around the plane's confines. "There can't be that much room in there..."
"Who the hell are you people?" Drakeson demands.
"We're PHASER," the man announces.
"PHASER?" Turner says.
"Practitioners of the Honorable And Sacred Enterprise Religion," the man answers. "It is our sworn duty to crush any and all shows of a non-Trek nature. You may call me Huuuuuuurck. It's Klingon for 'I have something stuck in my throat'."
Ranger Rick turns to Drakeson. "Man, how come they get to have a cool acronym and we don't?"
"Quiet," Drakeson answers. He looks at Huuuuuuurck. "Looks like we've got a stand-off here."
"For the moment, perhaps." Huuuuuuurck turns to Turner. "Mr. Turner, it is imperative that you do NOT renew 'Crusade'."
"Why is that, exactly?" Turner asks.
Huuuuuuurck frowns in perplexion. "Because it isn't 'Star Trek'. We--" He breaks off as everyone hears a thumping from under the floor, and a muffled voice rises up to them.
"Uh, hello? A little help here? The hatch on this Jeffries Tube is stuck or something..."
Huuuuuuurck rolls his eyes, then leans down and pops the hatch. A man in a homemade Borg suit clambers out.
"What's THAT?" Turner says.
Huuuuuuurck gestures at the Borg. "That's Bud."
"Hey, cool outfit," Ranger Rick says.
"Thanks!" Bud grins. He looks over Rick's Narn outfit. "I love the leatherwork on that. How long did it take you to--"
Huuuuuuurck whaps him upside the head. "They're the enemy, remember?"
Bud rubs his head. "Sorry, sorry."
"Let's get down to business," Huuuuuuurck says. "Bud..." He finishes with something in Klingon.
Bud frowns. "Your mother's slippers are burning in the purple freezer?" Huuuuuuurck whaps him again. "Sorry! My Klingon's a little rusty!"
Huuuuuuurck sighs and rolls his eyes. "I said: access the ship's controls. Fly directly to Paramount headquarters. We'll present these 'B5' heathens to Berman and reap the rewards of a GLORIOUS VICTORY!"
"Got it," Bud says, and punches a button on his arm. Nothing happens for a moment, then the plane's movie projector suddenly springs to life. "Godzilla" begins playing.
"Oh, God! Turn it off!" Huuuuuuurck shouts. "TURN IT OFF!!!"
Bud frantically presses the button again, shutting the projector down, and both Rangers and PHASERs give sighs of relief.
"Okay, maybe it's this one," Bud says, pressing another. Suddenly, the codpiece on his suit begins to inflate and deflate rhythmically.
Huuuuuuurck stares at him as Bud shuts it down quickly. "I don't even *want* to know..."
"Third time's the charm," Bud says, pressing another button. A pair of taser prods shoot out from his forearms, thunk against the chest of another PHASER, and the man collapses to the floor in a twitching heap.
"Forget it!" Huuuuuuurck growls. "Just forget it..."
"Now you see that technobabble and gadgets will never triumph!" Drakeson says, throwing back his head in a hearty laugh. He turns to his people after a moment. "Laugh with me!"
The Rangers give half-hearted laughs, and Drakeson scowls. "Forget it..."
"Wait a minute!" Ranger Rick says. "I've got it!"
"What?" Drakeson says.
"Our acronym!" Ranger Rick grins. "RANGERS: Really Annoyed Network Gripers Executing Revenge Schemes. Huh? Huh?"
"Hey, sounds good to me," Bud says, and Huuuuuuurck whaps him upside the head again. "Sorry!"
"Okay, let me see if I've got this all straight," Turner says. He points to Drakeson and the Rangers. "You folk want me to get 'Crusade' renewed." He looks at Huuuuuuuurck and the PHASERs. "And you want to *keep* 'Crusade' from being renewed. There's got to be a center ground here. What if...what if I did renew 'Crusade', *and* bought the rights to 'Star Trek', installing the PHASERs as consultants on a new 'Trek' show...?"
Drakeson and Huuuuuuurck eye each other warily.
"That could work," Huuuuuuurck says dubiously. "We *are* the only true fans. But there are details that would have to be hashed out..."
"We've got the time," Turner says. He looks at Drakeson. "Well?"
Drakeson hesitates, then says to one of his people. "Go turn this plane back toward New York. I think we're just about done here..."
Later, as the plane approaches New York, Drakeson and Huuuuuuurck are still sitting with Turner, ironing out the details of the treaty.
"Okay," Drakeson says. "We give you the rights to use the 'five year arc' concept, *and* the concept of killing off some of your main characters. In return..."
"In return, we give you the rights to recurring guest roles from Michael Dorn, Jonathan Frakes and Marina Sirtis. Agreed," Huuuuuuurck says. "You can also have Shatner."
Drakeson shakes his head. "Keep him. We don't want him."
"We don't want him, either."
Drakeson shrugs. "We'll give him to 'Farscape'..."
A short time later, the plane lands, and both Rangers and PHASERs depart together, somehow slipping past the iron grip of airport security. Turner heads to his limousine, which pulls out into traffic. After a while, he frowns.
"Hey, this is the wrong route," he says to the driver. "What's going--"
The driver turns to him, with a gun in his hand. It's Hulk Hogan. "Let's talk about a twenty-four-hour-a-day wrestling channel, Ted..."
Turner rolls his eyes. "Not again..."
Useless Idea #128: A Blind Man's Guide To Babylon 5
The ISN logo appears on-screen, then fades to show a television studio, with a man sitting behind a desk. He grins into the camera. "Hello, folks, and welcome to the August 28th, 2267 edition of 'Entertainment Hollywood'. I'm Brad Buffman. Looking in briefly on some of today's top stories: Michael Eisner announced that admission to Disney Planet will now cost park visitors their first-born child. No reasons were given, and hey,
who are we to ask, am I right? Eisner may be a three hundred year old disembodied brain-in-a-jar, but he could crush us all like
bugs. Gotta respect that...
"In other news, the headhunting against executives of the TNT Galactic television network continues with full fury. The death toll is now at seventy-three. As you may recall, TNT Galactic was broadcasting the adventures of the brave crew of the Excalibur, who are even now out there seeking a cure to the deadly Drakh plague. But the network decided for reasons unknown to cease these live broadcasts--arousing the ire of fans all across the galaxy. Nobody was really surprised when the first headless corpses began to show up. Of course, we here at 'Entertainment Hollywood' are appalled at such behavior and--" he breaks off, chuckling and shaking his head. "Oh, who am I kidding? KILL 'EM ALL!!!"
He regains control of his laughter after a few moments. "Ah. Now, then. Moving on to our main story, we have an exclusive tour of Babylon 5, conducted by 'Entertainment Hollywood' ace reporter, Bambi Airbrush. Bambi?"
The screen image shifts to show a ditzy-looking blonde sitting in a shuttle seat. Through the cockpit viewscreen behind her can be seen Babylon 5, growing larger.
She grins into the camera. "Hel-loooooooooooo! Bambi Airbrush here! We're making our final approach to Babylon 5, that 'last, best hope of peace'. As you may recall, just five years ago under John Sheridan's command, with all that icky war business going on, this place was just filled with gloom and doom." She gives a pouty frown. Then she brightens again. "But things have changed!
Come along, and let us show you the place now..."
The picture fades out, then fades back in to show Bambi standing in the docking port. She smiles into the camera.
"Okay, we've made it aboard. As you can see from all the hustle and bustle, this is quite a popular place. You never know who you're going to run into here. Speaking of which, there's Security Chief Zack Allen himself!" She starts waving. "Mr. Allen! Mr. Allen! A moment of your time?"
Zack walks over. "What's the problem, miss...?"
"Bambi Airbrush, with 'Entertainment Hollywood', Mr. Allen. I was wondering if you could share some of your exciting adventures with our viewers..."
Zack shrugs. "Sure, why not?" Then he looks at Bambi more closely and frowns a bit. "Wait a minute, don't I know you from somewhere?"
"I don't think so..."
Zack snaps his fingers. "That's it! You used to work here on the station. You were a stripper down at The Voluptuous Vorlon..."
Bambi looks uncomfortable. "I...think you have me confused with someone else."
"No, no. I remember. You used to do this thing with your feet, where you--oof!" He reels back as Bambi punches him, and the picture dissolves into static.
The picture returns, showing Bambi jogging down a hallway, looking back over her shoulder into the camera.
"As you can see," she says, "eluding station security is a piece of cake, so don't let that stop you from dropping by!"
The scene shifts to show Bambi now standing in one of the station's guest quarters.
"The first thing you'll want to do when visiting the station," she says, "is get yourself settled into your quarters." She gestures around herself at the room. "As you can see, they're quite spacious *and* affordable. And best of all, reports of temporal anomalies and psychic assaults are down fifteen percent from last year!"
The shot cuts away, with Bambi now standing in the Zocalo. "A visit to the station just isn't complete without a trip to the Zocalo. Here you'll find anything you could possibly need. Planning to spend a night on the town and want to get your hair done? Stop by Centauri Cuts. Or maybe you're looking for that perfect wardrobe--stop by the Natty Narn, or Big, Tall and Tentacled...or my personal favorite, the hot new Celtic clothing store, Lord of the Pants...
"All that shopping, of course, will leave you pretty hungry--so where to go?"
The picture fades out, fading back in to show Bambi at the Fresh Air restaurant. Standing next to her is a snooty looking man in a suit.
"Possibly the finest, most elegant dining establishment on the station is the Fresh Air restaurant," Bambi says. "I'm here with the owner, Jacque le Jacques. Mr. le Jacques, the food here is just outstanding, and the ambiance terrific--"
"Thank you very much," he preens.
"But one thing that's always bothered me. Why is it called the Fresh Air? You're on a space station, so the air isn't really fresh at all, is it? It's more like, recycled, filtered air..."
Jacque le Jacques stares at her a moment, then bursts into tears. "I'm living a lie!" he wails, and runs off with his face in his hands. Bambi stares after him.
The picture fades out, fades back in, with Bambi now standing at a fast-food counter, with a Minbari wearing a paper hat beside her.
"Okay," she says, "so maybe the Fresh Air is a little beyond your budget. Don't worry; much more affordable is the fare here at McBari's. Managing the place is the job of Boroon here."
"That's right, Bambi," Boroon says. "We here at McBari's pride ourselves on fine food at a fine price."
"I just love those burgers you--Ahhhh! What the hell is that?" Bambi shrieks, pointing.
The camera swings around in time to catch a large brown leg scuttling behind a cabinet.
Boroon looks nervous. "What are you talking about?"
Bambi turns toward him. "It was a roach!"
Boroon starts to sweat. "I didn't see anything."
"I was a foot long! How could you miss it?"
Boroon starts to sweat still more. "Uh...you want a free cheeseburger?"
"What?!"
"A free cheeseburger, for you and your cameraman. And we'll just forget this ever happened."
"You're kidding, right? You know how many health codes you're violating? Why, if I--"
As Bambi rants, in the background another huge roach can be seen clambering up the side of one of the cooks, then chomping into the boy's head. Bambi finally notices it and screams again.
Boroon turns to look, then looks back at Bambi with a nervous grin. "Ummmm...you sure you don't want that cheeseburger?"
The scene cuts away, and Bambi's now in a deserted section of hallway. "Okay, after you've eaten, maybe you're in the mood for a little entertainment. Maybe you're looking for that 'one perfect moment of beauty'. Or something. Well you'd be surprised at what you can find here!"
She starts to climb through an opening in the wall, but is stopped by an officious looking woman holding a clipboard who emerges from the opening.
"I'm sorry," the woman says, "but what do you think you're doing?"
"I was going to go in and listen to those monk guys singing in there," Bambi says.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No..."
The woman shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but since their new album, 'The Walls are Tone-Deaf' went platinum, their time is precious. I can't let you in without an appointment."
Bambi wanders off, shaking her head. "Figures..."
The picture shifts to find Bambi in a crowded club, people dancing about all around her. Music with a heavy, thumping bass line booms around them.
"Okay," Bambi says, shouting to be heard above the din, "so forget the monks. This is where it's at: The Groovy Gaim. Let's see who's performing tonight!"
She stands on her toes to peer over the heads around her, then grins back into the camera. "It's Chubby V!!!!"
The camera pans over to the stage, where Vir, wearing shades and heavy gold chains, can be seen hopping around to the music, as he begins to rhyme:
"Oh, I went Downbelow--took my woman to the show--and then we (BLEEP) (BLEEP) (BLEEP) (BLEEP)--Oh, she's such a 'ho! Awwwwwww, yeah..."
The crowd goes nuts, and the camera turns back to Bambi, who grins. "I just LOVE that nasty rap of his!" She looks back toward the stage, waving her hands in the air, and chanting in unison with the rest of the audience: "Go Chu-bby! Go Chu-bby! Go Chu-bby...!"
The scene shifts to find Bambi now standing in another hallway.
"Okay, fun and games are great, but let's not forget the other opportunities the station offers. Here in the so-called Alien Sector of the station, you can broaden your horizons, and learn so much about your fellow denizens of the galaxy. Here you'll encounter everything from Narn to Gaim, Vree to Drazi and all kinds inbetween. Sure, some of them may look scary, but they're just people, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about around them." She glances off-screen, her attention distracted by something. "Absolutely...nothing...uh...at all...to be scared of...around...the...uh...aliens..."
She breaks off as a pair of Drazi move into the picture, dragging a bloody human corpse behind them. They stop, look at Bambi, look into the camera, then continue on their way.
Bambi watches them go, then urgently begins making the "cut" motion across her throat...
The scene shifts again, with Bambi back in the Zocalo, smiling into the camera.
"Well, folks, we've really only managed to give you a glimpse of all the excitement you'll find here on Babylon 5. There's plenty more to do and see, so stop on by and--" She breaks off, wide-eyed as John Sheridan and Delenn start walking past her.
"John Sheridan!" she says excitedly. "Ladies and gentleman, the President of the Interstellar Alliance!"
Sheridan stops, looks at the camera, then at Bambi. "Oh, it's you, Bambi."
"Could you spare a moment for an interview?" Bambi says.
"Sure," Sheridan answers. "But tell me one thing first--do you still do that thing with your feet...?"
Bambi smiles nervously, turning back to the camera as Delenn starts glowering at her. "Uh, well, that'll do it for this report! This has been Bambi Airbrush for 'Entertainment Hollywood'. Back to you, Brad!"
The picture shifts back to the studio, where Brad Buffman is engrossed in filing his nails. He looks up, startled. "Oh! Thanks for that fascinating report, Bambi! And that'll wrap things up for this edition of 'Entertainment Hollywood'. Be sure to stay tuned, because coming up next is 'The Real World: Antarctica'...where the roomates decide they've had enough of Billy's spoo-snorting and kick him out of the quonset hut! Will he survive the elements?"
An image of a young punk's frozen corpse--half buried in a snowdrift--flashes on-screen.
Brad reappears, grins into the camera. "Good night, folks! We'll see you tomorrow!"
The Rabid Bantha Bar and Grille
© 1997 really_big_evil@hotmail.com
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