Author's Note: Hello loyal readers! And those few new readers that might've stumbled upon this author's poor attempt at fanfiction.

This is a small series of missing excerpts from my story, Mad World, that I have dubbed the 'deleted scenes'. This is just something to entertain (and sort of amp up the energy I suppose. get those creative juices flowing, and the keep the readers interested) until season 3 begins. These chapters won't be very long, fair warning now, but they should be interesting- I hope. I'll just leave that up to you readers.

Anyway! The premiere is only 13 days away! AH! Hopefully I'll have all the 'deleted scenes' up before then, I have this one, and two in editing, and another still in the writing process. I'm thinking there might one more, or two... So... I haven't actually decided if some should be separated to create more to read, or just throw it all crammed together out there... Hmm. Well. Anyway. Here's the first one! I'd love to hear some feedback.

A Memorable Birthday Gift: A Night at The Pleasure Theatre

She was seated at her vanity - her vanity, her own freakin' glitzy, Hollywood-esque, lighted all around the freakin' mirror vanity! [She wasn't lying when she said the place was high end, but still, it had surprised her just how glamourous it all was] But what with her being a sort of headlining act it wasn't unusual to get special treatment such as that - not all of the girls got their own vanities, let alone their own mirror. She was just doing final touch ups on her makeup when she sighed. She looked nothing like herself, which wasn't a bad thing, in fact, she thought she looked pretty attractive, in a theatrical sort of way. Not that it mattered though, her audience wouldn't be paying much attention to her face once the spotlight and stage lights hit her.

The music was already selected, something she'd stick into her cd player and listen to while she drove to her destination to get herself 'in the zone'. It wasn't exactly something in her tastes, it was... old timey, jazzy - not that she hated jazz, her dad had loved it, but with that thought now settled uncomfortably in mind it just made the situatoin a whole lot more awkward for her - but it was for her work, therefore, she would deal with it. Her job, her job that was paying her handsomely to, for a 9 minute set, go up on stage scantily clad, work the crowd, give a little shake and shimmy, remove what she had on as tantalizingly as possible while still leaving the rest to their imagination, climb up in a ridiculously oversized martini glass and splash around, all to that crazy music. It was worth it, to help pay off her college fines and finally allow her to just worry about bills and work like any other average 26 year old. And she should be glad, considering it now as she stood to admire her 'outfit'- if it could be called that, it was run-of-the-mill black lingere; panties, bra, with hosiery, and a sheer, barely there thing of a camisole, and of course, (keeping up with some kind of elegant yet whorish theme) elbow length gloves and some terrifyingly tall stilettos. 26 years old and she was still considered 'pretty enough' by howling, horny, rich mens standards. But then again probably anyone in that sort of garb would look pretty, if not totally sexy. "All in a days work," Lacey mumbled to her reflection, fidgeting with the hem of the cami, "Well... nights work... technically."

"Carmela."

The call of her stage name had pulled her out of her thoughts, she snapped her hands to her sides and saw the theatre director, "Five minutes," was all he said and hurried off to wherever else he needed to be. She was pretty sure it was a requirement for him to run around constantly, even if things were going according to plan and no one needed him, the dude just wouldn't - couldn't - relax.

"Five minutes," she repeated to herself quietly with an affirming nod.

This would be her fifth to last show, if she did the numbers correctly - which she did - and then she could give her notice, end employment at The Pleasure Theatre and start working at the hospital (Grady Memorial) without any worries about school debt anymore. She didn't hate this job, though she made it very clear to herself that this was temporary, no matter how much the hooting and hollering of men directed at her and only her felt slightly empowering- knowing they wanted her but would never have her. She wanted to be a nurse. A proper LPN, something she was very sure of wanting to be since she was 10 years old.

"Two," a stage hand gestured with two fingers and nodded for her to follow the path to the stage. Lacey nodded and followed, grabbing the top hat, the prop, that 'pulled the outfit together' (where as the martini glass 'pulled her act together') from the vanity and walked with well practiced steps alongside the stage hand.

The countdown began, she shook out her arms and legs [as best as she could in those deadly heels, jesus], cracked her neck on each side and put the top hat onto her head. There was the sound of the emcee's voice booming through all the speakers in theatre, saying something to the nature of giving fair, precious Carmela a warm welcome - then something about that not sounding very warm - she was glad she wasn't a master of ceremonies, words eluded her at the best and worst of times. The stage hand's hand was counting down from five, after one she gave a swooping gesture toward the stage just as 'Carmela's music' began to play. Lacey took a deep breath and exhaled as she took the steps on to the stage, a dull roar turning up louder than she could even believe the instant her leg came into view.

The lights were so bright, she forced herself not to squint and just smiled, seduction and mystery in her grin as she strutted to center stage, the glass sat behind the second curtain - yet to be revealed. The crowd was vicious; shouting, screaming, whistling, stomping and clapping. She couldn't see any of them, but the sound of them, all of that collective noise just for her? Her smile came easier as the familiar tune hit her ears and started work its way to flow through her. She would call it an out of body experience, but she didn't see herself performing from stage as some misty spirit onlooker... what she felt was more akin to blacking out. Once the top hat was tossed across the stage and the first glove was starting to peel away she'd disappear, and come back again to find herself drenched in water, seated in that stupid, gigantic glass with the curtain concealing her from the still whooping and hollering audience behind it. She wasn't sure if it was good or bad thing to be seemingly checking out while she was working her act, but everytime she'd get engulfed by the other girls and theatre workers saying how great she was, only comments of praise, and sometimes she'd notice a few extra dollars [at least 50 to 75] in her check. A bonus? A tip? Whatever slutty-stage-Lacey was doing it must be good.

After her final show and recieving her final check she didn't worry about what her alter persona had gotten up to in front of countless audiences. It wasn't something she needed to think about anymore. She'd managed to keep it a secret from her brothers, so, what was the point of dwelling on it? It was over. A classified part of her she'd never have to mention or bring out again... unless her future husband wanted some kind of show in the bedroom in the form of foreplay. But even then it would be highly unlikely she'd suddenly flip the switch and start a standing ovation earning act. No one would ever see that again - maybe in the memories of the men who had been witness to it while she was 'Carmela', but even then, they would never recognize her... She was a faceless dancer at some ritzy club theatre. It wasn't as if her future husband might have been amidst the hoards of men in those audiences, what were the chances of that?