MiST 64 – The Adventures of Charlotte Church 2

article-2240667-16494F4A000005DC-758_306x423The MiSTers take on a short fic, the illogical and delusional The Adventures of Charlotte Church 2. It manages to be worse than the original and never once veers in the direction of reality. Can the MiSTers take on another of Charlotte’s adventures or was the first fic enough for them?

Want to know more about MiSTing? Read Star’s Guide to MiSTing and educate yourself.

Disclaimer:

I don’t own any copyrighted characters, series or songs. Which should be obvious, because I didn’t copyright them. I didn’t write this fic. My intellectual property in this MiST is the witty remarks, my MiSTers, and the mad. My characters are used only with my permission.

This MiSTing is NOT a personal attack on the author. It’s an attack on their terrible writing. This is not meant to be even slightly constructive, instead it is meant solely for the amusement of others.

It’s important to learn to laugh at ourselves. Don’t take life too seriously.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
MiSTers!

Melanie Bryce – The real way to a man’s heart is through his stomach cavity.
Dominick Dante – Uhhh, I came with Mel.
Gwenavere Donovan – Walk softly and carry a palm pilot.
Jarred Zion – Strangers are just friends that you haven’t met!
Deangelo Desiderio – Grumpy is the only one of the seven dwarfs I understand.
Tempest Lucki – I’m not a nymphomaniac, I’m a sex addict. There’s a difference.
Kalinda Beckham – Yes, that’s right, I’m the only remotely normal person here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(The MiSTers are enjoying a quite Saturday on the Spotted Satellite when suddenly the song “Fight for this Love” begins to play over the intercom. They groan and leave whatever it is they are doing to assemble in the conference room. After they are all assembled M enters the room carrying several sheets of paper.)

M: Well kids, it looks like we’re going to have to MiST.
Gwen: Come on, M. Do we ever really HAVE to MiST?
M: Well no, but we should.
Tempest: I don’t know what everyone else was doing, but I was in the middle of having cyber sex with my new boyfriend.
Kalinda: New boyfriend? Who is the lucky guy?
Tempest: I can’t tell you, it’s a secret.
Kalinda: Is he married?
Tempest: Kind of. He wants to get a divorce. Well, he’s been thinking about leaving his wife, but he’s not sure. I’m helping him work out his intimacy issues.
Deangelo: Keep telling yourself that, Tempest.
M: Okay, getting back to the topic at hand. You remember that Charlotte Church fic we MiSTed many, many moons ago?

(All of the MiSTers groan.)

M: Well —

(Suddenly the doors to the conference room fly open and several people dressed in black carrying large guns file in, all shouting orders. In the chaos Melanie trips over Dominick and falls, knocking over Jarred in the process. The team surround the group and continue shouting at them.)

Jarred: M?! What’s going on?
M: I don’t know! I don’t know!!

(Amid the cries of

GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DOWN ON THE GROUND!
SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!
DROP YOUR WEAPON!

And

EVERYONE REMAIN CALM!

The MiSTers all sit down on the ground with their hands above their heads. The team moves in and handcuffs everyone. Once the MiSTers and M are secure the team steps back, all looking very relieved.)

M: Um, excuse me. Did we do something wrong here?
Deangelo: Maybe they’re busting Tempest for prostitution.
Tempest: I’m not a prostitute!
Gwen: I will personally sue all of your pathetic backsides for this!
Jarred: Calm down, guys. Maybe they just want to be friends and don’t know how to break the ice. (To the closest person.) Hi, my name’s Jarred! What’s your name?
Kalinda: Oh my God, this is a home invasion! And I missed that episode of Survive This!.
Dominick: It figures. As soon as we get comfortable enough to stop carrying our guns around all the freaking time we get invaded.
Melanie: Come on, Dom. Is a handgun any match for whatever the hell it is they’re carrying?
Dominick: Well, no, not really.

(Suddenly another person clothed in black walks into the conference room and looks around. He takes off his mask, revealing a relatively normal looking man underneath. The man congratulates his team before walking over to the hostages. He kneels down and studies each of them.)

Jarred: Uhhh, hi! My name’s Jarred. What’s your name?
Ty: My name is Ty Mansfield.
Jarred: Oh, like Ty on Digimon? That was a great show. Did you ever watch it?
Ty: (Ignoring Jarred.) Which one of you is the Mystic Blue Leopard of Wisdom?
M: Uh yeah, that’s me. Is this about that library book that I still have out? Because it’s only two days overdue. I was going to renew it today but I got distracted.
Ty: No, this isn’t about a library book.
Tempest: Okay, if no one is going to strip me naked and get out the whip cream then why did you burst in here and handcuff us all?
Ty: I’m a senior investigator for the Plot Police.
All MiSTers: The Plot Police?!
Deangelo: But you’re not real, we just joke about you from time to time.
Ty: Oh, we’re real alright.
Gwen: Then you’re doing an abysmal job. How many millions and millions of horrible fan fictions are there? You should be out battling them not invading our home and pointing guns at us.
Ty: (He stands and begins to pace the room.) You see, the Plot Police are terribly understaffed. Horribly in fact. It takes us ages to track down a single suspect and when we find them they usually have already stopped writing on their own. But you (he points to M) have been broadcasting their disgusting works of fiction for millions to see. Our records show that you have been reading and collecting horrible stories. In fact you have an entire computer file stuffed full of the worst of the worst. You’ve even scoured Quizzaz for more awful fiction. We decided that instead of taking down an author, instead we would just take on you.
M: But we’re MiSTers. Yes, I have a collection of MiSTing fodder on my computer. But I don’t have it so I can pick which fic to make fun of next.
Ty: MiSTers?
M: Yeah, we dissect fan fictions, we point out the logical fallacies and not so subtle undertones. We laugh at the physical impossibilities and chuckle at continuity errors. We spear typo daemons and roast crappy hentais for dinner.
Jarred: Seriously, she roasted one. We were there.
M: We’re on the same team, it’s just that we work a bit differently.
Ty: Our problem is not what you do with the stories, it’s the fact that you continue to use them. Many people would not have ever known about these pieces of crap if you hadn’t highlighted them and drawn so much attention to their awfulness.
M: But, it’s just what we do. I mean, honestly, do you do this to all MiSTers?
Ty: No, we just set up this special task force to deal with MiSTing teams and you were at the top of our list.
Tempest: Because we’re so popular and desirable?
Ty: No, because your Satellite is floating in American air space so there really isn’t a chance of you making a quick get away.
Deangelo: Mr. Mansfield, if I may. What we do here is harmless. Yes, we rebroadcast horrible works of fiction but with our wit and charm these terrible pieces of writing become a hilarious way to spend a few moments of your time. We bring people joy and laughter. We make them think, educate them, and provide an escape. In the end, isn’t that what fiction is all about?
Ty: (Thinks for a second.) You’re very smooth, you know.
Deangelo: Yes, I’ve been told that before.
Tempest: Yeah, how else do you think he got in Gwen’s panties?
Jarred: He married her! That’s how he got into her pants.
Tempest: That might have had something to do with it.
Ty: Well, we spent months researching you, weeks planning this raid, and hours of training for it. But we’re going to let you go.
Kalinda: Really?

(The Plot Police exchange glances then remove the handcuffs from the MiSTers.)

Ty: We’ll post a follow up report with the department.
M: (Rubbing her wrists.) That’s great! Why don’t I stop by and help you guys out sometime? As you know, I have a pretty good background in crappy fan fiction.
Ty: That sounds wonderful. I’ll run it by the department head.
M: (Standing.) Well, if all that’s over, we have a MiST to do.
Kalinda: For real? Come on M, we just went through a very traumatic experience, you can’t expect us to MiST already.
Melanie: Yeah, I’m mentally anguished and all that stuff.
Dominick: Oh please, you were mentally anguished when Footballer’s Wives went off the air.
M: No rest for the wicked, kids. (She waves to the Plot Police.) I’ll see you guys around. Keep fighting the good fight!
Ty: Will do. Good-bye everyone and good luck on your next MiST.
Gwen: Yeah thanks. Lots of bloody help you’ve all been.

(The Plot Police exit the conference room. The MiSTers exchange glances then looks at M who smiles at them. They turn and begin to trudge out of the conference room.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(The MiSTers assemble in their usual seats and cross their arms over their chests.)

MiSTers: Let’s get this over with!
M: (From the control room.) Here we go!

>The Continued Adventures Of Charlotte Church

Dominick: Wheeeeee…

>(The highly anticipated sequel to the original action packed thriller)

(All MiSTers raise a skeptical eyebrow.)

Deangelo: Is the author talking about the same nonsensical tripe that we MiSTed all those years ago?
Gwen: One would think…
Kalinda: Great, not only is she a bad writer, but she’s delusional as well.

>I do not own Charlotte Church, Pink,

Jarred: Cheryl Cole.
Kalinda: The Backstreet Boys.
Dominick: Nine Inch Nails.
Melanie: The Saturdays.
Tempest: The Pussycat Dolls.
Deangelo: Bond.
Gwen: Ooo, I was going to say Bond too!

>or any other artist that may be mentioned in any of my stories.

Gwen: I’d hope not. Seeing as slavery has been abolished and all.

>I am not at liberty to disclose whether or not I am able to contact Charlotte Church or the Church family.

Dominick: I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Monica Lewinsky.
Melanie: What?
Dominick: Well, I didn’t.

>Don’t ask for telephone, e-mail, or any other means by which Charlotte Church could be contacted.

Tempest: Oh please, I bet this author can’t contact Jack Shitt. He just wants to make himself look more important by casually throwing out there that he can’t give away contact information that he doesn’t have.

>I am in no way associated or affiliated with Charlotte Church, the Church family, or SONY Music.

Dominick: (The author.) I’m not affiliated with anyone besides my mom and my cat, Mingus.

>I do however own “WEB”, Sir Dustine, and any other characters that may be mentioned in this story.

Gwen: “WEB”?
Jarred: This is turning into a very long disclaimer.

>”Ford”, “Explorer”, and “Eddie Bauer” are trademarks of Ford Motor Company.

Deangelo: (The author.) I didn’t invent the English language or vernacular slang. I use it only with express permission from its authors.

>I in no way intend to defame black vans, spiked punch, or anything else, which
is portrayed as malevolent.

Kalinda: Seriously? I mean… seriously?
Tempest: Well, spiked punch has gotten a bad rap lately, you know. It’s very responsible of the author to put that in the disclaimer.
Dominick: Oh look, the fic is finally starting.

>Charlotte Church’s popularity grew phenomenally since the release of Dream a Dream and saving the world from getting nuked to a crisp.

Melanie: What a great way to drum up publicity for your music career.

>So much so that she was invited to sing in a Celebrity’s wedding.

Jarred: You can tell it’s someone important because the word “celebrity” is capitalized.

>After getting acquainted with the desired songs, Charlotte flew to the California for the wedding.

Tempest: However! While at a stop over she ran into Hilary Duff and some hot girl-on-girl action ensued!
M: (From the control room.) I should remind you that at the time this fic was written Charlotte was 13 years old.
Tempest: Ew! Why didn’t you tell me that earlier!?

>On her way to California, Charlotte found a floppy disk that she thought contained the schedule for her next tour.

Dominick: Oh my God, a floppy disk? Wow, this is dated.

>Since she deeded to send it to her manager, she loaded the disk into the computer and waited for her files to show up.

Melanie: Instead she found the rough draft of a horrible fan fiction starring her! She immediately deleted it and all was well in the world again.

>Instead of getting her schedule, she got a blank screen followed by diagrams of US and Soviet nuclear bomb diagrams.

All MiSTers: (o_O?) Huh?
Gwen: She found diagrams of diagrams?
Jarred: Someone casually lost a disk containing information about nuclear bombs?
Dominick: Someone managed to fit all of that information onto a single floppy disk?

>After that, the computer told her that it was contacting a distant server and locating the disk.

Jarred: Wow, this guy need some schooling on how to make secret floppy disks.

>The disk had an operating system that told it to contact this server and give location data if loaded into any computer.

Melanie: I would ask how, but this fic doesn’t seem at all bothered with reality.

>After an awesome performance, Charlotte sang some at the reception, but mainly hung out with the Stars.

Deangelo: So Charlotte isn’t bothered by this floppy disk nonsense?

>Little did anyone know, but a secret agent spiked the punch that Charlotte was about to serve herself.

Tempest: How original.

>(How original)

Tempest: (0_0) Hey! I just said that!
Dominick: You know, it really isn’t that much fun when the fic starts mocking itself.

>After a while, everyone was so drunk that what was supposed to be a formal event turned out to be a drunken brawl.

Melanie: Quick! Someone throw a chair!

>This enabled the secret agent to easily coax Charlotte into going to the black van.

Jarred: He told her that he had candy.

>Since she was drunk, and confused, she knew no danger.

Deangelo: I get the feeling that this writer knows nothing about alcohol.
Kalinda: Really? What made you suspicious?
Deangelo: First of all, casually sipping punch, even if it’s spiked, is not going to get everyone that drunk, that quickly. Second of all, even when you’re drunk, you know about danger. You might ignore it in your inebriated state, but you don’t totally lose all of your facilities to the point where you “know no danger”. If it does get to that point, you probably wouldn’t have the ability to walk around.

>When I was there,

Kalinda: Where?

>I became aware that something was up, but I wasn’t sure what.

Gwen: Who is this person talking and where the bloody hell did they come from?

>When I realized that they were going to take Charlotte to their headquarters, I took off in my Eddie Bauer Explorer and chased them down the freeway.

Gwen: Okay, so I guess we’re not getting any explanation of who this person is.

>Once they realized that they were being pursued, they swerved around and drove wildly for miles.

Jarred: Which, miraculously didn’t alert any police officers at all.
Dominick: Oh please, you can’t drive like that in Grand Theft Auto and not start getting wanted stars. And that’s a video game!

>This made it difficult to continue the chase. Eventually, the agents arrived at a base in Alaska where their jet was waiting.

Dominick: Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up. They drove from California to Alaska?! That’s got to be over a fifteen hundred miles AND you have to cross the Canadian boarder.
Gwen: I’m all for the suspension of disbelief but this is too much.

>Fortunately, Sir Dustine had put a tracking device on their plane before the agents arrived.

Tempest: So who’s Sir Dustine? And more importantly; is anyone going to be getting any in this fic?
M: (From the control room.) I don’t know, but I’m assuming it’s a random self-insertion and no, no one gets any loving in this fic at all. No one.

>This allowed me to fly to their base over an unpatrolled region.

Deangelo: (SI.) I quickly pulled a helicopter out of my ass and proceeded to follow them.

>Since I used an MI24 Hind, no one thought much of my presence. (The MI24 Hind is a soviet helicopter.)

Melanie: (Soviet tower controller.) Hey look, an unidentified helicopter flying into soviet airspace chasing another helicopter. Should we contact them?
Kalinda: (Soviet tower controller.) Nah, it’s a MI24 Hind. It’s all good.
Melanie: (Soviet tower controller.) Affirmative, comrade.

>The agents were members of a global terrorist organization that was based in abandoned Soviet bases.

Jarred: (SI.) They still hadn’t decided on a name for their organization or a logo.

>They had purchased, stolen, or salvaged all the military hardware they could.

Deangelo: (SI.) They were smart enough to evade all of the world’s police, yet couldn’t manage to keep track of a single floppy disk.

>The base to which they took Charlotte was an old missile silo base whose warheads had been removed.

Jarred: And replaced with water balloons!

>Since I had a datathief, I was able to covertly enter “WEB” computer network and learn things like where Charlotte Church was being held, and why she was being held.

Tempest: Er, what’s a Data Thief?
M: (From the control room.) Data Thief’s website states “This is a tool for reverse-engineering a set of data from a given plot in a magazine or journal.”
Deangelo: So how would that allow you to hack into an online global terrorist organization exactly?
M: (From the control room.) It wouldn’t.
Deangelo: Exactly.

>As it turns out, without anyone’s knowledge, a secret computer disk found itself in Charlotte’s possession.

Tempest: Uh yeah, we know. We read the beginning of the fic. Even though I wished we didn’t.

>This disk contained valuable nuclear secrets from all the advanced nations.

Gwen: Which apparently only include American and Russian.

>The disk was lost when the person next to charlotte (who was a WEB spy got his disk mixed up with hers.

Kalinda: With hilarious consequences.

>(None of the disks were labeled and they were the same color.)

Dominick: Yeah, don’t bother writing anything on the disk. That’s good thinking.
Gwen: Would it have been better if he had labeled it “Secret Nuclear Bomb Diagrams”?
Dominick: Good point.

>I decided that I didn’t come this far to watch some terrorists kill someone for no good reason.

Melanie: (SI.) But if I was closer to home, well, Charlotte would have been a goner.

>After knocking a guard out with a rock, I stole his gun and ammo.

Deangelo: You can tell by his stealth and skills that he’s a very sophisticated spy.

>After killing a few guards for their ammo,

Melanie: Does this guy think he’s playing Doom or something?

>I crawled down a silo.

Jarred: (SI.) Which doesn’t even make sense, but I didn’t let that stop me!

>The ladder was connected some scaffolding that directly connected to the fuel room in which Charlotte was being held.

Gwen: That’s convenient.

>Guards were watching the captured scientists work on the files that were on the disk.

Deangelo: Some were working anyway, the rest were playing Tetris online.

>Just then, I fired at the guards and killed them all.

Tempest: Charlotte really doesn’t have a big part in this fic, you know. Maybe the next time the author can write a story about Charlotte Church where Charlotte actually does something.

>After securing the area, I went and secured the exit so we could escape.

Melanie: (SI.) Then I baked a pie and found the cure for cancer.

>When I thought all was safe, droves of agents came from nowhere and fired at me.

Dominick: Respawning enemies! Oh noes!

>With no option, I surrendered and they took my weapons.

Kalinda: But he got to keep his medi packs.
Deangelo: And his snappy suit.

>After an hour of interrogating me, the terrorists decided to kill me as well as Charlotte.

Gwen: Because a Welsh pop singer is clearly a threat to a global terrorist organization.

>Right before the triggerman fired the fatal shot, Charlotte shot him.

Deangelo: With what?

>She had access to unguarded guns in the fuel room.

Dominick: Ah, because tying up your hostages is so 1986.

>After shooting the terrorists she told me that we’d better get out of the base soon because plastic explosives had been set in all the fuel rooms.

Jarred: So they’re going to blow up their own secret base and the captured scientists?
Gwen: Oh who cares, maybe it’ll end the fic faster.

>We ran for the helicopter and took off in good time.

Melanie: (Soviet tower controller.) Oh hey, that unidentified helicopter is flying in our air space again. Should I talk to them or something?
Kalinda: (Soviet tower controller.) Nah, why don’t you just pick up some lunch for us. I’m getting hungry.

>As soon as we were out of range, the base exploded destroying the missiles, the terrorists, and the stolen nuclear secrets.

Deangelo: So wait… Did Charlotte set the explosives?
Dominick: I guess she did. I suppose we’ll never know.
Melanie: I can live with that.

>When we got back to the USA, Charlotte contacted her family in Wales and told everyone that she was fine.

Gwen: (Charlotte.) Hey, should we contact the proper authorities about all this?
Jarred: (SI.) No, they’ll all figure it out eventually. Let’s go see your family!

>When we got in my Explorer to go meat her family at the airport, I was bombarded by TV crews and news anchors asking me how I single-handedly saved the world.

Kalinda: (SI.) I then explained it to them in full detail. After I was finished they rolled their eyes and left to go film a kitten that was stuck in a tree across town. I have no idea why.

>I told them that I had plenty of help while motioning to Charlotte.

Deangelo: Yeah right. Just go on and take all of the credit. You know you want to.
Jarred: Hey look, we’re done! Yay!
M: (From the control room.) Sooooo, does anyone want to play some DDR?
Dominick: Hell yeah! Clear the dance floor! (He rushes out of the theatre.)
Melanie: (Rolling her eyes.) Here we go again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(The MiSTers and M are all hanging out in the gaming area. There are four Dance Dance Revolution mats on the floor with M, Kalinda, Melanie and Dominick using them. Gwen and Deangelo are curled up on the couch together with Rosie asleep in Gwen’s lap. Jarred is listening to Cheryl Cole on his iPod while Tempest expertly paints her nails a brilliant shade of Sweet Dreams, Scarlet.)

M: (Striking a victory pose.) Yes! I am the dancing master!
Kalinda: (Trying to catch her breath.) Yeah, really impressive display of geekiness, M.
M: Don’t hate, Kalinda.
Dominick: I want a rematch, damn it! I think my dance pat is malfunctioning. I know I hit that last combo correctly.
Melanie: Of course, the second you start to lose there’s something wrong with the dance mat. You weren’t complaining when you were kicking Tempest’s ass at this.
Tempest: Unlike you people I actually know how to dance, so bouncing around on a plastic mat really isn’t that impressive.
Kalinda: I give up!

(Kalinda flops onto the couch, massaging her feet. Jarred stands.)

Jarred: Can I play?
M: Sure thing, Jay.
Dominick: Hey, I know, let’s dance to “Disturbia” again. (Dominick stamps on his mat until he cycles back to “Disturbia”.)
M: (Adjusting her settings.) Deal, I’m doing this one on Difficult.
Melanie: Basic for me, I don’t have a compulsion to show off.
Dominick: I’m going to try it on Difficult too.
Jarred: I’m going to try Expert.

(Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns to Jarred.)

M: Jarred, you’ve never played this before. You’re going to get murdered if you play on Expert.
Jarred: Come on, M it’s not that hard. You’re just stamping on arrows.
Melanie: Seriously, Jarred. I’ve played several DDR games and I still mostly play on Basic. It’s not as easy as it looks.
Jarred: (^_^) But I’m feeling lucky today.
M: Well, alright.

(Jarred chooses his difficulty setting and the song begins. Both M and Dominick furiously stamp away at the arrows that scroll up the screen while Melanie nimbly moves from one direction on the mat to the next. No one is really paying attention to Jarred until the game declares:)

Game: One hundred combos!
M: Dominick, did you just get a hundred combos? Cause I’m only on 30.
Dominick: I’m on 14.
M: Melanie?
Melanie: 45.
M: Jarred?!
Jarred: 112.

(The other gamers stop dancing and stare at Jarred as he gracefully dances out Rihanna’s hit song while mouthing the words.)

Jarred: Um, the crowd is booing you guys.

(The song ends with Dominick, M and Melanie receiving Ds. Jarred earns a AA rating.)

M: Jarred, how did you do that?
Jarred: I just hit the buttons in the right order. Really guys, it’s not that hard.
M: Okay, Mister Smarty Pants. I’ll show you something that’s hard.
Tempest: OMG, M’s a man! I knew it!
M: Shut up, Tempest.

(M changes the settings to single player and selects the song Pluto The First. She sets the difficulty to Expert and steps aside, motioning for Jarred to use her dance mat.)

M: Come along, little Jarredlita. You’ve got some dancing to do.
Jarred: (Shrugging.) Okay. What’s so special about this song?
M: It’s the hardest song in the entire game. 10 feet. Let’s see how lucky you’re feeling.
Jarred: Here we go!

(Jarred begins the song and to everyone’s amazement he dances his way to victory finishing the song with a AA rating.)

Deangelo: Jarred, have you messed with your characteristics by using the characterization fluxuation machine?
Jarred: Don’t be so mean, Deangelo! I’m just really good at DDR.
M: No, you’re more than good at DDR. You are scary good at DDR.
Dominick: Just think guys, we could enter him in tournaments and win lots of money!
Gwen: I very much doubt that any geeks who devote their lives to DDR have a lot of money.
M: Okay, Jarred, tell me exactly how you’re doing this.
Jarred: Well, okay.
M: Yeah?
Jarred: You hit the arrows in the right order. Then you win!
Deangelo: Do you remember how good he was at Pokémon Puzzle League? Maybe this is related.
Tempest: Um, can I just point out that that doesn’t make any sense? I mean, how can Jarred have abilities that M doesn’t know about?
Gwen: Maybe she forgot that Jarred was uncommonly good at video games.
Kalinda: Maybe Jarred’s taken on a life of his own. Think about that for a minute.
Dominick: Hey Tempest, why don’t you get out here and show us some of your badass dance moves?
Tempest: You couldn’t handle my dance moves.
Deangelo: Oh please, you just don’t want to dance because none of us have any dollar bills handy.
Tempest: (Blowing on one of her fingernails.) Dollar bills? Oh please, my clothes don’t come off for anything less than a twenty.
M: At least she has standards.
Deangelo: Yeah, “standards”.

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