Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #422

Pluto is not impressed with the news that she is no longer considered a planet.

Pluto: “This irks me to no end. You have no idea how hard I work to get noticed out here in the backwaters. It is NOT easy getting my hair this big every day.”

Julie Chen, spokesmodel and host of the Big Brother Planet reality series: “How sad for you. Anyway, in case you were booted out of the Big Brother Galaxy during tonight’s vote, your planet-mates taped a goodbye message. Let’s listen in.”

Pluto: “But I don’t want to listen. They never listened to me. Hell, they didn’t even know I was in the house for centuries.”

Julie Chen: “How sad for you. Roll the tape.”

Neptune: “Hey, Girl. If you’re watching this, then you gone, girl. I know you thought we were in an alliance, but I was always one step ahead of you in the planetary pecking order. Maybe if you had done a little better in the physical challenges, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Pluto: “But I’m smaller than Earth’s moon. How was I supposed to compete with buffed-up Jupiter? By the way, Julie, Jupiter uses steroids. Don’t you think that’s cheating? I can’t afford steroids. I can’t even afford oxygen.”

Julie Chen: “Honey, did I not mention that the vote count is final? I’m sure I did, it’s in my contract. Just keep watching.”

Uranus: “Pluto, you’re a really sweet gal, but with a name like mine, I can’t trust people who are behind me all the time, especially if I drop the soap.”

Pluto: “But Neptune is behind you as well. And he’s got a trident, not me. Your eye should be on him.”

Julie Chen: “I should caution you that this is a family show and we shouldn’t be talking about what people can do with their tridents. Save that for the after-hours show on premium cable, where the rules and the trysting are far less regulated. Just keep watching the videos.”

Saturn: “I could say a lot of things about you, Pluto, but I’ll limit it to one, because I really am a nice guy despite what you wrote on the bathroom wall. I know I have a lot of gases on my planet, but that peroxide cloud on yours? It’ll knock you out. No wonder you’ve never been colonized.”

Pluto: “That’s so unfair. A girl has to do what a girl has to do, and if toxins are released during the process, there really shouldn’t be any gas-shaming. But I want to get back to what I wrote on the bathroom wall. I think you really did sleep with Venus. Why can’t you admit that?”

Julie Chen: “Honey, he can’t hear you. It’s a taped message.”

Saturn: “I did not sleep with Venus. Don’t you read any books? Men are from Mars and women are from Venus.”

Pluto: “But you have a trident as well. So that means… oh, I missed a signal somewhere.”

Saturn: “Was my rainbow-flag Speedo not enough?”

Julie Chen: “Can we seriously stop talking about what men do with their tridents? I already get enough of that mess with the accusations against my husband.”

Pluto: “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about that until the trials were over.”

Julie Chen: “And I’m trying to not talk about it. But you are pushing some serious buttons with your incessant rambling. This is a live show and we only have so much time. Shut up and keep rolling the tape!

Jupiter: “Hey, why is this camera on?”

Julie Chen: “Jupiter, you’re supposed to be saying goodbye to Pluto.”

Pluto: “I thought you said these were taped and they couldn’t hear us.”

Julie unexpectedly backhands Pluto, sending her tumbling out of her chair, but our heroine is not injured because of all that hair. (Poet, didn’t know it.) “Jupiter, Pluto has been voted out by a jury of her peers, although I’m now realizing that ‘peer’ is perhaps not the word we should be using and I need to get with the scriptwriters. Do you have any final thoughts?”

Jupiter: “Hey, why is this camera on?”

Pluto, climbing back on her chair: “See? He’s so roided out that he has no clue. Yet he’s still in the house and I’m not. Maybe you can talk to the scriptwriters about that angle.”

Julie Chen: “Did I say scriptwriters? My bad.” She stands and faces the camera, full-on. “Everything on this reality show is completely unplanned and we do not arrange for certain things to happen just so we can maintain our high ratings. Swear.”

Pluto: “Why do you have your fingers crossed behind your back?”

Julie Chen: “I am so annoyed with you right now. No wonder you got booted, you gaseous little windbag. Can we get back to the damn goodbye tape and pray for daylight? Why in the hell do I keep signing up for this gig every year? Oh right, the lawyer fees for my husband’s errant trident. NEXT!”

Mars: “Julie, I really can’t talk right now. I can’t believe that Saturn outed me on intergalactic television. I thought our private moments when he called me by his name would never make the live broadcast. I need time to process. Ellen DeGeneres has already texted me with a smiley face and a toaster oven emoji.”

Julie Chen: “I can’t say that I really understand all of what you just said.”

Mars: “Are you shaming me and the inside jokes of my newfound culture?”

Julie Chen: “Do you really want to go there, with the shaming of culture and the not understanding of that culture? Are you aware of my ethnicity at all?”

Pluto, raising a hand: “I’d like to go there.”

Julie Chen, turning her robot eyes to The Evicted: “I’m just going to say this one more time. You are no longer relevant on this show. You didn’t make the jury and your opinions and your steroid-accusing and your gaseousness are of no value. We are done.”

Pluto: “But I’m going to be on the recap show with you tomorrow, on Good Morning, Galaxy. And I’m going to have some more gaseous words. So, don’t you think we should remain cordial for at least 12 more hours?”

Julie Chen: “True, I forgot about that. That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing and I’m not particularly offended by your perfume, even though I am far too rich to ever buy something that smells like that. There. Are we good? Keep rolling the tape!”

Production Assistant, whispering into Julie’s artfully-hidden earpiece: “You should brace yourself for the fact that Earth is up next.”

Julie Chen: “I am so screwed.”

Pluto: “You? At least you still have a job.”

Earth: “I had a prepared statement, but the Trump Administration sued to prevent me from daring to contradict the lies that spill out of the White House on a daily basis. So, I’ll limit myself to this: Get your ass out there and vote in every election possible. Because the right people aren’t doing that right now, and there’s a very good chance that the destructiveness of the Republican party could lead to the implosion of our planet, and then there would only be seven left. And who has time to draw up new solar-system maps?”

Pluto: “Oh. I could get behind that message, unlike that tight-ass Uranus.”

Julie Chen: “And I’m not allowed to speak my mind, due to those contracts I signed. In any case, we only have two more goodbyes from your planet-mates, and then I can go drink a vat of vodka.”

Venus: “We’ve got it. Yeah baby, we’ve got it. I’m your Venus, I’m your fire, at your desire.”

Pluto: “Sounds like they’ve got some extra toaster ovens that they need to hand out. Not that I’m judging.”

Julie Chen: “Of course you’re not judging. You’re not on the jury. Bye, Felicia. And with that, just one more send-off from your planet mates.”

Mercury: “It’s hot. I can’t breathe. Hot. But at least I don’t smell like peroxide. Or the White House.”

Julie Chen: “And that’s it for this episode, folks. Be sure to tune in next week when Jupiter miscalculates the significance of his orbiting moons.”

Director: “And, CUT!”

Julie Chen: “Bring me the vodka. Now.”

 

Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor” as a single line, the opening one. Obviously extended for this post, a session of writing madness that confirms the suspicion that I have far too much time on my hands. But still, get your ass out there and vote…

 

11 replies »

  1. *insert non-existent on my OS because it’s ten million years old, give or take emoji of a shocked smiley face. One with hands on either side of its poorly drawn circle..* I thought the woman merely looked petulant. Wow. What goes on behind the scenes on those shows…. One question (because I’m a mushroom and I RARELY leave the cellar where I live) … who the hell is Julie Chen? I know who would lose their job and it ain’t blondie over there. Attitude, people, ATTITUDE. Entitlement is what got Earth where (no gender specified for a heavenly body) it is…

    Liked by 1 person

    • To be fair, this post is a bit in-jokey, with the many references to the “Big Brother” reality series franchise. Julie Chen is the host, and she is infamous for her often robotic delivery and hokey fashion-model poses. (She’s often in on the joke, purposely exaggerating both qualities, or at least I think so; if not, poor thing.) The show used to be a guilty pleasure of mine, and I watched it for the sheer vapid silliness. But one can only tolerate so much of that before the enjoyment dries up, and I haven’t even bothered with the last several seasons…

      Like

  2. Get that vote out! Or, quietly arrange to send a lot of unstable penguins to the Stumpo House (it used to be white but now emits a weird orange glow) to run around eating fish, pooping on the lawn and laying eggs in the freezers. Nature gets f***ed up when you screw with it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ah, those pesky climate-change ostriches with their heads in the sand. Perhaps they will finally pay attention when a 3-million-year-old glacier breaks apart and floats up the Potomac River, slamming into the White House…

      Like

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