John Robert, This Is Your Life!

bboard name:  223hrc
email: cascapers@hotmail.com
Name: C.R. Halliwell  (I don't suppose we could just say anonymous?) :~)

Feeling disoriented, Kelly, Kelly, Kelley, Amanda and Sandy stumbled out of the Rest & Rise Inn on Magnolia Lane, wondering how they got there.

Amanda struggled to recall the conversation. "Last thing I remember, we were all in a SACC chat talking about the 2nd Annual Fanfic Challenge. Camille said something about... Darn, I'll bet you that Camille put us into her silly story and warped us here somehow."

"I know I encouraged Camille to continue in this same vein, but I didn't know she'd go this far." Kelly said apologetically.

"I told you not to encourage her, but nooo. Stroke of genius you said. Stroke of insanity is more like it." Sandy grumbled.

With a tone of optimism, Kelly said, "All we can hope is that she doesn't turn us into some weird alien with goo dripping off of us like those Plakavoids."

"It's Plokavians. Plokavians."

"Yeah, yeah, Plakavoids. Plokavians. Same smell." With dawning horror evident in her expression, Kelly shouted upwards, "Camille, we're not aliens dripping with goo, are we? Well, are we?" Silence. "Frell, that girl is slipperier than a greased pig at a county rodeo."

Kelley pointed at her shirt. "Hey everybody. See these nametags? It looks like we're tourists. Now, if we can only figure out what we're touring."

While each one was silently planning ways to do some bodily harm to Camille, they heard a voice call out to them. "Hiya! Lewis at the Rest & Rise told me to expect y'all. Name's Bobby Rae Baumgartner, but folks here call me "The Bum" on account that I'm always sitting around thinking up things. I'll be yore tour guide so hang on to yore hats." (psst. He's not really a tour guide, but don't tell them that.)

Realizing the quickest way out of the story was just to play along, the ladies shrugged their shoulders and followed the odd man who looked and sounded a lot like Jim Varney...only shorter.

Raising himself up to his full stature of 4'11", The Bum gazed at his image in the town Library window, smoothing his polyester overalls and running his fingers through his greased back hairdo. Pleased with his appearance, the Bum faced the tour group. Clearing his throat, the Bum began his prepared monologue. "This here tour is about Jack and Mama Crichton's baby boy, John Robert, Jr."

Stopping for a moment, The Bum turned to his nephew on his wife's side. "Norbert, ya made sure ya got the good batteries this time right? Cuz of you, we ain't got those pictures of dem alien ships and that National Inquiry man was hoppin' mad that he came out all this way for nothin'."

Norbert rolled his eyes, but nodded affirmatively. Satisfied, The Bum continued. "Now y'all might remember that Mama Crichton done passed on to a better place. John Robert's daddy, Jack, well, he done picked up his heels and headed down south to Florida to figgie out how to get that boy of his back on God's green earth. As for John Robert's sisters, they up and vanished a while ago."

"Yep, that John Robert done us proud, he did. This town darn near burst its britches when John Robert's space flying machine got approved by the govmint. We all watched that shuttle launch from Carnival. I 'spect y'all be wanting to know a little about DK too, but I can't rightly tell ya much 'bout him cuz DK ain't from these parts. I think John Robert met him somewhere up north."

"Now betcha y'all didn't know that Ben Browder, that actor fella on that Farscape tellyvision show used to live in this county too. Yep, he and John Robert were neighbors for a bit. Those two boys were always getting into mischief. Yessiree, they were closer than two peas in a pod, I tell ya. You'd swear they were the same person after a while. You can't talk about the one without mentioning the other 'round here."

The Bum cupped his palm next to his ear. "Well hoohah! Can't ya hear it? This town's a buzzin' like a switchboard on Christmas morn and its all 'bout John Robert and what's he's been up to. Let's get the lead out and start movin'."

* everything slowly starts to fade out *

The Bum begins hollering, "Norbert! I done told you that we ain't doin' one of those fancy Hollywood tricks. This here's a story, not no movie." Muttering under his breath, The Bum says, "Dern kid. Thinks he knowed better 'n me. Hmmmph."

Fear had our ladies glued to their spots. The Bum, oblivious to the fact that the ladies were not following him, continued to the end of the block yapping on like a dog drinking water after a long walk.

"Now gals, this here's our first stop - Pansy's Pancake Palace....ladies? The Bum turned around, but no one was there. "Shoot, where'd they run off to?" Trotting back to the Library where the ladies were still standing, he shot them a puzzled glance. "Uh...ladies? This here's a walkin' tour. That means, we walk..." Shaking his head, The Bum mumbles under his breath, "and they call southerners slow..."

Standing once again before the entrance of Pansy's, The Bum starts his speech again. "Anywhoosiwhatzit, as I was oratin', this is Pansy's Pancake Palace. Looks like the local farmers' union is having their Monday breakfast meeting."

Leading the ladies to a semi-circular booth next to the back room of the Palace, he opened the door slightly so they could hear the men's conversations.

"...Overheard those scientist types talking 'bout wormholes and electrical waves with Jack near two weeks ago. I mean, iff'n they're looking fo' wormholes, they came to the right place." Plumping out his chest, Billy Bob continued. "Ain't it been declared that this here town has the best worms in the county three years' runnin?

"But I don't get that electrical waves business. Is it some new type of hair thing these women are doin' nowadays and why would Jack care about that?"

"What about them radio magneto things that Wilson guy was goin' on about?"

Just then, Pansy sashayed into the room. Placing plates full of grits, scrapple and waffles on the table in the front of the room, Pansy shouted, "Well, come on and eat. Food ain't gonna jump on your plates."

Realizing that the men would be concentrating more on the food than the conversation, The Bum turned to the ladies. "We ain't gonna be hearing anythin' now that the food is in the trough."

Well, that sure got our ladies attention (they are SACCers, after all). Kelly spoke up. "You just wait here, Mr. Bum...sir. We'll check it out for you."

Walking nonchalantly into the Boutique, our ladies proceeded to sneak down the back stairs. Huddling near the door, they strained to hear the discussion going on inside.

"Women, ya'll come to order. Georgia, you 'membered to bring yore special lemonade? Okay, we all know why we're here so let's start. 5-card stud, jokers wild. Your deal, Georgia."

86-year old Irma Jo was the first to speak up. "Did ya see John Robert coming off that ship with his black coat flappin' behind him? All I could think of was, 'I hope my pacemaker don't fail me now."

"Irma Jo! I am shocked at you, ogling him at your age."

"I'm old. I ain't dead."

Over at the next table, 70-year old Charity added, "Well, I know'd I twern'tthe only one tryin' to peek round that door when they stripped him."

92-year old Ida Kaye rushed to add, "How 'bout when John Robert was a skinnydippin' with dat spy girl? I swear my heart was fluttering faster than a bird's wings during mating season."

73-year old Robbie Nell piped in, "Ya'll remember when he was in bed with that Alex girl? Darn covers keep gettin' in the way. Never did like that girl. Too uppity for my tastes."

The youngest of the group, 58-year old Bertie Faye, tried to calm the group down. "Now ladies, lets try and keep this decent. Patty Jean, take that sour expression off your face. You look like Miz Johnson did when she nipped a bit of that homemade pickle juice at the county fair last month."

69-year old Patty Jean grumped, "All that boy did was spit up on me."

Exasperated, Georgia exclaimed, "Dren, Patty, the boy was jus' a toddler at the time."

"Never you mind. Anyway, if ya wanna talk about men, I'd like to get my hands on that Larraq fella. He's all rugged like my Jimmy's Chevy."

Brenda Marie shook her head. "Good grief Patty Jean. That boy done died after that bug took over his mind. Boy, that sure got John Robert angry when he knifed poor Aeryn tho'."

Bertie Fay's twin, Dixie Rose spoke up. "Ya'll better pipe down cuz I ain't looking to get doused again by Oboe. Last time that sacred bucket o'water was used twice all for talkin' about his..."

Robbie Nell interrupted Dixie's nervous chatter. "Ya'll are ninnies. Oboe can't hear us...."

Kelly turned to the ladies and was just about to share her <thud> worthy comment when she glanced up and saw Oboe running down the stairs with the sacred bucket. Not wanting to get doused either, our ladies scattered quickly as Oboe pushed open the door and with a determined gleam in her eye, flung water all over the room (that's one big bucket I tell ya). The steam from the overheated snowbirds set off the sprinklers. Dixie Rose, cried out in an accusatory tone, "Didn't I tell ya'll to watch it? Great. I just came from the Crimp and Curl too!"

The Bum appeared at the top of the stairs and beckoned our ladies to follow him. "What's goin' on? The fire trucks are outside." The ladies, however, refused to respond. "I think its time we be moving on..."

Exiting the boutique, The Bum shepherded everyone towards Center Street. "Here we go. Iff'n its information on Ben you be wantin', Rona at the Piggly Wiggly's gonna have it." (by the way, Ukrops is best grocery store this side of Mississippi.)

"Rona. RONA! Stop fiddlin' with that new permanent of yours and ring up my groceries."

"Yes ma'am Mrs. Miller. Ya heard what they've been saying about Ben Browder lately?"

"Now girl, what you talkin' about?

"Well, I overhead Mrs. Olive tellin' Mr. Booth over at the bank that Miss Pratt was in Raleigh watching Charles Randall's new big tv late at night and smooching. Didn't I tell you that Miss Pratt was making time with Suzy Jones' man?"

"Get on wit' it girl. I ain't got all day. My fudge cookie maple swirl ain't gonna stay cold forever."

"Anyhoo, just as they were getting on to the good stuff, in comes Suzy, all sauced and catches the two of them on the sofa. Now, Suzy done see that as a double whammy, what with Miss Pratt being from the north and all. What I wouldn't give t' see that...Stanley, I need a price check on the okra."

"Rona, don't you go shucking me. What does this have to do with that nice Ben Browder?"

Rona huffed. "Well, if ya would quit cuttin' in, I'd tell ya. So, Charles Randall's in the middle of Suzy and Miss Pratt who are arguing loud enough to raise the dead when Charles Randall notices Ben on the screen, as big as life. Now, I don't cotton to all that high falutin' stuff, but word is that once Suzy and Miss Pratt saw him, all the fight just petered out. Goin' on and on about how he looks, how smart he was, keeping his temper when that bumpkin was speakin'. Yes ma'am, God done blessed that boy all right. Charles Randall had to go to the pool hall just to get some peace."

Catching the tail end of the conversation, Mr. Beasley eagerly jumped in the conversation. "Y'all talking about Ben Browder?"

"Yes, Mr. Beasley..."

"Did I tell you gals 'bout the time..."

The Bum nudged the ladies out the door. "Old Beasley's a windbag. That man could give a hurricane stiff competition."

Going around the corner to Millborn Street, The Bum says, "Looks like Bubba's '57 Ford is back in the shop again. Course, if he'd keep a closer eye on that boy of his, he'd know why that rear axle is breaking all the time." He gathered the ladies closer to the entrance. "Let's have a lean in."

"Hey, Joe Henry. You still under there?

"Yeah, Bubba. Whatcha bellyachin' about now?"

"Scootch on out so I can talk to ya. I heard Jack Crichton's boy, John Robert is in something called the Uncharted Territories. Hmmm...where exactly is that? North of Kansas? Well, seems he's in a boatload of trouble again. 'Member all those pranks him and that Browder kid was always pullin'? Well, I guess it's biting him in the behind now. But I heard he's got this group called the SACC looking out for him. There's even talk about some kind of contest of sorts where we hear 'bout them adventures that don't make it into the paper. If that don't beat all I tell ya."

Joe Henry tried ignoring Bubba, but he kept going. "Now, if ya wanna talk about something, let's talk about that city gal - what's her name? Jenna Lynn, Jenna Sue...there's a subject I can sink my teeth into. Yessiree Bob, Johnny boy better hope that Aeryn girl don't find out about his pollinating that flower."

Joe Henry tsked. "Bubba, don't you be sticking your nose where it don't belong. If ya want to go tattlin' just take that mouth of yours on over to the beauty parlor. Maybe they'll letcha stay if ya ask real nice."

Bubba blustered, "Joe Henry, ya ain't sidetracking me again. And don't be playing innocent. TJ done told me about how you were goin' on about that Browder kid making it big, showing up on some politicky show last week."

"Bubba, yore only whining cuz yore jealous. Dem boys spiced up yore BBQ sauce and tore you up something fierce for days. Happened years ago. Jus' let it drop like the rain."

"Well, ain't you the saintly one now."

Joe Henry straightened his stature and advanced towards Bubba. "I gave you fair warning..."

"Uncle Jesse. Boss Hogg has Bo and Luke in jail again."

"Confound it Daisy. Was Cletus with 'em?"

"He's by the General Lee, ready to..."

The Bum ran towards the trio yelling and waving his arms. "Y'all are in the wrong fanfic. This here's 'bout John Robert and I don't take kindly to y'all interrupting my tour."

After shooing them away, The Bum apologized. "Sorry gals. Those Dukes trying to lay claim to this town's fame since Hazzard got canceled."

Kelly, in serious need of a break, called out to their tour guide. "Mr. Bum...sir. Mind if we rest a bit?"

"Sure, little ladies. I'll just have a chat with the Mayor over there."

Once he moved out of hearing distance, Kelly cried out, "Aren't we done yet? My feet are tired and these bad southern wannabe accents are hard on my ears."

"I NEED MORE PRAISE...I MEAN, LIGHT."

In that eerie scifi voice, Sandy said, "She's back..."

Camille peered from around the corner and stuttered, "No...no...um, that wasn't me. It was T'raltixx. You remember him, hollering about needing more light."

As our cross protagonists started advancing towards her, Camille shouted, "Oh my, is that Ben over by the lake peeling off his SACC shirt?"

All the ladies quickly turned their heads, giving Camille the perfect opportunity to sneak off. (come on, its my story. I'm allowed to make them gullible. Sweet and patient...but gullible.)

Realizing they've been tricked again, Amanda sighed. "I can't believe we fell for that. Couldn't she have come up with something more creative?"

Catching up with The Bum, they walked along Main Street, stopping in front of the Crimp and Curl Beauty Parlor. The Bum sniffed the air and began to drool. "Did I tell ya'll that Mary Margaret makes the best apple fritters? Mind stoppin' to see if she has any left?

The ladies shook their heads and echoed, "No. Go right ahead."

The bell above the door tinkered, announcing their arrival, but the crowd seemed unaffected of the newcomers' presence.

"...So I says to Merlene, 'Merlene honey, ain't no one gonna take you seriously. I mean, put your specs on, girl, and look at that John Crichton in dem leather pants. I tell ya, that man is like gravy on mashed taters. Ain't no way your Charlie could be a body double for him.' "

From the manicurist table, Bertha Sue jumped in. "Ruby Mae Wilcox, shut yo mouth. I hate when you flap your gums like that. Just like puttin' nails to a chalkboard."

"Bertha Sue, ain't no need to be taking airs with me, missy."

Thelma Lou, tired of the bickering, spoke up. "You're a fine one to be pointing fingers...why you can go on and on, yakking like it's nobody's business, blowing a lot of hot air - kinda like these dryers here. Shoot, I bet you could dry my hair faster than this machine can with your mouth movin' like a motorcar. After all, Ruby Mae was just tryin' to help poor Red in that SACC group by mentioning Mama Crichton's boy, John Robert during that long two day drought. We're all goin' be going dry with no mention of John Robert or even that Browder boy til January. Now, leave her be."

At the mention of her handle, Kelley gasps in surprised delight, "You know about my email and the SACC?"

Happy for the distraction, Thelma Lou barked, "That was you!?!" Welcome to our little town, missy. I guess it's you we're to be blaming for us talking like some hicks from the sticks. And just cuz we're out in the middle of nowhere don't mean we ain't been keeping up with our John Robert and Benny."

Kelley raised her hands in defense. "I meant no disrepect, ma'am."

Thelma Lou wagged her finger. "Don't fret none girl. We ain't upset. Not everybody gets their town written about in a silly fanfic."

Leaving the beauty parlor the Bum went towards the town square. Facing two unfinished statues which seem to have a slight resemblance to John Robert and Ben, The Bum explained, "Mayor got the idea from dem Sebaceans. Figured if it was good for John then, then its good enough for him now."

"Harvey," The Bum called out. "Whatcha using for that mold? That don't look like cement."

"It ain't. Mayor wanted to use bird seeds. Says it's more friendly for the enviroomental."

While The Bum was muttering something about Hulk Hogan and the last election, the ladies gathered for another quick huddle to discuss their desperate situation.

Irritated, Kelly said, "I can't take much more of this. She's been rambling for seven pages now. Seven!?! All I can say is that she better have a good ending."

On the way to the Rest and Rise Inn, The Bum spied the Rack and Roll Bowling Alley and said, "We can't skip this joint."

Entering the doors, they couldn't believe all the chatter going on at once.

"What's that lad's name again? Oh yeah, D'Argo. Well, when I saw him and John Robert heading the pod runner for that backgammon base, all I could say was 'Dear Heaven, prepare them Peacekeepers for the butt whooping they are about to receive.'"

"I used to could wear leather britches like John Robert. Could too. Gimme a week and I might could again."

"...so when everybody was complimenting John Robert on that Budong BBQ, well, we all knowed where that recipe came from."

"John Robert and Ben could attract trouble like a 3-legged cat being chased by a pack of dogs."

"Last time I seen Ben was at that Science fair in California this past August."

"How'd that Chiana girl do that with her body?"

"Dem ungrateful people. Poor John Robert, having to tolerate all those rude comments about dem beautiful blue eyes of his. Then covering him up in that disgusting stuff. If that don't beat all."

"I knew that girl's mama was up to no good, pushing John Robert into marrying her girl."

"That Aeryn was more nervous than a long tailed cat in roomful of rocking chairs when she walked towards John to kiss 'em."

"When dem commandos showed up on Moya, I jus' started wringing my hands thinkin' they'd be killed...or even worse."

"All I'm sayin' is that I wouldn't kick him out of bed just for eatin crackers."

The ladies could only take two minutes of all that chaos before running out the front door. The Bum boasted, "Well, ladies, I think you get the purty picture of how we are just so gosh darned proud of 'dem boys. And that ends..."

Our intrepid heroines started to relax when suddenly, when a familiar voice came out of nowhere.

"Anyone out there? This is John Crichton...from somewhere in the universe."

You'd have thought a herd of elephants was stampeding, the way these townfolk ran out into the streets. The Bum managed to jump into the conversation with John first.

"Hey John Robert, its me, Bobby Rae Baumgartner here. Ya remember me son? Yeah, that's right - The Bum. Course, I hear some group in England is claiming that title for you and Ben. Well, you jus' tell 'em that that name's been taken ya hear? Shoot, listen to me rambling on like a piece of brush on the prairie. This boy's got a chance to call home and here I am, talking on like you please, as if what I'm sayin' is more important than John Robert. Some people just don't know when...whatcha sayin' Peggy Ann? Okay. Go on boy."

"Howdy folks. Is my dad there?"

"John Robert, your dad headed back to Florida a few weeks ago to continue lookin' for ya."

Disappointment was clear in John's voice. "Well, I can't talk for long. Jus' wanted to say..."

The Bum interrupted. "John Robert...for living sakes Sally Jane, hold your horses. I'm askin' the boy something. We understand those foreigners are having a time with our drawl. I thought dem microscope thingies were s'posed to be a decoder ring or somethin'?

Crichton chuckled. "Ain't many races in the known and unknown universes can figure out our southern metaphors. You shoulda seen Zhaan's face when I said, 'Rygel's greener than a $3 bill.'"

Sally Jane rushed in, "John Robert, rumors been flying that things are only goin' get mo' difficult with that skull man lurkin 'bout. Can you tell us anything?"

Distracted from the conversation, John paused. "What...yeah, sure Pilot. Sorry ya'll. Pilot's givin' me the cut-throat, stop talking or I'll make you clean out Moya's amnexus fluids for a monen look. This is John Crichton signing off...from somewhere in the universe." John paused. "Hey, that's a great tagline. Gotta remember that one."

The end.

This ain't Ferris Bueller's Day Off. That's it. What? You didn't like the ending because it was too abrupt? Oh, all right. One more paragraph to "finish" the story.

After the message ended, everyone started shuffling off back to their homes, waiting until they heard from John Robert again. Our ladies, realizing that the story was now over, heaved a sigh of relief...until they saw a blue vortex whirlpool forming around them.

The end. Really.