As the smoke cleared, Fred found they were now on the stage. The whole room went silent with their sudden appearance. Uncle Bona, who was at the Mic doing a medley from Les Miserable, had gone silent. Even Steve, who always seemed to be in a dopey giggle had fallen into a silent awe.
Fred knelt before the Littlest Ninja. "That was so cool, Littlest Ninja, thank you." Fred put a hand on his shoulder. "Look me up when your turn 21, and we'll go out drinking." The Littlest Ninja bowed to Fred, then proffering a large fake mustache, stuck it on his Ninja mask about where his upper lip would be, before smashing another smoke ball and disappearing in its smoke.
Gucci, (now sporting a pair of lime green horn rimmed glasses with fake pink gemstones on the bows) none to happy with her son's disappearance, shouted—"So help me, if you don't get back here right now I will lock you in my underwear drawer!"
Gucci stomped off the stage and into the crowd, leaving Fred and Steve alone on the stage with Uncle Bona Smith. The crowd, seeing that Fred was on the stage, began to chant. "Bob! … Bob! … Bob!"
This had happened every year since he got announced as Bob when he was 13. Fred took the Mic from Bona—who then clicked his heels, saluted, and marched off the stage with his right hand shoved in his shirt about mid-way down.
Fred looked out into the audience, making a patting gesture with the hand holding the Mic and shading his eyes from the spotlight. "My name is Fred." He said in a monotone, knowing it would be Bob again next time he got kidnapped and forced to come to one of these.
The crowd fell silent for a moment, murmuring amongst themselves. They began to chant again. "Fred! … Fred! … Fred!"
Fred gave them the patting gesture again. "OK, OK, I'll sing. I just need about 15 minutes to get my song cued up and to get ready. So I'll leave you with …" Fred looked around. All the other contestants were gone. The only other person was, "… the comedic styling s of Steve the Baphoon!" The crowd went crazy, but for the second time today, Steve had quit giggling. Fred handed Steve the Mic. "Thanks Steve, I appreciate it." Fred patted the big Baphoon on the shoulder. The big Baphoon patted back, sending Fred hurtling off-stage.
Fred pulled himself from a pile of debris, shaking the dust from his hair, to the sound of Steve on the Mic. "And he's OK!" The crowd applauded.
At the sound booth, Fred walked up to a large book on a stand. The book was actually a list of pre-approved questions and comments to be used in conversing with Gramps Smith. You had to be careful, because if you by chance read one wrong, he would simply grumble one word. "Alright." In a very disgusted drawn out tone, then blast you with his laser vision. And we won't even go into what happens if you try to use something not in the book. This may sound harsh, but you should have seen him before he moved to Connecticut.
Fred opened to the 'formalities' page and selected one. "Hello, Gramps. How's life in Stepford treating you these days?"
An uncharacteristically evil grin spread across Gramps face. Despite this, he spoke in his usual low monotone. "Stepford just keeps getting better and better. And how are you, Fred?"
Fred turned to the 'answers' page. "I am just dandy, thank you for asking." Flipping to the 'continuing polite conversation' page, Fred continued. "And how is Grams?"
Gramps held out a liver spotted hand. "Here she comes now, you can see for yourself."
Fred turned to see a young, flawless Grams seemingly float into the room. Oh, wait a minute, she WAS floating. He could also see Steve as one of his punch-lines bombed.
"…a duck! Get it?" The crowd booed. "Oh come on, you know that was funny!"
Grams set a tray on a table, serving Fred and Gramps each a bologna sandwich, a bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle soup and a cup of steaming hot liquid. "Here you go, sweetheart, now eat up!" She said in a voice that flowed like silk.
Fred was in awe. "Wow Grams, is that really you? You look phenomenal!" He was right, she did look phenomenal considering that the last time he saw her she looked nearly as old as Gramps. But now she didn't appear much older than Fred.
"Oh, you really think so." She said somewhat mechanically. "Its so nice of you to notice." She looked down at his food, "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, no, this is great." In actuality, he didn't much like Campbell's chicken noodle soup. He liked bologna, especially fried bologna, about as much as he liked cherries in a cloud. He inspected the cup. "It was nice of you to make tea."
"Don't be silly, sweetheart," she said, tousling Fred's hair, "that's coffee. And you are so welcome." She stood with a lurch, a facial twitch, and an electrical buzz taking her over. Gramps whacked her over the head with his cane, and she regained her composure.
"Why don't you go plug yourself in or something." Gramps said.
Grams wandered off mumbling, "What nice young men. I'll have to knit them some socks."
Fred looked on stage. Steve was resorting to physical comedy, getting much bigger laughs. A little known fact about Baphoon physiology, is that their ear canal runs unencumbered all the way through their head. So in a very real sense, they have a hole in their head. Steve had delighted and amazed his audience by running the microphone cord back and forth through this canal.
As soon as Grams was out of sight, both men simultaneously dropped their food and coffee into the nearest trash before Gramps continued. "So, Fred, do you want to sing?"
Fred said, "Yes" then realized his error just in time to duck. Zap! He raised his head slowly, his cowlick smoldering. Patting out the smoke with one hand and turning pages with the other, Fred found the 'one word sentences' page. "Yes." Then, to make up for his indiscretion, turned to the 'gratitude' page. "I would like that very much." Then to the 'two word sentence' page. "Thank you."
Gramps turned a console to face Fred. "Ok, good. Just type your selection in here and you'll be good to go." Fred typed then returned the console to face Gramps. "This is an interesting choice." Gramps observed.
Turning to the 'talking about girls with a weird old man' page, Fred read, "I'm trying to impress a girl."
"OK, good. This song is strangely fitting, knowing your taste in girls." Gramps said. He put a hand on Fred's hand. "Now you better go, you're on in five."
As Fred approached the stage, he could see Steve was not only continuing with the cord through his ears, but also obtaining a similar effect with a snot string through his nostrils. He was getting even bigger laughs with that.
The audience, seeing Fred in the wings, began to call for Fred's song. Cheering when he walked on stage. Afraid of where he was going to have to run something through his body next, Steve retrieved the Mic from his ear and handed it to Fred. "Ladies and Gentlemen." Fred said, picking chunks of wax from the Mic. "Lets hear it for Steve the Baphoon!" The crowd exploded as Steve took a final bow and walked off stage.
A bright light show started as the music began. The vocals came from a different part of Fred's body for each person he imitated. Sammy Davis Jr. came from his kidneys, Cher came from his lower intestinal tract, and we won't go into where Sonny came from. Tom Jones was rising from just above Elvis. Everyone knows where Elvis is.
With the cue to sing, the voice leapt out. "What's new pussycat, woah woah. What's new pussycat, woah woah." He sang, his hair feeling more teased and volumized. "Pussycat pussycat, I've got flowers and lots of hours to spend with you. So go powder your cute little pussycat nose."
With the voice often came dance moves. This was no exception. Fred stood with his feet planted as far apart as possible and still remain standing, twisting his upper half back and forth to the music. It seemed to Fred like a bad cross between Elvis' later stuff, and the few shows Bruce Springsteen did in Vegas. He toned it down in the second verse. "Pussycat, pussycat. You're so thrilling and I'm so willing to care for you. So go make up your big little pussycat eyes."
Fred's eyes locked onto a pair of eyes, Caitian eyes that stood out in the crowd. They were looking back. Fred gave her his best gleaming white grin and beckoned her to come up on the stage. "Pussycat, pussycat. You're delicious and if my wishes can all come true, I'll be kissing your sweet little pussycat lips."
As Fred began the last few lines of the song, he could see her approaching the stage. Yes, it worked! Fred thought excitedly. Unfortunately, Fred was so focused on his Caitian prize, that he didn't see that the entire Smith clan was rushing the stage with her.
What the Starfleet covert operations team that was running drills on the roof saw through the skylight was a lone Starfleet officer surrounded by thousands of possibly hostile individuals aggressively converging on his position. Already in full gear, the S.C.O.T burst through the roof, fought off the advancing hordes and extracted their fellow Starfleet officer.
A month later, Fred had finally gotten a posting. Unfortunately, his old position on the Vlad Tepish had been filled by two monkeys and a Saint Bernard named Skip. On his way to his new posting, Fred ran into his old friend.
"Kadik!" Fred yelled from across a shuttle bay.
"Fred, my friend!" A manly handshake ensued. "I heard about that thing on Baphoo. Man, that was wild. So, you did the song?"
Fred shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, I sang it."
"I thought you were saving it for that special Caitian girl." Kadik grinned, nudging Fred with his elbow.
"I thought I had found her." Fred frowned. "But the covert ops team extracted me before I could find out for sure."
"I bed we could find out who she was." Kadik said confidently. "You know, guest lists and stuff like that."
"No, I know who she is." Fred sighed. "That's not the problem."
"Then look her up!" Kadik was sounding optimistic.
"You see, my uncle Dirty Bum spent time on Cait." Fred sighed.
"NO!"
"Yes," Fred sighed again, "she's my cousin P'rrz."
The End
