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.