Date:97-07-04 19:38:02 EDT From: SecraTerri Subj: CHAPTER TWO
To: FifiOToole, SecraTerri, Bottlenekk
Wanda Pike, meanwhile, was experiencing a Crisis Moment.
Her blind date earlier that evening with Jan derHillsides had been an unqualified disaster from start to finish.
His annoying persistence in pronouncing his name "Yawn" should have been her first clue.
It had generally been Wanda's experience that men who pronounce their names in pretentious fashion (see: first husband Herbert "Erb" Pike) were compensating for a serious lack of ready cash and/or staying power.
Another clue should have been the fact that Yawn brought her a thesaurus in lieu of flowers or candy. ("Did you know that there are NO synonyms for 'tongue?'" was his opening line when she opened the door.)
Yet another clue might have been the fact that Yawn sported a full head of bright orange hair, whereas Wanda preferred her men bald as a baby's butt (although generally less aromatic).
At that point Wanda had seriously considered pleading sudden unfortunate aterial sclerosis and calling a halt to the evening then and there, but she had agreed to go on this date as a favor to her best friend, Mardean "The Sac" Arkoonce, proprietess of The Chick 'n Whistle Dance Club & Hydroponics Emporium. Yawn was Mardean's third cousin twice removed (although not removed nearly far enough, in Wanda's opinion, in retrospect) and Mardean felt strongly that the family line could use an infusion of fresh chromosomes.
Besides that ... Wanda owed Mardean fifteen bucks. "Go out with Yawn and I'll consider us even," Mardean had promised. Wanda relunctantly agreed. Her AOL bill for the month was running her into the ground financially, and she needed every dollar.
His suggestion that they dine "al fresco" had whetted her interest (and her appetite) momentarily, until it became clear that "al fresco" in Yawn's vernacular meant chawing down a Horn Dog astride his moped in the 7-11 parking lot. ("Not as good as Trailer Town," he mumbled through a yapful of corporate beef and pork by-product). Wanda resisted the urge to dump her Lime Slurpee atop his mane of revoltingly luxurious citrus-colored hair, and prayed for an earthquake.
Yawn had next suggested that they 'do a flick.' Wanda had serious misgivings about this suggestion, for a couple of reasons ... one of them being his evening-long fixation on finding the elusive synonym for "tongue" ... ("proboscis? nope that's a nose") ... the other being that the only theater in town was featuring Antonio Banderas! in "Gazpacho!" (co-starring Melanie "Let's See How Many More Collagen Injections It'll Take To Completely Make My Lips Look Like Intertubes" Griffith), a "flick" Wanda had only marginal interest in seeing for the eighteenth time. All of the main characters died at the end of the movie (except of course for Antonio Banderas!, who lives to scrowl provocatively in "Gazpacho Me Too! The Extraneous Sequel!"), and Wanda was seriously concerned that were she to weep profusely, Yawn might feel compelled to comfort her in some fashion, in which case she would feel *compelled* to vomit her Lime Slurpee atop her bucket of popcorn.
"I'm sorry Yawn," Wanda said. "I am experiencing sudden unfortunate arterial sclerosis, and I feel I should prolly just go home now and lay down and stuff."
Yawn of course read this to mean that he was in like Flynn (although he pretentiously insisted on pronouncing it "Fline"), and quietly thanked the powers that be that he was carrying his lucky Bicentennial condom in his wallet, still wrapped in its pristine original packaging. (Long live Bartab, wherever you are!) There ensued at Wanda's doorstep several awkward and embarrassing moments as Yawn attempted to shmooze his way into her boudoir, using his best Lorenzo Lamas "Hey baby I gotta Bicentennial condom and a couple hundred TATTOOS" persona.
Yawn: "Hey baby I got a Bicentennial condom and a couple hundred TATTOOS."
Wanda: "A full-grown python is running loose someplace in my Winnebago."
Her nightmare date concluded, Wanda poured herself a Dr. Pepper and sat down at her 'puter - a decrepit dinosaur she fondly called "Hunka Shit" - and signed onto AOL to check her mail.
(Beginning Flash Session for WackyWanda ...7/4/96 MerryFill: Re: NO WONDER YOU CAN'T KEEP A JOB YOU DUMBSHIT!!
7/4/96 MerryFill: Re: 12 lengthy paragraphs about my sudden unfortunate unemployment
7/4/96 MerryFill: 12 lengthy paragraphs about my sudden unfortunate unemployment
7/3/96 MerryFill: Re: Fwd  TAKE ME OFF YOUR GODDAMN LIST RIGHT NOW
7/3/96 MerryFill: Fwd: TAKE ME OFF YOUR GODDAMN LIST RIGHT NOW
7/3/96 MerryFill: Re: Fwd: 12 lengthy paragraphs about my new job
7/3/96 MerryFill: Re: 12 lengthy paragraphs about my new job
No e-mail from HugeTony99. Wanda's heart fell.
It had been several days since she'd heard from HugeTony, and she was frankly worried.
HugeTony was a geneticist in Maine. He listed his hobbies in his AOL profile as "indoor hot air ballooning, and Cheese From Around The World Club" ... a combination Wanda found impossible to resist.
Over the past few months, "WackyWanda" and HugeTony99 had developed a deep, meaningful and somewhat perverted cyber relationship. It had started with playful banter in the Baby Boomer Chat Room, but over the weeks and months had evolved into something more. Gifs had been exchanged, there had been the occasional snail-mail interlude, and Wanda had become certain that they were ready to move on to the next stage ... wherein she could ask to borrow money from him. Or postage stamps.
But now: silence from the Northeast.
Despondently, Wanda wandered to her kitchenette and began to make herself some buttermilk pancakes. From deep within the walls of the Winnebago she heard the python slithering restlessly, no doubt aroused by the clanking of the griddle ... the usual cue that Food Was Happening. Wanda, immersed in worry over HugeTony's inexplicable cyber silence, paid the python no heed. Dousing her pancakes with a healthy dollop of steaming Aunt Jemima, she sat back down at her 'puter and stared morosely at the "Welcome To AOL WackyWanda" message on her screen.
Suddenly ... the sprightly little AOL mailman guy announced, "You've Got Mail!"
"Oh great," Wanda hissed. "Just what I need. More dung from MerryFill."
But when she opened her e-mail, she discovered it wasn't another MerryFill after all ... it was from HugeTony99!
Wanda's heart *raced!*
Trembingly, she opened the e-mail.
Date: 96-07-04 23:04:07
"YO WANDA!" (his tender missive began)
"HAUL YER ADORABLE ASS UP HERE TO MAINE RIGHT NOW I MEAN IT OK
GOTTA BIG DEAL TOP SECRET CLONING PROJECT GOIN ON UP HERE AND I NEED SOMEONE TO HOLD THE CLIPBOARD
YOUR LOVE COOKIE
Wanda was so astonished by this unexpected turn of events that she barely noticed that she was dragging her attractive red hair into the plate of buttermilk pancakes, thereby drenching them in the healthy dollops of steaming Aunt Jemima.
Her most immediate concern, of course, was the fact that she did not own a clipboard.
Her next-most-immediate concern, of course, was the fact that she had eleven cents in her purse, three tablespoonful of gas in her piece of shit automobile, and absolutely zero idea where Maine was in fact located ... let alone Trailer Town, Maine.
Wanda surrended to a brief Boo Hoo Moment.
Wanda: "Boo hoo."
But Wanda, being the plucky, indominitable and slightly-less-than-scrupulous gal that she was, wiped her eyes and wandered off to the shower to shampoo the healthy dollops of steaming Aunt Jemima from her attractive red hair.
And it was there, in the shower, that she had ...
... an epiphany.
"I may not have a clipboard," she said .. "... or any money ... or any CLUE where Trailer Town, Maine is. But by God, I DO have ...
.. a pilot's license ..
.. and a PYTHON ..
.. and I'm not afraid to USE THEM!"
TO BE CONTINUED!
Right now, NO EXCUSES Allowed!
Take it away, Feef.
Now leave me the hell alone, you guys ... I'm FRYING CHICKEN forcryingoutloud.
Celebrate your Fourth with a *bang* and stuff.