Angel flopped down on his couch, picked up the TV remote and began channel surfing. He hoped to find something good, like a hockey game or a Joan Crawford movie, but landed on American Idol, a show he hadn't watched since the 'Simon Cowell' incident.
It had been months since the audition, but Angel's irritation hadn't faded. Okay, so he didn't have a trained voice, but that was no reason for Cowell to have said "He makes William Hung sound like Pavorati." Angel briefly considered letting Angelus out for a game of 'Simon Says', but decided to put the matter behind him. Randy's crack about Manilow turning over in his grave had been both untrue and uncalled for, Angel thought. As for Paula, the memory of her shrieking in pain as she ran from the studio still made him wince.
Angel was about to change the channel when he vaguely remembered Lorne saying something about Wolfram & Hart's entertainment division representing the next winner. Not wanting to appear out of the loop, he kept watching.
He scrutinized the finalists, wondering what was so great about a bunch of no-talent hacks who had obviously been chosen for their looks. Or maybe they'd enchanted their way onto the show, he thought.
During the commercial break another idea struck him. They were jealous! Jealous of his unique vocal talents! No wonder they had been so harsh. Their frail egos couldn't handle being in the presence of a true original. Pure spite, that's why they'd rejected him while giving lesser talents fame and fortune.
The show resumed. One guy looked kind of familiar. Angel leaned forward, peering at the screen in confusion. No, it wasn't him, fate couldn't be this cruel. It must be a lookalike he told himself, a lookalike who also sounded just like . . . Angel gasped as the horrific truth dawned.
"And the next American Idol is: Lindsey McDonald!" Simon announced proudly.
Lindsey smiled and took a bow as the crowd went wild.
Angel's scream of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" could be heard for miles.
The End.
It had been months since the audition, but Angel's irritation hadn't faded. Okay, so he didn't have a trained voice, but that was no reason for Cowell to have said "He makes William Hung sound like Pavorati." Angel briefly considered letting Angelus out for a game of 'Simon Says', but decided to put the matter behind him. Randy's crack about Manilow turning over in his grave had been both untrue and uncalled for, Angel thought. As for Paula, the memory of her shrieking in pain as she ran from the studio still made him wince.
Angel was about to change the channel when he vaguely remembered Lorne saying something about Wolfram & Hart's entertainment division representing the next winner. Not wanting to appear out of the loop, he kept watching.
He scrutinized the finalists, wondering what was so great about a bunch of no-talent hacks who had obviously been chosen for their looks. Or maybe they'd enchanted their way onto the show, he thought.
During the commercial break another idea struck him. They were jealous! Jealous of his unique vocal talents! No wonder they had been so harsh. Their frail egos couldn't handle being in the presence of a true original. Pure spite, that's why they'd rejected him while giving lesser talents fame and fortune.
The show resumed. One guy looked kind of familiar. Angel leaned forward, peering at the screen in confusion. No, it wasn't him, fate couldn't be this cruel. It must be a lookalike he told himself, a lookalike who also sounded just like . . . Angel gasped as the horrific truth dawned.
"And the next American Idol is: Lindsey McDonald!" Simon announced proudly.
Lindsey smiled and took a bow as the crowd went wild.
Angel's scream of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" could be heard for miles.
The End.