As a tribute to the ridiculous amount of reality shows going on out there, Paris and Rory get cast in a television show. Both their relationships are a little rocky at the moment. Paris' being she's... well, Paris. And Rory's relationship troubles are... hard to describe. Man, this summary is a bust.I assure the actual story is a lot better.But anyways, they get cast in a reality tv show. They think it's just a surreal life type of show but it's actually a poll on how long it'll take for the two guys living with them to deflower them. Jess is a little less than happy, and Jamie is more than a little concerned. It's an R/J.

Rory had finally come to a simple, obvious conclusion.

This whole thing was Jess' fault.

If he hadn't canceled their plans in the first place and met up with her at the bookstore like they'd planned, she wouldn't have found herself trying to (and failing miserably) fend off Paris, who had taken a strange liking to complaining about the lack of books on the practice of anal cancer in the Hartford library (thus driving all the way to Stars Hollow bookstore). After taking careful note of sending Hartford library an angry letter to stock up on more books on anal cancer, a flustered Rory didn't hesitate to phone up the unreliable Jess and take the liberty to call him a 'self-imposed bipolar dolt.' Where he had responded with an indifferent 'huh… hold on I wasn't paying attention what?' right before she picked that moment to angrily hang up, mentally patting herself on the back for her nomination-worthy sissy fit fest. The satisfaction was short lived though, seeing Paris had gone from discussing her fear of reproduction organs to launching into a full on monologue in painful, excruciating detail the procedure for properly removing the gentials of a spider monkey.

And that was the scene in which the lady in blue had found them. Curiously intrigued, the lady in blue soon found herself approaching the latter and tapping the less scary looking, brunette one on the shoulder. Where she found herself greeted by a desperate 'save me save me' smile and an invitation to join their rather disturbing discussion over spider monkey reproductive organs.

"No, actually," the lady in blue replied, rather alarmed, "I… was wondering if I could talk to you two for a minute."

Paris shot the lady her infamous My-name-is-Paris-Gellar-you-killed-my-father-prepare-to-die-glare, "What are you, a sales collector? A spritzer? I like the way I smell thank you very much."

"No actually, I—we, the executives at Vzechy Records, are looking for… talent, you could say."

Paris scoffed, or snorted. It actually ended up as a rather fascinating combination of a scoff and a snort, "In Stars Hollow? You're looking for talent in the capital of pig racing? Take your meds, lady-- and move on to Zimbabwe, I hear they make nice fruit baskets there, at least."

The brunette, as the lady noted, shot the scary girl an offended look, the same look one would shoot another if they had brutally beaten and dumped their cat in a sewer, "Hey, Star Hollow has talent."

"Oh yes, I'm sure herding sheep is a great asset to have in Ireland. But in America, where talent is considered shaking your lower half around a pole with the coverage equal to that of a piece of ribbon, I highly doubt your Bo Peep get up will come in handy. Unless it's a kink."

"Okay first off, ew. And second, they're not sheep. They're mule."

"Oh they're sheep all right. I've seen the sacrifical burials, Gilmore."

"Sacrificial…--Paris, that's your backyard."

"My backyard is not a cemetery."

"Then explain the holy cross sign sticking from the patch of dirt with Brad Langsford's picture."

"… I am not at liberty to discuss that."

"He hasn't been in school for months Paris."

"--Not discussing, not discussing…"

"I bumped into his mother the other day and she burst into a charade of stabbing hand motions when I mentioned your name."

"There are words coming from your lips but I can't quite make out what you're saying…"

Instead of becoming incredibly uneasy and cautiously backing away from the two like a animaphobic would to a lion, the lady became increasingly excited. Almost too excited. Thereby concluding to the average eye that this lady in blue, to become so excited over sacrificial burials, was either insane or a murderer.

"Brilliant! That's exactly the 'it' we need in our show!"

Both girls' heads shot towards the lady in the blue at once, "What?"

"It!" The lady gestured enthusiastically towards the two.

The girls shared a confused glance, "Another Bush supporter?"

"Oh yeah."

"Best thing to do is to back away slowly."

"Backing away starting now."

The lady let out a laugh and slapped the two playfully (or painfully, depending on your position in the situation) on the back, "Aha! The endless wit!"

Paris whispered quietly to Rory, shooting the lady a cautious glance, "Abusive?"

"Looks that way."

"Ditch Plan A. I vote we Forest Gump our way out of this."

"Start running and don't stop till we're half a country away."

"Or at least to the nearest mental facility. We could pay a tribute to Brad while we're there."

"Aha! So you did do something to him!"

"Absolutely not. The hand prints on his neck were not mine. Neither did I have anything to do with the curious incident in which a shovel went flying at his face."

"You disfigured his face?"

"Losing your nose and half your skin cells is hardly disfiguring."

"… Paris his entire head has gone square."

"I am not at liberty to discuss that."

The lady in blue let out an involuntary shriek of giddy, yet disturbing, excitement, "Brilliant! This is brilliant! Stars! The people will love you!"

Rory and Paris simultaneously took one look at the strange glint in the crazy lady's eyes, complete with the rabid chicken-like motion of her arms, and bolted, where they 'Forest Gump'ed their way safely into the comfort of their cars.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Jess looked up from his book to his girlfriend, for the first time since the start of their conversation, as Rory took note of, in moderate amusement, "You're kidding me."

Rory shook her head, "I kid you not."

"Vzechy Records? You realize they sponser about every reality show that exists on earth right?"

"So?"

"So you're crazy. I'm dating a green roomer."

"Wow. How dare I refuse to do some cheap knock off show in which sex is a sport, showering is an option, and listening to a JV football player deflower a Texas cowgirl on a nightly basis will be my lullaby to sleep. I am just so unreasonably insane."

"Glad you see it from my point of view."

"You watch too much television."

"Well there's not much you could do around a place where the tree outside Gypsy's gas station is considered a historical landmark."

"Hey, it's where Seth Wilson's cat was found hiding after 3 consecutive weeks of searching, mister."

"And with the utter ridiculousness that goes on around here, I don't blame it."

Rory let an involuntary smile graze her lips before turning back to her coffee, while Jess shifted his attention towards the door, in which a crazy woman was excitedly snapping pictures.

"Jeez," Jess grumbled, "What the hell…"

Rory looked up, catching sight of the crazy woman with the camera, "Hey… that's the lady from the mall," she squinted at the figure, "And she has a camera. And a cell phone. And wow, is that Starbucks?" Not wasting another second, Rory jumped off the stool, "I'm going to go check it out. You, stay."

"I'll be good, Cruella."

So half an hour and a goodbye kiss later, Rory found herself in the lady in blue's office. With Paris. Who apparently was also dragged into this mess.

"So," the lady in blue started, an eery grin fixed on her face, "We are making… a show. A tape, really—

"I'm not doing porn," Paris cut in haughtily, shoving a stack of papers, which were nearly the width of her head, onto the lady in blue's desk, "Or if you insist, these are my obligations. An inhaler must be supplied for the intervals of rest in between, I tend to break out into hives when flustered so I'll need Neosporin, And I will not allow any removal of clothing futher than the coverage of that of a prostitute going to church."

"Um, actually," the lady began, "We're—

"Okay okay… a prostitute going to a funeral. But any more and that's pushing it lady!"

"It's not porn," the lady in blue replied, an easy smile slid across her face, "Or it might be, it all depends on what you decide to do on--

"Actually," Rory interrupted, internally wincing from the idea of pornography and wondering what the hell she'd gotten herself into, "We're both virgins."

Paris made a face, "Oh yeah. She's about the most virginic virgin you'll ever meet. One notch from joining a convent, if you please," she straightened then, and declared somewhat proudly, "I, on the other hand, have phallophobia."

The lady in blue stared in disbelief, "So you're saying… one of you is a self-imposed nun and the other is scared of the male reproductive organ?"

"Oh don't worry, you'll still have the cheap skank factor in your show," Paris replied brightly, "I'm not a virgin. Okay maybe I am. But the other day I was with my boyfriend, my very unvirginic boyfriend might I add, and we started—

"We'll be outside," Rory cut in quickly, grabbing Paris' arm and dragging her out before the conversation could take a crude spin.

After patiently waiting for the two to leave with a friendly smile, the lady in blue's smile quickly morphed into a look fueled solely by adrenaline as she took no time in hesitating to dive across her desk and snatch up the phone, dialing the number to the head of the records company.

"New plan. Forget what I said before. This new pitch will top the charts completely…"

…And that was the prologue. Yeah it's kind of stringy. But I wrote this after the next chapter as an attempt to make some sense out of it. So it'll piece together better once you read the next chapter. Okay not making much sense so shutting up now. It gets better by the way, so if you think this chapter sucked, then thenext chapter at least won't possibly suck as much