Jane Seymour said, "Do I know you? Why are you talking to me? And what in the name of steak and kidney pie are you talking about?"
"Oh, Jane, don't you remember me? Mike Wallace brought you and Chuck Norris up to my room at the Leona? We're all going to be in a TV show together?"
"No, I don't remember anything of the sort. And I just checked back up-thread, there's nothing like that in the story. You are making this up! You're just some kind of sick stalker, aren't you? Get away from me!"
"I know it happened!" said Muffy. "Maybe that part of the story was poofed by the Fully-Automated FBN Quality Control Post-bot. I think it's time for a flashback scene, to refresh your memory a little..."
[Everything turned monochrome, squiggly and out of focus, and schmaltzy harp sounds filled the air, the time-honored signal for....A FLASHBACK!!!]
After Muffy returned from a delightful hour of skating at the Wollman rink, (which, unlike the rink at Rockefeller Center, was open for skating, even in August) she went back to her room at the Leona Palace. She had just flopped down on the leather Chesterfield when there was a knock at the door. She went over and looked through the peep-hole.
It was Richard Simmons!
"Richard! How are you? Come on in. Have a seat. What can I do for you?"
"Well, Muffy, it's about what happened the other day. I feel that we have some unfinished..."
His voice trailed off as the doorway seemed to explode with a blinding white light. Muffy and Richard both shielded their eyes with their hands, trying to see what was the source of this dazzling glare.
"Muffy! Richard!" came a booming voice.
The light became brighter and closer. They felt the room get palpably warmer. Richard started to whimper. They could make out figures behind the light. Men were holding floodlights on poles, there was a film cameraman, people with microphones, and a familiar-looking man in a suit.
"Muffy! Richard! This is Mike Wallace, from the CBS program "60 Minutes". Please pardon the intrusion, but..."
"I didn't do it!" screamed Richard. "And he told me he was over eighteen, I swear..."
"No, no, you don't understand," said the genial TV personality. "We are here to make you a very special offer on behalf of the CBS TV Network. We would like you two to be the stars in the crown jewel of our network's new fall schedule, it's going to part of the "CBS Big Saturday Night O'Crap", we're calling it "Texas 60 Minute Medicine Ranger Woman."
Richard's eyes lit up.
"Ooooh, sounds super! Can I be the Ranger Woman?"
Mike didn't skip a beat, and his smile became even warmer, if that were possible.
"Now, of course you'll be working alongside some of our established stars, and in fact we've brought them along so you can get to know each other. Chuck Norris and Jane Seymour, I want you to meet Muffy and Richard Simmons."
Muffy's knees trembled as Chuck entered the room. He was even taller than he looked on TV, the bright lights made the oil on his bare chest glisten, and he was swathed in ammunition belts.
He smiled at her, and she stepped forward, offering her hand, but before she could make contact, Richard pushed her aside, and began fawning over the great actor in a way that Muffy found quite distasteful.
"OK, so what am I here, chopped liver?"
Jane Seymour looked livid.
"Alright, you blokes, enough of this phony show biz crap. I'm famished. How about we go sample some of the local nosh?"
"Ooooooh, that sounds super yummy!" squealed Richard. "I know the dearest little place in Brooklyn. They have the saltiest Gefilte Flagelgrech, the heaviest Buschke Bibkiss, the deepest fried Schreplach, and pickled Schnorks, smothered with creamy Flebbish dressing that is just out of this world! Come on everyone, we're going on saturated fat safari! I've got enough Pepcid AC in my purse for everyone!"
"Vinny should be waiting downstairs in the stretch limo, we can all fit in that," offered Muffy. So the whole gang, followed closely by the "60 Minutes" film crew, made their way down the ground floor.
As they left the Leona Palace through the 53rd Street doorway, they found their passage blocked by a throng of people, crowded ten-deep on the sidewalk, watching some kind of parade.
Wild music filled the air, over the heads of the crowd Muffy could see all kinds of floats go by, as well as clowns, jugglers, sword-swallowers, the whole nine yards. Vinne and his limo were most certainly not parked by their usual hydrant.
"This is awfully inconvenient," said Muffy. "What is this all about, anyway? I didn't think today was a special day or anything."
"Where da hell youse bin, toots?" said a nearby member of New York's finest. "This is Bob Bemer day!"
"Oh, really? Big fat hairy deal. And why are they going on a cross-town street? Don't parades usually go on the avenues?"
An older gentleman was standing nearby, with distinguished-looking silver hair and a twinkle in his eye. He gave a discreet cough.
"Allow me to explain, young lady. I happen to be Bob Bemer. Back in the 1840's, I invented ASCII, which is short for the Avenue/Street Common Intersection Index. I noticed that cities were being laid out in a very slapdash manner, and I saw a real need to stop using English names for streets, and to base everything on some kind of numerical system. Recently, I also noticed that all these parades in the city were just using the Avenues, which run North-South for miles, and waste a tremendous amount of space. You little bastard!"
He paused to slap a mosquito on his neck.
"So anyway, I devised a scheme whereby all parades go back and forth on the cross-town streets, and just make a short turn North or South when they hit the edge of the island. This way you can fit up to thirty two parades simultaneously, all between Herald Square and Central Park South!"
"Simply fascinating, tell me more," said Muffy, rolling her eyes.
Her sarcasm was obviously lost on Bemer, who launched into a long diatribe about addressability, BLL's, DCB's, FCT's, and the flooding problems on the FDR Drive.
Muffy looked around for help. Her eyes met Mike Wallace, and she silently mouthed the words "Get me out of here!"
Her smiled, took her by the hand and said, "Come with me, I know a place where we can..."
[The black and white waves returned, as well as the carpy, harpy music, signalling the end of the flashback...]
"So, Jane, what do you have to say for yourself now?" said Muffy, with a smug look on her face.
Without a word, Jane turned to a nearby table, on which were several platters of state-of-the-art antipasto, and picked up... |
