Muppets on a Plane

Recap of the latest mishap:  Jane and Mike are on a plane to Ohio where they will meet their dear friend Olivia and begin filming her wedding preparations for their reality tv show whether Olivia wants them to or not.  Ah, the beauty of friendship.

“Where are our seats?  How is this organized?” Jane mumbled as she made her way into the plane. 

“Oh my God, Ellie Mae, Jesus Christ.  Haven’t you ever been on a plane before?  We’re in Aisle 24, seats A and B.  Do you remember your alphabet, or should I start singing?” Mike asked, struggling with his and Jane’s carry-on.  “Here we are.  Sit down.”

“I call window!” Jane hollered and dove for the seat.  “Is there a movie on this flight?  Shouldn’t there be overhead music or something?  Ambiance to keep our moods up?”

“This isn’t a gym, weirdo.  They don’t play music,” Mike said.  He threw his simple black bag under his seat and then fought to stuff Jane’s pink mini suitcase into the overhead compartment.  After several tries, he surrendered and decided to leave it to the poor schmuck of a flight attendant.  Mike fell into the middle seat and rubbed his eyes. 

“I’m going to grab another beer when the flight attendant comes around, do you want anything?”

“Nope,” Jane said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out some pills.  “I’ve got Valium.  Taking this plane to La La Land.  You can wake me when we’re there.  I’m using my complimentary blanket that's made of rough tarp and I’m passing the fuck out.” 

“You’re leaving me to sit on this boring plane by myself?” Mike asked. 

“You’ll be fine on your own.  You can read a book or something.  You like to read, right?”

Jane put a sleeping mask over her eyes and swallowed her Valium.  “Nighty night.”

Mike sat and stared at the seat in front of him for a moment. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.  There was a ton of planning to be done to prepare for the next few days.  For starters he had no clue about what went into planning a wedding, so therefore, he had no idea what to expect.  He vaguely knew what was involved - flowers and food - but he knew nothing of specifics and couldn't really start planning out the shoots in his mind.  He whipped out his cell phone and made a quick call to the one person who could save his ass.  His wife.

The phone rang twice before Dottie picked it up.  The hollering of his three small girls could be heard in the background.

“Hi baby,” he said.  “I’m on the flight to Ohio.  Everything cool?  Did the kids kill someone?  Or are they still aiming to kill each other?”

“Hi babe!” she answered.  “We’re just painting the table and chair set for the new baby.  What’s up?”

“I need you to tell me how you planned our wedding.”

Dottie paused.  “Um, this isn’t really something that can be solved in a quick chat.  I guess I could send you an email about the bigger points, if you want.  Hold on a sec, Liza just got blue paint in Em’s ear.”

A blond flight attendant that could have been a pin-up model was starting to making an announcement about the impending departure and how cell phones and other electronic devices needed to be turned off.   Mike sunk deeper into the seat so as not to be noticed and waited for his wife to return.  Suddenly a small, elderly female midget appeared at his side and stared down at him with beady brown eyes.  She pointed at the seat.

“My seat,” she practically yelled at him.  “My seat.” 

Mike shrugged.  “Sure.  Your seat.  Go right ahead, ma'am.”

The midget had but one black eyebrow that ran across her wrinkled forehead, making her look like a puppet.  With a grunt, she threw a huge leather suitcase in Mike’s direction, smacking him in the shoulder. 

“You.  Under.  You help.”

“What the hell?” Mike cursed under his breath. 

“You help.  You help,” she yelled, shooing Mike with her hands. 

Dottie came back on the phone.  “Hi there, love.  Sorry, I just wanted to get that paint out of her ear before we had to take a trip to the hospital.  So you need an email about how to plan a wedding.  No worries.  I’ll do that tonight after everyone’s in bed.”

The furry midget was making hand gestures again.  “Help!  Help!  You help!”

“Look, babe, I’ve got to go,” Mike apologized.  “I’m sorry, I’ve got a situation here.  I’ve got to assist one of the Muppets in stowing her luggage.  Oh and I’ve got to make certain Jane is still breathing after taking a shitload of Valium.  Just another day.”

“Ok, I love you.  I’ll get you that email.”

“Love you too.” Mike hung up and looked into the beady eyes glaring into his soul.  He sighed and started struggling with the old, decrepit piece of luggage with the troll yelling out “Yes!” or “No!” the entire time.

Next to him, Jane was dreaming.    James had been playing the drums when Jane first caught sight of him and despite the fact that it was nine o’clock at night and she was already four sheets to the wind, lust-at-first-sight sobered her up so quickly it was like being dunked in ice water.

He was gorgeous and everything that Jane liked in a man.  His arms were muscular and bulged beneath his t-shirt as he hit the drums.  He kept his hair shaved and had a sexy short beard.  He kept his eyes shut for the most part during the set, as if he was part of the music.  Jane grabbed one of her nearby girlfriends.

“He’s amazing.  I want him.” she told her.  The woman nodded slowly and said nothing.  Jane looked and realized she had grabbed a complete stranger.  “Oh sorry, you’re nobody I know.  Don’t flirt with him.”

The woman quickly walked away and Jane headed to the front of the room near the stage, all the while keeping her eyes glued to James.  She was bumping into people, spilling drinks in her wake, but never once did she stop staring at the drummer. 

Without warning, he opened his eyes and returned her gaze.  Jane’s heart stopped.  Then the music stopped.  James rose up from behind the drums and grabbed the microphone. 

“I don’t have a 401K,” he said, his voice resonating across the room.  Jane stopped in her tracks.  “I don’t have a qualified retirement plan.  I don’t have paid vacation.  I have sick days, but only five of them are paid.”

Jane stood frozen in horror.  Still James continued, twisting the blade in the deeper.  “I don’t have long or short term disability.  I have health insurance through the state.  I have a checking account but no savings account.  I don’t have supplemental life insurance.”

Jane felt the beginnings of a blood curdling scream start in the back of her throat.  Then James brought out the big guns.

“I get paid by the hour.  I get paid under the table.  And I am over $7,000 in debt,” he called out to her above the heads of the silent bar patrons.

“What kind of debt?”  Jane was now screeching like a crazy nutbag.  “Education?” she gasped hopefully.

“No,” James answered.  “Credit card debt.  With very high interest rates.”

Jane put her hands up by her ears and screamed.  She didn’t even notice that now, like in all of her other nightmares, she was standing in the middle of bar, naked except for a pair of grayed granny panties.

In the real world, Mike saw that Jane was moving around in her slumber but decided against waking her.  Meanwhile, the furry, non-communicative gopher who had taken residence in the aisle seat had opted to take out her knitting and was occasionally whacking him with a needle. 

“What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” he asked no one in particular.  The midget nudged him hard with a stumpy arm.  She waved a skein of yarn in front of him. 

“You hold.  You hold now.”

Mike sighed, took hold of the yarn, and prayed that Ohio was close by.

Leaving on a Jet Plane... and Brawling with a Room Mother

Recap of the latest mishap:  Now that they have an approved show, Mike and Jane are ready to hit the road.  They've basically forced Olivia into accepting the idea that the preparation for her second wedding will be televised.  Now they're just waiting around to catch that flight to Ohio to begin the shoot.

“We’ve got thirty minutes before the flight and I bore easily.  There’s a bar over there.  Let’s go,” Jane instructed Mike as the two stood in the middle of the airport, carry-ons in hand. 

“It’s a restaurant/bar,” Mike corrected.  “Are you finally going to eat something or does subsisting on air work best for you?  No wait – you had some orange juice with the vodka this morning so maybe that counts as a day’s worth of calories in the Diet Book of Jane.”

“Fuck you.  I’m suggesting we stop there because I know when you don’t eat, you bitch and moan and there’s not enough valium in the world to shut you out,” Jane snapped and began dragging him towards the restaurant. 

It was your typical airport eatery – there was a bar area furnished in dark, shiny wood, with tall wooden chairs and a long mirror located behind the available booze.  Jane loved mirrors like that.  Not only did the reflection of the glass make it seem like that the bottles of alcohol went on forever, but you could catch a glimpse of how you looked if you positioned your head between the pretty glass containers.  Perfect for checking to see if you had food in your teeth or boogers in your nose.

Next to the bar area were some booths lined in red faux leather for those who actually wanted a sit-down meal.  A perky brunette hostess in a green and white striped apron went to approach them but Jane held up her hand and dismissed her, making a bee-line for the bar counter.  As soon as she was seated, Jane whipped out her laptop.

“You’re not going to look at the menu?” Mike asked.  “Even the martini menu?”

“I’ve got to get this thing with James rolling.  Login to Facebook.”

“Me?  Why?”

“Because he’s unfriended me, you douche!  And I can’t make him realize how much he still loves me if he’s forgotten I exist.  You’re still his friend, so login and let me see his profile!”

Mike shook his head and entered his information then slid the laptop back to Jane.  “There you go, stalker.”  A young bartender with heavy eyelids and bedhead sauntered over when he felt like it.  Mike ordered a burger and fries along with a Guinness.  He shut the menu and slid it across the bar.

“And you, miss?” the bartender inquired.  Jane’s head was deep in James’ posted photos, already looking for any sign of a current girlfriend.  She recognized one girl as his sister – Claire, or Courtney or Candy.  Whatever.  She recognized another as the singer in James’ band, but Jane was willing to bet that the singer was gay and not a threat. Still, she made a mental note to check into that.

“Miss?” the bartender asked.

“Martini.  Grey Goose.  Three olives.  Three.”  Jane requested without looking up. 

“Anything to eat?”

Jane’s eyes whipped up at him from the blue glow of the laptop.  “Does it look like I want something to eat?  Just a martini!”

The sleepy bartender bit his lip and furrowed his brow, but walked away without saying anything. 

Jane continued to click furiously through the tagged pictures, picking apart the other girls who dared to pose with James, leaving Mike to just suck on his beer and stare off into space as he waited for his meal.

“Nose is huge.”

“What’s with her duck lips?  Isn’t there a legal limit to how much Botox they can pump into you?

“Those boobs are fake.  Or she’s stuffing.  They’re fake.  Doesn’t matter, they’ll be saggin like Grandma Jones before she’s 40.”

“Oh my God, she looks like an Oompah Loompah with that tan.”

“That’s a guy… that’s gotta be a guy.  Pre-op, or something…”

Mike was halfway through a burger, Jane was on martini number two when she was finally ready to speak to another person and not at the portrait of a perfect stranger.  “I don’t think he’s dating anyone.”

“How can you tell, Sherlock?” Mike asked.  “It’s obvious you didn’t check his info tab like the rest of us normal human beings to see if he was ‘single’ or ‘in a relationship.’”

“Those status things don’t mean jack.  You have no idea how many greedy little bitches and bastards are on Facebook and don’t even mention that they’re freaking married, just to see who posts flirty shit on their walls.  It’s a huge ego boost. 

“And don’t even get me started on how insanely fake the typical person’s profile pic is.  They stand there like fools, holding their cameras out at arms length, taking about one thousand pics until they get one that looks half-way decent.  Then they Photoshop the shit out of that.  They look cute from that one warped angle when they’re literally as big as houses and homely as shit,” Jane ranted loudly, taking another sip of martini.  She popped two olives into her mouth.

“Ok, so you think he’s single,” Mike agreed.  “He’s unfriended you.  You have no way of getting in contact with him unless you call him or email him.”

Jane swallowed the olives.  “Not true.  I’ve got you.  You’re going to shoot him a message, asking if he has my phone number because you have this huge part in a TV series that you want to offer me.  Tell him that I’m the only one who can play the part.”

“What if he doesn’t have your phone number?  What if he erased it because of the awful way you treated him?

“He’ll still have it,” Jane promised her friend.  She paused for a moment.  “But if he doesn’t… then when he hits you back to tell you he doesn’t, tell him that you just found me on Facebook so you’re going to connect with me that way.”

“And what does any of this accomplish?” Mike asked, taking a full swig of drink.  “It just makes me look ridiculous because I can’t seem to find a way to contact my best friend through any reasonable avenue of communication.  Am I supposed to be living under a rock?”

“No, babe,” Jane said.  “It plants a seed.  If you mention calling me or reaching out to me, he’ll start thinking about it too.  Especially if he knows that I have something amazingly cool going on like my own television show.”

“You remember that the show is about Olivia, right?” Mike asked.  “Olivia is the one getting married.”

“You know I love that girl, but this is going to be my fucking shot at making it.  There’s no debating about that, thank you so much.”

“Excuse me,” a woman in a nearby booth called, obviously irritated by Jane’s language.  Mike held his breath when he saw that the lady was not only rocking mom jeans and a sweatshirt and turtleneck combo, but wearing white Keds as well.  She was like a pig waiting to be slaughtered by Drunk Jane. 

“I have small children,” she said, gesturing to the three vastly overweight blond-haired beasties who sat nearby.  Mounds of fries and nachos were in front of them and their fat little cheeks where shiny with grease and stained with ketchup.  Jane shrugged, pretending not to notice the family and turned her back to them.

“I have three small, children,” the mother repeated loudly.

“It’s not my fault birth control failed you,” Jane spat.  “What do you want?”

“I WANT you to watch your foul mouth around my kids,” the mom answered, her round face turning red with embarrassment, or anger, or high blood pressure.  “Before I call a manager.”

“Call a fucking manager, you oaf,” Jane said. “We’re in a fucking airport bar. If you and the three little pigs don’t want to hear my voice, then move the fuck away to another booth.”

There was a minute when no one quite knew what to do.  Mike sat frozen, chunks of unchewed burger in his mouth, eyes darting back and forth between Wonder Mom and Drunk Jane.  The bartender was standing close by, motionless but not frozen, secretly hoping that Wonder Mom was going to tackle Drunk Jane and beat her over the head with a kids’ menu.  Wonder Mom seemed to hesitate as she tried to decide her path of action and Drunk Jane remained just that.

It was the littlest of piglets who took the initiative to keep the night moving forward.  With unnervingly perfect aim, she threw a pair of plastic play keys at Jane.  The kids, Mike, the bartender, Wonder Mom and even Drunk Jane watched in amazement as the colorful keys flew through the air and nailed Jane right in her boob.

Jane screamed.  Mike motioned for the check. 

“It’s obvious my child knows evil when she sees it,” Wonder Mom said, crossing her flabby arms triumphantly across her shelflike bosom.    

“Look,” Jane growled, holding her injured boob in her hand and getting right into to Wonder Mom’s face.  “I am not going to tear you a new asshole in front of your kids.  But if I see you outside and your children are not around, I am going to rip that cheap sweatshirt off your body and strangle you with it.  I am a television star.  I could sue you and your fat family for every last Ring Ding you have but I’m not going to do that, because I pity you.  You’ll all be dead from plaque build-up in your arteries by your mid-fifties.  So I’m going to walk away like a fucking adult.”

With that, she turned and began walking out of the restaurant with Mike at her heels. Suddenly, Jane turned around and walked back to the table, this time addressing the kids.

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?” she demanded.  They nodded slowly, plump pink mouths hanging open.

“Well that’s too bad.  Because he’s dead.  Your mom killed him.  With her mini-van.  She keeps his head in your basement as a trophy.”

With that, Jane walked out.

Mike was standing in the glaring white lights of the airport’s main corridor.  “Gate 35,” he said.

“Send James that message before we board.”

DNA on the Futon and Olivia's Fear of Dark Holes

Recap of the latest mishap:  After passing out in Mike’s office chair and waking up next to a tasty-looking executive producer, Jane’s luck begins to look up.  Mike has come up with a reality TV show that will focus on Jane helping their friend Olivia plan and execute a wedding within five days.  A small problem – Olivia has no idea about any of this.

Mike sat on Jane’s lumpy futon as she ran around her matchbox of an apartment, stuffing clothes, shoes, hair product, make-up into suitcases, and cursing them when they refused to fit.  Then beating them into submission until they did.

“You!” she screamed from a bedroom that could have been mistaken as a closet.  “You will fit in there, you dumbass blow dryer.  I’m going to burn you with your friend the curling iron.  How would you like to be melted?”

“Stop threatening the appliances, they don’t respond to hostility,” Mike called.  “Is this futon the same one you had back at Emerson?  Didn’t you and Tommy Black have sex on this futon?”

“I had sex with a lot of people on that futon,” Jane called back.  “It’s like DNA soup in there.”

“Well, you’ve washed the cover at least, correct?” Mike asked, slowly getting up and walking away from the questionable convertible couch.  “It’s been ten years since this baby has seen the inside of a dorm.”

“Yeah, but you can only wash the covers, you know?” Jane explained as she walked across the room and threw down two huge bags in front to the door.  “And if I was going to get some – I was going to get some.  Futon cover or no futon cover.”  She opened a nearby closet and began throwing boxes of laxatives, motion sickness prevention pills, prescription pills, birth control, condoms and nips of liquor into a carry-on.

“Holy shit, it’s like a drug store in there,” Mike commented.  They had already stopped at his home to grab his stuff which fit neatly into two small bags and a carry-on.  Jane was now working on huge-piece-of-luggage-number-three and there was no end in sight. 

“We’re only shooting for a few days, babe,” he reminded her.  “And yet you’ve brought enough outfits to clothe an underprivileged village and enough laxatives and valium to kill them.  How many times do you expect to change in four days?”

“Don’t talk to me.  Stop talking,” Jane ordered.  “I need to concentrate.  I always think of my typical morning routine when I pack – I go through all of the things I use and then I pack them.  You’re breaking my concentration and I’m gonna forget something.”

“You’ll end up with a fucking second-hand shop in your suitcase and forget your underwear, you mean.”

“Don’t wear underwear.  Don’t need to.  Easy access.”

“Easy access?   Is it that complicated to pull down your underwear to take a shit?!” 

“No.  Well, maybe,” Jane pondered aloud.  “Once I was really drunk and I was wearing jeans.  I had to pee in a notorious way but the jeans were really tight, the stall was really small.  I fell against the door and it gave way.”

“So you fell onto a dirty bathroom floor with your pants half-way down?”

“No.  I fell on top of a woman and I’d only shimmied my jeans down by my ass.  The lady was pissed but only because I was using her boob as a stronghold to find my balance.  Once I let go, I went back into my stall and tried again,” Jane said, shrugging.  She threw another bag in front of the door.  “I basically don’t wear underwear because it’s easier to have sex whenever the moment catches you.  Not a lot of frills or fabric to deal with.  I’m gonna have an energy drink.  Want one?”

“Sure, but most importantly we need to talk to Olivia right now.  You have a web cam right?” Mike asked, heading over to Jane’s computer desk.  A bright pink vibrator that seemed to resemble a rabbit’s head at the end was lying right by the keyboard.  He grabbed a nearby tissue, picked up the vibe and dumped it in the trash without Jane’s knowledge.

“Yup,” Jane called from the fridge.  “You set it up and we’ll convince her.  I’m very convincing.”  She cracked her drink open and began chugging.  Mike was already on the phone with their friend.

“Hi babe!  Just Mike again!  So happy for you and the lucky guy!” he gushed.  “I’ve got something I wanna throw at you that could really help the wedding process.  I’ve got Jane, your maid of honor, here with me, if you’ve got time to talk.  We’d love to have a quick web chat, ok?”

Mike nodded as he listened.  “Ok, we’ll see you in a few seconds, babe!  Thanks!”

Jane grabbed a kitchen chair and dragged it to the desk then threw the extra energy drink at Mike who was fiddling with the camera. 

“Thought I left my vibe around here…” Jane mumbled. 

“There’s the wedding princess!” Mike declared as Olivia’s face appeared on the screen.  Jane had to admit that her friend had that glow of “I’m either authentically in love, or I’ve been having such a boatload of delicious sex that I’m happy to mistake it for love for the next two years or so.”  Her blond hair had been cut into a stylish chin-length bob that totally played up her blue eyes and strawberry complexion.  Her wisps of long bangs were pushed casually to the side and her smile was huge and sparkling.  I need to get my teeth whitened pronto, Jane thought. 

“Hi guys!  So great to see you!  How are you?”  Olivia squealed.  “What’s this plan?  Is it like a bachelorette party?  We should get sloppy drunk!  I’ll find a babysitter.”

“We can get sloppy, sure!” Mike said. “But here’s an idea.  You know how weddings are so very expensive and the planning is enough to drive anyone insane?”

“Boy, do I ever!” Olivia said, rolling her huge, innocent eyes.  Jane wondered if she had eyelash implants.  “My first wedding made me want to slit my wrists!  That’s why Jake and I are just totally keeping it simple.  Just a backyard cookout, some of our best friend, our parents.  I’m not planning to do anything!”

Jane slumped over in disappoint.  No wedding planning meant no big wedding, which meant no need to document planning for a big wedding.  Mike smacked her back into adult posture.

“Wow, princess, that sounds fantastic.  Really great.  Relaxing!  How much do you think this shindig will cost?  Even if you keep it simple, with all of the food, it might set you back a bit,” he said carefully.

Olivia nodded.  “Well, Jake doesn’t make nearly as much as my ex.  But he gets really upset when I use my matrimony payments on anything that involves just the two of us.  He’s a very proud guy, you know.  He wants to be able to provide for his wife and his new stepson.  So I just keep all of my matrimony and child support payments in the bank for when Parker goes to college. “

“So, even if you wanted a big wedding,” Mike said slowly, “You probably wouldn’t be able to have one because of Jake’s limited income?”

Olivia shrugged.  “Probably not.  But it doesn’t matter to me because – “

“But it matters to me and Jane!” Mike erupted, jumping up from his seat and knocking it over.  “Because we entered you in a Win-A-Wedding Contest and you WON, babygirl!”

Mike started screaming and jumping up and down, Jane followed his lead and soon Olivia was jumping and screaming.  “That’s amazing guys, thanks so much!  But how did you even know to enter me in the contest? Jake and I didn’t decide to get married until –“

“It’s a contest at my work,” Mike interrupted.  “Super quick turnaround.  But you won!  My station is going to pay for every part of your wedding and we’re going to film you and Jane pulling the whole event together!  It will be so exciting!  And think about it – who else gets to have their entire wedding preparation FILMED?”

Jane stopped jumping and looked at her computer.  Olivia’s face had gone blank.  Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open – Jane waited for some drool.  The girl looked catatonic as she waited for the next emotion to register.  Finally a response came.

“Oh.  Mike.  That sounds great, but you know I have a fear of cameras.  They’re like little holes of black death.  You just look at them and you get sucked in and then it pulls out your soul.  You saw what happened to me when I tried to do the newscast at Emerson.”

That had been a shitshow, there was no way  around that.  Mike and Jane had witnessed as their sassy, cute and confident friend totally froze up the moment she looked into Camera Two. 

First, it was the lack of movement and language.  Then the sweat had come – too much sweat for one little co-ed.  The crew had attempted to keep rolling, hoping Olivia would find her stride, but instead she vomited all over the news desk.  She had crawled off the newsroom floor and had checked right in with her family’s psychologist.  So began Week One of what turned into a four month long nervous breakdown and a decision to change her major to creative writing. 

“We’re going to use cameras so very small that you won’t even know that they are there,” Mike assured her.  “No dark hole to fall into, promise.  And Jane will be able to take up a good deal of camera time.  She is, after all, your maid of honor.”

“I don’t know…” Olivia said.  "The black holes are so real...." Jane could see small bullets of sweat forming on her friend’s brow and upper lip.

“It’s gonna be fine!” Jane declared.  “We’ll run through the whole thing when we see you, babe!”

“You’re coming here?  To Ohio?”

“Today!  With equipment, ourselves, and enough of Jane’s wardrobe to last a full year!” Mike said.  “Ok, hon, we need to go catch our plane.  I’ll text when we’re on the ground so you can direct us to your house!  Love you!  Bye!”  Mike snapped the camera off, took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes until his face was red.

“There is a special place in hell for us,” he told Jane, opening his energy drink. 

“Maybe,” she agreed.  “But I will worry about that later.  Let’s get to the airport.  They serve drinks on the plane, right?”

The Horror Begins, Without Olivia's Permission

Recap of the latest mishap:  Jane, already miserable with the state of her non-existent television career, is bickering with her director/producer friend Mike when Olivia calls with insane news – she is getting married in five days.  Always emotionally appropriate, Jane quickly gets drunk, finds an innocent intern to victimize and has an unfortunate sexual mishap in the public restrooms.  Like you do…

James, Jane's ex, was walking along a Caribbean beach and with each step, each crashing of the surf, he was getting closer to her.  She stood, in a deliriously gorgeous maxi dress with Trojan sandals – her highlights fiery in the sunset.  James’ muscles bulged through his tight white dress shirt and his khakis were rolled halfway up his powerful calves.  The hair that he had always kept closely shaved to his head was grown to a boyishly sexy length, just begging to be tousled.  He was getting closer to Jane - this time it would be right.  This time he would dress the way she wanted him to dress and have a qualified retirement plan.  And something other than that ridiculous Kia.  It was all so perfect. 

But it wasn’t the surreal beauty that tipped Jane’s brain off to the fact that she was dreaming.  It wasn’t James’ long hair, or the fact that he was wearing something other than jogging pants or the jeans that time forgot.   It was the fact that Jane was on a beach… and suspiciously, undeniably sober… that brought the scene crashing down.

Jane shook herself awake and, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth, looked around.  Mike sat at his desk, looking slightly rough in the eyes, but otherwise very excited.

“Jane! Glad you’re back to the world of the living,” he chirped.  “But I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been up all night, volunteering in a soup kitchen for orphans – you pass the fuck out in my leather chair.”

“What are you talking about?” Jane asked groggily as she began to sit up.  “You know I hate kids.”

“Hate that kids are hungry you mean, you silly bitch!” Mike interrupted her with a forced laugh.  “Jane, I want you to meet Todd Simmons, one of our new executive producers.”

Jane looked to her right and saw a sharply dressed man sitting in the chair next to hers.  Black hair graying at the temples, piercing green eyes and a tan that made her spine tingle.  She stuck her hand out towards him.

“I think you used that hand to wipe the drool away,” Todd said uncomfortably.  “So gonna forgo the formality of handshaking.  But it is very nice to meet you and I totally understand your exhaustion.  I volunteer in the neo natal intensive care unit down at Abbington Hospital during the midnight shift and sometimes it just drains me.”

Jane nodded.  What was neo- natal?  Something from the Matrix?  She had no idea.  Her brain was about as useful as a wet sponge in a flood.  “Neo-natal,” she repeated.

Todd continued, “And Mike’s just been sitting here telling me all the good work you do – serving meals in inner cities, knitting blankets for the homeless.  Distributing clean needles for the poor addicts roaming the streets.”

“Distributing needles, yes, yes,” Jane answered, trying desperately to compose herself.  Oh god, she wanted another drink.  Her head was starting to pound already.  She must have passed out in Mike’s office after screwing around with that damn intern.  “I just want to help people,” she gathered the strength to smile at this sexy Samaritan.  “No good tying off when the instrument is dirty, you know?”

Todd raised an eyebrow, but continued on.  “That’s why I think this new project Mike's been talking about would work so well with you in it.  You know humanity and you aren’t afraid to show it.”

Jane turned her blank stare to Mike.  He took a long sip from a mug.  She would have bet her last fertile egg that there was booze in that coffee mug and she died a little inside as she tried to think of how she could casually get it.

“The project you and I came up with, Jane,” Mike explained.  “Guerrilla Wedding.  Olivia of course will be the lead, as she is the one getting married, but you will have a huge part as the maid of honor.  It’ll be great – the two of you trying your hardest to get a wedding up in five days.  And it’s great that her fiance is in the military.  A great human interest story. “

Jane didn’t know Olivia’s guy was in the military.  She didn't know his name, for that matter.  But she caught the conversational lifeline that Mike was tossing her.

“Oh, well, that’s what we want,” Olivia said.  “Just a show about… doing good.  Doing good in the name of love.  Mike, can I grab a sip of that coffee?”

“It’s hazelnut.  You don’t like hazelnut,” he answered quickly and brought the mug closer to his torso. 

“Doesn’t matter, us volunteers will drink anything,” she snapped, grabbing the mug and taking a gulp.  Bailey’s.  Delicious.  “Isn’t that right, Todd? 

Todd agreed.  “Now, Jane, I must warn you that you’re going to have to play a bit of a role here, even though it is going to be a reality show.  Instead of being the kind, generous person Mike has described to me, you’ll have to be mean and cutthroat as you bargain with vendors and such.  Our viewers love drama,  so at times you’ll have to be downright rude.  Yelling and tears also boost the ratings.”

“Not a problem, Todd,” Jane assured him, taking a loud slurp from Mike’s special coffee.  “I’m a professional, you know.  Gotta put the good girl aside, gotta get mean.  Really, it’s anything for art.”

“This sounds great, “ Mike said.  “Now Todd, if you don’t mind excusing us.  Don't wanna be rude, but  Jane and I need to pack and make a few important phone calls before we’re off to shoot this puppy.”

“Of course,” Todd said, getting up.  He was tall, he was yummy.  He wasn’t wearing a wedding band.  “Good luck, you two.  Very excited about this.   Oh, and Jane – I’m always looking for new volunteer opportunities.  Feel free to get in touch with me in the future.”

“You bet,” Jane said and watched him leave.  One the door was shut, Mike leapt up from the desk and started shoving various pieces of camera equipment and wires into travel bags.

“So this is really happening?” she asked. 

“Yes.  You need to pack immediately.  I need to pack.  I need to touch base with my family.  You should probably call whatever restaurant you’re working at and let them know you’ll be gone.”

“Nah… keep ‘em guessing.”

“And we’ve got one more phone call to make.”

“Who?”

“Olivia,” Mike answered, fighting with cords.  “I haven’t actually run this idea by her.  Can you give me back my Bailey’s please?  And the drool around your mouth has now turned into a fine crust.  Might want to take care of that.”

A Vending Machine, A Possible Assault Charge, A Plan to Stalk

“Jane, are you ok?” Olivia’s voice drifted up from the depth of Jane’s boob.  “Did you just scream?  Are you driving? What’s going on?”

Jane scrunched her eyes and then slowly raised the phone to her mouth.  “Hey sweetie.  Yes, yes, I screamed.  It was one of those happy screams.  You know, when you’re so happy you need to scream, or punch a wall or something?”

There was a pause from Olivia’s end.  “I guess so.  But anyway I have so much to tell you about him!  His name is – “

“Love, love, I want all the details, but can I call you a little later?  My blood sugar is low and I’m feeling a little woozy…”

“Are you still taking all of those laxatives, Jane?” Olivia asked.  “Because maybe it’s not your blood sugar, maybe it’s your electrolytes.”

“I’ll call you in an hour.  Love you.  Kisses.  Congrats.  Bye!” Jane stabbed the “End Call” button with a pink pearl fingernail and glared at Mike.  “Give.  Me.  Your.  Quarters.”

Mike handed her six quarters like he was tossing a bloody carcass to a starving lion.  Jane snapped them up and stalked down the hall.

“Sure, why the fuck not?” she cursed out the vending machine as she waited for the orange juice to drop down the shoot.  “I don’t have a career, I’m don’t have a relationship.  But why shouldn’t Olivia, whose ALREADY been fucking married, hitch her wagon to star hubby number two?  He’s probably cute and rich with no illegitimate kids or nagging heroin addiction.  There’s going be a great fucking entry in my worry journal tonight, let me tell you.”

“Excuse me, are you talking to someone?” a male voice broke her momentary bout of Turrets Syndrome.  Startled shitless, Jane whipped around and punched the origin of that voice in the stomach.

“Don’t even think about stealing my money, pal”  Jane sneered as the sandy blond guy crumpled over in both shock and pain.  “These are my quarters, my orange juice, you just wait your fucking turn for your own fucking Snickers bar.”

“Take it easy, I don’t want your money or your juice,” the guy managed to gasp from his crumpled position.  He panted for a few seconds, poking his chest and sides and trying to decide whether any of his ribs had been broken.  Finally, he stood up straight and met her eyes.  “But I wouldn’t mind getting your number.”

Jane had a stark moment of humility and realization at what had just transpired.  “Are you going to press charges?  Because I’m not an American citizen,” she lied.  “You won’t get a penny.”

The guy laughed.  “I won’t press charges,” he said and flashed a smile.

Even in the harsh yellow light of the hallway, this guy looked good – full head of blond hair, broad shoulders, nice shoes.  Big shoes.  Twinkling blue eyes.  And he had nice teeth, Jane thought.  White, bright, straight teeth basically could seal any deal in her world. 

“I think your juice is ready,” the guy said, pointing at the vending machine.  He was in office attire, Jane noted – tie, striped shirt, khaki pants that weren’t wrinkled.  There was a good chance that this guy made his own living, Jane quickly surmised.  And he looked too old to be living at home.  But these days, you could never tell.  There’d been too many times that Jane had been taken home, not to meet someone’s mom, but because her date that night still lived with his mom.

Jane changed her tune.  She slowly bent over to grab the juice, giving the guy a full view of her ass and legs.  “You think I’m cute?” she asked playfully.  “And you’re not charging me with assault?  This sounds like a good time.”

“So are you going to give me your phone number or do I have to let you punch me in the gut again?” he asked.

“Do you live with your mom?”

“Um, no.”

“Are those your own clothes?  Did you borrow them for the day?”

“What?” the guy asked, confused.  “Why wouldn’t I be wearing my own clothes?”

 “Answer the question,” Jane demanded, her face hardening once again.  The guy instinctively readied his stomach muscles.  “Are those your own clothes?”

“Yes, of course they are.”

“Good.  Want to have sex in that bathroom over there?”

A smile of disbelief spread across his tan cheek bones and he laughed.  He ran his hands through his hair, looked down at the floor and then back up at Jane.   Then he shrugged.  “Guess so.” 

“I’m serious.  Meet me in there in five minutes,” Jane said and cat walked back to Mike’s office. 

Mike was sitting his chair once again, lounging, when Jane burst in.  He snapped to attention, sat up straight, and with eyes wide watched as she unscrewed the plastic top of the juice and the metallic cap of the vodka.  She took a swig of both them swished it around in her mouth.  Then did it again.  And again again.

“I have a cup,” he suggested.  “Just throwing the idea out there.”

Jane shook her head and swallowed hard.  “No time.  Need to get drunk within the next five minutes.  Gonna go have sex in the bathroom.” 

“In the bathroom down the hall?”

Jane nodded and went back to swigging and swishing. 

“Babe, aren’t you on Atkins?  You shouldn’t be drinking vodka or orange juice.  Think of the carbs,” Mike reminded her.

Jane looked at him with glassy eyes and swallowed, “No worries.  I’ll pop a laxative.  Two.  Get back on the protein train tomorrow.  How am I doing on time?”

“Three more minutes,” Mike glanced up at the clock.  “So who are you bringing to Olivia’s wedding?”

“Maybe this guy,” Jane said, raising the vodka bottle in the direction of the bathroom.  “Or my last boyfriend.  James.  The musician.  He’d probably go.  Hope it’s evening casual cuz I  don’t think he owns a suit.  Maybe he could get away with jeans.”

“You know you’re probably going to be Olivia’s maid of honor,” Mike commented, now turning his back to Jane and focusing on his computer.  “You’ll have to help her get this wedding up in five days, darling.”

Jane took a double swig of the vodka.  She was finally getting the burning  sensation and dizziness she was looking for.  A little acid reflux ruined the moment, but she forced it back down her esophagus.  “No way, dude.  I was her maid of honor for the last wedding.  I think there’s a limit to how many times a girl can be cursed.”

“Time’s up,” Mike said.

Jane took a final drink and found her way to the restroom, smacking her shoulder against the doorway as she left.

The stranger was waiting by the sink, looking slightly sketched out.   Jane fell into the small, tiled space and flashed a smile.

“I’ve never done this before,” he confessed as Jane lurched forward and began unbuttoning his shirt and ripping it off.  She whipped off her own blouse and flung it to the ground.

“Don’t worry,” she said.  “I’ve done this a million times.  Let me just get out of these jeans.  Want me to keep my heels on?  Give me a kiss.”

In her electric blue bra, with her jeans down by her knees, Jane grabbed the man’s head to face her own and stuck her tongue in his mouth.  For a second, the guy’s body went stiff with repulsion but his hands started exploring Jane’s hips soon enough.

“Wow.  You kinda taste like booze,” he told her, coming up for air.

“It’s a new mouthwash,” she said between tongue laps.  “Now do me.”

Jane stalked back into Mike’s office, adjusting her soaked, stained blouse.  “Where do you keep the cups?”

Mike procured two glasses from a desk drawer.  “I don’t know what you just did but I’m sure I’m going to hear all about it and in order to truly appreciate the debauchery, I will need to have a buzz going.”

Jane shrugged and poured them both a drink. 

“So is he coming to the wedding with you?” Mike asked.  “What’s his name?”

“No, he’s not coming to the wedding, you jerk.  We were so close to sealing the deal.  Then he went soft and started crying about herpes.  What a goof.  Guess it’s down to James.”

“What did this guy look like?  The one you almost just raped in the bathroom?  Most of my coworkers have seen you and know to stay away from you.”

“I don’t know.  I wasn’t really focused on his face.  Blonde hair.  Blue eyes.  Nice shoulders.  Cute, I guess.  Maybe his name was Ben? Brian?  But he definitely was an executive or producer or something.”

“Brian with blond hair?  He’s our intern.  We aren’t paying him.”

“Goddamit,” Jane shouted.  “Goddammit.  He said he wasn’t living at home.”

“And he was telling the truth, Jane,” Mike said.  “The intern you just sexually assaulted lives in a dorm room.  Now, if you want to take this relationship to the next level, why not offer to buy him and his frat brothers some booze for their next party.”

“Whatever.  He’s not even registering in my mind right now.  I think I have to ask James to the wedding.  Let me use your computer.”  She pushed her friend out of the way.

“Emailing?  Why not just call him up?”

“He’s blocked me.  And I’m not emailing him.  I need to stalk him through Facebook.”

Mike rolled his eyes.  “While you were partially fornicating in my office restroom, I was on the phone with Olivia.  And yes… for better or for worse, she wants you to be her maid of honor.  By the way, what happened to your blouse?  It’s ruined.”

“Oh I dropped it in a puddle on the restroom floor,” she answered nonchalantly, typing in the website address. 

“And you put it back on?” Mike asked incredulously.

“Doesn’t matter, Mike.  Time to put that ADHD aside and concentrate.  And pour us another drink,” Jane instructed.  “I’ve already assaulted someone today, now I need to do some stalking.”