Kelly peeked her head into
the room, wearing a black trench coat over her outfit.
"Hi, I'm Kelly," she bubbled
cheerfully, boasting a great big grin fitting for a toothpaste commercial.
Mysterio, being the one closest to her, naturally began to return her greeting.
"Hey, my name's--" he started
to say, then let out an, "Oof!" when he was promptly shoved facedown onto
the floor by the only male with long hair in the room, as Jericho zipped
in to take Mysterio's place.
"Hey, how you doin'?
I'm Chris Jericho, huge rock star," he greeted, and began to wish for his
nice shiny pants and equally flashy checkered shirts rather than the ridiculously
baggy jeans and white wifebeater that Mulder had forced him to wear as
part of his pretty boy image.
"Hi, I'm Kelly," Kelly repeated,
her smile growing bigger, if that was even humanly possible. From the back,
a still bleach blonde Helms chirped up brightly, "Hi, I'm Gregory!" before
suddenly quieting down when Jericho turned around and shot him a glare,
as if to say, You got to look at Lita's thong first, so it's only fair
that I get to flirt with Kelly first! Turning back around, he tried
to remember the pick-up line he'd been working on, then gave up when he
realized that he'd completely forgotten, and instead repeated his initial
greeting.
"Hi, I'm Jericho."
There was a grunt from the floor, as Jericho reluctantly added, "And
that's Rey Mysterio."
"Thank you," Mysterio could
be heard mumbling.
Just then, there was the
sound of someone clearing his throat, but when that didn't work and Jericho
and Kelly continued to grin goofily at each other, Mulder spoke up pointedly,
"Kelly is going to be your new manager, and I'm afraid she has to go now
to get you signed to that pop contract with Lè Major Teenybopper
Labels record company."
"Oh, right," Kelly muttered,
and started to bounce out the door, before Mulder quickly grabbed her arm
and whispered fiercely, "Now remember, don't say a word, just hand him
this note--" he thrust a slip of paper into her hand, "--and take off your
coat. Got it?" Kelly made a saluting motion.
"Aye, aye, captain," she
sang out brightly. Mulder gave her a sour look.
"You've got the wrong hand,"
he told her. Kelly glanced up, figured he must be right, and shrugged.
"Okay, then. Gotta go,"
she chirped, unfazed, and bounced out the door and down the hall, getting
into the shiny red Benz that Lita had hijacked earlier and driving off
to the Lè Teenybopper offices.
Mulder, meanwhile, turned
around, satisfied that this time for sure, Seven Degrees Celsius would
finally get signed on.
"All right, you three,"
he began, motioning to Jericho, Helms, and Mysterio, "since this time you're
going to shoot a legit music video for Seven Degrees Celsius, we're going
to have to pick a song as your first single." Three blank stares met him
in reply. Mulder blinked.
"What?" he wanted to know.
"Um..." Mysterio spoke up
sheepishly, "we kind of sort of really don't have any songs written." When
Mulder failed to reply, Jericho turned to Helms accusingly and snapped,
"You know, we could have already gotten at least one lousy song
written by now, if the mighty superhero over here hadn't wasted all afternoon
looking for that damn mutt of his!" At this accusation, Helms turned to
face his frontman, guns a blazin'.
"Hey, you leave Fido the
Wonder Pup out of this!" he pouted. Mulder, meanwhile, was beginning to
feel yet another incoming headache, and since he'd spent the better half
of the day popping Tylenols, he really didn't feel like taking yet another
pill. That, and he'd run out of Tylenol, and wasn't sure he wanted to make
the switch to Excedrin.
"Will you two just calm
down?" he ordered. "How many times do I have to tell you two, pop bands
aren't supposed to write their own songs, they just twirl around and do
stupid dances, and look pretty for the millions of little thirteen-year-old
teenyboppers! What do you think hired studio songwriters are for?" Jericho,
Helms, and Mysterio looked blank at the hired songwriters remark, as if
they had no idea what Mulder meant.
"Hired songwriters are supposed
to write songs for pop bands," Mulder repeated patiently. "Now, I'm sure
that right now, our own writers, Mr. Austin and Mr. Angle, are working
very
hard on coming up with an original single for you three."
"I thought they just wrestled
for the WWE like we did," Helms spoke up.
"I
thought they came
here for a janitorial job," Jericho replied, shrugging.
"I thought they came
along as Lita's redneck-and-ultra-dork tag-ons," Mysterio chipped in his
two cents. At this, the other three men turned around to stare at him.
Mysterio shrugged, and dug his hands into his pockets.
"Well, I did..."
he mumbled grumpily.
Meanwhile, cue the cameras
back to Room 316, which was the hired songwriters' office, to reveal two
muscly men in their thirties; one a fearsome-looking six-footer with no
hair, a dark blonde beard, and a black T-shirt with a giant What? written
on the front in white and a smoking skull painted on the back. The other
looked relatively less harmless, with his equally bald head, bright blue
eyes, and rather patriotic red-white-and-blue attire. The scary redneck
bald one was Hired Songwriter Number One, Mr. "Stone Cold" Steve Austin,
the less scary all-American bald one was Hired Songwriter Number Two, Mr.
Kurt Angle. Right now, Steve Austin was working on a beer pyramid, while
Kurt Angle was still on the phone, getting bossed around by his grandmother.
"Ninety-nine cans of Steveweiser
on the wall, ninety-nine cans of Steveweiser! What? I said, ninety-nine
cans of Steveweiser on the wall, ninety-nine cans of Steveweiser! If Stone
Cold Steve Austin were to drink them all--What? I said, if Stone Cold Steve
Austin were to drink them all, ninety-nine new cans of Steveweiser on the
wall! What? I said, ninety-nine new cans of Steveweiser on the wall!" Austin
sang, horribly off-key, and tossed yet another empty can of beer at the
pyramid. Meanwhile, over by the phone, Angle was saying into the mouthpiece,
"Yes, Grandma, Karen and I did get your Christmas cookies. They
just came three months, late, that's all. But Grandma, I don't want to
wear that bunny suit to your birthday party, what will everyone think?
No, Grandma! I'm an Olympic Champion, darn it! I should be able to put
my foot down! Yes, Grandma, I'll wear the bunny suit. And yes, I'm going
to go wash my mouth out with soap right now."
A little scrap of paper, titled, "Pop Songs For Seven Degrees Celsius" was lying forlornly on a little table, completely ignored save for a few beer and milk stains.
Over at the Lè Teenybopper
offices, the bimbo behind the receptionist's desk chirped, "Like, the boss
is ready to see you, Miss." Kelly stood up and pranced her way into the
office, and the receptionist closed the door behind her and went back to
her very important duties of polishing her nails and wondering why that
redheaded street girl never came back for her tiny little tube top. Meanwhile,
inside his office, the wannabe French executive of the pop juggernaut glanced
up at the trench-coat-clad Kelly in boredom, before demanding to know,
"Yes? What can I do for you, Miss?" Kelly started to speak up, then remembered
Mulder's instructions--specifically on how she wasn't to say a word--and
chirped, "Oh, I'm not supposed to say anything; I just have to give this
to you." And she handed over the note Mulder had thrust into her hands.
The executive reluctantly accepted the piece of paper, and read what it
had to say. In bold print, Mulder had written, SIGN. SEVEN. DEGREES. CELSIUS.
TO. POP. CONTRACT. NOW!!! The executive felt like laughing out loud, as
he started to say, "I'm sorry, Miss, but I've got an appointment with the
manager of T&A, and..." Kelly then remembered the second part of Mulder's
instructions, and said, "Oh, and I'm also supposed to take off my coat."
And she stripped out of said coat, revealing the tiny red minidress she
had on underneath. The executive's eyes boggled out, as he immediately
grabbed a pen and a bunch of contracts.
"I'll sign whatever you
want," he drooled, having lost his phony French accent, while Kelly just
stood there and preened, feeling proud that she had succeeded where both
Rachel and Lita had failed.
"And they call me stupid,"
she muttered under her breath.
Mysterio glanced at Jericho and Helms, as the two viewed the TV screen with such interest that he began to wonder whether he had missed anything. Hmm, the storyline seems simple enough, Mysterio thought to himself. A bunch of busty lifeguard bimbos in tiny red bathing suits save drowning fat people, then proceed to save the dolphins and find hidden treasure buried by pirates over five hundred years ago. His nose scrunched up, as he added silently, I wonder why they're so interested in this Baywatch thing. Hmm, I wonder what they're thinking. Jericho, meanwhile, was staring enraptured at the monitor, thinking to himself, Hah! Helms was so totally wrong! There is no way Carmen Electra is hotter than Pamela Anderson. Blondes all the way! His eyebrows furrowed, as he glanced out of the corner of his eyes at Helms, observantly studying the TV, and wondered to himself, Gee, I wonder what the junior's thinking about. Helms, meanwhile, was watching the screen as the trio waited for either Kelly to return with the contract or Austin and Angle to finally finish the first single that would go with Seven Degrees Celsius's first music video. I'm hungry, he complained silently to himself, watching all the boobs bouncing on the screen. Me want food, me want food, me want food...Huh, I wonder why I've got a craving for watermelons all of a sudden.
Just then, the door to the
creative office slammed open, and Austin and Angle emerged triumphantly
from the room marked 316, waving a bunch of papers around.
"We've got the single! Woo!"
Angle celebrated. "Oh, it's true, it's true."
"If you want to look at
the song that me and that sumbitch have written--What? I said, if you want
to look at the song that me and that sumbitch have written, give me a hell
yeah!" Austin demanded. Mulder walked over, darting wary looks at the two
muscular macho men, before meekly snatching the papers from the duo without
giving any hell yeah's and beginning to read the "extremely creative original
song" that the two had composed for Seven Degrees Celsius's first ever
single.
"Our names are Seven Degrees
Celsius, and we're a bunch of sissies! What? I said we're a bunch of sissies!
What? What? Oh, it's true, it's true. We're a bunch of girly men. What?!
I said we're a bunch of girly men, 'cuz we're a boy band! What? I said
we're a boy band. The truth hurts. It's true, it's true. What? What? What?
What? I said, what? It's true, it's true. We're a boy band, and we're sissies!
It's true, it's true. What? What? What? What? What? What? Oh, it's true,
it's true..." Mulder stopped reading, as he shot incredulous looks at both
Austin and Angle, who had been nodding along to the "lyrics" at a beat
only they knew about. Angle, meanwhile, stopped singing along to the "song"
the two creative geniuses had composed, long enough to ask, "Why'd you
stop reading? Keep going, there's about a hundred more of those. Oh, it's
true, it's true!" Mulder resisted an urge to throw the lyrics onto the
floor and stomp on them till they were nonexistent, before replying, tight-lipped,
"I think I've read enough."
Just then, Kelly dashed into
the room, her long black coat flying behind her as she burst out excitedly,
"I got it! I got us the deal!" Mulder felt his heart sinking.
"Oh, great," he muttered
under his breath. "Now we've got a contract, and no song!" He turned to
Austin and Angle, ready to send them off on the same mission as Lita, before
Mysterio spoke up reasonably, "But we don't have a song. How are we going
to shoot that music video?" Jericho glanced up, and spoke proudly, "Do
you want to wait a couple of days for me to write a single? I am
a huge rock star, you know!" Mulder didn't have that kind of time; the
show was only supposed to take two weeks to complete, and they were already
well into the second week.
"No; you see, not only are
we on an extremely tight budget, but we're also on an extremely tight schedule,"
he explained. "Besides, I told you three countless times before, we want
a pop song, not a rock song." Shrugging, Jericho turned around and continued
viewing Baywatch, withdrawing his offer. Mulder thought over his
options, but there really weren't that many, so he finally came to the
conclusion that they had no choice except for one.
"Come on, Seven Degrees
Celsius, let's get to work," he ordered. Jericho, Helms, and Mysterio looked
up, startled.
"What? You mean we are going
to shoot a music video anyway?" Helms wanted to know.
"Yes." Mulder nodded firmly.
"But we don't even have
a single," Jericho pointed out logically.
"Well, then, we're just
going to have to rip off the song you three have been practicing your pop
dance routine to," Mulder retorted. He paused, before dropping the bomb.
"NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye." And he motioned for the trio to follow him
out of the studio.
"And don't even think
of fainting, you three!" Mulder warned.
Jericho, still decked out
in his ultra-preppy clothes and a backwards baseball cap, stood smack dab
in the middle of a fairly well-equipped set. Beside him were the bleach-blonde
Helms and eyebrows-pierced Mysterio, both shoved into equally hideous outfits.
Mulder, sitting on a director's chair with Kelly by his side, announced
dramatically, "And...action!" Someone pressed a switch, and the opening
notes of 'NSYNC's pop single began blaring full-volume out of a row of
speakers.
"Bye bye bye..." the chorus
began. Meanwhile, the trio standing awkwardly in the middle of the set
froze upon hearing the dismayingly familiar chorus of girly voices, and
promptly readied themselves to faint.
"What the hell do you think
you're doing?!" Mulder hollered. "Start lip synching! Start dancing!" Seven
Degrees Celsius, meanwhile, turned blank eyes on their director. Mulder
felt like tearing his hair out in frustration, as, beside him, Kelly sweetly
offered an Excedrin pill and a glass of water.
"Thank you," Mulder murmured
gratefully, taking the medication from her and swallowing them. Feeling
better, Mulder turned and focused his attention on the frontman of Seven
Degrees Celsius, deciding to break them down individually rather than as
a group. "C'mon, Jerky! You're the supposed pretty boy of the band, now
do something a pretty boy would do!" Jericho turned blankly, a befuddled
expression on his face as he digested Mulder's words.
"What am I supposed to do?"
he asked, as a recording of "Bye Bye Bye" continued to be sung, um, harmonized,
um, droned, in the background. "Blow kisses or something?"
"How should I know?" Mulder
snapped impatiently. "Do the grind or something!" Jericho hesitated.
"Um...isn't that kind of...um,
you know...Patrick Swayze-slash-stripper-ish?" he finally ventured in a
tiny voice. Mulder made an impatient noise deep down his throat, before
he pointed out in an irritable voice, "Yes, well, seeing as how you recently
treated all fans to the Candian version of The Nutcracker..."
"Eh...you've got a point
there," Jericho admitted, and reluctantly launched into a stunning rendition
of what he thought was the grind. Kelly, meanwhile, who was leaning over
in her chair to watch, tilted a bit too far and fell off her metal folding
chair, getting dumped unceremoniously onto her face.
"Ouch," she grumbled. Just
then, the chair itself collapsed onto her back. As the loud metallic clattering
noises resounded, Jericho paused amid his newly dubbed Huge Rock Star Wiggle,
and looked over in concern in the direction of the fall.
"I'm okay!" Kelly called
out from underneath a heap of metal.
Kelly, with her arm in a
cast and sling, watched as Jericho continued to do his version of the grind
and badly attempting to lip sync to "Bye Bye Bye." Meanwhile, Helms and
Mysterio stood on either sides of him, not knowing what else to do and
half-heartedly attempting at lip synching every now and then. Mulder, having
taken care of Seven Degrees Celsius's frontman, now moved on to the other
two members.
"All right, you two," he
called out, motioning to Helms and Mysterio. "You two, get beside Jericho
and start dancing! We're trying to shoot a pop music video here, so start
dancing and look pretty!"
"But I don't know how to
dance like that--" Mysterio started to protest, with Helms mimicking his
actions.
"Doesn't matter; improvise
or something," Mulder ordered irritably. Mysterio and Helms looked uncertainly
at each other, then dared a glance at the wiggling and twirling Jericho,
and shrugged.
"Okay, then," Mysterio finally
murmured hesitantly, as, taking deep breaths, the two prepared to "dance".
To Jericho's left (camera-wise), Mysterio promptly started going into convulsions,
while to Jericho's right, Helms began to hump the air. Jericho, meanwhile,
just kept on doing The Huge Rock Star Wiggle, much to the delight of a
now bandaged Kelly.
Fortunately for Seven Degrees
Celsius and Mulder, the dancing part of the video shoot was finally done,
and Mulder had shipped off the footage to the editors who were going to
cut out some of the more embarrassing moments and make it appear as though
the trio was actually dancing on walls and ceilings. Now came the supposedly
easy part--shooting the marionette scene. As the group entered the new
studio, Helms glanced around awestruck at the setting, and beamed.
"Hey, cool, a real studio
and everything--I feel like a total movie star," he chirped brightly, dancing
inside. "Wow, is that a real Lès Paul?" Walking over, he bent down
and clutched at the instrument lovingly.
"Gee, wonder who left behind
all the pyro equipment--I guess a real rock band must've rented this studio
out before us," the superhero guessed. He didn't have to ponder over this
for long, though, when Kelly got curious and decided to check out the flash
pots.
"Hey, what does this do?"
Kelly wanted to know. In typical Kelly fashion, she acted before getting
her question answered, and went ahead and pressed the switches anyway.
"Yeowch! My butt!"
There was a burst of fireworks,
as Jericho and Mysterio's eyes bugged out, before they shot sympathetic
looks at where Helms was, clutching said sore spot. Kelly, who had set
off the pyro right behind Helms's, um, behind, looked down guiltily as
Helms turned around to glare at her.
"Oh, oops," she mumbled.
"Sorry." Turning her attention somewhere else, she asked, "Hey, what does
this do?" Another burst of fireworks.
"Ouch! Kelly, quit setting
my butt on fire!" Helms complained, hands laced protectively over said
area of his body. Kelly shrugged.
"Sorry," she apologized
automatically.
"Ahem."
Everyone turned around to look at Mulder, clearing his throat pointedly.
"Can we please just get
this over with?" he wanted to know. Jericho shrugged, and started to walk
over to him.
"Yeah, sure," he began to
say, passing by Helms and Kelly. "I mean, we would all like to go home,
and--Ow! My hair!" Jericho's hand automatically shot up to his scalp, as
Kelly guiltily withdrew one arm, the one responsible for pulling at Jericho's
red-tipped golden mane.
"Sorry," she apologized.
It was almost a routine for her now. "Hmm, guess those weren't extensions,
after all."
"Right, they're not extensions,"
Mulder remarked tiredly. He then handed over a marionette control to Kelly,
as he said, "Just get into position as the puppeteer, okay?" Jericho and
Helms were instantly on guard.
"Wait...wait a minute,"
Helms began to say.
"She's
the one who's
going to be hoisting us into the air?" Jericho choked out, fear clearly
evident in his voice. Kelly looked insulted.
"Why do you say that like
it's a bad thing?" she wanted to know, pouting. "I mean, I'll do just as
good a job as Rachel or Lita would have done!"
Five Minutes Later...
"Ouch!" Mysterio complained,
rubbing his sore bottom. Kelly peeked over sheepishly from where she'd
dropped him onto his behind in a rather unceremonious fashion.
"Oops, sorry," she apologized.
Thankfully for the three WWE Superstars, their show was wrapped up on schedule, and the trio got to go home--and as far away from Kelly Bundy as possible--afterwards, so that they could change out of their silly matching outfits, Mysterio could get his eyebrow rings taken out (he'd grown to like them, but the damn things wouldn't stop jiggling!), and Helms, after seventeen consecutive trips to the shower and the hair salon, finally managed to wash all the banana blonde dye out of his hair.
Two months later, when the WWE episode aired, the viewers were treated to a spectacular masterpiece which depicted, amongst other things, Rachel getting demoted to answering machine operator, Lita's thong (for the men), a crazy redheaded chick in Lita beating the living crap out of some motorist and then hijacking his Benz to beat up a snotty executive, the three WWE Superstars doing aerobics, Kelly in a tiny little minidress for the men, and for the ladies, a trio of tanned and well-muscled young men clad in tiny Spandex shorts and flimsy little tank tops, all hot and sweaty as they jumped around and tried to keep up with their annoying aerobics instructor. They were also treated to a completely butchered version of 'NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" music video, which Mulder had half-heartedly attempted to disguise by changing the song name to "Hi Hi Hi."
Naturally, Jericho, Helms, Mysterio, Mulder, and the XYZ Network got their asses sued off by 'NSYNC for ripping off their song. Meanwhile, as Mulder was busy sifting through lawsuits and legal documents, a "very mysterious fire" broke out at the Miami summerhouse where 'NSYNC was staying at while shooting their newest music video. The cause of the fire was supposedly the types of flash pots and pyro one would find at a rock concert, such as KISS, Creed, or, if we may be so bold as to go out on a limb here, the type of fireworks found at a WWE wrestling event. But fortunately for 'NSYNC (or unfortunately, depending on where a person stands for teenypop), the boy band had been out wrapping up the video shoot, and nobody got hurt.
~ The End ~