A few of the crappy singers had entered the room with Ryan and the other contestants. Fortunately, they had found a drawer full of earplugs and put them in.

"My sympathies friend," said a contestant as he walked out of the open door. "You've no matter of luck at all." He slammed the door behind him, leaving Ryan locked in the room.

"Come on, doggy," said Ryan, trying to tempt Thumbelina over to give him the key. "It's just you and me now. Just you and ol' Ryan. Come on. Come on. Good girl. That's it. Good girl. Come on. Bit closer. Bit closer. That's it, that's it, doggy. Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cad." Thumbelina ran to the other side of the room, whimpering. "No, no, no, no, no. I didn't mean it. I didn't --" He was interrupted by two crappy singers entering the room.

"This ain't the microphones," said one.

"Well, well, well," said the other. "Look what we have here. Host Ryan Seacrest.

"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken street corner, shrinking into the distance," said the first. "His fortunes aren't improved much."

"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers." replied Ryan, remembering the musical group they had all been in ten years ago.

"You know nothing of Hell," sang the first crappy singer off-key.

"So there is a curse," realized Ryan, hearing the bad voices of the singers. "That's interesting. That's very interesting."

-------

Viggo and Edgar had taken Paula out front to the parking lot, where they had thrown her in a van. "I didn't know we were takin' on captives," said Robert, who was part of the group of crappy singers.

"She's told us we're going to Hollywood," said Viggo.

"I'm her to negotiate -" Paula started but was slapped by Robert.

"You will speak when spoken to," said Robert.

"And ye'll not lay a hand on those who said we're going to Hollywood," interrupted Keith.

"Aye, sir," obeyed Robert.

"My apologies miss." Keith said.

"Keith, I am here to negotiate the cessation of bad singing against American Idol."

"There are a lot of long words in there, miss," said Keith. "We're not but humble crappy singers. What is it that you want?"

"I want you to leave and never sing to us again," Paula told him.

"I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," said Keith. Paula stared at him blankly. "Means no."

"Very well. I'll throw it out the window," Paula said, holding the defective piece of Innergy to the window.

"Me holds are burstin' with swag and that bit of shine matters to us?" Keith wasn't even sure himself what he was talking about. "Why?"

"It's what you've been searching for," Paula said. "I recognize you. I saw you eight months ago on the showing of American Idol."

"Did ya now?" asked Keith.

"Fine," said Paula. "Well, I suppose if it is worthless then there's no point in me keeping it." She stuck her arm that was holding the Innergy farther out the window.

"No!" the crappy singers shouted, trying to stop her from dropping it.

"You have a name, missy?" Keith questioned.

"Paula.Cowell," she lied. "I'm a PA for American Idol."

"Miss Cowell?" Keith asked.

"Simon," Viggo whispered to Edgar. Edgar gasped.

"And how does a PA come to own a trinket such as that?" said Keith. "Family heirloom, perhaps?"

"I didn't steal it if that's what you mean," Paula said.

"Very well," replied Keith. "You hand it over and we'll put your studio to our bumper and never return."

Paula handed the necklace to Keith. "Our bargain?"

"Start driving," ordered Keith.

"Wait!" shouted Paula. "You have to take me back to the studio. According to the code of American Idol -"

"First," said Keith. "Your return to shore was not part of our negotiations nor our agreement so I must do nothing. And secondly, you must be a producer for the American Idol code to apply and you're not. And thirdly, the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules. Welcome aboard the Crappy Singermobile, Miss Cowell."