Okay, so I have to hit on a famous person. Let’s see . . famous person . . who’s a famous chick? Hillary Clinton? Nah, she’s a major uggo. Who’s cute? Paris Hilton? But she’s kind of a skank. Besides, how would I ever even meet a famous chick like that? Where do they hang out? I guess I could just go to Hollywood and wait for one to walk by.
*one short X-Jet flight later*
Hollywood, USA. There’s got to be celebrities on every corner. Hey, there’s one now! I totally recognize her from Playboy . .er . . I mean that TV show on cable. Now what was her name? Anne something? Anna . . Anna Nicole Smith! But, uh, didn’t I hear something about her being sick or something? Well she looks pretty healthy to me. She must have recovered.
Now I just have to go flirt with her and then dump her. All I really need is a good opening line. Maybe I can work in a reference to my package. Chicks always dig that.
“Uh . . . h-hi.”
“Well ain’t you just the cutest thang! And look at those crazy glasses on you! They’re like all red and stuff.”
“I, uh, I have a jet.”
“Oh really? You want to show it to me?”
Oh man, Anna is pressing those impressive bosoms against me. Look at the size of those things! Nature sure was generous to her. I think my package is getting a lot more impressive.
“Uh, sure. It’s parked just over here. I have the cloak on.”
“Wow! This is real cool plane, honey!”
“You, uh, want to check out the cockpit?”
“Ooh, you bet I do!”
“So Anna, you want to hold the joystick?”
“Uh, actually my name ain’t Anna. It’s Candy.”
“What? I thought you were Anna Nicole Smith.”
“She’s dead, honey. I’m Candy Night. I’m a famous celebrity impersonator. Didn’t you know that?”
“Wait a minute . . you’re famous?”
“Yeah, sugar. You want me to hold you’re joystick now?”
“No. Get the hell out of my plane!”
Whew. Hopefully Sylar will count Candy will count as famous.
You want to hold the joystick?
I’ve heard lame ones before, but that one takes the cake!
Stop stealing my pickup lines!
That’s no way to treat a lady.
What? I was just asking if she wanted to steer the plane.
Sheesh!
Okay . . I was talking about my penis.
Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I should have let her play with my joystick before I kicked her out of the plane.
If it is as small as I heard it was, you should be calling it the joy stub.
You shouldn’t entrust just any blond bimbo with your joystick.