Sunday, May 24, 2009

for old times sake

Once upon a time, when Hitler and Hasselhoff were big in Germany, the most popular magazine of the time was rollerCHEER mag-o-rama. Though affiliated with the official sport of the third millennium, it was also the authority for all things fashion, Catholic, and random. Together, the women of rollerCHEER - Jasmine, Polly, Xandi and Maggie - were the powerhouse of the world.
One day they were working in their headquarters, listening to the newest song on the radio, “Cinco de Marko” by the hottest new band called Toe Touch Butt Skin. They were trying to come up with a good article for the next edition of RCM, but were running out of ideas. They had already written their column “Take Our Advice or Burn in Hell,” which for this edition was doing a special on how to keep people from licking them. Some other ideas they had had were the advantages of not eating anything that casts a shadow, and running a contest to come up with a jingle for their favorite DC politician Vincent Orange. They needed something new, something schlinginbobbitydoodaday. Suddenly, during a refrain of “cinco cinco cinco, de marko marko marko,” the idea hit them.
“Let’s do an article about TTBS, and their wonderful day with the ladies of RCM!” Polly screamed from her desk. The other three started squealing and jumping up and down with excitement.
“But how are we going to get them to spend a day with us? They are very busy people,” asked Xandi , always thinking about the practicality and boring stuff like that.
“Let’s go to Steak ‘n Shake and formulate a plan,” suggested Maggie. Streak ‘n Shake was where the best parts of RCM have been developed. There is nothing like a good root beer slut, I mean float, to get the creative juices flowing.
The girls all agreed to this and piled into the official RCM minivan. Due to their excitement, they naturally had to crank up the only music for the occasion- the Aladdin soundtrack. The car was filled with the sounds of “Prince Ali.” They were so excited, they didn’t notice the car slow in front of them. Maggie suddenly slammed on the brakes, but the van tapped the car in front of them and made a loud noise, scaring one of the RCM staff into fits of laughter. The girls stared for a moment as four guys piled out of the car to inspect the damage. They were about the same age as the RCM ladies, and if they had worked at Steak ‘n Shake, they would have been too sexy for their aprons. The girls decided to get out of the car as well and see what the damage was, and who these fellas were.
“Don’t worry, no damage,” said the first, who looked about 7’2 and 9000 pounds.
“We’re really sorry, we just got excited and, here’s where I think we went wrong, we were playing Prince Ali,” Jasmine offered as an apology.
“That’s understandable then," said the second. “Why were you ladies so excited?”
“We are trying to come up with a way to get TTBS to spend the day with us for an article in our magazine.”
“Magazine? Which magazine are you from?”
“rollerCHEER mag-o-rama.”
“The rollerchairball magazine? I’ve read that! It’s a wonderful alternative to RQ, I must say.”
“Why, thank you! That was our original goal, before the weekends in the Alps and vacations in Munich made it all worth while.”
“You guys said you were looking for TTBS?” asked guy number three, whose head looked slightly orange and spherical. “I can help you find them; we know the bass player!”
At this the girls got all excited and waited anxiously as the fourth guy called his good buddy from TTBS and arranged a day that they could hang out with the RCM staff.
Their day with TTBS was amazing. They went to PetLand, drank squeeze-its on the beach, took in a 50 cent movie, and finished it off around a bonfire playing the poem game and a couple rousing rounds of Hail Mary. They learned all sorts of things, like how TTBS used to be a Baptist, and the origin of their song “Hot Dogs for Diane.” All in all it was an amazing time, a day of Scherer delight, and what’s more, between the movie and the food, they only paid ten dollar for everything they wanted!

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