From: jgacker@news.gsfc.nasa.gov (James G. Acker)
Subject: B&B:  Dark Side Wednesday
Summary:  pant pant slobber drool
Keywords: wow
Organization: Goddard Space Flight Center
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
Date: Thu, 15 Oct 1992 20:57:08 GMT


In honor of yesterday's episode, we bring you

**************************************************
     "BENEATH THE VALLEY OF THE DARK SIDE"
**************************************************

For Dark Side neophytes, here's the nickname
list for today's episode:

Brookula --- Brooke
Sludge ----- Ridge
Lay 'er ---- Taylor
Ferret  ---- Eric
Squealer --- Sheila
Spacy ------ Macy
Throne ----- Thorne
Snare 'im -- Karen
Slime ------ Sly
Mr. Slimy Photog --- Gary Walker
disBelief -- Belief (fabric treatment)

     Wednesday on "The Glitz and the Glorious"

     PUT IT IN PRINT?  ARE YOU KIDDING -- I'M BANKING ON A
BILLBOARD!

     In the Forrester laboratory, Brookula and her able-
bodied assistant are checking on the stocks.  Newt's eyes,
bat tails, deviled eggs, fairy dust, Brylcreem -- yup, it's
all here!  Able-bodied assistant leaves.  Brookula dials up
Sludge.  Meet me in the lab pronto or I burn the disBelief
formula!  she orders.
     Sludge thunders down the stairs and pounds on the lab
door.  Let me in!  Brookula hits the remote and Sludge comes
in, slobbering in fear.  How can you burn the formula if
it's on disk?  he asks.  Ever heard of refrigerator magnets?
Brookula smiles sweetly.  I give one to Eric Jr., and
disBelief is history.  But that's not why I asked you down
here.  Brookula shows Sludge the pic that Mr. Slimy Photog
snapped -- the innocent kiss for the press.  Taken from
Slimy Photog's angle, the kiss looks like an ad for "Basic
Instinct".  Good golly Miss Molly!  Sludge quavers, is he
going to publish this?  I might as well pick up the divorce
papers for Lay 'er if this hits the press!  No need to
dissolve, Sludge, I've already handled it.  I promised Mr.
Slimy Photog an exclusive while I'm in labor in exchange for
the pics and the negative.  Whew!  Sludge says, that was a
close one.  And pretty unBeliefable, considering you could
have cadged a couple grand from Hef for some of our other
"private" shots a couple of years ago!  You've really
changed!  Yes, I have, Brookula reminds him.  I didn't want
Lay 'er to see this and think I was trying to maneuver you
back "into the saddle", boss hoss.
     Sludge relaxes and wanders around the lab, and finds
some books.  "Bobby and Me and Baby Makes Three" by Whitney
Houston.  "The Sensuous Single Mother" by Susan Sarandon.
"How to Have a Baby, Keep Your Role, and Lose Two Husbands"
by Marcy Walker.   "Having My Baby" by Paul Anka.  "Baby,
Baby" by Amy Grant.  "Ooooh, Love to Love You Baby" by Donna
Summer.  "How to Raise Children in a Warm and Loving Family
Environment" by Woody Allen and Mia Farrow.  "The Successful
Single Mother without Ferret or Sludge" by Bradley Bell.
This one looks interesting!  Sludge says to Brookula, though
the author has trouble with continuity.  Why are you
planning to be a single mother?  Neither I nor Dad is
going to ignore your spawn, er, child.  Hey, I've got to
face reality, Brookula says:  Ferret is slobbering over
Squealer and you and Lay 'er have been trolling for
zipperfish for some time now!  I can handle it, Brookula
claims.  Though it would be nice to have a breathing coach
at Lamaze class or somebody to tell me I'm an attractive
blimp.  You sure are, Sludge assures her.  Suddenly...
     OUCH!  What?  Sludge says, alarmed.  Oh, just a field-
goal attempt inside the panty line -- she's going to play
football.  She?
     (Did Brookula get ultrasound?)  Want to feel?  Just as
long as we're not having the Big One right here.  Don't be
silly, NOVEMBER is sweeps month.  Sludge fondles the tum-
tum. KIck!  KICK!  Wow -- we're talking a punter here!
Brookula tells him that she's 99.9% sure that he feels his
genes kicking.  (Quoting "Honeymoon in Vegas":  "Like 99.9%
isn't completely sure, right?"  "I KNOW THAT NOW!") They
break the bonding and go back to work, but Brookula senses
she's getting into his blood again.

     MERE WORDS ARE NOT ENOUGH

     Spacy bakes a cake, while the camera pans upward.  Yum.
Want to lick... the spoon?  Throne comes over and asks
what's going on.  Not much, Spacy says, just housework.
What are you and Snare 'im planning tonight.  Oh, to go out
somewhere and drink.  You guys go out a lot.  There's
something to be said for home activities.  Such as?  Well,
I'm going to stitch up my Christmas dress.  And?  Why don't
you break your date and find out?  Spacy says seductively
while licking the cake knife.  It's been awhile since you
tasted some sweets, hasn't it tiger?
     Throne groans.  Don't remind me.
     Well, time for my shower.  Spacy pauses and poses mid-
profile, asking Throne if in light of the continuing drought
if he'd like to help conserve water -- I'm sure Snare 'im
would understand.  (HA! Should I be writing for this show or
what?  Her line was nothing compared to mine!)  Her come-
hither look scores a 9.5 -- on the Richter scale.  (Fashion
note:  Spacy in tight jeans and tighter-fitting T-shirt
blouse -- I'd grab your Soap on a Rope, Throne!)  Just as
Throne starts to follow Spacy showerward, Snare 'im arrives
home.  Thwarted!  Snare 'im grabs him from behind.  Throne
is still mentally soaping Spacy as Snare 'im tells him about
her day at the office, the plans for all-woman Spectra,
Spacy having conniptions about the paper clip budget, etc.
Let's go out and party and forget about it!  Snare 'im
suggests.
     Throne says he can see that she'll be a great
businesswoman.  His mind is still in the shower.
     And a great woman! she says, flashing her swimsuit
under the three-piece suit.  So what's Spacy up to?  Oh,
she's going to stay home and do needlepoint, Throne says.
Needlepoint? Isn't that for old biddies?  It can be
interesting when done in the nude, Throne says.  Yeah, but
you want to party, don't you, Throne?  (Spacy, clad only in
a towel -- be still, my Dark Side heart, is now listening.)
The Bikini's having an end-of-summer bash.  Beer and bodies
or needlepoint nappies, you make the call!
     Throne and Snare 'im head for the bar.
     Spacy is miffed.  Old biddy, huh?  We'll see about
that!
     Hand trembles on the remote control...
     Spacy emerges from the boudoir clad in a metal print
leopard-skin bikini and a short black skirt.  Hair is done
to the nines.  PAUSE BUTTON.
     Several minutes later, real time...
     Spacy moves over to the phone and calls up the Bikini
Bar.  Framed from the midriff up.  PAUSE BUTTON.  PAPER
BAG. (for the hyperventilation)
     Several hours later, real time...
     
     [It's about time, Bradley!  But too much of this would
be bad for my health, and for my Good Side!
	Would more Macy be considered...  Eakesploitation?]
     
     Slime answers the phone and greets Spacy.  Spacy asks
what's happenin', Slime?  We're having an "Endless Summer"
party, Slime informs her (actual dialogue).  That's original!
(actual dialogue).  Do you have a live band?  No, but
several good dead ones (actual dialogue).  Spacy's reply
leads Slime to think Spacy is bringing the hubby on a date.
Spacy hangs up with a gleam in her eye, and says "Perfect!"
     At ze Bikini Bar, Throne walks in and greets Slime.
Jeez, did you take a helicopter? (I KNEW they read my
stuff!)  Throne tells Slime he's gotta stop skimming the
drinks.  But your date called...  Throne introduces Slime to
his date Snare 'im, and orders beers at the table.  Slime
says "You're going to need more than a couple brews after
tonight," and lays on a two-second reaction face shot that
was priceless.  Give this guy a goil!
     Throne and Snare 'im do the Twist on the dance floor.
Spacy arrives and sees.  Slime asks her if she's doing O.K.
Spacy says never better, I've got it all under control.  She
asks Slime to introduce her to the band.  Slime does so.
The head singer is a Nirvana reject, and Spacy makes a
request.  He talks it over with the boys in the band.  You
could be makin' a complete fool outta yo fine self, Slime
says.  I've got other fools in mind, Spacy says, eyeing
Throne and Snare 'im at the table.  The band says we're with
you, and Spacy says let's do it, climbing on stage and
leaving us with one last touch on the PAUSE BUTTON.

     
     Tune in next time, when we might hear the paramedics
say:
     "We found him lying across the couch, staring at the
TV screen.  Sad."

     Signed, the DARK SIDE

     a.k.a. jgacker@neptune.gsfc.nasa.gov